Awakener

by J. C. Staudt

  “We had a day or two of calm,” said the captain. “It started back up again last night. Been this way since.”

  “Odd.”

  “Quite odd.” Womarr looked up at the sky. “Not a single stormcloud on the horizon. One of the stranger things I’ve witnessed in my time. I should think we’ll reach calmer waters once we’ve taken to the open seas.”

  Unlikely, Maaltred thought.

  “We’ll be staying in our usual cabin, I presume?” asked the man with dyed skin.

  “Aye,” said the black-cloaked elf. “I’ve already claimed my hammock.”

  “I expect you’ll find your cabin mates of interest,” said the captain.

  The elf raised an eyebrow. “Oh yes?”

  “Three priests and two young girls.”

  “Priests of which faith?”

  “I haven’t the slightest. Certainly not servants of the dusk. But then, you’d know more about that than I would.”

  “Indeed. I shouldn’t wonder if they’re bound for the same place we are.”

  “Forandran? I’d say it’s likely, wouldn’t you? Why else would persons of your sort be traveling with children?”

  “I can think of several reasons,” said the elf. “How old are they?”

  Womarr thought for a moment. “I’m bad with ages. Five and ten, maybe? Might be there’s an opportunity here waiting to be had.”

  The elf smiled. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

  “Feel free to go below and make introductions on your own. We’ll be getting underway. On that score, I’d better start the proceedings. If you’ll excuse me, my lords.” Womarr offered the three passengers a deep bow before taking his leave.

  Maaltred ducked behind the companionway and hurried down the stairs. He entered the cabin to find Sullimas lying on his bunk while Norne tried to occupy the two girls with a game. “Vicar Norne. Might I have a word?”

  Norne told the children to wait, and that he’d return in a moment.

  Maaltred pulled him aside. “Our cabin mates are on their way down. They’ve just been speaking with Captain Womarr. I overheard them talking about us. Seems they have an interest in Ryssa and Vyleigh.”

  “What sort of an interest?”

  “They’re on their way to Forandran, and they think we are too. They think we’re bringing them there.”

  “Why should that alarm us?”

  “I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something I don’t like about them. Do you know what it means to be a servant of the dusk?”

  Norne shook his head blankly. “Why?”

  “Womarr said he didn’t think we were servants of the dusk. He said there might be some sort of opportunity with Ryssa and Vyleigh.”

  “Servants of the dusk,” Norne repeated. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “Nor have I. I think we ought to keep a close eye on the girls for the duration of this voyage. These people strike me as up to no good.”

  “So they’re a little suspicious,” Norne said with a shrug. “Sounds as though they’re suspicious of us, too. Of course, it was bound to happen sooner or later, given the unusual composition of our merry little band. Let it be, Brother Maaltred. I’m certain it’s only a few curious fellows making assumptions. It’ll blow over once we all get to know one another. I, for one, look forward to meeting them.”

  “Meeting who?” Sullimas asked from his bunk. His face was pale, and sweat stood out on his brow.

  “Our cabin mates,” said Maaltred. “They’ll be here any second.”

  “Indeed we shall,” said a voice in the doorway.

  The elf in the black cloak crossed the room and checked the hammock for the bag he’d stowed there. He removed his cloak to reveal a matching velvet tunic with brocade accents and amber-colored hair which fell to his shoulders, framing a delicate face as smooth as a baby’s. The two larger men ducked beneath the doorframe to enter the room after him.

  Vyleigh looked up at the elf and cocked her head. “Are you a boy or a girl?”

  He smiled down at her. “You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you? I’m a boy. What are you?”

  “A girl,” she said.

  “That’s lovely.” He crouched beside her, took her hand in his, and gave it a kiss. “How wonderful to meet you, my lady. I am Erilliamonn Eloriad, though you may call me Eril. What’s your name?”

  “Vyleigh,” she said, blushing.

  “Vyleigh. My, what an enchanting name. How many years have you, Vyleigh?”

  She held up a hand, fingers spread, then lowered one of them. “Four and one half.”

  Eril’s eyes went wide. “Four and one half? You’re getting to be a big girl. And how about you, young lady?”

  “My name’s Ryssa,” she said. “I’m eight.”

  “Why, you’re even bigger. Are you sisters?”

  Both girls nodded.

  “And what do you think of the Seadrake? Are you excited for our adventure across the ocean?”

  “I think that’s plenty of questions for now,” said Maaltred, stepping in.

  “Let’s not be rude, Brother Maaltred,” said Norne. “Maaltred is our newest proselyte. I’m Vicar Norne, and there in his bunk is Vicar Sullimas.”

  “Well met, fathers. I hope you’re up to the voyage, Sullimas. It’s a long one.”

  “He’s fine,” said Maaltred. “Just getting over a sickness.”

  Eril looked unconvinced. “Of course. I must admit, it’s a fine thing to be among our own kind. We, too, are involved with the church. Introduce yourselves, lads.”

  “Blinch,” said the dyed man.

  “Briynad,” said the pierced.

  Norne gave them each a nod. “Well met, Blinch and Briynad. Would I be right in thinking you two are of a relation to one another?”

  “We’re all three related,” said Briynad, “though not in the way you might think.”

  “Indeed we are,” said Eril. “And how are you three related to the girls?”

  “No relation,” said Norne. “Ryssa and Vyleigh are our charges. We’re bringing them across the sea to their parents in Dathrond.”

  “Mum and Dad will be there?” asked Ryssa, confused but excited.

  “It was supposed to be a surprise,” Norne said with a friendly smile. “Bother. Now I’ve gone and ruined it.”

  Now Ryssa looked thoroughly confused. “But you… you were—”

  “We’ll discuss it later,” said Norne. “Let’s not blather on in front of our new cabin mates, shall we?”

  Eril gave a curious smirk. “What part of Dathrond, if I might ask?”

  “Maergath.”

  “Ah. I misjudged you, then. I thought you might be on your way to Forandran for the Festival of Atonement.”

  “Can’t say as we are, though I’ve seen my share of festivals in the old days. You said you were involved in the church as well? How so?”

  “We’re a sort of traveling ministry. We make the rounds to various establishments, helping with whatever needs doing. Mostly to relieve the resident staff of their duties for a time. To give them a break, as it were.”

  “That’s nice. Who’s your patron?”

  Eril hesitated. “Whoever will bless us with room and board and a little coin for our troubles. And you?”

  “The goddess Yannui.”

  “Ah, Yannui. Slaves to nature’s bounty. I might’ve guessed. It’s been lovely to meet you all. Forgive us, but we must be off abovedecks. Blinch. Briynad. Put your things down and let’s move along.”

  Briynad grunted and set his pack on the bottom bunk opposite Sullimas. Blinch put his bag on the bunk above.

  “I say,” Norne remarked, “our cabin has suddenly become much cozier. You’re each half a giant.”

  “Half together, actually,” said Blinch. “A quarter each.”

  “A quarter each. Isn’t that something.”

  “I’ve learned to make myself fit into ever-smaller spaces,” Eril said with a laugh. “Good morrow to you all. We’ll see
you this evening, if we don’t run into each other before then.”

  Blinch and Briynad followed the elf from the cabin. When they were gone, Maaltred pulled Norne aside once more so they could speak without the girls hearing. The sound of the sea foaming against the ship’s hull shrouded their quiet conversation. “That was a cruel thing to do, telling them their parents would be in Dathrond.”

  “They will,” said Norne. “Darion Ulther will not sit idly by while his daughters are ransomed. He’s too much the hero for that. It is this predictability in him the king saw long before he sent us to Tetheril.”

  “Ah, yes. The king and his plans.”

  “Olyvard is a man who understands people. He understands Darion innately, as do I.”

  “You speak familiarly of the man for someone you’ve never met.”

  Norne smiled. “Oh, I’ve met him. I know Darion rather well, in fact. The young man he once was, in any case. I was part of his retinue. That was a lifetime ago. I doubt he remembers me as well as I do him.”

  “Why have you never told me this before?”

  “When has it mattered? Olyvard’s way of understanding people revolves around giving them what they want.”

  “You think Darion Ulther wanted his children taken from him?”

  “I know he did.”

  Maaltred was confused. “That makes no sense.”

  “It isn’t that Darion wants harm to come to his family. It’s that he thrives on danger. He doesn’t just want to be a hero. He needs to be.”

  “You bear some grudge against him?”

  Norne shook his head. “On the contrary. I bear a deep and genuine respect for the man. I always found him headstrong and self-absorbed, yet his will to achieve was never lacking. His ambition destined him for greatness. I saw it then, and I’m confident it’s there now.”

  “How did you come to part ways with him?”

  “It’s a long story. Suffice it to say we didn’t see eye to eye on how his debts ought to be collected.”

  “His debts?”

  “Payment for his services. I watched Sir Darion perform one heroic deed after another, yet the people and villages he saved offered little in return. I took it upon myself to aid him in procuring his proper due, and he took offense.”

  “Perhaps he wished to do good deeds simply for the sake of doing good.”

  Norne scoffed. “He was never above accepting contributions. But those are bygones, and I say let them be. The Warcaster will receive what he’s owed in good time.”

  “I pray he does,” said Maaltred, “though I doubt I’ll be around to see it. I intend to be off home as soon as the king gives me my reward. Truth be told, I still don’t understand why he didn’t permit you to bring a more capable priest in my place.”

  Norne gave him a strange look. “You breathed life into the spheres.”

  “Any seasoned practitioner can wield the spheres as well or better than I can.”

  “Yet you bear a connection with them.”

  “The same would be true of anyone who dares look as deeply into the spheres as I have.”

  “Your bond will always be greater. The spheres belong to you. Ever shall they heed your command above all others. Just as they are a conduit through which the wild-song flows, you are the conduit through which their power may be wielded most purely. You were trained for this purpose, Brother Maaltred.”

  “So has the king advised me.” But what if I’m not equal such a purpose anymore? Olyvard chose me for my skill. I was naive to think he cared anything for my welfare or my future.

  “Then why do you squander it? Why do you question what you are here to do?”

  “I don’t question what I’m doing. Only why I’m the one who has to do it.”

  “I’d reconsider my position if I were you. And you’ll be careful not to say such things around Sullimas.”

  “Sullimas looks as if he won’t last another day. Has he refused your healing yet again?”

  “Every time I offer it. And the occasions have been many. He’s determined to push through it, but the Mirrowell woman’s blade was dull and dirty. It wouldn’t surprise me if the wound has festered.”

  “Will you let him die?”

  “What choice do I have? I’m forbidden to perform incantations of which he does not approve. Either he can suffer to see a few more years taken from him, or his wound will take them all. It’s up to him.”

  Chapter 12

  When the quaint seaside town of Cliffside Harbor came into view through the trees, Draithon found himself as nervous as he was excited about the experience to come. Leagues of overgrowth had hampered their progress toward the coast, more than doubling their travel time. This according to Father and Master Triolyn, who had each made the journey several times before. Hacking a path through the wilds had tired and dirtied the four travelers sufficient to bring them to a consensus—a quartet of soft beds at the nearest inn would be the first order of business when they arrived.

  Smoke rose from stone chimneys through a shroud of morning mist as the village road took them down a meandering slope toward the rocky beach and the docks beyond. Draithon was at first startled, then amazed at the sound of waves crashing upon the shore. He perked up at the sight of ships swaying in the harbor, from tiny fishermen’s boats to huge cargo carracks with three masts and dozens of furled sails. He could scarce believe the ocean was so big, nor guess how men had devised these behemoths capable of floating as though they were no heavier than sticks.

  Then the inn was there, looming from the mists, a black ghost with a hanging sign that read Tides Tavern. He’d never been to a tavern. He wondered what marvels awaited within. Travelers from faraway lands? Sailors telling tales of grotesque sea monsters and savage ocean storms? Lusty wenches in low-cut bodices with curls in their hair?

  Darion reined up beside the tavern. “It’s been years since I was last here. Now I remember why. Shall we stop, or continue on? The Hart’s Wharf is down the road a ways, closer to the sea. It’s a mite smaller.”

  “Don’t overthink it,” said Triolyn. “This’ll do.”

  They tethered their horses to a hitching post and entered the tavern. Soft gray light filtered into an empty common room where the chairs were inverted and resting on the tabletops. An elderly man stood behind the bar, chewing a mouthful of food. He swallowed and wiped his hands on his apron. “Pardon me, folks. I’m running a shade behind on opening for the day.”

  “No need to change your course,” said Darion. “We’d like a pair of rooms.”

  The man looked at him strangely. “For the day?”

  “Aye, and tonight. We’ve been awake since before dawn, cutting our way through the wilds.”

  “Gone amiss out there, has it? I’ve heard as much. I tell you, the weather’s been so strange of late I’ve a mind to think we’ve been thrown off season.”

  You have, Draithon might’ve said.

  “Strange?” asked Darion. “How so?”

  “Rain. Wind. Waves. Yet not all at the same time. It’s as if parts of a storm left the other parts behind. Been coming and going through here for a fortnight straight. Strangest weather I’ve ever seen. It’s finally begun to settle down round here the last few days.”

  “That bodes well for us, I hope. We mean to board the next ship for Dathrond.”

  “There’ll be one along soon, I expect. Dathiri ships are thick and fast here nowadays. And something tells me we’ll be seeing them more often in future, what with the disorder in the east.”

  “Disorder?”

  “Have you not heard? Dathrond’s armies have seized Vale and Deepsail both.”

  Darion smirked. “That’s a fine trick to play on a group of weary travelers.”

  The innkeeper’s face was stark. “It’s no trick, sir.”

  “Vale has been under Orothi control for years,” said Darion. “And Deepsail… the City of Mages? Dathrond could never hope to mount a show of force sufficient to overcome the Council.”

>   “I would’ve said the same, only that’s where you’re wrong. Deepsail has fallen. Every mage on the Council put to the sword. Tarber the Mage-King taken hostage.”

  “Where did you hear this? Who told you?”

  “Sailors. All my news comes from sailors—or those the sailors told before me.”

  “This cannot be true. It’s a rumor, spread by someone with ill intent. Deepsail could never have fallen to Dathrond. The Mages of the Council are far too powerful for the Dathiri army to contend with.”

  “I can say only what I’ve heard.”

  Darion gave him a dark look. “I’ll believe that when I’ve seen it for myself. We’ll take those two rooms I mentioned.”

  The innkeeper selected two keys from a hanging rack on the wall. “Rooms three and six are the only ones available at the moment. So long as that suffices, it’ll be twelve silvers.”

  Darion exchanged coins for keys.

  “On a different note,” said Alynor, “we’re looking for some friends of ours. I wonder if you might’ve seen them. A family of four with two small boys. A man of golden hair, elven in appearance, and a red-haired woman with braided locks.”

  “Also the man would’ve been scrawny,” added Triolyn, “the woman possessed of a brawn you don’t often see.”

  “Ah, I know just the couple,” said the innkeeper. “Been staying here a ten-day now. And fairly enjoying themselves, if I may be so bold as to say.”

  “They’re staying here?” Alynor asked.

  “Aye. Room number five upstairs. Third door on the left—next to your room three, as it happens.”

  “How much longer are they staying, do you know?”

  “They’re paid up through the end of the week, I believe.”

  Alynor thanked him.

  “Shall I wake them to let them know we’re here?” Triolyn asked as they ascended the staircase to their rooms.

  “Let them sleep. With those two boys, they need every wink they can get these days.”

  “Nor would it do to spoil a good hangover,” said Darion.

  Triolyn smirked. “Or would it?”

  Darion tossed him the key to room three. “Do your worst. I’ll take no part.”

  “I’ll leave them be. I’m too tired to deliver tidings like the ones we bring.”