Sea Queen

by Michael James Ploof

  Chapter 8

  The Curse of Power

  Talon has found my cave of dreams, and he has learned the price of power. Was it a gift or a curse I bestowed upon him? When first the dreams came to me, I thought nothing of them, but as they continued to come night after night, I became intrigued. Who was this boy born of the ominous star? I filled the cave of dreams with the images, unable to control what I saw. My inquiries led me to the Temple of Kronas, to the Star Seer’s tower. After many days and nights of study and calculation, Kronas gave to me the boy’s star scroll. I did not read it for many cycles of the moon, afraid of what I might find and what I might do. The boy’s story, as I had seen it unfold, spoke to my heart and soul. I worried I might be tempted to intervene if I knew too much. Finally, curiosity got the better of me, and I read the child’s star scroll, he born of the Dog Star moon. I understood then what I must do.

  -Azzeal of Elladrindellia, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive – 4997

  Talon pocketed the trinket and carried Tyson’s body back into the cave. He laid him down gently before his death mural, and positioned his body neatly. Returning to the fire, he gathered Tyson’s sword, a coin purse, and the playing cards. He laid the cards and the sword upon Tyson’s still form, and placed the coins in his hand. He gathered stones from about the cave and began to cover the body. When he had finished, he regarded the large mound of stone and then bowed his head. He cried all the while, until his eyes were itchy and puffy with no more tears to give.

  “I’m sorry, Tyson. I should have understood how the lure of power would affect people. It wasn’t your fault. You just wanted a better life for your people. You saw a chance and you took it. And you were right—if I’m not going to use my power for the greater good, perhaps I don’t deserve such gifts. Goodbye, my friend. I wish I could have known you longer.”

  He returned to the fire and added more wood. The smoker needed stoking, and he forced himself to tend to it. From his pocket, he took the figurine and hoped Chief was alright. He had never seen him dismiss himself before.

  “Chief, come here, boy.”

  The familiar routine of Chief’s arrival played out, and the spirit wolf barked happily, dancing in circles.

  “There you are, you old devil.”

  Chief perked up and stared in the direction of Tyson’s chamber. He sniffed at the ground and whimpered. Following the scent he disappeared down the tunnel into darkness. Talon set the dried meat to cool for a while, and put on another dozen small steaks—these he would leave until morning. After a few minutes Chief returned. The wolf held his head down, as though he had done something wrong.

  “It’s alright, boy. Nothing you did.”

  Chief whimpered with a high pitched keening and lay down.

  “I know what you mean,” said Talon.

  He threw a few pieces of wood on the fire and tossed another handful of green leaves in the smoker before setting his bed roll down for the night. Chief lay next to him, staring at the fire.

  Talon studied a mural on the ceiling depicting him in Beorn’s cave, speaking with Azzeal. He smiled at the memory. The elf had bestowed a great gift on him in the form of Kyrr. The ring had somehow saved him from the worst effects of the blightweed poisoning. Talon had been lucky—Tyson could have easily ran off with Chief while he lay helpless. He had to be more careful in the future.

  Tyson may have been a bit of a shyster, but in the end, fear of imminent death had made him do what he did. He might easily have been successful in his robbery, or worse—if Chief hadn’t been able to fight the command, Talon could be dead. He had learned two valuable lessons. He couldn’t summon Chief unless he was holding the trinket, and Chief could defy another who summoned him. Did that mean the spirit wolf could also defy Talon if he truly disagreed with the command?

  He stared at the mural wondering what he could have done different.

  With Chief watching over him, he hoped his sleep would be dreamless. He was especially uncomfortable sleeping in the tomb of the recently deceased. His amma had said Chief’s spirit stayed behind after death to watch over him and would chase away bad spirits and nightmares. As far as he could tell, she was right.

  Talon woke an hour before sunrise, and groaned as he rolled over stiffly.

  Chief stalked in from the mouth of the cave and licked his face affectionately.

  “Mornin’ boy. You ready to put some miles behind us?”

  Chief barked.

  Talon got up and prepared for the day as he considered his leads. His search along the coast had brought him to Akkeri’s busted keipr, and the murals showed she’d been here, but where was she now? The murals told that she had been taken by the slavers. He had to catch up to that ship.

  McGillus had gotten a good look at him. There would be no disguising himself as a member of the crew. He would have to find another way on board to get the answers he sought—surely someone would remember his red haired girl. He tried to think back on the exchange between McGillus and the slave owner. Where had he said they were headed? The word came back to him, Hornhollow.

  Talon thought back on his amma’s maps. The place stuck out in his memory, due to its location. The port city was aptly named, being that it was situated on what looked like the pointed horn of a dragon. Hornhollow was a part of Eldalon, the next kingdom to the west.

  “Well, at least we know where the slaver is headed, boy. If we’re lucky, the ship will make enough stops for us to catch up.”

  Talon rolled up his bed and tied it to the top of his pack. He took the remainder of Tyson’s coins and spilled their collective contents out onto the stone. He counted fifty-five silver and over one hundred copper. To his utter delight and surprise, one of the sacks even contained seven pieces of gold. On one side of the coins was a majestic mountain range with the sun rising between towering peaks, and on the other was the face of a gruff looking dwarf king. Below his bust was the name ZRENGAR. In smaller print, on the bottom right, was 4787 followed by a dash, indicating the king still reigned.

  “Forty seven - eighty seven…Feikinstafir, Chief. That would mean he’s been king for…Two hundred and ten years! I heard dwarves lived a long time, but that’s incredible.”

  He didn’t know anything about the Shierdon markets or money, but he had learned that two rooms cost fifty copper. During the card game in the room at the tavern Marcus had said twenty five copper equaled one silver—he could only guess how many silver traded for one gold. One thing he was sure of, however, was that he had a small fortune on his hands. He realized then why some men turned to a life of thievery to get by.

  Talon thought to bring all the loot with him, but his amma’s words changed his mind. Don’t carry all your eggs in one basket. He decided to stash some of the money there in the cave, against the chance that he would ever need the funds.

  Chief helped him find a suitable hiding place. They settled on a dark corner behind a big rock. He divided the fortune into two equal piles. One sack he would hide, the other he would bring with him.

  He spent ten minutes or so pushing the rock deeper into the corner so as to help conceal his stash. When he was done, he slumped against it and threw up his hands to Chief.

  “What, you couldn’t offer a paw?”

  Chief grinned and panted.

  Talon decided on some breakfast before setting out for the day. He ate a big piece of venison and the last of the bread. The small amount of cheese, he saved for dinner. He stuffed as much of the smoked meat into his pack as he dared attempt carry, and set about extinguishing the fire. When he was finished stomping out the coals, he dismantled the smoker and scattered its stones. He wanted to leave as little trace as possible. When he was done, he chuckled at the stupidity of trying to cover his tracks in a cave littered with scenes depicting his life. The thought made him wonder if, or how far, McGillus and the slavers had ventured inside—and how many others would, throughout the years.

  He shouldered the pack and made his way to the mouth of the ca
ve. Looking back a last time, he said his goodbyes to Tyson and walked out into the new day.

  He climbed to the top of the steep cliff by way of an eastern passage—avoiding the rocky expanse to the west where Tyson had fallen to his death the night before. He saw no boats out on the water, and considered it a sign that the nearest village was far off. He needed to find a horse, and right quick, if he hoped to catch up to the slaver.

  Chief ran ahead to scout as they crested the high bluff overlooking the calm ocean waters. The clouds gave no threat of rain. They were the kind which rose into the heavens as great arches of silver and white. Most of the day, the world was covered in their shadows, but when the sun shone through, the land was bathed in golden light.

  A wide parting of the clouds occurred shortly before midday. As Talon and Chief walked through a mature field of wheat, the sunlight transformed it into an ocean of gold, and the two began to run. It was just the inspiration they needed to lift their spirits and forget recent events for a moment.

  Soon they diverted from the coastal path to follow a winding road slightly inland. When they came to a three-way fork in the road, Talon read the old weathered sign which hung at a slant from a rickety post. To the west the sign read, Willow Wood—10 miles.

  “Alright, Chief, looks like we’re headed toward Willow Wood. But let’s take lunch first. I want to have my wits about me when we get there. And being hungry don’t make for a clear head.”

  Chief barked agreement.

  Talon took his lunch in the shade beneath the long drooping bows of a giant everpine, a few hundred feet from the road. He ate some more of the venison, saving the smoked meat for after it was all gone. He drank from his water skin, downed a handful of his amma’s nuts and berries, and headed out once again. It would take him three or four hours to reach Willow Wood, but hopefully there he would be able to buy a horse.

  “Now listen, Chief. We have to be more careful about you being seen. And under no circumstances are you to go ghost in front of other people. I mean no one. You understand, boy?”

  A bark affirmed that he did.

  “Good. You gotta understand…other people, they might see you as a…as a weapon. We don’t want to tempt them. Men don’t do well with temptation. We’re going to have to keep the ring a secret too. Of course, it would help if the damn thing wouldn’t glow every time I use it. I’m going to have to get a hold of some thick leather gloves to keep it hidden. We have to be smart, Chief. The stakes are too high for another foul up like what happened back at the cave.”

  Talon told himself he needed to take more responsibility for his actions. He should have never gotten drunk and played cards all night long. If he hadn’t been passed out, he might have been able to save the others from the slavers.

  When Willow Wood finally came into view a few hours later, Talon stopped for a moment before following the road down into the valley where it lay.

  “Alright boy, I have to go alone into town. Don’t worry—if there’s any trouble, you’ll be the first to know.”

  He sent Chief away and pocketed the trinket.

  As he approached Willow Wood he searched the harbor for the slave ship. He found only fishing boats and a few traders. He was surprised by the size of the village. It was at least four times bigger than the previous two. Farms dotted the landscape inland, and further on Talon could make out the neat rows of apple trees in a sprawling orchard. Cottages and other thatch covered buildings stood tightly packed around the large harbor. The docks bustled with activity. Night was a few hours off, and the fisherman were returning with the day’s catch. The harbor slowly sunk behind the village as Talon walked down into the valley.

  First things first, I have to get some different clothes.

  Keeping his head low, he walked into the village and quickly veered into an alley. He would have to try to stay on the less traveled routes. As he made his way deeper into the village proper, the dirt streets were replaced by cobblestone. Shops, inns, and other businesses came into view. Big bay windows and wooden signs announced the wares to be found within. Talon passed by a shop with an assortment of clothing in its window and slipped inside.

  The store offered mostly dresses. Much different from the drab burlap garments the Skomm women wore, or the thick fur dresses of the Vald, these looked more like fully bloomed flowers set upside down. Some had frilly shoes with long spiked heels and long elbow-length gloves to match.

  Talon moved to search the men’s clothes. Trousers, shirts, jackets, vests, and the shiniest boots he had ever seen sat on display.

  The shop keep startled him. “Hello, good sir. I’m about to close up, so if you know what you want—” He stopped mid-sentence when he got a closer look at his customer.

  “I just need some clothes and I’ll be out of your way,” said Talon with a friendly smile.

  The shop keep was suspicious. “Where you from, boy?”

  Talon thought to run, but he tried to think like Marcus instead. The shop keep obviously knew, by his clothes and features, that he was Skomm. His mind raced as the man raised a brow, scrutinizing him.

  “My…my master ordered me to gather him some new clothes,” Talon finally said.

  A light of revelation crossed the shop keep’s face, and he nodded with consideration. “Why didn’t you say so? What’s the occasion?”

  “Occasion?”

  “What kind of function does he need the clothes for? A ball, a dinner, business, leisure?”

  “Uh, leisure.”

  The shop keep led Talon past a variety of suits, with high collars and shiny buttons, to more leisurely attire. A leather vest caught Talon’s eyes. Next to it were matching boots and gloves.

  “What size is your master?” the keep asked.

  “My master sent me to get clothes because we share exact measurements,” said Talon.

  The man regarded him curiously over his spectacles. “Well, what’s his taste? I haven’t got all day for late shoppers.”

  “Uh, he would like this vest, and the matching boots and gloves.”

  The shop keep quickly measured Talon at different angles, murmuring to himself, and then found the right size vest.

  “You sure his feet are the same size as yours?” the keep asked, reaching for a pair of boots.

  “Yes, sir”

  “Try these on—but if they don’t fit your master, I’m not offering any refunds.”

  Talon bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”

  He slipped the boots on and they fit well. The first pair of gloves were too tight, but the next were perfect.

  The shop keep moved toward the trousers. “Your master got a favorite color?”

  “Them brown ones will do— and one of them blue shirts with the short sleeves. On second thought, better make it two pairs each.”

  He noticed a long, dark blue cloak with a hood. It would be perfect to hide behind. He pointed to it. “I’ll…My master would like that too.”

  The shop keep grunted and gathered the clothes, making his way to his counter. He put the merchandise neatly in a sack, and added up the sale on paper.

  “Fifteen silver.”

  Talon gulped. He rummaged in his coin purse for a gold piece. He laid one down on the counter with a clink—by paying with a gold coin, he could finally learn how many silver one was worth. The keep lifted the coin and eyed it thoughtfully. “Dwarven gold, eh? Your master got business with the Ky’Dren dwarves?”

  Talon reached for the bag. “His business brings us all over.”

  The keep nodded and counted out the change. “Ten silver is the difference,” he said, handing over the coins.

  Talon took the change, and made a mental note that one gold was worth twenty five silver. He turned on his heel with a quick thanks and moved quickly to the door, but stopped at the threshold. “Where can my master purchase a fine horse, do you know?”

  “Might have some luck at the stables to the west of town, up by the orchards—place called Greyson Coursers, or he can hi
re one from the hackneymen in town, whichever pleases him.”

  The sun had set outside, and twilight was waning into the night. In the shadows of an empty alley, Talon ducked behind a pile of crates and changed out of his Skomm attire. The weight of the cloak was reassuring. He felt safer peering out from under the hood. He stuffed his old clothes behind the crates and emerged from the alley a new man. No one would be able to tell that he was Skomm from a distance. He kept his head down and made for Greyson Coursers.

  The farm was easy enough to find. It was on a high hill overlooking the village. Three long barns and two houses sat on the property.

  Talon strode up to one of the barns with the confidence of a free man. A young boy of seven or eight was chasing a chicken with a stick but stopped when he noticed Talon.

  “Who are you?” the boy asked.”

  “Hello, I’m…Jahsin Akkeri. I’m in need of a horse.”

  The boy laughed and said, “That’s a strange name.”

  “Is the master around?”

  The boy pointed to the center barn and said, “In there,” before scampering off.

  Talon reached the barn just as a big, broad shouldered man walked out. He extended his hand and said, “Hello, sir. I’m Jahsin Akkeri. I’m in need of a horse.”

  The man regarded him for a moment before shaking his hand. “Lucas Greyson,” he said. “Bit late to be calling.” He turned and started walking toward the barn.

  Talon followed him to the door but stopped there, having not been invited inside.

  “I apologize, but I just got into town. I ain’t for staying the night. I’ve business in the west,” he explained.

  “Well, then come on. I’m late for dinner as it is.”

  Talon followed the man to the back of the long barn. Along both sides were horses of all different colors.

  “You need a packhorse, I imagine.”

  “Yes,” said Talon.

  Greyson leaned against one of the stalls and pointed to the last few horses in the row. “These here are young and strong. Just shoed ‘em too.”