The Long Journey Home (The Legend of Vanx Malic Book 8)

by M. R. Mathias

  This time, Vanx cast the Tempus Fist, and before the powerful spell even impacted the two huge creatures, Vanx had Zeezle over his shoulder and was climbing back up the shaft.

  He could only hope that the snake-tentacled thing had taken its meal to consume somewhere besides his route. Then another of the crabs forced its way through the mess he’d made of the last two. When he turned to see how close it was getting, he felt Poops again, and knew that there were three of these creatures between him and his familiar.

  Between him and the Glaive.

  It was then that he sat Zeezle on the ground and started blasting his way back down the tunnel. Rage consumed him as he poured his anger into each devastating spell. His next Tempus Fist tore half of the newcomer apart, and beyond it he saw a series of smaller magical pulses tearing into the other things.

  He cast one more Tempus Fist, making sure its path didn’t impact Chelda, Castavonti, and Poops, who were now wading toward him through the disgusting remains of the strange, monsters.

  “Hurry with the Glaive,” Vanx yelled.

  Chelda entered Vanx’s magical illumination, and instead of laboring to carry the ancient elven weapon, she stuck the blade in its sheath, unhooked it from her belt, and hurled it end over end at Vanx.

  Vanx decided his ribs might have been broken. The pain almost made him miss when he had to leap up to catch the sword, but it didn’t matter. As soon as he pulled the blade free, he stabbed Zeezle, right in the spider bite, and then cut himself on the forearm.

  He stabbed Zeezle twice more, when the first didn’t seem to do anything.

  Grief struck him then.

  He was too late. His friend was dead.

  “What happened to him?” Chelda asked as she got close enough to see.

  “Spider bite,” Vanx said. He didn’t say anything when the complexion of her cheeks went from raging red to pale as a sheet.

  “You were right, man,” Castavonti called from where he’d found the old chest spilling coppers.

  Vanx didn’t let the man’s lack of couth get to him; Castavonti hadn’t seen Zeezle’s dead, half-bloated body yet.

  Chapter Fourteen

  There are many monsters,

  many evil things spread across the land.

  But the saddest truth of all

  is the worst creature alive is man.

  Vanx couldn’t remember ever being as relieved as he was when Zeezle moaned out his brother’s name.

  Quickly, he stabbed his friend with the Glaive again thrice more. He also poured his waterskin on Zeezle’s sweaty face, and chest, trying to cool his body. It took a few long moments, but suddenly the swelling started to subside. Poison, pus, and bloody goo oozed from Zeezle’s wound, like icing squeezed from a bag, until his leg was back to normal size. Even the deep cuts, where his well-made pants hadn’t given way, were healed over.

  Within half a glass, he was fully restored and griping about the destruction of his favorite britches.

  It was nearing dark when they got themselves and the treasure back to the longboat, but none of them wanted to stay the night.

  By the light of a spell, Vanx used the shovel they’d left on the boat to scoop up a few yards of turf and dirt. He put it all in the makeshift crate he’d built after they’d mapped this foul place.

  Once they were all in the longboat and rowing away from the island, Vanx let out a sigh of relief and hugged his dog. He couldn’t wait to get back to the Adventurer.

  They were about half way between ship and shore when there was a heavy splash from not so far away.

  “Kill the illumination,” Zeezle said in a hushed tone.

  Vanx did so, his heart racing faster than his mind could.

  “What is it now?” Chelda asked the question for him.

  “Shhh,” Zeezle hissed. “Quit rowing.”

  A moment later, they were gliding slowly on their previous momentum. The sea was black and glassy. The sky would have been full of moonlight were there not a thick layer of storm clouds building over the island. The Adventurer was but a silhouette with a single lamp glowing in the darkness ahead of them. Vanx felt like his orb of light might have caused them to look like bait for something below.

  “Oh my,” Chelda blurted.

  Poops barked, and then Vanx saw why.

  All around them, lime green and bright blue, glowing fish were schooling. Some of them were leaping from the water. They looked to be swimming through the air, until they splashed back down amid thousands of their chums. It was beautiful and amazing all at the same time, but something wasn’t sitting well with Vanx. Even though these were harmless creatures of the sea, they had surfaced for a reason.

  That thought sent Vanx into a panic. “Something is feeding on the school, from underneath. Row your arses off.”

  Chelda and Zeezle did just that. Castavonti, for the first time Vanx could remember, said something helpful.

  “If it was attracted to your light, Capt’n Vanx,” he said, “I can cast a similar orb of illumination a good distance away, and it will then be drawn to that, instead of us.”

  “Wait…until…we…have…enough momentum.” Zeezle finally quit rowing so he could talk. “Once we have enough momentum to glide the rest of the way to the ship, then cast the other light.” He went back to rowing. “Right now, these beauties are hiding the commotion of the oars just fine.”

  They were beauties, Vanx decided. These fish were as long as a man’s leg, and the colors racing across their skin were as captivating as the old wizard’s healing spell had been.

  It came as a great surprise when Poops darted to the front of the boat and caught one of the fish from the air.

  Vanx had to hold him by the leg until he could pull his catch all the way into the boat.

  The dog looked at Vanx proudly, but all Vanx could think about was the deep thumping sound the fish was making as it flopped around the bottom of the boat. He was about to draw his sword to stab it when the heel of Chelda’s boot found its head.

  The fish’s colors faded then, and its tail curled up one last time, then it flopped back to the bottom of the longboat and lay still.

  “There’s me and Poops’s supper,” Chelda grunted between oar strokes. “You dolts need to catch one for yourselves.”

  “If you two can eat all that meat, then have at it.” Castavonti said. “That’ll feed the lot of us for two days.”

  “Cast that light spell on the count of three,” Zeezle said. “Chelda, let’s put it all into these three pulls.”

  “Aye, Zeezy.” She let out a breath. The force the longboat lurched with each pull was startling.

  “One, two,” Zeezle said. “And shhh…” He hushed them instead of saying “three”.

  Castavonti didn’t cast the illumination spell, so Vanx whispered, “Three,” to him, and then he did.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It is times like this that make me feel

  like I’m the king of this whole world.

  You could be my queen, and I would cover you

  in diamonds, gold, and pearls.

  The next morning, they waited out a thunderstorm. When they pulled anchor, the island that should have been right there was gone. There was nothing but open sea in its place. Not even a trace of it was to be seen, by eye, or by glass. It was as if the whole thing had simply vanished.

  Vanx knew it hadn’t been an illusion, though, for there in the crate they hauled aboard last night was the dirt and turf he’d gathered. He didn’t dwell on the missing land mass, but instead directed the Adventurer toward Orendyn and spent the first part of the day constructing a shallow, square box to hold the dirt from the island. He laid the turf over it and set a barrel of fresh water aside to water the makeshift grass bed every day.

  Poops understood what it was. No sooner had Vanx finished than the dog squatted brazenly in front of them all and squeezed out a healthy, stinking shit.

  “I thought you were going to stop letting him eat fish,” Zeezle said w
ith his fingers pinching his nose shut.

  “He caught the fish.” Vanx shrugged. “And don’t act like it’s all that bad. You should smell it with his nose.”

  “Well, where is the island?” Chelda asked. Her look was one that expected Vanx to have a perfectly good explanation.

  Ronzon was rattled, and so was Castavonti. Master Ruuk was hunched over, thinking hard on the subject, or maybe had fallen asleep with his legs dangling over the wheel deck’s edge.

  Vanx imagined the wrong wave causing the Zythian to slip and take a tumble while he pondered Chelda’s question. Then, as the answer came to him, he decided that if a wave shook Master Ruuk from that ledge, he’d land like a cat or a feather. He was Zythian, after all. His reluctance to adventure stemmed from him knowing exactly how precious his life was. A lot of older Zythians thought that way.

  “I suppose it is invisible.” Vanx said. “I lost the map—the whole scroll tube, actually—somewhere in there when I was fighting for my life.”

  “And mine, brother,” Zeezle reminded. “You were fighting for my life, too.”

  “Yup.” Vanx shrugged again, not wanting to take credit for anything more than trying to survive. “Either way, I think if you hold the map or are near the one who does, then you can see the place. I kind of remember looking back when those fish were schooling all around us, and I think it had already disappeared.”

  Master Ruuk wasn’t sleeping, and Vanx saw a smile spread across his face.

  “Makes sense to me.” Chelda said, and went back to helping Ronzon make individual chests to store their shares of coppers in.

  Zeezle put his arm around Vanx’s shoulders. The question is, what are you going to do with that amber gem in your pocket? He spoke in the ethereal.

  I was hoping that something on the map or the island would give me at least a clue, but I have no idea, Vanx answered.

  Smash with hammer, Poops said, giving Vanx and Zeezle a curious look.

  Where? They asked the dog in unison; only Vanx added, When?

  Poops sauntered away and then sat in the shade against the wheelhouse and started liking his gonads voraciously.

  Maybe it is the seed to your Elmwood Heart Tree, like the emerald was to the tree back in Harthgar, Zeezle said.

  Maybe so. Vanx nodded. He had a good idea where he would plant it if that was what it was. But they still had weeks of sailing to get there.

  Sea Mage Castavonti looked at Vanx when he noticed the slight change of course the Adventurer took. It couldn’t have been more than a degree, and it spoke to Vanx of the sea mage’s skill at his profession. Vanx also noted the man didn’t speak of the change to anyone, even him. Which could only speak of two things: trust, respect, or both. Or maybe fear?

  They fished a few times over the next ten days and weathered a decent-sized storm that left Chelda seasick and a sizeable knot on Master Ruuk’s head. The man refused to let Chelda stick him with the Glaive of Gladiolus, and that was strange to Vanx. So, one day while they had the fishing line out, and the sky was balmy and blue, he asked him why.

  “Why suffer the bruised noggin?” Vanx spoke quietly when no one else seemed to be paying attention.

  “This is how we learn, Vanx,” the Zythian answered simply. “This pain will keep me from dropping my guard and snoozing on the deck of a ship for the rest of my life. If she just jabs me and heals it, I don’t learn a lesson.”

  “That makes absolutely no sense.” Vanx laughed. He started to elaborate, but the line on the flinger rod started clicking away from the wooden reel fiercely.

  Vanx got to it and didn’t even have to say a word to get the ship moving in his favor. The Adventurer changed course as he needed without him or Castavonti having to touch wheel or rope. The only thing more amazing than the way the boat was obedient to his whim was the way Castavonti went about letting the rest of them think he was controlling the thing.

  This was no small fish, Vanx found, and even with the ship working fully in his favor, it eventually pulled the line to its limit and then ripped the whole rod from his hand.

  Zeezle, however, had another idea. His dagger cut the line as he grabbed the rod, a good three feet away from the rail, over open water.

  He didn’t fall into the sea, though. He disappeared from where he was and landed on his belly, right in the grass bed full of dog shit.

  An argument between him and Master Ruuk ensued about the choice of his landing place. But everyone else gasped, drawing Vanx away from the Zythians to what their eyes were locked on.

  It was a ship. A big, three-masted, cargo vessel, and it looked to be adrift.

  Vanx was curious, but he was suddenly feeling a bit of Master Ruuk’s survival reluctance as the Adventurer drew them nearer to it anyway.

  Chapter Sixteen

  From a castle way up high,

  we can watch the world pass by.

  Sweet dreams of kings and queens,

  can you tell me what they mean?

  The ship was named the Ada Rosamond. Vanx knew the name meant honorable protector of horses or something like that. His suspicion that this was a ship carrying animals was strengthened by the foul smell that wafted over them on approach.

  “Leave it,” Master Ruuk said firmly. “Disease, or something, has taken the crew. Look. No one is alive, and we could contract the same ailment.”

  Vanx was just about to agree when Poops heard something and started barking. There were still horses alive, more than two; Poops could tell.

  Vanx told the others what Poops heard, then stood at the bow of the Adventurer and used a wind wish to blast the derelict vessel with fresh air. The tattered sails caught some of the wind, and they had to move to intercept the larger craft, but at least it didn’t smell like rotten death anymore.

  “This could be a pirate trap,” Castavonti said matter-of-factly. “We should be very careful.”

  “I’m bored as all the hells,” Chelda said, brandishing her war hammer. “I hope there are some fargin’ pirates on that ship.”

  “Nah, nah,” Zeezle said from his place about halfway up the rigging. “Pirates would run after seeing the magic Vanx just used. Master Ruuk, can you get me there?”

  “I can, but I’m against it.” The Zythian mage pursed his lips and put his arms across his chest.

  “I think he meant now.” Chelda reached up and grabbed Zeezle’s ankle.

  “You sure you want to go?” Vanx asked the two of them, allowing Zeezle to climb down and get his feet on the deck.

  “I am,” Chelda answered, but Zeezle just gave him a look that said, why are you asking?

  “I’ll have to put you a few feet above the deck to compensate for the waves.” Ruuk sounded reluctant. Vanx had been at first, but after hearing the horses, trapped, starving, and dehydrating, he had lost all worry of trouble.

  “Search for their stores,” said Vanx. “They probably have water and grain, but the animals can’t get to it. A disease that killed the men may not have killed the horses.”

  “I’ll shield us and stay clear of dead men.” Zeezle nodded.

  “I have the Glaive, Vanxy.” Chelda brandished it, and he shook his head again over how small it looked in her big hand. “I’ll heal the horses that can be healed.”

  “We can’t carry horses on this boat,” Castavonti said.

  “No, but we can tow that one in, and probably get a hefty fee from the owner, or its sale.” Ronzon said. “We are only a week or so away from Cold Port.”

  “Yup.” Vanx nodded. “I’d feel better if you took Ronzon, too. He will know how to rig the ships together, and after we are underway, Master Ruuk can use spells to fully cleanse the Ada Rosamond.”

  The older Zythian mage groaned, but after they grabbed some gear, he grouped Zeezle, Chelda, and Ronzon on the deck and teleported them, as best as he could on a rolling sea, over to the deck of the larger ship.

  They appeared ten feet above the Ada Rosamond’s main deck, and Zeezle saw that it was rising as they
fell.

  “Blasted wizards,” Chelda cursed as she slapped against the planks.

  Zeezle saw Ronzon impact and winced. His legs struck a rail on an upper deck, and he was flipped so that the side of his face struck before the rest of him.

  A few seconds later, he looked at Zeezle.

  “That wizard makes me skin crawl and creep,” Ronzon said, rubbing his shins.

  “I don’t see any bodies, living or dead, on deck,” Zeezle said. He’d caught a rigging line and kept himself from impacting badly.

  “If they’d been dead,” Ronzon offered, “even a small storm would have washed them off.” He groaned as he touched the side of his bruised face. “These sails have been through a few storms untended.”

  “Those poor horses,” Chelda mumbled as she found a door that opened onto a stairway leading down. The look on her face when the air hit her told Zeezle there was rotting meat below. “How do we bring the live ones up, Ronzy?” she asked?

  “There.” He pointed to a set of double doors in the ship’s deck. “You use a horse harness and lift them up and down with that block and tackle.”

  Zeezle was already throwing the doors open, and the smell from below was pretty bad, but not as bad as he’d figured.

  Ronzon put his foot in a hook dangling from a rope and showed Zeezle which ropes to pull to swing him out over the hole and then lower him down.

  “Gah,” Chelda said as she appeared under Ronzon. “I’ve found bones and more bones. Something has been eating their meat. The rot we smell is nothing but the gristle piles.”

  Just then, a horse whinnied. Zeezle jumped the twelve feet down to the next deck, and landed in an acrobatic roll. He was on his feet, exiting the hay-strewn area a different way than Chelda had come in from.

  Chelda offered Ronzon a place between her and Zeezle, but he bowed and said, “Ladies first.”

  That made Chelda laugh, but she came right behind Zeezle anyway. Zeezle was glad. He’d rather have her at his back than a deckhand he’d only known a short while.