The stairway led up to a hatch that was made of cedar, and held together with cast iron strips. She pushed it up with her head and peeked out. She saw a tall cliff in the distance at first, then focused on the area around her. She was aboard a ship in some kind of port. There were ships of many different types, from all over the world, and all of them strangely present in the same place.
Seeing that no deck hands were around, she pushed the hatch up farther and began to slide out onto the deck. That's when she heard the shouts of her captors. She spun around, seeing four ronin rushing her way from the bough. She laughed out loud as her heart began pounding.
The guards shouted at her in their strange language as she headed toward the edge of the ship. There were other guards on the docks, and she stopped cold, looking for another route. The folk all around turned their attention to her antics, and the guards were beginning to close in. This was it, she thought; her moment of truth.
And then she heard the whoosh of arrows.
She dodged one that swooped by and embedded itself in the mast beside her, then she leaped up the short steps to the stern of the ship. She could see the cliff in the distance that rose above the shore, and the wooden buildings that lined its base. If she could make it there, she could escape. Climbing was no trouble for her.
A ronin attacked from her side, slashing diagonally with his katana. Rian spun and jumped to the side, continuing around with a slash from her own blade. Though it glanced off of his armor, he was knocked away. Rian vaulted the steps, running up toward the railing at the end of the ship's stern.
"Stop, thief!" she heard behind her.
Rian sheathed the katana and changed her direction as soon as she saw the shallow water below. She vaulted over the railing, landing roughly on the docks below, which was better than splatting headfirst into submerged rocks. She rolled as she landed, knocking several dock workers into the water, and sprinted toward the shore.
With the cliff in her sights, she was home free.
"Why the secrecy?" Neko asked, sitting down at his table and pouring wine for the others.
"There's really no need for secrecy," Finn said. "These men just need to get to Tel Drakkar as quickly as possible."
"Tel Drakkar?" Neko asked, looking at Baleron, who gave Finn a worried glance.
"Don't worry, friend," Finn said. "Neko can be trusted. He cares nothing for T'kar or his troops. If there's any chance of taking him down, Neko and his men are on board."
"That's for sure," Neko said. "If you're plotting something against him, then you have my ear, and my ship. Just tell me the story."
Baleron sighed. "We are meeting the heir to the throne of Eirenoch at the tower."
Neko's eyes went wide, and he folded his hands across his chest, leaning back in his chair and cocking his head.
"It's true," Ivar said. "He is the grandson of Daegoth, and the Alvar say he is the son of the Dragon himself."
Neko burst out in laughter, pounding his fist on the table. "Alvar?" he said. "Are you kidding me? You're telling me stories of elves. What's next? Goblins? Fairies?"
"Neko," Finn said. "You know the strange things that live on this island. You've seen them yourself."
Neko shook his head. "I don't believe in Alvar," he said. "They are old tales of the island. The ruins that are scattered around are just the ruins of men long forgotten."
"Come with us and you'll see," Baleron said. "I've spent my entire life among the Alvar. I was given their blessing, and have lived many times longer than a normal man."
Neko cocked his head. Finn did too, as Baleron had never mentioned it.
"How long?" Neko asked.
"I have lived for over one hundred years," Baleron said. "But still far less time than my friend Menelith."
"Who is this Menelith?" Neko asked.
"An Alvar captain, and my friend."
Baleron pulled a small amulet from his cloak, showing it to Neko. The man bent forward and examined the golden charm, raising an eyebrow as he beheld the gem in its center.
"This is a stone I've never seen," he said. "What is it?"
"It is a star gem," Baleron said. "A stone from their home world. You will never see anything like this on this world."
Neko sighed. "It's beautiful."
"If you take us to Tel Drakkar, it's yours."
Neko's eyes went wide again. "You would give this to me just for taking you around the south shore?"
"Yes," Baleron replied. "As valuable as it is, our cause is much more important."
"You could be a part of history, Neko," Finn said. "And myself as well."
Neko took the amulet, turning it over in his hands. He seemed mesmerized by it, and his eyes were locked upon its beauty much likes Baleron's own when he first beheld it. Neko then clenched his fist around it, and tapped the fingers of his other hand on the table.
Then, before anyone could say another word, chaotic shouts erupted from outside. Neko cocked his brow, standing up and running for the cabin door. The others followed, and they were all greeted with cheers and whistles as the gathered crowd watched a spectacle unfolding aboard the ships of Kinar.
As the friends lined up on the deck, they saw the crew of the eastern ships chasing and firing at a woman that was jumping from ship to ship, desperately working to evade and escape her pursuers.
"Who is that?" Freyja asked.
"I have no idea," Neko said. "But she's fast."
The woman carried a katana, likely stolen from one of the men chasing her, and she was skilled in its use. She was also skilled in jumping and climbing, as she leaped onto the sail of one ship, and rode it around to its stern, leaping onto the dock and then onto another ship.
When she reached the main docks, she began climbing up the front of a large wooden building. Her pursuers stopped at the docks and began firing upward in her direction. Baleron heard the twang of a bow beside him and turned to see Freyja drawing another arrow.
"Freyja no!" he shouted.
Her arrow hit home, taking out one of the archers. The others turned in their direction, and the ronin crew began running toward Neko's ship, swords drawn and ready to fight.
"Time to leave," Neko said. "Hakeem! Raise the sail! We leave now!"
A man of Khem emerged from the lower part of the ship, rubbing his eyes. But, without questioning his captain, he began raising the sails.
"Keep us guarded," Neko said, clapping Baleron on the back. "You have my ship."
Baleron sighed, drawing his blade. "Get ready, boys," he said. "Freyja, keep at it."
She smiled, nocking another arrow. Odhran stood next to her, and the two fired into the pursuing crowd. The ship began to move, and several deckhands pulled the buoys on board as another severed the tether line.
"Don't worry," Neko said, laughing. "My ship is the fastest around. Watch this!"
He tugged on a line near the main mast, and a counterweight fell from the crow's nest. From a crate at the base of the mast, another massive sail was raised. It was cup-shaped, and made of a thin black material that caught the wind and drove the ship forward with a heavy lurch that nearly knocked everyone from their feet.
"Here we go!" Neko said, taking the wheel. "Hold on to your hats, and keep those ronin off our tail."
Baleron watched the docks slowly disappear behind them. Though attempting to get their ships off the docks, he knew the ronin would never catch them. They would be long gone before they even raised their sails. Neko had gotten them away. It was then that he felt Finn's hand on his shoulder and heard the man's laughter.
"I knew he would say yes," Finn said. "And he's the best. Absolutely the best. We'll be there in no time."
Baleron grinned, gladly patting Finn on the back. "Thank you, Finn," he said. "You're a jewel of a man."
"Well," Finn said. "I didn't live this long for slackin'."
Chapter Ten
Rian reached the top of the cliff, pulling herself up and over after the arduous climb. She collapsed onto
the rocky edge, splaying her arms out at her side as she turned her head toward the ocean to watch the strange-looking ship sail away. On board that ship, she realized, someone had helped her escape.
She laughed into the afternoon sky; not only because she had an unknown friend on her side, but that she had no idea where she was.
"Thank you," she said. "Whoever you are."
She rolled over onto her belly, raising her feet into the air and clapping her toes together as she caught her breath. The view was extraordinary from here, especially the view of the ships that were attempting to chase down the vessel that had helped her escape. It looked like her captors had forgotten all about her.
Now to figure out where in the nine hells she was.
She stood, making sure her sword was strapped on tightly, and then put her hands on her hips as she beheld the landscape before her. Everything was green; the vegetation was thick, and the trees were tall and oddly twisted. The landscape sloped downward gently, and a mist floated ghost-like over the hills and valleys as far as she could see. There, in the distance, was a tree line marking the edge of a thick forest. To the north, she judged by the position of the sun, was a swamp.
"Well," she said. "This is lovely."
She sighed and started forward, not entirely sure where she was going or what she would find. There were no certainties here, she knew, only her will to survive whatever this island threw her way. And then there was that strange presence she felt.
It was a sadness; a great sadness that was not her own, but that of someone else. It was loss, she realized. But why would such a feeling overcome her at this moment? It had appeared somewhat when the ship made dock at the port. She had thought it was fear and uncertainty about her fate. But now, as she ventured deeper into the island, where the forest began to wrap its shadowy arms around her, it became stronger, almost overwhelming.
Someone or something was in agony, and the pain was so great that Rian could easily let herself go and weep. It was the strangest feeling she had experienced in a long, long time; not since she had felt her sister's pain as she lay dying in Rian's arms. The pain her sister felt was not her own, but the pain of knowing that she had failed to protect Rian from the bandits that had captured them.
Dalia had offered herself to them if they spared her little sister, and they had agreed, ravishing her to the point of death. Rian had cradled her, crying, as she faded into nothingness. Then, one of the bandits had taken Dalia's body and thrown it into a lake, promising to take care of Rian and make her one of them.
And that was what she became; one of them.
That thought suddenly made her feel shame. The sorrow that was in the air brought shame on her very being. She was a criminal; a bandit and a thief, and the sorrow was one of purity—divine purity of which she was not worthy.
She had no right to feel this pain.
"Stop it!" she called out, clamping her hands to her head and gritting her teeth.
There was no answer in the trees around her, just the gentle blowing of the upper branches, and the mating calls of the nearby insects. Why was she even here? Why had she chosen to venture into the forest when she could have found a road, or at least a path?
Surely there were cities somewhere.
She stopped to look at her surroundings. Through the brush ahead, it did look like there was a trail of some sort. She stepped forward, parting the weeds as she peered through. The path was overgrown as would be expected, but it was there. Underneath the dirt and moss were the faint outlines of paving stones, and paving stones meant one thing; a road to town.
She hoped.
Igrid and Morrigan found a small ruin deeper within the forest. They had left the other ruins behind, having fled the area to evade the assassin, and were now content to stop and rest for the day. The ruin itself was what appeared to have once been a fountain of some sort, surrounded by crumbled columns that once supported curved slabs that surrounded the entire structure. It was similar to the stone circles that the Highlanders built, though made of white stone.
The entire area was overgrown with vines, and the stone was cracked and crumbled. The fountain was crumbled as well, and the statue that stood at its center was worn and unidentifiable. Igrid and Morrigan guessed, however, that is was likely a statue of Gaia, or perhaps an Alvar queen.
Maybe even the Lady Allora—she was that ancient.
"This look like a good place," Morrigan said, looking into the fountain's empty basin.
There were cracks everywhere, and weeds were growing up through the stone. Chunks of white stone lay about, some of them still bearing the beautifully carved Alvar runes, others simply featureless chunks.
"There is wood about," Igrid said. "I'll gather some and we'll start a fire."
Morrigan nodded, sheathing her sword and stepping into the crumbled basin. There was no strange feeling anymore, she noticed. Everything around them seemed peaceful and welcoming, as if the spirits of the forest had led them here for their own safety.
She thought back to the battle with the assassin, and how skilled and deadly he had seemed. She had defeated him, however, disarming him and taking his swords. That was the moment that stood out to her, how she had been able to strike so fast that she had knocked the assassin's blades right out of his hands without even realizing it. The world had slowed down—for her at least—and Igrid had said she became a blur.
Confused and bewildered, she sat down, leaning back against the stone to relax. She focused on the sounds around her; the birds, scurrying creatures, and even the snakes that crawled on the ground and in the trees. She could hear them all, as if her senses were tuned to everything around her. She was at one with everything, she felt.
"Wake up," Igrid said, dropping a bundle of wood in front of her, smiling. "I know you're weary, but we need a fire. I still have dried meat in my pack, but we should find something else, too. Maybe I can put this bow to good use."
"Better you than me," Morrigan said, grinning. "I couldn't hit the broad side of a mountain."
"Get the fire started then," Igrid said. "And I'll see if I can find something to shoot."
"Be careful," Morrigan said. "You wouldn't want to anger the forest."
Igrid dropped her pack and gathered the Alvar bow, shouldering it and strapping the arrow case to her thigh.
"I'll be back," she said. "Get that fire going."
Morrigan leaned forward and gathered a few logs, arranging them on the cracked stone and pulling her flint from her cloak. She looked around for some dried grass and weeds, gathering a handful and stuffing it into the gaps between the logs. Then she struck her flint several times until a small spark caught. In a few minutes, she had the fire going nicely, and held out her hands to warm them in the growing flames.
Though the forest around her was growing dark, a single beam of sunlight was focused on the statue at the fountain's center. It caught her attention as she warmed herself, and she stared at it intently. There was something strange about the way the sunlight crept down the length of the figure, seeming to draw her gaze down toward its cracked base.
Curious, she stood and slowly stepped over the rubble to get a better view. The sunlight narrowed into a tighter point as she watched, and she stopped, fearing the statue would come to life. Instead, there was a cracking sound, and the remains of the figure toppled over, smashing itself onto the stones below. Morrigan jumped back in surprise, reaching for her blade.
Once again, it pulsed with life.
She looked down at it, drawing it a short ways from its scabbard. The blade was glowing as it had before, and she looked around for the reason why. Was there something nearby? Or was this the same glow that occurred when her and Igrid's blades were first near each other?
She dropped the blade back into its scabbard and moved closer to the sunbeam. It was no longer moving, but seemed to be concentrated on the spot where the statue stood. There, the stone was split into two halves; two semi-circles that looked as if they could be
parted.
And they did.
With a faint grinding noise, the two halves separated and fell away, revealing a hollow space inside. There was another grinding noise within, and a strangely shaped object began to rise from the darkness. It was cylindrical, with a golden cap that covered its end, and a braided ribbon that crisscrossed down its length. It was the handle of a sword, she realized.
A katana.
As the sword rose upon a platform, Morrigan stepped forward, reaching out to grab it. She had never held a katana before, and this one was exquisite. But as she reached out to wrap her fingers around it, a sudden jolt of power knocked her hand back. She stumbled back, nearly tripping over the stone rubble.
Now the sword was fully exposed. It was held in a golden bracket, encased in a black lacquered scabbard adorned with the same runes as her own blade, with a tsuba in the shape of the same triquetra symbol that was the subject of her dreams. It was truly a blade from Gaia herself, she realized, so why was she not allowed to touch it?
"Stand back," she heard Igrid say behind her.
Morrigan turned, seeing Igrid drop a large rabbit near the fire. She joined Morrigan, standing next to her and grasping her own blade.
"This is like ours," Morrigan said. "But not meant for me, at least."
"Nor I," Igrid said. "Each of our blades is suited for us. Mine is a blade of the north, yours is a shorter Highland blade. This… is meant for someone else."
Morrigan cocked her head. "I wonder who?"
Igrid shrugged, mesmerized by the blade's appearance. "Perhaps we will find out. In the meantime, let's eat. We can figure it out later."
The paving stones began to become more and more decrepit. Rian's spirits were beginning to sink as she realized they were likely ancient and unused. Someone had placed them here long ago, and whoever had done so was no longer around. Still, the faint outline of the path was still there, and it had to go somewhere. If anything, she could find a crumbled building to use for shelter.
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