The Harrowing Path

by Cleave Bourbon

Devyn went into the cabin and strapped on Dranmalin and then pulled the blade from its new sheath. It appeared to be glowing a slight yellowish gold, enough to light a dim room. His fingers tingled where they touched the sword hilt and Devyn thought for a moment that he felt it make his whole arm tingle. He wondered why, and then he remembered Bren’s eyes during the last battle. He thought to the sword. “Join me.” he said. He felt the tingle over his entire body.

  Rennon strapped on what he could of the Dolant Tor armor from Signal Hill and tucked his daggers just under the breastplate. Devyn noticed Rennon was sweating profusely. “Are you all right, Rennon?”

  “I am just a bit nervous. Sanmir taught me to use daggers, but I never thought I would be in a fight like this. On a ship at sea, that is.” He looked Devyn in the face and fell backward. He took out his daggers and pointed them at Devyn. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

  “Relax; nothing is wrong.” He could see the darkest corners of the ship’s cabin. “It has something to do with my sword.”

  “Magic! Are you crazy?”

  “I am feeling apprehensive, but I’m not crazy.”

  “Come on, you two,” Ianthill commanded with urgency from the hallway.

  The two boys left the cabin and met with Vesperin, who was wearing his golden armor of the clerics of Loracia. Rennon immediately put distance between him and Devyn. Bren and Kelle appeared in the hallway, and the four walked to the door leading out to the deck where Ianthill and Gondrial waited. Bren stopped and signaled Ianthill, who nodded back.

  “Oh, Captain Felladan, a word with you please,” Devyn heard Ianthill say. A few moments later, Devyn heard a commotion and then a sailor shout that someone had killed the captain. Sailors dropped what they were doing and ran to the stern.

  “Go, go!” Bren said, raising his dragon fang and dragon claw.

  Devyn rushed out to meet with a stout sailor, who had managed to pull a sword out of the deck armory. Devyn swung Dranmalin with all his might, and the sword sang crisply as it sailed through the air, slicing the sailor’s sword into two pieces. He slashed again and the sailor fell. Devyn wheeled around to another sailor and cleaved him in two from waist and torso, amazed at the ease of wielding the golden-hued sword. In the corner of his eye, he saw Rennon deftly throw his daggers to strike down a running sailor. The daggers flew in a circle and returned to Rennon’s waiting hands. “He is using magic too!” Devyn muttered to himself. “And I bet he doesn’t even realize it.”

  All at once, the ship’s bell began ringing. Edifor was shouting, “Stop! Stop the fighting! Look at the captain.” Where the captain’s dead body had lain was now a Drasmyd Duil carcass. “We have been deceived.” Edifor took out a short knife blade and slit his arm. Red blood trickled out. He went to the nearest sailor and did the same. “Men, draw blood. The betrayers shall be revealed,” he said. Two men screeched at Edifor’s words, dropped their shifter personas, and leaped overboard, taking to flight.

  “Shoot them,” Ianthill shouted. “Do any of you have a bow?”

  “Do no such thing, men!” Edifor took the captain’s hat from the deck and put it on his head. He glanced at Ianthill with his hideous, toothless grin. “They are my crew now,” he said. “We are in your debt, wielder. Those Shadow Lurkers are done for. They are heading further out to sea.” He motioned to the crew. “Get back to work, or I’ll throw the lot of you over with the Shadow Lurkers.” The men returned to work, but each kept an eye on what was going on. “I reckon we will put into port as soon as we can. As a paying passenger, I will return your money, but we don’t want the kind of trouble you bring. So, I won’t be inviting you back on board.”

  “Captain, tell the helm to come about then and take us to the port of Old Symbor,” Ianthill suggested.

  “That is no port. I’ll not sail my ship there, no how,” Edifor said.

  Ianthill glared at him. “I don’t suppose if I insist you keep our gold and then I double your passage rate would persuade you?”

  “You have it on you?”

  Ianthill unfastened his coin pouch and paid the captain. “And captain, Drasmyd Duil can swim, and they can fly incredibly long distances. You just let two abominations escape.”

  He shrugged. “They were flying away. What else could we do? Helm,” he barked, “Come about, we sail to The Blight.”

  Chapter 21: A Sense of Change

  The Sea Goddess sailed smoothly toward The Blight, and the weather held up nicely. One sunny afternoon, Devyn finally cornered Kelle when she came up on deck for some fresh air. She had stayed in her cabin with Enowene since the fight on deck.

  “Kelle,” he began. She did not look at him, but he spoke anyway. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am that I mistook you for shadow.”

  Kelle turned to him with fire in her eyes. “You know, Devyn, I realize you were not yourself when you attacked me, but what angers me the most is that you doubted what I was willing to do to have you. I would have done anything you asked of me because I thought I knew who you were, but I am not so sure now.”

  “I am still me, Kelle.”

  “Are you? I am not so sure you even know who you are. The Devyn I knew feared wielders, he could not sniff out shadow, and he would never attack me. I don’t know who you are now.”

  “Kelle, please, I am still Devyn. The Devyn you fell in love with.”

  Kelle turned away and rubbed her neck. Vesperin had taken away the pain, but the feeling of what Devyn had done was still there. “I just need a little time to think, Devyn, will you grant me that?”

  Devyn took a deep breath. “I will grant you whatever time you need.”

  Kelle walked away without looking back and disappeared into the hold.

  DRAKKIUS WATCHED THE skies as they darkened above the southern tip of The Blight. Night had come; soon he would know. Not long after the stars began to shine, two winged figures appeared in the distance above. They circled around Drakkius and landed, folding their leathery wings around their lithe bodies like a cloak.

  “Report.” Drakkius commanded.

  “We regret to tell you the plan failed. We only made away with our lives.” The first Drasmyd Duil said.

  “Is the one known as Shey still among them?”

  “No, my liege, that Drasmyd Duil was the first to fall.”

  “Do they still believe Naneden is the evil they fight at least?”

  “We did not give you away, my liege. As far as they are concerned, it is he who tasks them.”

  “Good, at least we have that. The both of you go to the city of Gothenwyre, on the northern borders of Scarovia, to my castle and keep there in the mountains. Arrange for Lady Shey to escape. There is no reason to hold her now.” He leaned in, “Be careful you stay clear of her. If she sees you, she will not hesitate to use essence to end you. See that she gets away clean. I don’t want her harmed; she has an important role to play now.”

  “We will see to it, master.” The Drasmyd Duil assured him as they both unwrapped their wings from around their bodies and took flight.

  Drakkius took a long clay pipe out from under his cloak. The stem appeared to be a scaled leg and the bowl was a red dragon’s skull. He waved his hand over it and the already packed pipe lit with a spark of light. He puffed on it while staring into the night sky.

  Chapter 22: Defenders

  Devyn felt a twinge of excitement as The Sea Goddess sailed into the ancient bay of Old Symbor. He had always wanted to see what the old city looked like before its people were forced to move to its present location closer to Brookhaven. Old Symbor was now a part of The Blight; where there were once green fields, there was now a sea of dead browns and yellows. Where majestic trees once flourished, there was now shadowy specters. No crops would grow, and no animals could graze. The Blight was a dead land.

  The sun was still low in the east when Devyn got his first full glimpse of the ancient docks; decay and overgrown vegetation made them look more like part of the landscape than the once vibrant trading
hub of Symboria. Old Symbor lay in ruins from the docks to as far as he could see on land, with dilapidated buildings, bushy shrubs, and dead trees choking the once vibrant streets. Captain Edifor helmed The Sea Goddess into one of only a handful of still-maintained docks and moored the ship. Devyn was surprised to see an old man hobble out from one of the hardier structures to greet the approaching ship. The old man walked with a cane, and a small, scruffy dog with black and white hair followed close behind him, barking in warning. The man wore an eye patch over his left eye and a dusty tunic over breeches that made Devyn wonder if he remained dormant until a ship sailed into his port. His white hair and beard were long and unkempt, and he had a scowl on his wrinkled face.

  “I thought they had you exiled from this land, you old fool, what in Fawlsbane’s name are you doing back here?” the old man said to Ianthill.

  Ianthill disembarked. “Aye, I was exiled, but then again, as I recall, so were you. Who let you back on sacred soil?” Ianthill stopped and looked around. “And where are those bothersome Defenders?”

  “The Defenders are on patrol. I suspect your ship will have them scrambling for the docks soon enough. They will be disappointed your ship is not the supply ship. It’s overdue.”

  “What, Dicarion, you didn’t tell them I was coming? I thought you would have predicted my exact return.”

  The old man grinned. “I am good, alas, but not that good, old friend.”

  The rest of the party joined Ianthill in disembarking and stood behind him.

  “I did not know you were coming, ‘tis true, but I welcome you just the same. It’s the Defenders that are likely to get all block-headed crazy when they discover you have come to the dock unannounced.” Dicarion said.

  “They will never change.”

  “Nor would I expect them to; it’s their job,” Dicarion said, holding his arms in invitation. Ianthill embraced him warmly, and the black and white dog began to bark uncontrollably.

  “Quiet, Palanon, Ianthill is a friend,” Dicarion scolded, and the dog stopped barking.

  “Palanon! You named the dog Palanon?” Ianthill said amused. “What does our good man Palanon think of that?”

  “Ask him yourself; the Defenders have arrived.” Dicarion pointed his twisted cane to several riders dressed in blue cloaks pulled over black armor approaching from the edge of the ruined city.

  The men on horseback reined in their horses directly in front of Ianthill and Dicarion. There were five of them, with the lead man being about the age of Devyn’s father, Lourn. His tabard bore the crest of the captain of the Defenders. His hair was black and curly with grey temples, and his facial features were rough and slightly pockmarked.

  “You!” He glared at Ianthill. “I might have known it would be you who would sail so brazenly to The Blight.”

  “Well met and salutations, Palanon,” Ianthill said, ignoring Palanon’s tone. The dog, Palanon, looked up at Ianthill sharply when it heard its name.

  “Dicarion, I told you the last time this man appeared on these docks not to allow him access to The Blight. Why do you allow him passage now against my orders?”

  Dicarion examined his dirty fingernails indifferently. “He slipped past me. I must be losing my edge.”

  “Indeed.” Palanon was still glowering at Ianthill. “What brings the great defender of the isle to these lands? Another ancient scroll in the hall of records, perchance, or is it simply to make more mischief, perhaps?”

  Ianthill lifted his staff and pointed it at Palanon. “I dare not tell anyone my true intentions, least of all, you.”

  Palanon was stunned but recovered quickly. “Well, you being a great and powerful wielder in a land where you cannot draw upon your principle power disturbs me, for it means you are here for an urgent reason. You are like a fish out of water here; I will have your reasons for landing on these shores.”

  “No, you will not,” Ianthill said in a matter-of-fact tone. Palanon’s men shifted uncomfortably in their saddles, and Palanon’s contempt increased.

  “You will not tell me then? I thought not. You will toy with me?” Palanon drew his sword from its scabbard, and his men followed suit.

  Devyn realized he was holding his breath.

  Ianthill lowered his staff. “Very well, I shall give you a reason, Palanon. I need to know if the Enforcers are holding a woman prisoner in The Blight.”

  Palanon sheathed his sword and motioned to his men to sheath theirs. “I know not why you insist on trying my patience, wielder,” he said. “The one you seek was at the Enforcers’ keep of Brightonhold. They brought her there a few weeks ago. It is now rumored they have moved her elsewhere. They say she killed a whole regiment of Enforcers near the Vale of Morgoran.”

  Ianthill scoffed. “It was only a few men, three at the most, and she did not have any part in their death. They managed that out of their own stupidity. These rumors you speak of, do they tell where she is now?” Palanon said nothing, but Ianthill could read the answer on his face. “Are they keeping her in the dungeons below Vetell Fex?”

  “Naturally, and under constant guard too. She has escaped them more than once, saying she needed to find Gondrial and warn him she was not herself. That talk almost got her flogged for madness, or so the rumors say. I have not any evidence to give you.”

  Ianthill stomped the ground with the butt of his staff irritably. “Rumor or not, we need an escort across The Blight and then on to the monastery of Vetell Fex.”

  “Impossible, I am to admit no one, you know that Ianthill,” Palanon said emphatically.

  “Nevertheless, Palanon, I am going to cross The Blight. You can choose to help me, or you can be unfortunate enough to get in my way. I leave the matter up to you.”

  Palanon shook his head. “The days and nights in The Blight have grown increasingly darker, and I have heard reports of vegetation growing in remote areas, along with strange occurrences, and attacks upon my men. I sense change is on the horizon. I may not trust you, Ianthill, but my men and I will help you no matter how reluctantly. I have always been loyal to the Defenders’ cause, and I suspect whatever you may be up to shall not sway me from my course.”

  Ianthill nodded. “The day is not getting any longer, Palanon, we need to get as far into The Blight as the light of day allows.”

  “I will guide you across The Blight, but I cannot go with you to Vetell Fex. I can, however, tell you how to get yourself in when you arrive,” Palanon said. “You will have to enter alone, Ianthill. The keep guards will let you pass but not your party.”

  “Let me worry about who goes in and whatnot. Just lead me to the western border of The Blight and I will find my way to Vetell Fex after I set foot on Symborian soil.”

  “No need for you to lead them across, Palanon, I will take them,” Dicarion said. “There would be no use in you losing your post here at the docks, and you know as well as I that Commandant Trayore would have your head if your patrols came up missing.”

  “Dicarion, I—”

  “No, you don’t get to argue with me, Palanon,” Dicarion scolded. “I will be taking Ianthill and his party to the keep and you will patrol here.”

  Palanon bowed his head and nodded in reluctant agreement. “As you wish, honored Dicarion. I will allow this out of respect for your office.”

  Dicarion turned his attention to Ianthill. “The first bit of advice I have to give you is to send that huge ship you have there out to sea. If she stays moored to the docks, she will attract attention, and the sort of attention she would bring would not be the kind you would want on your back. We will need a few horses, and since they are scarce, I would suggest a small delegation of men.”

  “I already have all the men I need right here on the dock,” Ianthill said as he waved his hand toward Devyn and the others.

  Palanon pointed at one of his soldiers. “Take two men and go to the stable. Prepare fresh horses for their journey.”

  “Aye, sir,” the soldier said.

  Gondrial was st
anding behind Ianthill with apprehension. Devyn had noticed Ianthill occasionally glancing at Gondrial with irritation.

  “All right, Gondrial, what is on your mind?” Ianthill asked.

  Gondrial looked back at the ship. “We are stranded here once the ship sails. We have no way back?”

  Ianthill scratched his head. “Aye, what are you getting at? Do we need the ship?”

  “We will be close enough to Symbor when we leave Vetell Fex, but we will have to hire a new ship. I have to be careful in Symbor. I er...well, I have had some trouble there. I would prefer the ship to swing around to port in New Symbor.”

  “What sort of trouble, may I ask?”

  “No, you may not ask,” Gondrial said.

  Ianthill absently rubbed his left temple. “The new captain is not too keen on being in our service.” He sighed heavily. “It will cost me a small fortune, but I think I may be able to fix a price. I will have The Sea Goddess sail to New Symbor.”

  Gondrial still had a look of irritation, and Ianthill noticed it.

  “What now?” Ianthill asked.

  “If you pay Captain Edifor, what assurances do we have that he will honor your agreement?”

  Kelle stepped forward. “I will stay with the ship.”

  Devyn immediately objected, but Kelle stood her ground.

  “I fear you may not be enough,” Ianthill said.

  Bren took a step toward Ianthill. “Then I will see it done. I will remain on board.”

  Ianthill glanced at Enowene who eyed Bren and Kelle suspiciously.

  “And I shall remain as well,” Enowene said.

  Ianthill nodded. “So be it; come with me now and we will talk to the captain. Gondrial, you and the boys help prepare those horses Palanon sent for. As soon as we see the ship off, we will ride into The Blight.”

  Chapter 23: Allure and Consequence

  Two days passed without incident as Dicarion led the small band of rescuers across the barren Blight. The dog Palanon raced back and forth ahead of the party, sniffing anything he could get his nose into and barking at any rabbit or rodent that scurried by. More than once Dicarion had to call the dog back when he started chasing after one furry animal or another.