Stopping me from going out, she said, “We must not draw suspicion. Small groups will go out every few minutes.”
I waited a couple of minutes for my group to come together. It consisted of Svren, Ishree, a krewen I did not know, my brother, and the twins. Once Reet told us what to look out for, and after the krewen grabbed some supplies off the shelves, everyone but the head ranger set out.
The docks only lied two streets over. There, moored as one of the bigger civilian ships, we saw a low, white craft with two smokestacks beside each other in the middle and a bow that resembled a cone, or perhaps a pointy bird’s beak. We boarded the ship to wait for the last passengers to arrive.
Everyone who knew how to prepare a steamship to get underway helped do so. As I knew not, I merely kept an eye on the darkening sea and skies. The harbor looked busy with smaller military ships going to support their larger injured compatriots and managing the routes civilian ships could take. It still struck me as odd when seeing a ship without sails not have to worry at all about which way the wind blew. I actually felt glad not to have been too familiar with how a traditional ship in Orda sailed, for now that knowledge would have been quite pointless to have taking space in my mind.
Nysinis the Eighth unmoored from the docks with almost no sunlight enflaming the horizon, though the city offered much of its own artificial illumination. To keep from drawing unwelcome eyes, somebody must have insisted the ship linger well below its top speed. It casually floated southward, eventually passing the Vanguard warships, their puffing smoke indicating they too were not far from departing.
Speaking of smoke, Alex puffed on another cigarette as he came up next to me. “These things get better and better.” He blew out the smoke gathered in his mouth. “Glad we’ve joined up with the bird-men. They’ll finally give us guns.”
“I’d still prefer the sword.”
“Why? Didn’t you say it doesn’t like to kill?”
“Aye, but I’m only talking about what feels better in my hand. Anyway, I can have both.”
“Yeah, yeah, you get whatever you want.”
“That’s not exactly how I’d describe what’s happened at any point in my life. The parts I remember, anyway.”
“Bet you wouldn’t trade lives with someone who doesn’t have a dragon or the power of corruption.”
I was about to concur, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction, I asked, “You equate the power one can wield with their contentment? I may not know much about life beyond fighting, but even I know there’s a little more to it than that.”
“Not from what I’ve seen.”
“Keep thinking in such a way and you’ll end up trying to fight the gods for their power.”
“So? Can’t be too hard-hitting if they don’t have the balls to come down to our realm and do some actual work themselves.”
“Well, then good luck with that.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The voyage to krewen waters promised to take up to six days. Ideal weather and minimum maintenance might get us in five, but crossing such a considerable distance seldom went so smoothly. There was also the possibility we would have to stop and replenish Nysinis’ fuel before reaching our final destination.
Once we sailed beyond the clutter of ships within Durnmere’s domain, we were assured no military ship came close to ascertaining our identity. For my part, nothing in my mind or body was yet relaxed to the point of feeling at ease. Or maybe I did not want to feel at ease. Keeping busy helped prevent one’s mind from dwelling too long in the melancholy. I seemed to share the sentiment with my fellow absconders. Most busied themselves with the steamship, and many of the krewen came up to meet the reason they left whatever lives they lived in Durnmere.
Wondering about those who had less of a choice to leave Durnmere, I went up to General Valentine and the Vanguard and Rangers he spoke with at the bow of the ship. I said, “I’m sorry it’s come to this. I wish we at least had the time to send your family and friends messages.”
“Yes, well, it can’t be helped,” said the general. “And we did send messages out into the world concerning Viscount Rathmore. Those under his hex may still be susceptible to his orders and the uncertainty it brings, but anyone who knows us will not doubt who is telling the truth. We will have allies out there.”
“Blameless allies the viscount may target now,” said Bregman. “Many will be questioned, rounded up, or worse.”
“We must hope Grenhath is not so lost as to allow innocents to be deemed traitors by mere suspicious associations. Regardless, it is useless to worry about the unknown. Once we can get to a communications hub, then we can react to what the viscount may or may not be doing to our families. For now, concern yourself with keeping your comrades-in-arms alive. That is something you can control, master sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have we figured out where we’re going yet?” I asked.
“Timiric,” answered Reet. “It is a large port city not far from the human border, so humans will not look too out of place. We can gather information there and take a train farther inland. We can meet with connections I trust, though I have not announced your impending arrival. The viscount’s domestics mentioned krewen names as well, so I will act cautious until we are satisfied of our advantage.”
“Good. Thank you, Reet. It would be a bad time to fall into a trap.”
“There are good times?” asked Isabel.
“When you spring one you spot to lay one of your own,” answered her sister.
The group gradually scattered from there. I stuck with the sisters so I could ask them, “Do you think your brother will wonder whether you’re really working for turncoats?”
“Bringing two strangers to hide in his home didn’t help,” replied Felicia.
“Hey, he won’t have to wonder anything,” said Isabel. “He’ll believe the official story from the generals, not whatever crazy theories the viscount comes up with. I’d be more worried about him sticking his neck out too much for us. You know, if I was allowed to worry about anyone outside this ship.”
“And what about your parents?” I asked them.
“Dad died years back,” answered Felicia. “Mom is remarried in a town well south of Durnmere.”
“Changing her last name will hopefully keep her from being accused of having double-crossing daughters,” said Isabel. “Gods, I hate how much she’ll worry once all this gets out. Ghouls were enough of a concern.”
“And now you can help a half ghoul train,” I said. “Are you busy right now?”
“No specific orders, no.”
“Then lend me your flame.”
“Really? Shouldn’t you be recovering your prana?”
“Sleep will help, but I’m still too restless to seek it.”
“Oh. Yeah, I get it. Let’s get to work.”
I did eventually get pushed to sleep’s threshold, so I went to sleep in a private cabin given to me and Alex by Nysinis’ owner.
After waking, I waited for the morning to recoup the rest of my prana. In the thawing air, I summoned Aranath and flew him to a rocky, black shore a few miles away to detail what happened the day before.
To conclude what I had to say, I said, “Hard not to think I could have been immune from the viscount’s hex to begin with if I still had my last enchanted sword.”
“Perhaps. However, its magic sounds too powerful for it to be an ordinary mind hex. As you once experienced, a mind rune and its incantation must usually be rooted into the very victim’s flesh to have the greatest impact on their reasoning. Your assumption Lormevar’s master was once an eidolon is likely.”
“Anything about the sword sound familiar? Has an ancient eidolon enchanted an object to spread the feeling of peace to an entire kingdom?”
From my spot on the saddle, I felt the dragon become motionless as he closed his eyes and searched memories centuries old.
After a long moment, he unlocked his joints and replied, “There ar
e many tales of what an eidolon will do in their attempt to defend their domains from the chaos of free will and the corrupted realms. This often means applying brutish force, but others have avoided going down such a path.”
“And you think Lormevar belonged to one of the less harsh ones? Anyone you know about?”
“One legend comes to mind. It tells of two eidolons who found a young world in great conflict. Their compassion urged them to end the bloodshed, yet it also dissuaded them from spilling blood themselves. After many failures, one of the eidolons convinced its consort, a skilled enchanter, to allow itself to forfeit its entire soul in an effort to forge an enchanted artifact. An entire eidolon’s hallowed soul was now focused on a single spell, a spell said to be capable of soothing the harshest souls. Wielded by its love, it brought a wide-reaching peace to its world.”
I nodded to myself. “Has some of what Lormevar described. No names or times, huh?”
“It’s one of those tales far too old for anyone to know anything definite. It may be nothing but a tale, or a lost history mixed with fable.”
“I see. Too bad. I was hoping to connect Lormevar to some memories. I may never recover mine, but at least I gained some peace of mind when I reconnected with family and my name.”
“The best you can do now is take it to the dragon sages.”
“Do you mind speaking with Lormevar yourself?”
“For what purpose?”
“It might like speaking with someone else who isn’t forcing it to kill. You also might enjoy talking to someone other than me.”
“True, though I doubt we would get along.”
“Why not?”
“Its state of mind sounds fragile. I am not one for sensitivity.”
“No reason to not try once or twice. We’ll stop if you do more harm than good.”
“I can hear when you’re holding back on me. State your true aim. What do you hope happens if Lormevar and I speak?”
“You’re getting ahead of myself. I’m first hoping you two can get along. If you did, then I suppose I wanted you to convince Lormevar to help us. I can respect its wish not to spill blood, but whatever its origins, it is powerful. It must be able to enhance my prana, especially while I’m in this restrictive world. Makes sense to try gaining what advantage I can from it.”
“Ah, there’s your warrior’s reasoning. However, we may not be able to speak in the first place if sleep is the only way to enter its realm. Our summoning link will be severed the instant I fall unconscious.”
“I don’t think one has to be asleep. Only be calm.”
A snorting exhale. “And you believe I can reach such a state?”
“Better than I.”
“Perhaps, but being calmer than a young human is no great feat… Time in my prison has allayed much of my youthful, naive brashness, but I am aware not all of it is gone. If you desire Lormevar’s assistance, you’ll likely need to convince the meek entity yourself.”
“I see… Know of any less meek enchantments out there?”
Back on the ship, a better chance to gain an advantage came up when I asked Reet for guns for me and Alex to actually practice shooting with. The krewen gladly sanctioned my request. Several guns of mostly krewen models were gathered on the top deck. Once we tested our knowledge of loading the ammunition on different types of chambers, we were advised to begin firing them all a few times each to get a good feel for their recoil and grips.
Alex got off a shot into the horizon first. Meanwhile, I focused on the timing of my breathing and, despite not having anything to aim for, lining my eyes on the hefty revolver’s sights. Furthermore, I braced my forearm with prana. Pulling on the trigger ignited a flash, a bone-quivering jolt, an ear-splitting bang, and the bitter smell of burnt gunpowder. None were exactly pleasant, but there was a startling, spiking emotional brew that rushed into my head and heart. I felt as though I needed to do something beyond standing there, such as jump or hit something. Instead, I did as my brother did and shot another bullet into the ocean.
My heart kept pumping hurriedly as I moved on to other weapons. As I started on the rifles, I learned one way to quell my body’s frenzy during and after firing a gun was to manipulate my prana. Namely, not only could I use it to initially dampen the recoil and reinforce my stance, but rather than hold it for the next pull of the trigger, I could take a second to make it flow again. That way it preoccupied my overexcited nerves before I recalled it to my extremities. Getting the timing down was going to be an artful dance between muscle and spirit, but I never minded practicing another way to hone my prana.
Shooting at clay discs flung by hand came next. As expected, successfully hitting them with bullets proved harder than aiming for the unmissable sea. Despite the ship lacking a meaningful supply, the fact we missed the majority of targets allowed those capable of manipulating air and water to grab them right back. Lucky shots from the shotguns did shatter a few discs, making it clearer they were my preferred gun type.
Being too small and far too fast for any casters to retake them from the waves, all bullets were lost. Since we did not have an endless supply of ammunition, and as much as Alex wanted to, we could not continue training in this manner indefinitely. Nevertheless, he found some contentment in being taught how to take apart and maintain the weapons with little rods, brushes, and oils. Not as satisfied and concerned about the upkeep of something I could not yet be certain I would use all that much, I moved on to other training regimens.
Freer from the oversight of mistrustful human generals, I gained the chance to reintroduce true sparring into my regimens. Well, something close to sparring. It was difficult to mock a fight at full speed against those who hardly knew any way to defend themselves from practiced strikes. I acted closer to an instructor than an opponent. I didn’t hate the role, but it did not expend my prana. Too bad I scared Alex away from sparring in public.
Even for those few who understood a thing or two about close-quarters combat, their inability to intentionally deliver prana to their limbs caused them to be consistently slower than anyone I earnestly sparred with in Orda. It likewise meant their power suffered. Even considering this world’s weaker magic, I wondered whether fighting so often with guns impaired their capacity to manipulate their prana.
Three nights since embarking for the other side of Grenhath, my restless body hanging in a hammock realized my spirit still retained too much corruption for me to sleep in comfort. Thus, I braved a deep cold trying to freeze the hull to the sea to eject a stream of black fire from the tip of my outstretched fingers on the ship’s stern.
With my flame dying down, I heard Felicia say, “All that black magic and you can’t ignite your own little ember.”
I shrank the wobbling blackness into a ball over my open palm to benefit from its untamed heat waves. Turning around, I said, “Big talk from someone who can’t cast any kind of flame.”
“I have a lighter.”
“Well, if your goal is to cast little embers, I suppose that’s enough. Isn’t it a tad too cold to be out on watch?”
“I was below deck, but it was my turn to watch over your movements.”
“The general still doesn’t trust me?”
“Not completely. He wants to, I think. Can’t blame him for taking what safety measures he can.”
“No, no I can’t.”
Wanting to shift back to our initial topic, she asked, “You close to sparking a regular flame yet, dragon boy?”
“Thanks to your sister, I believe I am. Actually, thanks to you as well. Isabel told me about the training technique you read about.”
“Yeah, she told me. Should be easy for you to master.”
“How so?”
“Uh, your two prana types. Can’t you snap them together?”
“Doesn’t really work that way. I can’t use them at the same time. Well, maybe I can, but that will probably mean giving up more of my soul to the corruption.”
“And why don’t you? You keep t
elling us you know how to keep it from overtaking your mind, right?”
“Aye. It’s why I’m out here now. Still, something tells me letting myself being taken over completely won’t be all that good… Or perhaps I’m a little afraid of what might happen. My mind may not go insane, but, all the same, unforeseen change can happen. Besides, Lormevar probably wouldn’t have listened to me if it only sensed corruption.”
“Right, the talking sword. How’s that going?”
“Fine, I guess. It can’t give me too much in the way of information. Resisting all of Lucian’s attempts to cast its spell hindered its senses and memory. It does know Lucian’s grandfather possessed it last, not his father. The grandfather and his ancestors also used special crystals to coax out its spell. Their entire history seems to be based on finding as many as possible.”
“Generations of Rathmores looking for crystals so they can control people to look for more crystals.”
“It’s not known how much they find or how much of them it takes to cast the hex. I’m thinking their main purpose is something else.”
“Based on what?”
“The fact Orda also has Rathmores. It takes a lot of prana to traverse realms.”
“Or maybe it’s what turncoats use to summon a bunch of ghouls. History is full of stories of ghouls suddenly overrunning a territory. We know turncoats help, but the way they can be suddenly so effective out of nowhere…”
“Aye, it hints at powerful spells. Ones stronger than what an ordinary vlimphite crystal can give a caster.”
Achieving a desired level of lowered corruption, I extinguished the black flame. Switching back to my untainted self, the full brunt of the night’s chill shivered my muscles.
“You sure you like the cold, dragon boy?”
“I’m sure. I merely need to get used to it again after using my corruption to brace myself.”
“Hmph. Do you like that as well? Using your corruption?”
“I enjoy that I can use it. Unless I’m experiencing something worse, actually using it isn’t too enjoyable. Like the harsh cold, it’s simply something to get used to… What would you believe if I did say I enjoyed it?”
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