"What in the name of the gods happened?" A painful expression flashed over his face.
"There was a mob...they've killed two knights...and likely more will die." Sebine glanced at the window, not wanting to tell Tael what she'd done to him. "And I've just received a letter from your grandfather. The Hakkadians have left with the dragons."
"What?" He pushed himself up weakly and Sebine didn't stop him, knowing they had no time to rest.
"Are you strong enough to move? Master Greyth asked us to come to the docks right away. He's securing a ship." She paused, suddenly remembering he had written the word boats. Was Master Greyth not coming with them?
"Where's my pack, my sword?" The mention of his weapon caused Tael to stand up dizzily, but with Sebine's support he scanned the room until he found what he was searching for. "I'm all right now. My head's steadied a bit. I think I can walk. But is the mob still out there?"
She shook her head and guided him over to gather his belongings. Another knock sounded just as she was about to open the door.
"Hello again...I've brought the healer."
Sebine opened the door to see the innkeeper's uneasy face and an old, grumpy-looking man draped in a heavy grey cloak carrying a black leather bag.
"He's feeling better now," she said, a note of optimism in her voice.
"I should have a look at him," the healer insisted. "You never know with head wounds when they might flare up."
"No, really, I feel fine. And we need to get going."
The innkeeper tilted his head, confusion thick on his face. "Why are you headed out into the night? A mob's out there killing those knights you came in with. Who's to say they won't go after you next? Rest awhile and let things settle down a bit. You'll see how much better you'll feel in the morning."
"These two came in with those bloody knights?" The healer's face reddened in anger as he jabbed a finger at Tael. "Maybe he was fighting with them and that's how he got the injury. I'm not helping that horrible lot. And maybe I know a few fellows that'd like to express a bit more of their anger at you two."
"Give me your cloak," Tael commanded, and brought the tip of his sword deftly up to the man's neck. Sebine nearly shrieked in surprise at Tael's action, but steadied her expression to match his firm fury.
The old healer's eyes went wide as he stared down at the gleaming blade. He swallowed and complied with Tael's request.
"Now go inside and keep your mouth shut. And you, innkeeper, give my friend your cloak as well. And hand me your keys and show me which one locks the door from the outside."
After glancing at Sebine, the innkeeper took off his hooded black cloak and handed it to the Princess. He seized the dangling key ring and detached it from his belt.
"This one," he muttered, and gave Tael the keys.
Tael motioned them inside the room, shut the door behind them, and turned the key to secure the lock. As they stepped down the stairs, Sebine put on the cloak and raised the hood to cover her long hair. Tael, disguised now with the healer's thick cloak, tossed the keys onto the innkeeper's desk, and strode evenly through the shattered remains of the Pale Horse's front door.
The square was quiet and empty, with only a bloody trail marking the place where the bodies had been dragged away. Tael led Sebine off towards the shadows on the left, where they found an alleyway descending towards the bay. They moved unhurriedly, trying to avoid attention, and filtered through filthy streets and alleys, past dogs digging in the muck, past whores tottering arm-in-arm with drunken men singing lewd songs, until they reached a marketplace filled with groups of laughing, drinking, chattering people.
Sebine stared at the slovenly group, feeling like an operatic singer performing in an alehouse. She glanced at Tael. Noticing her hesitation, he bent down and dug his fingers deep into the muck and proceeded to spread it liberally over his face and hers. He did the same with their cloaks, after realizing the others of this quarter looked as if they'd rolled in filth for several nights. She studied her silk slippers and shrugged as they were now completely soiled and brown from trudging through the dirty streets.
They proceeded on through the marketplace with Tael guiding her in a drunken dance of the destitute. Only Tael's height and youth garnered him a few longing glances from girls saddled with the attention of much older men. Sebine kept her eyes low, leaning on Tael for support from her pretended inebriation. Soon they passed the carousing throng and from the corner of her eye she spotted the Bishop groping a teasing, squealing little pig of a girl. Let him rot here with the rest. He deserves a life of hopelessness and hunger.
Below the starlight she spied a lantern bobbing next to a long pier that stretched out towards the sea. She pointed out the light and Tael nodded, steering around barrels, stacked crates, and mounds of coiled rope. The air was fetid with a putrid smell and Sebine covered her nose with the cloak as they moved past tubs of decaying fish.
"Fertilizer," Tael muttered, fingers plugging his nostrils. Once they put distance between themselves and the stench he continued. "Guess you only learn that living along the sea. Look over there, the crew is getting ready to sail."
Tael increased his speed until Sebine had to jog to keep up with his long stride. At the end of the pier they found two ships readying to depart. One ship, a small sloop, had a crew of perhaps ten men, while the other larger vessel, a lugger, contained a ragtag crew of around twenty thuggish men.
A hooded man standing on the pier turned to inspect them, then relaxed and revealed himself as Master Greyth Shalinor.
Chapter Thirty-Three
THE MOMENT TAEL realized there were two ships readying to depart, he sighed, angry that his grandfather was leaving him again. As he studied the wizard's cold, determined eyes he knew it was true. After all this time traveling with his grandfather he still didn't know the things he'd promised to tell him when he turned eighteen. And if the old man departed ways with them now, how would the wizard teach him the spells that were his birthright to master? All those feelings of resentment and abandonment towards his grandfather returned in a flash of frustration.
"Another errand, Master Greyth?" Tael said, purposefully failing to use the familial mode of address.
The old wizard frowned at Tael, a look of deep disappointment forming on his face. "You were injured? I can see it in your walk. I heard men talking of the mob killing knights up at the inn... Did you get involved in that? Bloody idiot. Who dragged you out of it?"
"I did," Sebine said, interrupting Tael's retort. "I saved his life, likely so."
The memory of Tael charging off towards the angry mob poured into his mind, and the feeling of being yanked back and the world going black. She had done that? He wanted to be angry at her but the image of the bloodstains on the square told him to love her and cherish her for keeping him out of it.
"Praise the gods that you care about this fool, Your Royal Highness. Keep an eye on him during your journey west. And be extra careful when you reach Glar Bay. Stay there for as little time as possible. Use my name if you get into any trouble. People there know better than to cross a wizard." Master Greyth fixed a scowl at the cutthroat crew standing and watching them from the lugger.
"Come here and give me a hug goodbye, grandson." The old man held out his arms and Tael stepped in to his embrace. His grandfather held him for a longer time than normal, and using a hand that was away from the view of the crew, Master Greyth slid two heavy pouches into the inside fold of Tael's cloak. He dropped his voice to a caring whisper. "Hide them and use them well. I'll see you in Shaar'el before another month has passed. Wait for me there."
The wizard turned and trudged off, glancing back once to nod at Sebine in a look of kind appreciation, and he boarded the sloop. The smaller crew raised anchor, lowered oars, and rowed away from the pier until the ship's sails caught the light wind.
Tael sighed as his grandfather glided away on the sloop, and turned to help Sebine climb up the gangplank to board the cutter. The watching crew dispersed at the barked orde
rs of a fiery-eyed, bearded captain with a row of missing front teeth. His greasy-skin gleamed in the soft light of the swaying lantern, and with a rough gesture motioned them towards the ship's bow.
"You might want to stay on deck until you get yer sea legs about ya," the captain muttered. "Name's Greivish, Captain Greivish to you. Keep yer nose clean and you'll end up package unbroken and delivered to Clar Bay. Always keep my word to the ol' wizard. Never fluster the feathers of an ol' falcon like 'im."
The Captain lumbered off, and from what Tael could surmise, moved like a man with an injured hip. He followed Sebine as she sauntered over to the rising and falling bow, and together they stared out the rhythmic rippling of the Ferelian Sea. The moon would be half full in three days time, and the position of it—hanging there in the blazing, milky stars—caused Tael to feel a wave of longing for his old home along the sea.
"I miss my mother and my father," Tael said, his voice low and mottled with emotion. "Especially my father. I thank the gods for still having Grandfather, but he's no substitute for my father. There are so many things I wanted to learn from him. Not just fighting and business and such, but other things I feel are missing in my life. His wisdom, his shrewdness, his way of dealing with people...always amazed me. He treated others so inclusively and kindly and won people over to his side with his empathy. He was a natural leader."
Sebine had listened to his words with eyes focused on the far horizon. Now she turned to face him, and stretched out her hands to hold his. "From what I've read about great leaders and seen in great leaders, no man or woman is born a leader. This is something all must learn. And yes, you lost your father. You lost the man who could teach you how to be a leader. I understand. My father has never been in my life and I'm not sure if I'll ever meet him. And my mother was hardly an example for me of what I want to become in my life. I've always had to look elsewhere, usually in books, which are a poor proxy for direct experience."
A heaviness seemed to settle over her shoulders as she paused to find the right words.
"You have to ask yourself what kind of a man do you want to become? A hero, a leader, a scholar, a man of wisdom? I see many things in you that I'm attracted to, and many things that cause me to worry. Overall, I see your potential for greatness and leadership. Winning over the Bishop, slaying Master Loral, and fighting bravely on a dragon. I am proud of you. But deep down inside you know there are things that you've done that you're not so proud of. That's ok, just learn from them and forget about them."
Tael tried his best not to picture all the times his foolishness got him into trouble. His bowed head provided affirmation for Sebine to continue. "What I saw in you when we first met at the Festival was a wild, confused boy with a great deal of passion and humor and sadness. Since then I've discovered your bravery and foolishness and kindness and your protective instinct. I've also seen you grow and learn and for that I am hopeful.
"Just be careful and consider your actions before doing things like you did tonight at the inn. You could have easily been killed, and I would have been alone. I want you to take risks, I want you to be brave, and you make me laugh at your silly foolishness. Just calculate before leaping in and throwing your life away."
Her words cut into him and rubbed a nerve that he himself had been quick to prod. She was right, of course, and it touched him that she cared enough to say the words even though she knew he might take offense. A deep respect washed over him towards the Princess, and he marveled at how wise she was for someone so young. He was so lucky to have found her.
She laughed dismissively at herself, and sent him an innocent smile. But as she stared out over the ocean her eyes went cold and hard and she gripped the railing as if fighting a storm that raged inside her heart.
"I want us to win. The King must die. I want to rule the Kingdom and eradicate the land from the scourge that molests my people. And I'll do anything to ensure that happens. I mean anything. No morals, no religion, no old vows will get in my way." She exhaled, vulnerability displaying on her face, and her powerful eyes gazed up into his. "And I want you to help me. I know you hate the King for what he did to your parents. Will you help me kill him?"
Tael nodded, dismayed at her ferocity and resolve, but he couldn't help but feel empathy for what she wanted.
"Do you promise?" she said. "And not just any promise but a blood promise."
Taken aback, he winced at her suggestion. She remained cold and determined, her eyes studying his reaction. He felt like he was treading on the edge of a sandy cliff and at any moment he could plummet off and lose her forever. She waited for his response, and he closed his eyes and pictured his sword piercing through the King's heart. He opened his eyes and smiled.
"I promise to help you kill King Braxion. I delight in the prospect of one day ending his life." He exposed his wrist to her inspection. "And I'll seal my vow with a blood pact for us to share. The gods be our witnesses under the stars."
Her open mouth held a mixture of crazy euphoria and astonishment as she withdrew a thin, silver dagger with jewels on the hilt that sparkled in the moonlight. She sliced her pale, beautiful wrist until a dribble of blood came oozing out, and she seized his hand and cut his wrist as well. He pressed his wrist against hers so that their blood intermingled, and he felt a strange pleasure in the pain and sensuality of their sliced skin joining in a blood kiss. She bound their wrists with a silk scarf and together they tied it tightly.
"Now we say it at the same time," Sebine said, "and make this vow real. The gods as my witness, I vow to kill King Braxion, and to no other aim shall my heart dissuade me."
Tael joined his voice with hers, staring into those ravenous eyes hungry for death, and he repeated the words with her, his blood in her body and her blood into his. A feeling of being touched by a higher, ethereal hand caused Tael and Sebine to stare up at the wash of stars staining the sky.
His heart pounded and danced and his mouth went dry as twin shooting stars blazed together across the zenith and dove west down into the sea. And Sebine's words haunted him: no morals, no religion, no old vows will get in my way. Those were Tael's words now too, and he knew that nothing and no one could ever get in the way of them pursuing their vow. They would do anything to kill the King.
The costs, the costs would be great, he was sure. A payment of sanity, a payment of morals, and a vast payment of blood....
# # #
About the author
John Forrester is the author of Theft of Dragons, Book One in the Princes of Naverstrom fantasy series. He is also the author of Fire Mage, Sun Mage, Shadow Mage, and Dragon Mage of the Blacklight Chronicles fantasy series. He lives in Palo Alto with his wife and two boys.
http://www.theftofdragons.com
Bonus Preview! Fire Mage, Book One in the Blacklight Chronicles series:
Chapter 1
Talis searched the steamy swamplands for prey, hoping to make his father proud, no matter what the cost. His father's words echoed in his mind, "Your brother hunted big game when he was twelve." Why did his words stain his mind like ink on a page? His brother had hunted with a team of men and merely managed to bounce his spear off a deer. Talis was thirteen now and though he'd tried, had been spurned by every hunting trip his father's men had pursued. Lad, don't want you dying like your brother, you're the last son of the Storm family lineage, and all.
Finding nothing all day, he scanned the muddy ground for tracks, kicking away needles and sticks. Off to the corner of his eye he spotted an indentation in the wet leaves. He strode over and bent down, flipping his hair away from his eyes for a better look. A thrill raced through him at the sight of fresh tracks. He raised his head and studied a sloshing stream blanketed with a soft mist, and squinted at a path illuminated by the four moon sisters. This was his kill.
"Did you find something?" said Mara, his best friend. She wore sage-green hunting pants and a ridiculously frilly white lace top, why, he had no idea. She was funny like that. As she came alongside, she rai
sed her big brown eyes in concern, and glanced at the tracks. She chewed a cinnamon stick and frowned.
He grunted in response and pointed a short spear with a menacing, curved blade at the stream. This was his hunt and even though he'd failed to even bag anything as big as a deer, he swore he'd do whatever it took to bring it back home to father.
Mara shook her head, the movement stubborn and terse, her short, brown hair slashing along her neck. "It's too late. I'm serious, don't look at me with those oh-please-Mara eyes of yours."
"But the prints are fresh, an hour old at the most—"
"What are you trying to prove? We've been out here all day and my ass is sore from sliding down that stupid muddy hill. I'm hungry, irritable, and want nothing more than to eat a slice of peach cobbler, steal a mug of ale, and prop my feet up and feel the heat of the fire. Besides, I'm not going to let you get yourself killed doing something stupid as hell like hunting in the dark."
"Don't be angry." He flashed her the look he knew always made her smile, and gazed into her devilish, incredibly-cute amber eyes, hoping to convince her. But it didn't work this time. She set her jaw firm and scowled at him. He tried a different approach and lowered his voice until it was as soft as a cat's purr. "Listen, we can do it...can't we try just one more time?"
"It's your father, isn't it? You think he's going to instantly respect you if you bring back something big? He doesn't really see you the way you deserve to be seen. Ever since your brother died..."
The wind stung from a sudden cold gust and Talis sighed, wishing she hadn't brought up the subject of his older brother's death. He cursed fate, cursed his family's bad luck, and memories flooded his mind of his older brother Xhan. His arrogant, youthful expression. A cruel death in the desert.
"You know I'd hunt with you to the Underworld and back, I really would. We're a team. I just hate seeing you go on and on like this. Can't we try another night?"
Theft of Dragons (Princes of Naverstrom) Page 23
