by M. K. Adams
“Bring ye’self aboard,” he bellowed as he saw Turiel approaching his boat.
Turiel went up the ramp to the boat first, leaving Jocelyn and Lyvanne on land for now. The two men shook hands. Turiel had obviously planned this in advance, but nevertheless he appeared nervous.
“Do you know who that is?” Lyvanne asked Jocelyn as they waited for permission to board.
“I’ve met him once before, he’s a good man and loyal to our cause. I shouldn’t be surprised that Turiel thinks him our best chance at getting out of the city.”
Lyvanne picked up on the wording. “But you aren’t?”
Jocelyn remained silent as Turiel waved them aboard.
“Welcome aboard mi’ ladies,” The man said in a much more hushed tone than when he had welcomed Turiel aboard. No doubt having being scolded by Turiel for being too loud. Lyvanne risked a quick glance around the quay. There were at least three men from the City Watch out on patrol. Her heart beat just a little faster when she noticed them.
“Thank you, Trystan,” Jocelyn said as she boarded the boat. Her voice was polite, but the discomfort she felt about the whole situation could be heard in her voice.
Lyvanne was just behind her. The first thing that caught her attention once on board wasn’t the robust man who stood with arms out as if she was a lost cousin, but instead the multitude of different cargo that he had on deck. Almost immediately, Lyvanne could spy a number of different vegetables, spices, metals, and precious stones. Lyvanne had never seen anything like it before and drool immediately began to pool in her mouth.
She wiped away the trickle of saliva rolling down the corner of her mouth with embarrassment as the trio were taken straight below deck by Trystan. Like on deck, the hull was also filled with cargo, but most of it was locked away inside large crates. Beneath the stairs, Lyvanne saw an open crate of shining red apples, other crates were marked or labelled with the names of fruits, herbs and spices that she didn’t recognise. Once everyone was downstairs Trystan showed them a small closet, barely large enough to house the three of them.
“We’re staying in there?” Jocelyn asked Turiel critically.
“We don’t have much choice if we want to get out of here safely,” he replied.
Trystan pushed through to the front of the gaggle. He pointed at the inside of the door leading into the closet.
“Should be safe down ‘ere. You can lock t’ door from the inside. I’ll come and get ya when we’re clear of Astreya,” Trystan promised, rubbing one hand across his abnormally large stomach for no discernible reason.
With that, he left them to lock themselves away. Turiel, it seemed, had left it as late as possible before leaving, not wanting there to be any spare time where something he hadn’t accounted for could go wrong. The steady rock of the boat moments later signalled that Trystan had detached them from the quay and pushed out into the waters of the Anya.
“Are you sure we’re going to be okay?” Jocelyn asked, “Trystan isn’t exactly the most subtle of people and his business isn’t considered large enough to be one of the merchants who is being let through the blockade.”
Turiel nodded, “We’ll be fine, Trystan had a long-term shipment scheduled in for Terria and the Shimmering Isles, and they won’t halt that much cash flow from coming back into the city. Besides, if things are starting to look worrisome then I’ll cast an invisibility spell whilst the boat is being searched”
Jocelyn and Lyvanne both cast him dubious glances. Neither wanted him to be hurting himself without it being absolutely necessary.
“I’ll be fine,” he said before locking the door and settling down into his spot in the closet.
Lyvanne was nervous, so much so that her hands shook. It wasn’t just that she didn’t want be caught, but she didn’t want her friends to suffer for her in the event that things didn’t go to plan. Her mind was plagued by the thoughts of the children who had been taken by the king because of her, to how her life had been back at Abella’s, how safe and tame it had been without her even realising it. They may have struggled for food from time to time, but squatting in the Upper level made life far easier than if they’d been anywhere else. Now roughly a month had passed and she was involved with magic, insurgent groups who were fighting to dethrone a king and now she was stowed away on a complete stranger’s boat as they all tried to escape the city she had grown up in all her life. She found it funny, and at the same time entirely terrifying.
The boat rocked towards its destination. She couldn’t hear much from below deck, but the steady sound of sea birds and gentle waves bounding against the hull were beginning to cause nausea in the pit of her stomach.
“I don’t feel well,” she whispered to Jocelyn as the boat continued to rock along the river. She’d never been in a boat before, and she’d certainly never expected it to cause her stomach to flip and twist like a travelling circus performer.
“It will pass, little one. Most people feel ill their first time on the water.”
Jocelyn smiled down at Lyvanne. It was an infectious smile, and after glancing between both of her newfound friends, Turiel too was hiding a smirk of his own; a rare sight, Lyvanne had never seen him so tense and quiet as he had been on the journey to the quay.
Time began to meld into a blur. Having never travelled by boat before Lyvanne wasn’t sure what to make of their speed, but with each passing minute a palpable tension began to form in the air.
“How long until we make it to the checks?” Jocelyn asked as they swayed side to side in their closet.
Turiel glanced across at her. “Not long.”
He wasn’t wrong, a few minutes of holding her hands tight across her churning stomach and Lyvanne felt the tug of ropes slowing the boat to a standstill, and voices beaming out towards Trystan, who in turn bellowed back.
“Keep quiet,” Turiel whispered, raising one hand to his lips and using the other to make sure the door was properly locked.
The obvious sound of footsteps echoed down from the deck. There were quite a number of people on board now, and Lyvanne was starting to get a curious sense of deja vu after having to hide under the floorboards of Sinjin’s house not too long ago.
Voices and footsteps came down the stairs leading up to the deck. The trio all looked at each other as if to say it would be alright. On deck an inspector was audibly checking all of Trystan’s goods, and Lyvanne could have sworn she heard them stealing and eating one of the apples she’d seen stored beneath the stairs.
Scoundrel, she thought to herself.
Then the moment came, the inspector walked towards the door. It was after all his job to not just make sure all the cargo was correct, but that there was no smuggling taking place either. He placed one hand on the doorknob but it wouldn’t budge. He tried again, nothing. Turiel’s hand reached over and rested on her shoulder. He was preparing to cast a spell, she knew, but by the Goddess’ fortune the moment never arrived. As the inspector was about to make his third attempt at the door, and the one that would probably cause him to raise some alarm among his peers, a chorus of laughter came from on deck. Lyvanne could make out the deep belly laugh of Trystan, and she figured that the rest was coming from the City Watch who had boarded the boat to inspect the cargo. The laughter bought the attention of the inspector, and he turned, leaving his work unfinished. Turiel and Jocelyn let out a collective sigh of relief, whilst Lyvanne closed her eyes and brought forward memories of simpler times as she felt her heart beating furiously in her chest. The boat began to rock again, they had been let through the Water Gate, and sure enough Trystan appeared moments later to let them out of the closet.
“Told you my boy! Trystan’ll keep you safe!” he bellowed as he swung the door open dramatically.
The four of them made their way back above deck after Trystan assured them that they were far enough away from the city’s external wall for it to be safe.
“How did you manage it?” Turiel asked, his expression visibly more relaxed than when he h
ad been in the city.
“Cost me a good whiskey! Opened it up to soften ‘em up to me”
The merchant had kept his word and they were safe Lyvanne thought as she looked back over the stern of the boat and for the first time in her life saw the dominating walls of Astreya from the outside.
Chapter 12
What Lyvanne saw outside Astreya amazed her. She knew, through Abella, that there were millions of people living throughout The Rive, and even more if you counted the lands outside of the king’s Empire, but to her untrained eyes it appeared as though every single one of those people were either entering or leaving the capital city. To the right of the riverbanks, some few hundred yards away, was the main gate into Astreya. From the boat alone the area outside of the large steel gateway was completely filled with people, some camped out in small makeshift huts, others sleeping rough and even more pleading with the guards to let them in.
“How long has it been like this?” Jocelyn asked Trystan as the four of them stood at the side of the deck, watching as people climbed over one another to try and make room along the giant walkway which lead to the city gate.
“Been bad since the king shut the gates. First time I’ve ‘bin out personally, but word among circles is that this is the best it’s been, thousands gave up weeks ago. Gone back to whatever hole in the ground they came from,” Trystan replied, waving an arm through the air nonchalantly.
The remark earned him a sneer from Jocelyn before she turned to face Lyvanne. “These people come to the city because their lives have been ruined elsewhere. Some people travel across the sea to get here because their homes have been destroyed, sometimes by war, sometimes through disease. Others may have just wanted to make a life for themselves in the capital, but I would put money on those being the ones who left when the king first shut the gates.”
Lyvanne wondered what the lands had been like where they came from, what horrors they had seen that drove them away from their homes and towards this city of all places.
“Is there nowhere else for them to go?” she asked.
“Yes, but I doubt the situation in those places is much better. The more you travel little one the more you will learn that we are too many in number. The rich hide away behind their big walls, and fancy houses, but the poor are left to suffer, treading on one another for the last scrap of food.”
Lyvanne’s eyes wandered from the horde of people trying to enter the city and to the lands that surrounded them. She realised that this was the first time she was seeing what lay beyond the walls that had encapsulated her throughout her entire life. It wasn’t what she had expected, the land was well trod and people threw up dust everywhere they went. It wasn’t dead, as of yet, but the sun had baked over it for so long that any grass had withered and turned brown, leaving little in the way of beauty.
Turiel was watching her. “It’s not all like that, don’t worry.”
His words were reassuring but Lyvanne, as was second nature to her now, was sceptical. As the Colossal, Trystan’s boat that did anything but live up to the name, made its way down the cool and calm waters of the Anya, Lyvanne began to examine the various vessels that they passed. More than a few times she spotted others merchants, travelling to far off places to trade their goods. Some of the ships they passed were symbols of luxury. Overly sized personal ships that the rich used to host parties and gatherings of a less than savoury nature. There were military ships too, those she saw more often than the rest. Some were heading in the direction of Astreya, filled with men who appeared tired of life entirely. Their armour muddied and broken and their faces often scarred or as bloodied as their armour. More than a few times Lyvanne had to stop herself from heaving as she saw men with slings holding up stumps where their arms should be, or crutches holding them tall where their legs had been taken away. The other ships were heading away from Astreya, their large masts sailing them down the river faster than the Colossal could ever dream of. The soldiers aboard those looked eager, driven even to be heading off to war, but even they weren’t immune to the sights of their comrades returning from the front lines.
Realising that the information that Abella had passed down to her was likely out-dated, and having never paid much attention to the biased words of the king’s criers, Lyvanne moved towards Jocelyn who had taken up a seat on the deck of the ship near the bow and asked her for as much information as she knew about the king’s current wars.
“How much time do you have?” She replied jokingly. “The king is greedy in every sense of the word. His uses the wealth of the nobles to fund his bloodlust and in return he offers them sanctuary from the starving masses. That I know of we are at war with currently two other kingdoms -
“Three,” Turiel said from further down the boat as he slowly made his way over to join them.
“Three?” Jocelyn asked, evidently unaware of the latest addition.
“Three,” Turiel confirmed. “About two weeks ago, the Mountain tribes of the South caught wind of Astreya being on lockdown. They took it as a sign of weakness from the king and declared independence.”
Jocelyn looked at him quizzically, not believing that this news had passed her by. Lyvanne listened intently to the conversation. She knew that the others had been trying to shield her from the larger problems in The Rive ever since she met them, but she was determined to get the information out of them regardless. Astreya had been her entire world for as long as she could remember, but that world just grew infinitely and she wanted to know what was waiting for her.
“Don’t worry, it hasn’t reached the criers yet, but you can count on my word,” he said as he took a seat by their side, “Wouldn’t worry too much. The Mountain tribes won’t be allowed any semblance of independence for long, and they don’t have the military power to maintain it either. Probably just hoping they can negotiate some better terms out the end of it.”
“And the other two?” Lyvanne enquired, her interest piqued. “Who else are we at war with?”
“The Kingdom of Middin, an island chain far off the western shore of The Rive. They’ve been at war with the king for pushing three years now, but I dare say it’s not really much of a war anymore. The Kingdom used to consist of many islands, but the king has claimed all but the one that remains.”
Turiel nodded his head in agreement. “Most are aware that the king could have finished it by now, but he’s waiting. He wants their total surrender, he wants that justification, but the Queen of Middin is stubborn, and I doubt she will budge easily.”
“But those soldiers you saw returning to Astreya, I would put money on those to be returning from the front lines of Tyberia,” Jocelyn added.
Now that was a name Lyvanne recognised, Abella had told her about the strained relationships with the Northern continent of Tyberia on numerous occasions.
“Relationships with the Tyberians have always been tense, but the two kingdoms have been in open war for the past half-decade. The losses to both sides have been overwhelming at times, but the king has nothing to show for it. No matter how hard he pushes his men, no matter how many warlocks he throws at the front lines, he has not once claimed any significant land there.”
“Why?” Lyvanne asked, her eyes growing larger, this was the stuff that interested her, hearing tales of far off countries, of landscapes completely different to the one she knew. This was where she found her enjoyment.
“If you want the real answer you’ll have to find a place on the king’s royal council,” Turiel joked. “We know little more than rumour and whispers.”
Lyvanne felt somewhat deflated. “Can I hear the rumours at least?” she asked. Lyvanne watched as Jocelyn shared a look with Turiel and smiled.
“I suppose sharing some rumours wouldn’t hurt any of us,” Jocelyn said as she nudged up closer to Lyvanne. “Besides, if I’ve guessed where we’re going correctly then we have enough time to talk things through.”
Lyvanne noticed that her last comment was made with a sly grin and knowing look in
the direction of Turiel, who in turn scowled.
“I heard a bard sing one time about how the land of Tyberia is, for the most part, covered in snow,” Jocelyn said as Lyvanne’s eyes lit up again. “Their winters are longer than ours and more intense, making it difficult for the inkg’s men to maintain a foothold for long”
“How do people live there?”
“That I don’t know, little one.”
Lyvanne leaned back against the railing of the deck and sighed with happiness. She wasn’t aware of when it had happened but she had grown fond of Turiel and Jocelyn calling her “little one,” and it was refreshing to hear new stories that Abella had never told her before. It set her mind racing, how much more was there out in this world beyond Astreya’s walls that she was yet to learn about? And importantly, it took her mind off everything that was happening in Astreya.
Turiel stood again, “I’m going to get some rest, I suggest you two do as well at some point, we won’t arrive for another couple of days, no point baking in the sun above deck all day.”
