LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  They had been at it every night for two weeks, whittling down the rudder to the right shape with the best tool they could find for the job. Talon had gotten the idea one night while they were gathering clover. He returned to where he had freed the lynx and found the skinning knife where he had left it. Talon didn’t care if he got caught with it; he would slit the throat of the Vaka who found it. He had noticed Jahsin’s concerned looks, which he gave more as the weeks passed by. Talon didn’t care.

  He and Jahsin were assigned to collect wetweed almost daily. Majhree sold it off to make the cover story seem legitimate, and more orders came down the line from healers who swore it had special properties. Talon used the time at sea to get to know Vaka Bjorn. Jahsin had initially been wary about the idea, but after a few days around the man, he agreed there might be something more to him.

  They learned from the other Skomm that Vaka Bjorn had gained his title only five years ago, after the previous Vaka was killed by one of the fishing crews. The entire crew had been executed and their heads set to pikes near the docks, but the warning did nothing to quell the Skomm sailors. They had always been the hardest of the Throwbacks to control, and therefore one of their own had been chosen to oversee the docks. Vaka Bjorn was well-liked and highly respected among the Skomm fisherman, and he successfully managed the rowdy sailors. One of his tricks was forbidding any spirit but wine for the fishermen. Liquor and ale made them far too agitated. The wine, on the other hand, put them in a right jolly mood, and the songs of the drunken sailors were many.

  “What are the sails made of?” Talon asked one day while the ship headed back to collect the first of the nets put out in the morning.

  Vaka Bjorn gave him a curious glance as he watched billowing sails. “They’re made of hemp, sometimes flax,” he said.

  Talon didn’t want to press the subject as he felt suspect talking to a Vaka about such things. As it turned out, he didn’t have to.

  “Them eyelets in each corner, them called cringles,” Bjorn explained. “The top rod there works in unison with them ropes at the bottom corners to keep the sail taut.”

  Talon nodded as he mentally took note of the details.

  “Why you ask?” he asked suddenly, and Talon was left with his mouth gaping.

  “Ugh. I don’t know. I was thinking it would be easier and more productive for the fishing if we had a small boat to get the seaweed ourselves.”

  The words came out of Talon’s mouth before he knew what he was saying. His eyes went wide and he averted his gaze to the sun high above.

  “That’s not a bad idea,’ said Bjorn. “The weed is in high demand,” he added with a sideways glance of silent understanding. “Say I was to procure such a boat. What you think it’s worth to Majhree?”

  Talon realized he was in the midst of negotiating an underground deal with a Vaka. His mind scrambled to remember why he trusted the man. Could it be a setup? he wondered. No, he trusted the man. He didn’t know why, it was just a feeling—one he prayed was correct. He tried to remember the terminologies of traders but his mind only came up with, “twenty-five percent.”

  Vaka Bjorn looked down on him with a stern eye, and Talon worried he had been made. “Thirty percent,” the captain finally muttered.

  “Deal!” Talon blurted and spit in his hand, offering it to the man.

  Bjorn eyed the offered hand and then suspiciously at the working crewmen. He turned to face the rail and shook Talon’s hand quickly.

  “I’ll get you a small, single-sailed keipr, small enough you and your friend can manage. The boat’ll be ready in a week. But it’s gonna cost you. We’ll take it out of the profits ’til the balance is paid in full; then the split begins,” said Vaka Bjorn.

  “Agreed,” Talon grinned.

  What the Feikinstafir just happened? he thought as he left Bjorn to bark orders to his crewmen.

  “You ain’t gonna believe this,” he whispered to Jahsin as he joined him at the rail.

  “What?” Jahsin asked, leaning in conspiratorially.

  “I’ll tell you when we’re on land,” Talon assured him.

  After the ship returned to the docks and they were safely alone walking back to the Skomm village, Talon filled Jahsin in on the deal he had made with Vaka Bjorn.

  “Our own boat?” Jahsin said, amazed. “How in the hells you manage that?”

  Talon shrugged with a grin. “I don’t know, it just sort of happened.”

  “Fylkin gets wind of this, he’s never gonna let it happen,” said Jahsin.

  “I don’t see why not. Our seaweed is in high demand right now. We’ve been on three trips this week alone. You have to remember: nobody has a clue what we’re up to. So what if a couple Skomm have access to their own puny keipr? Plenty of Skomm already do.”

  Jahsin laughed nervously as they passed two Vald headed to the docks. Once they were out of earshot, he leaned in to whisper though no one was around.

  ‘You’re not just another Skomm, Tal.”

  “Don’t worry; everything’s coming together,” Talon assured him.

  “You sure we can trust Bjorn? Might be a setup.”

  “What would be the point in setting us up? They can kill us anytime they want.”

  “You got a point,” said Jahsin. “Just seems too good to be true. What about the raft? We should take it apart and get rid of the evidence.”

  Talon shook his head. “I think we should keep on with it as a backup plan. Better to have two plans than one. Plus we now have access to a sail and more rope if we need it. Once the profits from the wetweed start coming in, we can have a little accident and lose the sail or sink the keipr and take the sail. Vaka Bjorn will get us a new one.”

  Jahsin nodded with a growing smile next to him. “You got it all worked out, don’t you?”

  “Majhree said we gotta beat them with our minds. We have to think of everything,” said Talon.

  They returned to the village to find a note from Majhree tacked to the door of the hut. The letter beckoned Talon to come by when he got in. He wasted no time and headed straight for the house of healing. When he got there, Majhree was tending to a Skomm woman with multiple whiplashes across her back. Majhree and a small Skomm girl were applying the thick salve.

  “Ah, Talon, come in,” she urged him and reached into her pocket as she turned from her patient.

  Talon came in close and she handed off a piece of paper. “See it’s burned when you done reading it,” she urged.

  Talon’s heart leapt with anticipation; he knew it was a note from Akkeri. He removed himself to one of the curtained beds at the other end of the room and with shaking hands unfolded the letter. It read, “Ever are you close to my heart and mind; I love you.”

  He turned the letter over, thinking he had missed something, but he had not. He read the sentence again a dozen times and reluctantly burned it. It did his heart well to hear from her, but he found himself focusing on the things she hadn’t said, which were many. She hadn’t said that she was doing well, that she wasn’t in pain. The short message had a finality to it that left him feeling hollow. He tried to tell himself that she had written in haste and that she would have said more if she had the time, but he remained unconvinced.

  Majhree left the girl and shuffled over to speak to him.

  “How is she?” Majhree asked with an expectant smile.

  “She didn’t say; just said she was thinking of me.”

  “Oh,” Majhree frowned but quickly recovered her smile.

  “This is good news,” she beamed with effort. A worried frown cast a shadow of concern over her face and marred her efforts. “I hope this news means you won’t be taking up a bed as often.”

  Talon avoided her allusion to his self-inflicted injuries at the hands of the Vaka and changed the subject.

  “Vaka Bjorn has suggested Jahsin and I have our own boat for collecting your seaweed. He wants thirty percent of all profits after payment for the boat is reimbursed.”

  Majhree st
ared at him, dumbfounded. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she said with a shake of the head and click of the tongue. “Told you there was still a chance; you three can sail out of here whenever you want.”

  Talon hadn’t thought about it that way. His mind had been set on leaving on the night of Freista, when the chaos would afford them a distraction. He still thought it a good idea to leave on the new moon, however. His mind began to shift from attaining a sail to freeing Chief and Akkeri. He had been so absorbed with building the raft that he had not thought much about how they might be freed.

  A week later he and Jahsin got the promised keipr. It was a small boat, similar to other two-man keiprs, only slightly larger and with a single sail in the middle. They loaded up the seaweed pots, trying to hide their glee as Vaka Bjorn recited instructions and precautions should they capsize. Talon barely heard a thing the man said as he waited in quiet anticipation of getting out onto the waters. He could see Jahsin was nearly jumping out of his skin himself. Their excitement was not missed by Vaka Bjorn.

  “You two look like you seen mermaids,” he laughed. “In you go.”

  They boarded the keipr, Talon taking up the forward position next to the sail and Jahsin manning the rudder. Vaka Bjorn paused before pushing them out and deadpanned to them in turn. “Mind you come back, ya hear?”

  “Course we will,” said Talon, trying to keep his face blank.

  Bjorn smirked and gave the faintest of winks before pushing them off. They each took up a paddle as they left the shallows and headed out to sea.

  “Mind the winds and the current!” he yelled from the shallows as they paddled themselves out further.

  “And keep land in sight!”

  Voices carried over the water, so neither of them spoke until they were well beyond earshot. The small waves crashing into shore would make them harder to hear, but they didn’t want to risk it. When they were well enough away, Talon turned to regard a stupefied Jahsin.

  “What the hells was that about?” Jahsin asked with wide eyes.

  “I don’t know.”

  “He suspects somethin’,” Jahsin pressed nervously.

  “Well, if he cared, I doubt he would have given us a boat,” said Talon.

  Jahsin nodded as if to reassure himself, but worry still etched his face.

  “Come on, Jah; we could spend our whole lives worrying about maybes. We have a boat; now we need to figure out a way to free Chief and Akkeri. I say the sooner, the better.”

  “All right, all right. But you gotta stop getting whipped all the time. You bein’ laid up for days in the healin’ house ain’t helpin’ nobody.”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “I am worried, Tal. You got more whip marks than anybody I know. Feikin sakes, man, seems like you been tryin’ to get beat.”

  Talon said nothing but loosened the sail and tied it off. The wind caught and the keipr lurched forward. Sea spray shot up over the bow and covered them in mist.

  Jahsin said no more on the subject, and they sailed in silence. Talon felt a freedom on the open waters he had never experienced on land. The whole world seemed to be laid out in front of him as they made for the deeper waters. From here they could go anywhere. He had seen a map his amma had left out one night. He was old enough to read at the time and had been amazed to discover that Volnoss was so small compared to mainland Agora. The names of every kingdom and city made his imagination go wild. Eldalon, Shierdon, Uthen-Arden, and strange elven names like Elladrindellia and Cerushia, and the long dwarven mountain ranges, Ky’Dren, Elgar, and Ro’Sar. From that day on, he had dreamt of what life might be like for the people of Agora. Better than his, he guessed.

  Behind them Volnoss became a faraway bump on the horizon, and Talon became giddy with excitement. He couldn’t wait to set out with his friends and Chief to their new life in Agora. It would be the best day of his life.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE WHITE OWL

  COULD HE be the first to pass the test? In my centuries I have met few like him.

  —Azzeal, 4996

  They named the keipr Kvenna, after Talon’s mother. Jahsin had suggested they name her Freedom but soon agreed the name would be too blatant. They took her out twice a week and gathered enough of the wetweed to pay back the cost of the boat in only four trips. If Vaka Bjorn suspected anything, he kept his thoughts to himself, though he did regard them with a knowing glance.

  The profits from the wetweed started coming in and Majhree insisted they take their cut in any form they chose. They decided to continue with the raft backup project and traded their wares for more rope and food. Soon they would stage the sinking of Kvenna far offshore so they could hide the theft of the sail.

  Talon had spent a few days teaching Jahsin how to swim, as they would need to make it back to shore after the boat went under. They decided to blame the accident on sabotage. Already they had begun to put it in Vaka Bjorn’s head that there was competition for wetweed somewhere on the island. Jahsin sold large quantities of the stuff through underground channels anonymously to solidify the story.

  The ploy worked better than they had hoped. One day, three weeks before Freista was to take place, Vaka Groegon informed Talon he was done in the mines. The man could barely contain his anger at the order.

  “Looks like you so good at woman work they want you flower pickin’ full-time,” he said with a sneer.

  Talon had the urge to laugh at the sad, angry man, but he held his tongue.

  “Don’t matter anyhow. The night of dying is comin’ sure as sumar be on its way. I’ll be watchin’, boy; I’ll be there to see your head stuck to a pike.”

  Talon left the mines happier than he had dared to be in the six weeks since Fylkin took Akkeri. Everything was coming together now. He now had time to collect more wetweed, and he’d therefore be able to afford whatever supplies he and Jahsin deemed necessary. He had begun to formulate a plan in his head, one he had not yet shared with Jahsin. He knew what his friend would say about it: the plan was too dangerous; they would surely get caught. Somehow he would convince Jahsin to go through with it in the end.

  As Talon walked down the well-worn road from the mines to the Skomm village, he noticed the white owl watching him like before. Once again he felt compelled to stop and stare at the magnificent bird. Talon had seen owls before, but never as large as this one, which stood nearly three feet tall. The white owl sat perched in its tree, unmoving, staring at Talon over its right wing. He wondered how long the owl would stare—likely forever. The longer he held the gaze, the more he sensed awareness in the eyes of the creature—as if an intelligence far beyond that of a mere owl was possessed in those dark orbs.

  He finally looked away to the sun and noticed that it had moved considerably in the sky. Glancing back to the owl, he found it gone. The branch swayed in the wake of its leap. He scoured the sky and spotted it gliding above the tree line to the east. It swooped around and landed on another branch and peered in Talon’s direction.

  “Talon Windwalker,” came a whisper in his ear, and he snapped his head around, startled. Nobody was there. He turned in a complete circle twice, searching for the culprit.

  Talon Windwalker, the whisper spoke again in his head, and he reeled around to the woods. His heart pounded in his chest as he searched for the one who had spoken. He dared not look to the owl, though he knew the truth in the back of his mind. The sound had not been whispered in his ear; rather, it had been more like a thought.

  “Who’s there?” he yelled to the woods. The dark forest afforded many places to hide among the deep shadows cast by the fat pine trees.

  “Jahsin, that you?” he asked the shadows.

  Only his echo answered.

  Three pheasants erupted from the underbrush to his left, and he jumped and nearly cried out as their wings beat at the air like drums. Finally he turned to the owl. The bird leapt from the tree and continued to the east.

  “You’re losing your mind, Talon,” he said to h
imself. “There is no way that owl called your name.”

  The owl glided off into the distance until finally it was out of sight. The woods below the owl consisted mostly of white birches. The land was rocky and unfertile, covered more often with moss than grass. It rose up steadily toward one of the highest points on Volnoss.

  Talon took off in a sprint, suddenly compelled to follow the owl. Branches slapped and scratched at his face as he passed, but he paid them no mind. He searched the treetops for any sign of the owl. Finding no sign of the creature, he climbed to the crest of a small hill which opened to a wide expanse of abandoned mines. Nothing grew in the spiraling pit, and the bottom had flooded long ago. He scanned the rim of the mines which, at its widest, was well over four thrown stone. He had nearly given up when, to the east, he noticed the owl perched as before.

  “Hey!” he yelled, scrambling down to the first ring of the pit and running along the hard-packed stone.

  “You, white owl! Wait!”

  The owl leapt from the tree and flew off to the other side of the pit, disappearing into a dark hollow shadowed in pine. Talon ran across the rim and followed the owl into the hollow. Vines grew here in such thick knots and tangles that fragmented light shot through at random angles like long lances. The going proved slow through the maze of vine and bramble, and soon Talon found himself hopelessly lost. Thinking himself the fool, he decided to turn back. As he turned to make his way out, the vines suddenly thickened and barred his way. He was startled by a quick creaking and shuffle. He turned with a jerk and found the vine had parted and now formed a kind of hallway through the forest. He glanced back the way he had come; having no real choice, he went on cautiously through the vine tunnel.

  He had long forgotten the daylight when he came to the opening of a wide cave. The glow of faraway fire danced about the entrance. Talon hesitated. He remembered enough of the morals of the hero tales Amma told to know that going into a cave unarmed would not end well. But Talon wasn’t a hero; he was just Talon, and he doubted anyone would go to such trouble to cause him harm. He realized he was not dealing with an owl, but likely a spirit of some sorts. The swift growing of the vines suggested magic.