Mystic: A Book of Underrealm

by Garrett Robinson

  Before Loren could reply, soft footsteps whispered on the wood. Annis came to sit beside them, settling on her left while Gem remained on the right. A quick glance over her shoulder showed Xain at the ship’s other end, and though he did not face them Loren saw the wizard’s careful eye on their exchange. Mayhap she was right to suspect the question did not come from Gem.

  She refused to play his game. “Have you given much thought to your course after Wellmont?”

  “I had not finished.”

  “I have, for I said all I mean to. Now, where will you go once we leave the city?”

  “Somewhere with an endless supply of food that requires no coin,” quipped Annis.

  Loren laughed, and even Gem smirked, but their humor was dampened as their stomachs gurgled in concert like a choir of minstrels.

  “Casting aside all jest,” said Loren, turning to Annis, “what will you do after Wellmont? Have you even decided?”

  Annis shrugged. “Well, I have told you I mean to go to Calentin.”

  “Of course. But what then?”

  Annis looked perplexed. “There I will hide until I am but a distant memory to my mother, and all my family. What else could I do?”

  Loren stared at her. “You mean to just . . . remain there? And do what?”

  “Well . . . live, I suppose. I still hold hope that we can fetch a good price for our . . . cargo.” She gave a meaningful look and patted her cloak. “I could purchase a simple house far from prying eyes. I could raise my own food or buy enough to stay comfortable. Mayhap even find some handsome young nobleman to marry.” Her eyes darted to Gem, and she giggled.

  The boy still stared out at the river, oblivious. “Marriage,” he scoffed. “The useless binding of oneself to another for all your life when you have known them for but a sliver of it. If I made it rich, I would buy a house, certainly, and am sure I would keep many lovers there to please me. But to promise myself to just one?” He grunted a laugh.

  Annis’ cheeks grew darker. “You speak very plainly of such things, for a young child,” she said, irritation clear in her voice.

  Gem’s face darkened. Beneath the streets of Cabrus he had spoken of Auntie, and of the way she treated her children. Loren thought she knew something of the anger she saw in him now. She interrupted the conversation with a sigh, leaning back on her hands.

  “I cannot envision myself in a life of idle luxury. Not yet. I would go mad sitting about a house all day. There is too much I wish to do, too much in the world waiting to be seen.”

  Gem snorted. “Aye. You want the life of an infamous thief for reasons I will never understand. But how do you mean to reach it?”

  Loren looked at Gem in confusion. “Why, what do you mean? Just that.”

  “He means,” Annis said, her voice ringing with authority, “how do you mean to get there? Will you simply stroll into the next great city you see hoping to liberate the wealthy of their gold? Do you really believe that would work? Do you think a great thief springs fully formed into the world without years of training and brushes with danger?”

  “Well, they must start somewhere,” said Loren, annoyed.

  “Aye, and that is the point,” said Gem. “Where will you start? Where will you go next? I do not mean so simple an answer as fleeing from Annis’s mother, or escaping the Mystic’s grasp. Where will you go?”

  “Anywhere I please,” she said, her annoyance growing. “I am bound to no one.”

  Gem sighed, shaking his head.

  Annis rose beside Loren and primly dusted her filthy skirts, seemingly unaware of the gesture’s futility. “It is as I thought. You have no more direction than a wandering chick fresh from the nest. You would be better off following me to Calentin, at least to start.”

  Annis strode towards the ship’s bow, and when Loren turned to Gem she found the boy had risen to follow. She sat alone, leaning with her elbows on her knees, staring out at the water. And at last she caught a glimpse of the truth: Loren had no idea in the world where she wanted to go—nor how to find out.

  The river whispered below her, but it spoke no answer.

  fourteen

  TWO WEEKS INTO THEIR VOYAGE, everyone onboard had grown irritable with hunger. Loren spent the longest stretches of her days curled up on a coil of rope Brimlad kept near the ship’s bow, trying to avoid speaking to anyone to keep herself from anger. The captain himself yelled as often as he spoke. Gem and Annis were insufferable with their bickering. Xain stayed silent for the most part and rarely could he muster the strength to bolster the ship’s small sails with a plume of wind. Loren feared to dip her fishing line in the water, for the disappointment of an empty day made the occasional reward of a finger-long fish seem less than worth it.

  And then on the sixteenth day, they spotted the sail approaching behind them.

  Gem spied it first. Loren noticed the boat had grown curiously quiet, and looking up she saw the boy standing at the boat’s rear rail, unmoving as his eyes stayed fixed behind them. She almost looked away again, relieved at the silence, but something in his posture—a tense, fearful sense of anticipation—captured her attention.

  “Gem,” she called out. “What is it?”

  “A cloud pursues us. Only I do not think it is a cloud.”

  Brimlad whirled on the spot, shoving the tiller into Xain’s hand and going to Gem. Loren rose from the deck to join them. Annis remained where she was by the railing, barely raising her head to see.

  “Who cares if there is a cloud?” she said. “I would welcome a little rain, if only to relieve this unbearable heat.”

  “Remove your cloak, then,” snapped Gem.

  Loren slapped him lightly on the back of his head. Her gaze searched the horizon, where the river curled and twisted like a long, shimmering snake. They had sailed around a long bend in its course and found that they had only moved a league as the crow flies, though they had sailed at least three times that long. But following the blue waters farther and farther back, Loren at last spied what Gem had seen. A small white shape hovered above the horizon, tilting slightly back and forth. Fuzzy and indistinct to Loren’s eye. Indeed, like a cloud.

  But Brimlad sucked in a sharp breath and in a grim voice said, “’Tis no cloud. That is a sail. And by the looks, a mighty ship indeed.” He spat over the railing, a gob of thick brown phlegm sinking into the water.

  A thrill of fear ran through Loren. “Whose ship? Have we anything to fear?”

  “I would wager so,” said Brimlad. “Few enough ships could move fast enough to catch us at our pace. At no village have we stopped nor lain ashore overnight. And no port we have passed has held any ship like that one. That means they are from Redbrook and have been sailing day and night to catch us.”

  “But how could they possibly have caught up?” Loren was annoyed to hear her own panic. Spots danced at the edge of her vision. She was nearly starved—they all were. “No matter how fast they have sailed, we had a strong lead. And Xain’s magic to help us besides.”

  “My little skiff will pull her weight, that is sure, but there are mightier ships what inhabit these waters,” said Brimlad. “And I would wager they have some kind of witchery aboard, same as us.”

  That roused Xain at last. With his hand on the tiller he rose and looked towards the sail. “Will they catch us before we reach Wellmont?”

  “I would say it will be a near thing,” said Brimlad. “Except that I fear it will not. They need a wizard to catch us, and theirs is likely better fed than you. They have caught sight of us at last, and the gap can only narrow. We have a day, mayhap two, before they are close enough to take us.”

  “And what then?” said Gem.

  Xain looked at him with hooded eyes. “Then they will capture the girl and kill the rest of us. If we are lucky, they will be quick.”

  Annis rose slowly and walked towards them with leaded feet. “Not if I commanded them to leave you. I have angered my mother, certainly, but my words must still carry her weight.”
>
  “Even a young lass like you cannot be fool enough to believe that,” the captain growled.

  Annis raised her chin, nostrils flaring above her quivering lips. “Very well, then.” Her voice almost broke. “Put me ashore. I will wait for them here. They will not pursue you once they have claimed me, and you will be safe.”

  Brimlad’s lips twisted, and he looked to Xain with a shrug. “She might have something there. I think it is our skins if we do anything different.”

  “We cannot!” cried Loren. “You would abandon this girl back to the clutches of her mother? Captain, you cannot know what fate you consign her to.”

  “Then offer a better idea,” said Brimlad, and again he spat off the side. “For if we fail to do as she says, they will catch and kill us all. Then they will have the girl regardless. Her way, at least we get to live.”

  “He is right, Loren,” Annis said. “It was always a fool’s hope that I could escape. You should all go. You can still make it to Calentin or anywhere else you choose.”

  Loren cut her off with a sharp wave. “We will make good our escape, and with you besides. Xain, a moment.”

  The wizard gave Loren a curious look, but he followed her to the bow. She huddled close and kept her voice low.

  “The magestones. Do you know where we can sell them?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I know a place. It is far to the north, in Dorsea to the west of the Greatrocks Mountains. A city known as Bertram, where a friend could assist me.”

  “And for how much? I can only imagine their value.”

  Xain shook his head. “Beyond your reckoning, but I cannot see how this will help. The Dragon’s Tail does not lead to Bertram, nor could we hope to reach it before we were caught, and even then gold would do us no good against—”

  Hunger stoked her temper. She interrupted with a frustrated growl. “I am not a fool, wizard! I am trying to strike you a deal. With the value of half the magestones, could Annis and Gem buy passage to Calentin and make lives for themselves there?”

  Xain looked irritated, but shrugging he said, “Of course. They could live like royalty, for a long while at least.”

  “And would half the magestones be enough for you to reclaim your son from the High King’s Seat?”

  Xain’s eyes flashed, and his face grew grim. For a moment, Loren grew frightened. “With half of those stones, I could conquer a kingdom,” he said, and his voice was terrible.

  Loren felt a qualm at that, but she made herself press on. “Then we will keep our course for Wellmont. Mayhap Brimlad overguesses our pursuers, and we will reach the city without incident. If they catch us, we will give you one of the crystals. With its power, do you think you could stave off the ship that pursues us?”

  Excitement sparked in his eyes, and he gave a quick nod. “I could rend it into kindling and sink the splinters to the river’s bed. But,” again he grew solemn, “I would rather not. Not unless we were at the utmost end of need.”

  “Then do not destroy the ship,” said Loren impatiently. “Only damage it enough that they cannot hope to make good their chase.”

  “I mean that I would rather not use the magestones, unless I must. As for why . . . it is a matter for wizards.”

  “Tell me. For without this plan, we are lost. If it works, and we reach Wellmont in safety, we can finish the deal. We will procure passage to Bertram and give you half of the magestones. We will sell the other half to your friend. Annis and Gem can travel to Calentin with the coin. But if this will not work, you must tell me now.”

  Again, she saw hunger in the wizard’s eyes. “Half? You would do this for me?”

  “Not for you,” said Loren, sniffing and raising her chin. “For both of us. A mutually beneficial transaction. Two people, walking outside the King’s law together, doing what is best for them both.”

  Xain grunted. “Call it what you will. Still, to use the stones now . . .” He turned from Loren and looked back towards the horizon’s swiftly moving cloud.

  “What? You look like a man who spies a coming danger.”

  Xain opened his mouth, and then after a moment he closed it again. Something changed in his face. It became a mask, firm and stony, as though some arrangement had been made behind his eyes.

  “It will be as you say. We will keep the girl with us, and I will try to best the ship without use of the stones. I have told you that few wizards can match my power.”

  “Yet you are half-starved and weakened because of it. You must promise to use the stones if you must, or else we are all lost.”

  “Yes. At utmost need. And one more thing, girl. You must not tell Brimlad of this. Even in the heat of battle with their wizard. I must take the magestone in secret so that the captain never sees.”

  She did not like his tone—the sudden resolution that filled him. As if he had held something back, some secret he feared for Loren to learn. But she saw little choice other than to trust. In the back of her mind a voice whispered, He left you upon the King’s road. Loren did not listen.

  “Your word,” she said and offered her hand.

  “My word.” The wizard took Loren’s hand in a firm grip, though hers was firmer still.

  fifteen

  WITH THEIR PLAN SET, THEY had only to sail on and wait for their pursuers to catch them. The day passed in uneasy silence, and though they all pretended not to, each of them looked often back at the white canvas slowly leaving the horizon behind. Loren threw her line over the ship’s stern and was pleasantly surprised to hook a fish almost immediately. Gem and Annis cheered as Loren pulled it aboard, but she snatched it away with a glare.

  “Upon Xain’s shoulders rests our salvation. Half of this is for him.”

  They both grumbled, but Loren ignored it. The boat had a small brazier fixed near its mast, and after gutting the fish Loren fried it. Xain devoured the white flesh in seconds—impatience scorching his fingers. The rest of them took more time, savoring their few bites each. Loren threw the line again, hoping for another success, but the day passed without a nibble.

  Night came, and Brimlad retired belowdecks after telling Xain to rouse him at any sign of trouble. Loren tried staying awake to help the wizard watch. But hunger and weariness claimed her before the second moon had peeked above the northern horizon.

  She roused herself just before dawn to find Xain swaying at the tiller. She went to his side and looked off the boat’s stern; the white sail had grown closer still. She could see the vague black shape of a ship skimming the water.

  “They are closer than I thought they would be.”

  “Closer than Brimlad guessed, as well.” The wizard’s words slurred with fatigue.

  “You should rest. Our fates are with you today.”

  “Brimlad has been asleep a few scant hours,” said Xain.

  “Brimlad will be as useful as a barnacle if as he guesses the ship holds a wizard. I will rouse him.”

  Loren left despite Xain’s halfhearted protest. The captain came awake the moment she stepped belowdecks, and he went swiftly to replace Xain. The wizard stumbled down the boat’s few steps and flung himself on a pile of blankets he had built into a sort of bed in the corner.

  Another day wore on, and now they could see the ship growing closer by the hour. Half a dozen times, Loren thought she had better go below to rouse Xain but each time stopped herself. He would need every ounce of his strength.

  Then, as the sun hung above them at full noon, Loren saw something that iced her blood.

  They had surrendered any pretense of ignoring the ship behind them, and most of the time kept their eyes fixed to its sails. The vessel was impossible to ignore—over twenty feet high it reared without the mast, and the tip of its sail stretched higher than the towers dotting the Cabrus walls. From its prow sprouted a figurehead of a beautiful maiden whose legs turned into a fin—one arm stretched forwards as she sped above the waters.

  Staring at the figurehead, Loren saw a slim, slight woman upon the forecastle. Her
hands were on the rail, and she leaned out as though trying to capture the spray in her billowing hair. Around her shoulders, a cloak of deepest red, its hood thrown back.

  “Is that . . .” muttered Gem.

  “Vivien,” breathed Loren. “The Mystic. She sails with Yerrin.”

  Vivien was not merely watching their boat. Her eyes glowed with a pale white light, a glimmer that Loren could see even from so far.

  “A wizard,” said Annis. “The Mystic is a wizard. She is the one who let them sail so fast, who brought them down upon us.”

  Loren ran belowdecks, seizing Xain’s shoulder and shaking the wizard awake. “They are almost here! And the Mystic is with them. Xain—she is a wizard.”

  Xain blinked furiously as he woke, trying to understand her words. “What? Who, the woman upon the dock?”

  “Come and see for yourself.”

  Xain followed her and studied the ship for a spell. Finally, he muttered, “Worse and worse. I feel no stirring in the air. She is a mentalist.”

  “A mindmage?” Annis shuddered. “What can we do?”

  “I can stop her,” said Xain, “though I would rather she were an elementalist. Mentalism and Elementalism are two sides of a coin, the same as Transmutation and Therianthropy. But I will have to watch for what she is doing rather than feeling it with my own gift. It makes things . . . less predictable.”

  “Then do not give her the chance to attack,” said Gem. “Strike first, so that she must defend against you instead.”

  “I cannot know how strong the woman is,” said Xain, “but she is at least strong enough to speed the progress of a large vessel, and I am weakened. I cannot hope to maintain a constant assault against her, only to stave off her attacks as long as I can. Brimlad, how long before we reach the rivergates of Wellmont?”

  “Two days at least. Mayhap three.”

  Loren seized Xain’s arm, but she remembered what he had said about the captain. “Xain, you cannot hope to fight her for that long.” She put extra effort into each syllable, hoping the wizard would catch her meaning.