by Adrian Juhl
Chapter Four
“How long can he continue this?” Kayne asked, as the three men sat around a large, oak table in the Captain’s quarters.
The muffled cheers of the men could be heard as they watched Reesus compel the winds that drove their vessel forward.
“I’m not sure, Your Highness. It depends on many things, I guess. He must rest soon and regain his strength. Once we’re in open water, the trade winds will pick up, and we will use those to head north.”
“About that…” Kayne reached into his tunic. “I didn’t mention this before, but it’s the reason I provisioned extra rations.” He unfurled the scroll he’d retrieved from the corpse. Garos and Jack grabbed two large weights, shaped like sailing vessels, and placed them at the top and bottom of the parchment.
“A map!” Garos’ eyes gleamed with excitement as he leant closer to examine it. “An old map. I bet Namorn wishes he had come now,” he said to himself.
Jack nudged Kayne in the ribs. “Now you’ve done it. These Rangers live for exploring.”
Kayne smiled and explained his plan. Garos silenced him with a raised hand, walked to the door, popped his head out, and shouted, “Reesus! Stop what you’re doing and bring that black thing of yours.”
The wind died as Reesus left the bridge. Disappointed, the men returned below deck to begin the arduous task of rowing the boat.
“Reesus. I need a copy of this please,” Garos asked, pointing at the map.
“Is that it? I was in a groove out there.” Reesus placed an obsidian tablet on the table.
“You need to rest as well, Reesus. We are entering hostile waters, and I didn’t ask you here just to spare the men a little hard work,” Jack chastised.
“Sorry, sir. The Captain and I have a relationship. I didn’t mean to offend.”
“No offense taken,” Kayne replied. “Jack and I have the same relationship. But right now, we need your help on a matter that supersedes your ability to make wind.” Kayne winked at Reesus. His grin gave away the subtle jest, relieving the tension in the room.
“At once, Your Highness,” Reesus replied, bowing his head in deference to the prince.
“And please don’t do that!” Kayne complained.
Garos chuckled. The surface of the obsidian tablet shone bright. Kayne forgot what he was about to say as he stared in amazement. A replica of the map, formed in the same brilliant colors and detail as the original, appeared on the surface of the tablet. Reesus lifted the weights from the ancient scroll and handed it to Kayne. Garos took the magical device from Reesus, and studied the map with great interest. He looked up, doing his best to hide his excitement.
“We need to sail northeast for two days into the Mists of Lost Hope.”
“Mists of Lost Hope? Is it really called that?” Kayne asked.
“Indeed it is. Many ships have entered the Mists and never returned. That’s why it’s against the law to sail there.”
Jack retrieved four glasses and a decanter from the liquor cabinet and placed them on the table. He removed the glass stopper and inhaled the aroma, before filling the glasses. “It must be time to toast our success then!”
Reesus shook his head. “Impossible, sir. The danger is so real that the Regent himself issued the decree and enforces it. To enter would mean treason and bring shame to our families. He would pursue us even to our own worlds.”
Kayne raised his glass and grinned. “It’s only treason if it’s against the king, and I may be able to help with that. Besides, how scary can a mist be with a powerful Elemental aboard?”
“It’s not the mists that scare me. It’s the Bishops who enforce the law.”
“Bishops! They serve only the Regent and have no concern with civil laws. Drink up, my friend, for we shall soon discover what is hidden within the Mists of Lost Hope!”
Reesus downed the contents of his glass, more for courage than to toast success. “If I may be excused? I must rest a little before we reach the Mists.”
“Of course. I’ll send for you when we’re ready.”
Reesus closed the door to his quarters and heaved a sigh. He picked up a jug of water and went to the small, wooden sink. He poured the water into the basin in a slow, deliberate motion. As the last of the water fell from the lip of the jug, the Elemental’s hand shook. His eyes glowed as he commanded the water. It rose from the sink into the air, forming a mirror. Small ripples ran across the reflection.
“Mighty Ophidia. There is no need for this! The prince has a youthful heart, and merely desires to prove himself!”
The bench shook under the Elemental’s grip. His body convulsed as a thick, black ooze seeped out of the pores of his skin.
“Stop!” he shouted, grabbing at the ooze that slipped through his fingers and into the mirror. He grabbed at his eyes, trying to stop the magic that held the mirror open. The ooze spread across the water’s surface turning it black. He shrunk back in terror at the head of the snake that formed in the mirror. Its red eyes pierced the blackness of space and his heart before disappearing. The water lost its shape and splashed back into the sink.
