Rise and Fall (Book 1)

by Joshua P. Simon

  “That doesn’t answer my questions.”

  Nachun nodded. “It will take time for me to explain.”

  “Then I suggest you hurry. Dawn is in a couple of hours and when my father wakes and discovers that Kaz is missing, he will likely kill us both.”

  Nachun’s eyes widened. “You’re right.” He thought for a moment as if searching for a place to begin. “Do you remember the maps I’ve been researching and buying up in the market these past few weeks?”

  “Yes. You said you were doing research on the land in order to aid Father.”

  “Do you also remember that I said there were other things about them that interested me?”

  “Yes.”

  “This was one of those things,” said Nachun, gesturing with his hand as if the statement answered all of Tobin’s questions. “Most think of teleportation as something found in children’s stories. But I can tell you that it is a very real and powerful form of sorcery, one that is rarely used for the risks are quite high. You saw me take that risk with your brother only moments ago.”

  Teleportation? Impossible. “Then where is he?” asked Tobin, more confused than before.

  “To be honest, I’m not sure.” Nachun closed his eyes. “Let me start over.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “You know my interest in history and such. Well, in my youth I came across several antique texts that spoke of powerful weapons in the cities of old. Cities and lands our people inhabited before the crossing of the Great Divide. If those weapons do exist, no one could stand in the way of the Blue Island Clan. In turn, such a thing would help me realize my own goals. Unfortunately, the locations of those weapons and for that matter the ancient cities themselves are not well documented.

  “Since coming to Juanoq, I’ve stumbled across a new wealth of information, and coupled with what I had previously known, I’m much closer to discovering those locations than ever before.” He pointed to the parchment lying on the floor. “That map is one of several I bought, detailing Hesh as it was hundreds, perhaps thousands of years ago. I’ve made some improvements, but that faded portion is where I believe the great city of Quarnoq once stood. It is there I hoped to find one of those ancient weapons.

  Quarnoq? The capital of our people before we were forced to cross the Great Divide.

  Nachun continued. “However teleportation can be unpredictable, unless attempted by someone skilled enough. But even then, other elements come into play. Familiarity with the location you are teleporting to as well as distance from one location to the next all factor into the success of the spell. I have never purposefully traveled a distance as great as the map indicates, nor do I even know with certainty if Quarnoq still exists.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t just send myself.”

  Tobin’s eyes widened. “So you sent Kaz instead? You are mad to use my brother for…”

  “Mad?” Nachun cut in. “Don’t fool yourself. I could have chosen any beggar off the street who would have gone unnoticed. But that would have only benefited me.” His voice softened. “And why would I waste an opportunity to help both of our causes?”

  Tobin exploded. “I never asked for this!”

  “You didn’t have to ask. You yourself said that things would never change for you as long as Kaz was around. With him gone, Bazraki will learn to trust you, rely on you, and in time take pride in your accomplishments as he should have all along.”

  “You act like I need my father’s approval!”

  “I never said you did. But do not try to fool me into believing that you are not envious of the way he treats your brother, that you do not desire such treatment yourself.”

  Is my displeasure so obvious? Does everyone else see it? Tobin sat in silence. “Perhaps I was jealous of Kaz, but I didn’t want this,” he said, gesturing around the room. “I only wanted my father to respect me.”

  “And without Kaz spreading lies to your father and everyone else, you can have that respect, and, in time, much more.” Tobin looked up and a thin smile appeared on Nachun’s face. “Many things are within your grasp, my friend. One in particular would probably be of most interest to you. Lucia is suddenly available.”

  “I told you never to speak of her again,” said Tobin.

  The shaman put his hands up. “Very well. But during her time of mourning I’m sure she will seek comfort from someone.”

  “You speak of Kaz as if he’s dead. Before you said he was teleported.”

  “He was. But due to the interruption in the spell, I’m not sure where. All I know is that he is bound, naked, without his memory, and injured thanks to these idiots,” he said pointing to the bodies at the door. “So even if by some miraculous chance he should recover and stay alive, he’ll probably find himself alone in some part of Hesh he’s never even seen before without the slightest idea on how to return. He’s dead.”

  “What do you mean, he is without his memory? And if you don’t know where he went, then how would you have determined the spell’s success?”

  “I cast a spell that caused Kaz to lose his memory. I figured it was in both of our best interests to do so. I was also working on a tracing spell in addition to the teleportation one, but my concentration broke before I could complete it. If I had been able to finish, I could have determined if he’d arrived alive and in theory even return him if I wanted. But now, he’s lost forever.”

  Lost forever or dead? Tobin stood up and began pacing as he tried to come to terms with the realization. I should turn Nachun in. It would be the right thing to do by Kaz. Despite our differences, we are still blood. Or should I say we were? Father may even reward me for coming to him. I wouldn’t even need to lie to gain his favor. He shook his head, and clenched his hand around the blade he still carried. No. He would blame me for not stopping Nachun.

  He glared at Nachun, hating the position the shaman thrust upon him. He risked his own life for me more than once. Even now, he put himself in danger, and he was honest with his intentions. And now I have the chance to do the same for him. Should I reward his friendship with a death sentence? He knew his father would expect him to do just that, and perhaps it was the right thing to do, but he couldn’t.

  It doesn’t make sense. In the last couple of months Nachun had done more for him than Kaz ever had. They may not have shared the same blood but the shaman was more of a brother to Tobin than Kaz had ever been.

  “You’re right. It’s done.” He changed his grip on the dagger in his hand and moved toward the man still lying motionless on the floor.

  “No! Wait,” Nachun cried out.

  Tobin came to a halt. “Why? We need to remove all evidence.”

  “We need a diversion to throw them off of the truth. Kaz would never just leave on his own accord and without a plausible explanation, his disappearance will raise too many questions.”

  “But he’s dying,” said Tobin, gesturing to the man.

  “He’s dying, but far from dead. We can use him yet.” The shaman pulled a pouch from under his robes. “I’m too weak to perform even the most basic of healing spells but I always carry a few things with me, just in case,” he said, grinning. “This will keep him alive until we get him to a healer.”

  “What makes you think he will help us?” asked Tobin.

  “Oh, he will help us. He has far too much to lose, if he doesn’t. Isn’t that right, Jober?”

  Jober. I knew the man was familiar. Of all people to be here with Kaz.

  “Besides,” said Nachun, bending over the man and opening his pouch, “who would turn down the chance to be a hero once again?”

  Chapter 10

  Squalor Bay, like most of Slum Isle lived up to its name. Little had changed in the two years since Jonrell’s last visit. Most of the docks looked ready to collapse at any moment. Like the rest of the island, the only law a man followed in Squalor Bay was his own. Drinking, fighting, gambling, and whoring passed the time.

  Ocean Spirit eased through the green water and moved past ships of various
shapes and sizes. Galleys, cogs, and even longboats crowded the area around the small wharf. Many of the ships rocking in the small waves at berth looked abandoned. Tattered sails hung lifeless. Rotted railings drooped over the side of the ship like drunken sailors. Yet the swaying caskets floated alongside the occasional Cadonian royal ship that docked there.

  Many would think those lesser vessels were outmatched against the better constructed great ships, but Jonrell was not one of them. He had been to Slum Isle countless times since leaving Cadonia and knew the captains of those decrepit ships could out-maneuver and out-sail many of the royal navy’s commanders.

  Captain Sylik maneuvered his way through the harbor, nestling into a spot away from most of the other ships. The old captain had proven his worth more than once during the voyage, first with Melchizan, and then with a series of storms, one after the other, that battered the crew. The only clear sailing since their first week out came just two days ago. Both the ship’s crew and the band of mercenaries longed for the chance to unwind after such a trying voyage. Once the weather cleared and they no longer had to pull together to stay afloat, the close confines began to wear on them. Jonrell knew they needed to release some of their aggression.

  One Above, help the man who dares start something with them tonight.

  Men already pushed each other aside in an attempt to be first into several row boats lowered into the bay. Sylik walked up next to Jonrell, shaking his head in disgust. “The fools act like this is their last chance at dry land.”

  “I guess being at sea affects some more than others,” said Jonrell.

  “What about you, Commander?”

  “Oh, I may have acted the same when I was younger but I’ve learned to be patient. I’ll follow them on the next wave when they’re done tearing each other up. I only gave them one night to themselves so I won’t slow them down. Come tomorrow, we’ll begin working to bolster our numbers for when we reach Cadonia. Sixty-five men aren’t enough for what I have in mind. One group will recruit the north half of the island while my group works the southern half. You?”

  Sylik shook his head. “I’m an old man.”

  Jonrell chuckled. “Even an old man can have some fun from time to time.”

  “Aye, but I got all the woman I need below my feet and she’s in need of some attention after what we’ve been through. I need to see to her so she’ll be ready when we meet up on the other side of the island in Mudhole Bay.”

  “Well, if everything goes as planned, we should all arrive at roughly the same time.”

  The captain chuckled. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks then. Just don’t get killed in the meantime. You still haven’t finished paying up.”

  Jonrell winked as he stepped down the rope ladder. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  * * *

  “Forgive me, Kaz,” a voice whispered in his mind. He couldn’t say who the voice belonged to or when it spoke, but it repeated itself over and over until his eyes opened. He was uncertain if those words had jarred him awake, or the cool breeze that sent a shiver up his spine. The dewy grass he lay on heightened his senses, pressing against his bare skin. Regardless, he was alert now.

  He blinked his eyes until they adjusted to the overcast light. His body felt like a giant wound. Small aches and bruises pulled at muscles, and cramped limbs longed to stretch out as he forced himself to a standing position. A wave of dizziness washed over him. The sudden assault to his senses brought him down to one knee. Reaching back, he felt his hair caked in dried blood. He steadied himself again, much slower than before and though his head still pounded, the dizziness waned.

  A dry mouth and empty stomach told him he had been unconscious for some time. He looked down at himself for the first time, seeing his nakedness. There was no sign of any personal belongings, only the remains of loose bindings around his wrists.

  Someone did a poor job at trying to bind me. He looked around his feet once more, hoping there was something nearby he could use, but he found nothing. I’d rather have a blade than anything else.

  The thought struck him as odd at first, a weapon being so important to anyone. Then he reasoned out that with a weapon, he could hunt for food, dig for water, and skin an animal for clothing. He considered his current state and began asking himself questions.

  Why wouldn’t I have a blade now if it’s something I desire so much? He took a step forward and his head pounded. Have I been in a fight? I must have been. Disarmed and left for dead.

  He stared out over a wild land. Trees and brush grew in a haphazard manner around rocks jutting through the uneven ground. I don’t recognize any of this. Nothing is familiar. Where am I? Then he stiffened and tried to think of what had led him here. He couldn’t. Who am I? I…I don’t remember anything. A whispering voice echoed in his mind again. “Forgive me Kaz,” it said. The voice was deep and not his own, he realized after repeating the words aloud. Still, something about the way those words were said brought him both comfort and sorrow. Comfort when he realized the words were spoken to him and sorrow from the voice’s solemn tone. I at least have my name. “Kaz.”

  Kaz hoped the voice would keep talking and give him more information but it remained silent. Still, just knowing his name improved his spirits. Rather than dwell on a poor situation, he set off to at least solve one of his problems and allowed his instincts to take over as he traveled the unfamiliar terrain.

  Sometime later he found a stream nestled within a thick forest. Shallow but moving, it was more than he expected to come across. He drank heavily, slow at first so as not to upset his stomach. He washed the blood from his hair as best as he could, shivering as the cool water ran down his back. Having seen after his most pressing problem, he set off to solve the next.

  Kaz wandered up the stream for several hours, stopping to drink as needed. He headed toward a stony hill where he hoped some breed of bird might make its nest amongst the crags. He looked to snatch an egg or two to satisfy his hunger after poor luck fishing in the stream.

  He reached the hill and started to ascend its slope. There weren’t any nests, but he discovered several bushes of wild berries near the hill’s crest. He picked one bush clean, the sweet taste a treat to his tongue. When done with the first, he moved to the second.

  A noise startled him and he froze, inclining his ear toward the sound. He heard voices that seemed to be coming from the other side of the hill. Being so close to the top, he decided to risk the last few steps, and peeked over the edge.

  He spotted a tall warrior, some thirty feet below, with his back to Kaz. The warrior wore armor the color of blood. He held a longsword in his hand, the blade matching his armor. Five men arrayed in a mismatch of armor and weapons stood surrounding the warrior some distance back. Two bodies lay near the warrior’s feet. Despite their numbers, each man seemed leery to press an attack.

  A voice called out from a small set of trees some twenty yards behind the men encircling the warrior. A squat man appeared in yellow robes, stepping from behind a wide oak, his hands concealed in his sleeves. Something about the man in robes angered Kaz. The emotion triggered a piece of his memory. A shaman.

  He could not understand the conversation between the warrior and shaman and couldn’t tell what the dispute was about. However, Kaz found himself siding with the warrior below, if only because of his growing hatred for the man in yellow robes.

  Kaz reached to his waist for a dagger that was not there and instead settled for a rock at his side. He quickly scanned the side of the slope and found a path which he used to descend in a quiet determination.

  * * *

  You’ve done it again, haven’t you? You just couldn’t let things go and give them what they wanted. What are a few coins to you anyway? But why should I? If I let every second rate thief who thinks he can use a sword get the better of me, it won’t be long before everyone is trying it.

  Jonrell glanced down at the two dead bodies in front of him, each pumping blood from a hole in their gut. H
e looked up again as the remaining five bandits closed in. They had killed his horse with a crossbow bolt through the neck. Outrunning them in full armor was not an option. So Jonrell had retreated to the rock face, using the wall to protect his flank. The two men on the ground had come at Jonrell before the others arrived, their strikes sloppy. These others won’t make the same mistake.

  Those who encircled him were a motley group, dressed in bits of mismatched armor, rusted in spots where the dirt had washed away. The grime on their faces was as thick as their smell.

  Their drawn swords were in no better shape than the pieces of mail and plate crudely strapped to their frames. It should be a crime to treat one’s blade in such a way. Jonrell imagined how odd the contrast must be between their appearance and his own. Well if I die, at least I’ll look good doing it.

  The threat of such bandits was reason enough to travel in groups, but Jonrell had decided to go out for an early morning ride to clear his head and ran right into their ambush on the way back. He had hoped that going out in full armor would have been a deterrent for such an attack, but instead it only grabbed their attention.

  Stupid. I should have known better. What would a poor man be doing with such nice weaponry?

  The one in the center approached with eyes flicking to the two men bleeding on the grass before him. Jonrell winked and the man froze, unsure of the meaning.

  Jonrell changed the grip on his sword.

  “Hold!” a voice shouted, and the five men stopped, too far away for Jonrell to take advantage of the distraction. A stout figure appeared from behind a wide oak wearing yellow robes, hands concealed in his sleeves. Sweat sat on his brow despite the cool morning air which told the commander that the mage had at least one spell ready to unleash. A smile crawled across the mage’s face as his eyes met Jonrell’s. He moved forward, away from the tree, and stopped. “Don’t take your eyes off of him. But do not act without my command. Is that clear?”

  Several men grunted in reply. Great. Yellow or not, a mage of any sort changes things. If I was lucky, I may have been able to best the five but not now.