Harbinger

by Shae Ford

  The docks groaned again as a hundred bodies leaned forward to watch him paddle away. He swam past Thelred — who tried, and failed, to wrangle him into the boat with an oar — and clamored onto Anchorgloam by her rigging. He turned and raised a fist at the crowd, just a small figurine in the distance. The pirates cheered as he disappeared over the railings.

  “That girl is going to make him bake on deck till he dries,” Uncle Martin muttered as he took Kyleigh’s arm.

  “I very seriously doubt that,” she said with a smile.

  *******

  The wedding party stretched from one end of the village to the other. Lanterns hung from every house and shop, filling the streets with merry light. Tables piled high with food sat on all corners — every man, woman and child could have as much as they wished. And of course, the grog flowed freely.

  Uncle Martin even had Jake enchant the fountain in the middle of town. Now the twisting serpents spat red wine into the giant basin instead of water. The wine smelled good, but anyone who drank it could expect his skin to turn an alarming shade of purple — and Jake wasn’t sure if the color was permanent.

  But that didn’t stop Jonathan from filling several goblets to the brim and passing them out to unsuspecting guests. It wasn’t long before an army of angry purple pirates marched through the revelry with Jonathan hoisted high above them, and tossed him straight into the fountain.

  A small group of musicians gathered together in the square. They played on a matched set of very fine, gold-crusted instruments that looked suspiciously like the ones from the Duke’s ball.

  Kael found a quiet porch to sit under at the edge of the party, and leaned his back against the wall of a fletcher’s shop. Though he tried to smile and nod to everyone who greeted him, the plate of food in his lap sat uneaten; the goblet beside him went untouched. He watched the villagers dance without really seeing them. The music never quite reached his ears.

  “Won’t you dance with me?”

  It wasn’t so much the question as the voice that carried it — she seemed to be the only one who could give the world around him any life. He looked up and felt his stomach twist when he saw she was still wearing that emerald-green dress. He figured she would have ripped it off by now. Why was she still wearing it?

  “I’m not feeling well,” he muttered, after he remembered that she’d asked him a question. “What are you doing? You’re going to get your skirts filthy.”

  “They’ll wash,” she said as she sat beside him.

  They watched the party in silence. The space between them felt like a chasm to Kael — a chasm ringed in daggers with only a very narrow safe space down the middle. He felt as if any word he might have said would be the wrong one, and that one wrong word would send him scraping down the wall of daggers for all eternity. So as much as he wanted to speak, he didn’t.

  Occasionally, the silence would be broken by a man who would step up to Kyleigh and very nervously ask her for a dance. Her answer was always the same: she was flattered, but still exhausted from her journey. Surely he understood.

  “You ought to dance with someone,” Kael said as the last defeated man walked away.

  “I know I ought to, but I can’t. You so impressed me that I think any other partner would be a disappointment.” She brushed the hair out of her eyes. Free from the bonds of her customary pony’s tail, it hung in waves across her shoulders. When she ran her fingers through it, he thought he smelled roses.

  But he bristled against her words. “Well, we all have to be disappointed about something. That’s the pattern of life.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Of course I do. There are some things we can’t change.” He felt his anger rising, felt the hopelessness in his chest grip his heart — and the dark thoughts he’d fought so hard to keep locked up shoved their way out through his words. “A weak man has to get used to being weak, because he’ll never be strong. Just like an ugly man has to get used to being ugly, and a poor man to being poor.”

  “Surely it’s not all so immovable —”

  “But it is, Kyleigh! As much as we may want to change our lot, we can’t. Fate’s rolled the die and stuck us with something, and now it’s our burden to carry. It’s like the ocean and the sky,” he muttered, remembering what Lysander had said before. “A fool may think they’re close, but any wise man knows they are worlds apart.”

  She stared at the cobblestone. “Wisdom is your burden, not mine.”

  “No, this is my burden.” He thrust his hand at the revelers, at all the people who were dancing and eating and drinking entirely too much grog. She would understand the weight on his shoulders, and she would assume it was the responsibility that dragged him down and under. He thought she would never guess what truly haunted him.

  But he was wrong.

  “You’re not alone, you know. You’ll always have me.” And their eyes met for one searing moment before he looked away.

  “No, I won’t. I can’t drag you into this and ask you to risk your life —”

  “You never have to ask —”

  “I won’t!” he snapped, so loudly that it made her jump. “Don’t you understand? I want to be alone.” He saw the hurt on her face, and for a fleeting moment, he wished he had the courage to say what his heart begged him to. But even as the words pressed against his lips, he knew his hope was doomed. And so he said nothing.

  He stood, because he thought if he sat beside her for another moment he might crumble to the ground. He hiked back to the mansion, ignoring the cries of his companions to come back and join the party. His legs shook under the weight of his heart, and they simply weren’t strong enough for dancing.

  *******

  In the morning, he was sorry. He wished he wouldn’t have let his anger get the best of him. By night, his words seemed true. But by the dawn of day, he knew they were false. He couldn’t go on without Kyleigh: she was the light that kept the darkness away. Without her, he didn’t know if he would have the strength to press on. He’d rather let the ache in his heart burn him alive than find himself lost in a world without any light.

  And so he had every intention of apologizing to her over breakfast.

  When he arrived in the dining room, Jonathan and Uncle Martin were already there. They had dark circles under their eyes and looked as if every bite they took was agony. Kael was just glad to see that Jonathan was no longer purple.

  “I should have never let you convince me to ride that goat,” Uncle Martin groaned. Someone dropped a pot in the kitchen, and the noise made him wince. “Good Gravy, that beast must’ve crawled out of the bowels of the under-realm.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Jonathan switched the raw chunk of meat he held from one eye to the other. “I had no idea those things could kick with both feet at once.”

  Uncle Martin sat up straight. “Did I kiss a mermaid last night?”

  “No, you’re thinking of the octopus statue outside of Morris’s place.”

  “Ah, right. Nice chap — but he did have wandering tentacles.”

  Their laughter very quickly fizzled into moans. When Jonathan left to be sick, Uncle Martin spotted Kael. “Hello there, lad! I didn’t expect to see you this morning. I figured she would have taken you with her.”

  “Who?” Kael said as he sat.

  “The Dragongirl, of course! Who else?”

  His heart actually stopped beating. “Wait — what do you mean? Where’s she gone?”

  “Calm down, now. Everyone knows she does this from time to time. She’s not in any danger —”

  “Where is she?”

  The hard edge in his voice wiped the smile off of Uncle Martin’s face. “I’m sorry, lad, I thought you knew she’d gone. I’m not sure where to, but she left this note for Lysander —”

  Kael snatched the parchment out of his hand and nearly ripped it in his rush to get it open. Neat handwriting covered a paltry fourth of the page.

  Captain Lysan
der,

  I’m writing to let you know that I’m carrying our cause to new lands. If we plan to take the fight to Titus, we’ll need all the help we can get. There are a few rumors I’d like to follow. I hope they’ll bring us the numbers we need.

  Give my love to our companions,

  Kyleigh

  - Also, you should know that I’ve stolen the battlemage. So sorry for that.

  He read her note three times before he crumpled it and hurled it across the room. So she’d write to Lysander, she’d take Jake with her, but she couldn’t be bothered to tell him goodbye?

  “I’m sorry —”

  “Don’t be.” Kael cut Uncle Martin short because he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t care if he was being rude. “I’m not hurt by it. She has her task, and I have mine.” He grabbed a plate of food off the table and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To work,” Kael said bluntly. “If we’re going to take on Gilderick, we’re going to need a plan.”

  Uncle Martin tipped his glass. “Absolutely. Our fate is in your hands, Sir Wright!”

  Kael was well aware of that. And yet all he could think about as he marched purposefully down the hall, was that Lord Gilderick had better be prepared to do battle. He’d better shore up his walls and sharpen his swords — because he would get no mercy, come spring.

  There was simply no room left in Kael’s heart for it.

  *******

  Shamus thought the repairs were coming along nicely. Already, the outer wall of Wendelgrimm was rebuilt and the great hall restored. There was still a good deal of work to be done before it could be deemed livable, but he thought he could actually see daylight.

  About a month ago, ships began pouring into Copperdock for repairs — sailing in from every end of the High Seas. They hobbled up to the docks, carrying in all manner of goods, and of course — all manner of rumors. Shamus had heard about a dozen different versions of how it was the Duke came to lose his throne, and none of them came close to the truth. But he supposed it was probably for the best.

  Since the treasures of Wendelgrimm left them with a fair amount of gold, Shamus had begun trading repairs for building materials, instead. There was one fellow from the desert who thought he might be able to procure new glass for the windows, but Shamus was far from convinced.

  “I know they got molds for the smaller windows, but what I want to know is: have they got a mold for that?”

  He pointed to the highest tower of the castle, the one that teetered so badly he’d had the men build scaffolding around it just to keep it from tipping over. Below the roof was a large window with eight sides. The little glass left in it hung on in jagged pieces.

  The captain narrowed his eyes at it. “Well, it’ll certainly have to be replaced.”

  “I know that, Captain. Have you got the glass to fix it?”

  “I meant the tower.” When Shamus didn’t laugh, he cleared his throat. “It’s difficult to get special items like this without paying the Baron’s craftsmen an exorbitant fee to make them. But I think I can find you something for, say, twenty-five percent off my repairs?”

  “Ten,” Shamus countered. “And another five once you’ve got it.”

  “Deal.”

  With the captain taken care of, he turned his attention to the men working on the front gates. They’d managed to trade for a good bit of hard oak from the Grandforest. With any luck, they’d have the new doors up by week’s end.

  “Seal her tight, lads. We don’t want the rain to abuse her too badly,” he said, and the men raised their hammers to show that they’d heard.

  He was helping unload a fresh shipment of stone when the sound of hurried footsteps made him turn. A young lad sprinted towards the castle, kicking dirt up behind him. When he got within shouting distance, he gasped: “It’s — the Dragongirl!”

  Shamus couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He made sure the lad got a cup of cool water before he jogged down the path. It only took a handful of days to find his legs, but he still hadn’t quite gotten used to the feeling of having them beneath him. He didn’t know if he would ever get used to it, but he knew one thing for certain: he’d never take the ache of a hard day’s work for granted again.

  He met Kyleigh about halfway down. She had that white sword at her hip and she looked well enough. He was surprised to see Jake following behind her.

  “I thought you might be making your way back to us,” Shamus said as he took her hand. “And to what do we owe this great honor?”

  She smiled, and he saw it: the heaviness in those strange eyes of hers, the almost certain sadness hidden behind her grin. It was a haunting look he knew all too well.

  “I thought we might stay with you for the winter. Though it’s really too hot to call it winter, isn’t it?” She propped her hands on her hips, squinting up at the sun. “The truth is that I’ve got some mischief to prepare for — and Jake thought he might be useful.”

  Shamus clapped him on the shoulder, and thought he might have bruised his palms on Jake’s bones. “Sure you can. We’ve got a lot of work going on at the top of the hill. The lads might need a little magic to make the building easier.”

  “All right, I can do that,” Jake said. And he walked on ahead of them.

  Shamus followed next to Kyleigh at a much slower pace. She still moved gracefully, yet she dragged her heels — as if all the sunshine had been soaked right out of her sky. He knew that walk.

  When Jake was out of earshot, he bent his head and whispered: “He’s a nice lad, don’t get me wrong. But he’s not the one I thought you’d be bringing back with you.”

  She sighed heavily. “How long have you known?”

  “Since the day I saw you carrying him down from Wendelgrimm. He was out cold, and you were so fussed over him I thought we might get our arms lopped off if we tried to take him from you.”

  She smiled slightly. “You very well might have.”

  They walked the rest of the way in silence. Then at the top of the hill, she gasped. “It looks so different,” she said, her eyes wandering the length of the castle. “Good to see you’ve got those nasty vines taken care of.”

  Shamus chuckled. “Aye. When the Witch died, they shriveled up. After that, it was just a matter of setting the tinder and striking the flint.” He watched her stare for a moment more. “You see the possibility, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “I imagine it was a very grand place, once.”

  “Aye, that it was. And it will be again.”

  “Though it seems like the stones might be worth more than the actual structure, in places.” She glanced at the teetering tower. “Why are you bothering to fix it?”

  Shamus tried to bring it up casually. “Well, about a month ago, a fellow sailed in and said he was running his own trade. I told him that was illegal, and he said no it weren’t because the Duke had been sacked. You hear anything about that?”

  She smirked. “I hear lots of things, Shamus. Most of it isn’t true.”

  “Hmm. Well this certainly is, because now I’ve got all sorts of captains from different trades packing up my harbor. They’ve snagged whatever ships the Duke’s army left behind and brought them here for work. It seems like the old ways are coming back — people are organizing, towns are appointing their lords and ladies. I hear they’ve even got a new high chancellor. What was his name again?”

  “Colderoy.” She seemed to be fighting back laughter as she said it. “Apparently, it was quite the upset. Not a soul will admit to voting for him.”

  “I’ll bet not,” Shamus muttered. He squared his shoulders at her and took a deep breath. “All this talk of the towns picking back up has got me thinking: Copperdock used to have a noble family —”

  “Of whisperers. Yes, I’ve heard.”

  “Well,” Shamus put a hand on her shoulder, “it’s got me thinking that we could use a lady here in Copperdock.”

  It took her a moment to catch the look on his f
ace. But when she did, she took an involuntary step backwards. “I don’t think —”

  “Good, don’t think — just say you’ll do it. We’re real easy people, we mostly govern ourselves. It’d just be nice to have an official protector.” He lowered his face to hers. “So will you stay here with us? Be our lady?”

  She seemed resigned to her fate. “What do I get for it?”

  “All of this,” he said, with a sweeping gesture at Wendelgrimm.

  She laughed.

  “And I’ll even let you give it a new name.”

  “I’m not very good at naming things.”

  “You’re a dragon, aren’t you?” He spread his arms wide. “And this is your roost. So why don’t you call it —”

  “Roost,” she said, grinning to either ear. “Castle Roost. It’s brilliant.”

  They both laughed. But in the end, the name stuck. As they walked around and he showed her all the work to be done, that’s how they referred to things. Roost had mold growing on her ceilings; Roost had a colony of mice living in her cellars; Roost needed more support on the upper levels, or she was likely to cave in. And the more they talked about it, the more Shamus came to like it.

  They watched Jake use a spell to cut lengths of wood into planks. He could get the same number done in half the time of an axe. The men had to run to keep his workspace full of logs. Shamus couldn’t be sure — it was hard to tell with magefolk — but he thought Jake looked pretty happy.

  “I’ve got a question for you,” he said, and Kyleigh raised her eyebrows. “What sort of mischief are we going to be getting ourselves into, come spring?”

  “The main party’s heading to the plains. I know,” she said when Shamus whistled, “it’ll be no stroll in the woods. As for me … well, I was thinking I’d search somewhere a little hotter.”