by C. M. Hayden
When Taro limped back through the doors of the East & Anchor, he found the barroom just as lively and loud as before, perhaps more so as everyone was considerably more drunk.
Kurian had found his way on the main stage, and was running his hands across his half-harp. Kyra and Lokír had returned, both seeming in higher spirits as they drank with Fenn. Everyone laughed and clapped like madmen as Kurian strummed out a drinking song and sang:
Half a will, half a sink,
Half a cup, half a drink.
Down the pitcher to the pine,
Taking ladies to the grind.
Now we go, all a-fleeting,
To bedroom, soft a-seeming.
Half a grate, half a snark,
Half a heart, half a lark.
Bold we go, our will-a-winning,
As the room goes a-spinning.
When she grabs our—
“Taro?” Kurian said, bewildered. There was a harsh burr in the music as his fingers halted, and the notes fell to pieces.
Kurian stood, setting his instrument aside, and stepped down. At the same time, Kyra stood, seeming to sober up immediately, and met Taro at the door.
“What happened?” Kyra asked, holding him up by the arm and inspecting the burn on his cheek.
Only then did Taro realize that he had tears in his eyes. He sniffled, and wiped them with his sleeve, the cloth fiercely agitating his burns.
“Vexis,” Taro said weakly.
“What?” Kurian asked.
“She’s here?” Kyra asked.
Taro shook his head. “No, Dr. Halric and…”
Fenn looked around the inn. All eyes were on them. “Let’s get him to the room,” Fenn whispered, grabbing Taro’s other arm and helping Kyra guide him up the stairs.
Their room upstairs had four evenly spaced beds. Fenn and Kyra helped Taro onto the first one, and offered him some water, which he took.
“Dr. Halric,” Kyra mused. “I thought you killed him.”
Taro’s face was carefully blank. “I did. But he’s back, somehow. And he took it.”
Kyra took a seat beside him. “Took what?”
“Raethelas. The Deeplight shard.”
Fenn’s concern melted away, replaced with white-hot anger. “How the hell could you let that happen?” he shouted.
“I…I’m sorry,” Taro said weakly. “I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t think,” Fenn said indignantly. “Why did you go wandering around Aleth alone, anyway?”
“I heard my sister was here,” Taro said. “I went to see her.”
Fenn balled his fist. “You didn’t think it might be a good idea to go with someone?”
“It was between me and her,” Taro said.
Kyra was standing now, her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes were not friendly. “Tell us the truth, Taro. All of it.”
Taro looked away briefly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Kyra scowled. “I’m not in the mood for lies. We can’t go on partial information. What are you not telling us?”
There was an uncomfortable bout of silence before Taro mustered the will to speak. “My sister…Nima…” He looked Kyra in the eyes. “Can we talk about this alone?”
“Not a chance,” Kyra said. “Everyone in this room is a part of this.”
Taro relented. “Nima is working for Vexis and Halric. They’ve changed her, somehow. Given her magic she didn’t have before. I thought maybe, if I talked to her, I could convince her to come home. Obviously, I was wrong.”
There was a collective silence that lasted a few breaths. Kyra spoke first.
“Why didn’t you tell us this a long time ago?”
“Obviously he was trying to protect her,” Fenn said.
“I’m sorry,” Taro said. “I didn’t think you’d understand. It’s just…hard.”
Kyra’s hard expression softened. She seemed more exasperated now than anything. “Taro, why do you do this to yourself? We’re on your side.”
“We’re your friends,” Fenn said. “You need to trust us.”
“You are?” Taro asked, looking up.
Fenn looked offended. “Of course I am. I wouldn’t give you hell if I didn’t care, and I’ll admit you’re a bit dumb at times, and you make piss-poor decisions, and you can be a bit annoying when—”
“He gets it,” Kyra said dryly.
Kurian gave a jaunty smile. “And you helped get me out of the slammer, so you’re okay by my book.” He put his arm around Taro and squeezed.
Lokír was standing, running a hand idly through his beard. “I am quite fond of you as well, Taro-sin. But you must learn openness. Even the mightiest warrior, alone, will fall against a larger force. Friends are our most important asset.”
“If you’d gone with us by your side,” Kyra said, “we could’ve helped. They wouldn’t have gotten the sword, and we might’ve been able to subdue your sister and bring her back.”
“I’m always for a good kidnapping,” Fenn added.
“So what are we going to do now?” Taro asked.
Kyra sighed. “I don’t think this changes anything.” The others nodded their agreement. “I still need to get back to Endra Edûn with my uncle, and you four need to stop Vexis from acquiring the rest of the Deeplight at any cost.”
Taro wiped his face with his sleeve. “I did learn something, at least. The reason they tried to ally with Mjolir, they wanted the key to the Bórhiemdr, to get into Castiana.”
Lokír’s expression soured. “Did they say why?”
Taro shook his head. “No, but it seemed like a large part of their plan. Something to do with getting to the Deeplight.”
Fenn looked through one of his journals. “We have less than three weeks before the Double Eclipse. We can make it to Nir Daras in two, so we don’t need to be rash. We need to take our time, gather information before proceeding.”
Lokír seemed pleased. “Wise, Fennrick-ama.”
“It’ll take at least a week by water to get back to Endra Edûn,” Kyra said.
“What do you think the Sun King will do?” Kurian asked.
Kyra sighed. “I wish I knew. If it were up to me, we’d send every man and magister to Nir Daras.” She made a helpless shrug. “Who knows, though?”
Lokír moved closer, looking Taro’s wounds over. “Get those clothes off. I’ll stitch you together as best as I can.” He retrieved a needle and other supplies from a bedside table, and started arranging them beside a clear bottle of alcohol.
The stitches were painful, and the thoughts that crowded Taro’s mind that night were not pleasant.
_____
In the early morning, Aleth seemed even busier than it had the day prior. Dockworkers crowded the roads leading to the harbor, carrying bolts of cloth, barrels of wine and beer, and crates of foodstuffs. Every commodity you could imagine, most bound for Helia Edûn or the Free City of Sahaal.
Halfway through the harbor, several of their groups met up. One group comprised of Lord Cassin and a few of his men, several comprised of warders, and the final of Taro and his friends.
As their ships were on opposite sides of the harbor, Kyra would soon join her uncle and the warders. This would be the last time Taro saw her for a great long while.
Kyra spoke to her uncle for a few minutes before turning to Fenn. She jostled his shoulder, then pulled him into a hug. “Don’t let that tongue of yours get you killed,” she said.
Fenn shrugged easily. “It hasn’t happened yet.”
They separated, and Kyra went directly to Kurian. She looked as though she was preparing to say something, but he didn’t give her a chance. Instead, he swept her up, lifting her off her feet as if she weighed nothing.
They looked at each other for a long moment, before Kurian kissed her.
Kyra’s face turned red, and she shoved him. “You fiend.”
“What?” Kurian said charmingly. His tone was so casual and easy that it seemed as though he’d been practicing it. “It’s not my fault, you have a very kissable face. Besides, princess, this might be the last time we see each other.” He set her down.
Kyra shook her head. “Not a chance, you’re way too stubborn to die.”
“Probably true. Death sounds so boring.” Kurian touched his hand to the side of her face, and she blushed hard.
Kyra moved on to Lokír, shedding her shy face and looking every bit a member of royalty. “It’s been an honor travelling with you, my lord.”
Lokír bowed low, looking like a giant next to her. “The honor is mine, Your Highness. You are wise and strong. If you are to succeed your father one day, I have no doubt your reign will be long and just.”
Kyra beamed with pride. “I hope when all this is over, the Northmen and Endrans can be friends. We have more in common than you might think.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” Lokír said. “When we are victorious against our common foe, I will throw you and your Sun King a feast unlike any seen since the days of the Éldin! Wine by the barrel, venison caught by my own hands, and music sweeter than any that’s graced your ears.”
“When we’re victorious?” Kyra asked, smiling. “You sound certain.”
“Faith is the key to all victories. A man who believes he will perish, is a man who will unknowingly work to make that a reality. Our cause is just. Our way is noble. Our hearts are righteous. We cannot fail. And when we finish, they will sing songs of our triumph for a thousand years.”
“I look forward to hearing them,” Kyra said.
When Kyra came to Taro, there was a tension in the air, but it was quickly dispelled when she pulled him into a hug. It was much tighter, and much longer than any of the hugs before. When she pulled away, she kissed his left cheek.
“I worry about you more than anyone else, Taro.”
Taro tried to muster a half-smile. “I’ll be fine. Somehow I’m still breathing.”
Kyra’s eyes were soft. “I’m not worried about that. You’re like Kurian, much too stubborn to die.” She set her hand on Taro’s chest. “But every time I see you, it feels like you’ve lost a small bit of your soul. You’re not like Vexis, Taro. She’s alone in this world. You have people who care about you—it’s your greatest strength, and her greatest weakness. Don’t forget that.”
There were a few more farewells and well-wishes before the groups separated. Taro, Fenn, Kurian, and Lokír headed to the most southern part of the harbor and found their merchant ship, the Colossus. Its name was appropriate. For a river-faring ship, she was immense. It took up the space of two smaller ships, and was abuzz with crewmen loading it up with supplies.
The captain—a tall, balding man named Tristam—and his toad-like first mate were standing by the gangplank, checking inventory off on their ledgers.
After a brief bout of discussion, Fenn paid them and they were shuffled aboard. Only Taro looked back, his eyes scanning the harbor for one last glimpse at Kyra.
Chapter Thirty-six
An Unworthy Plan
The Colossus and its cargo were bound for Helia Edûn. It was a long journey, though the fastest, safest option available. The plan wasn’t to go to the city itself, rather they were to stop at one of the smaller ports along the way. According to Captain Tristam, their best bet was the town of Shahlda. It was deep inside the Helian Empire, but a safe distance from the capital city. From there, they’d find passage past the Caesos Mountains and into the Temple City of Nir Daras.
At least, that was the plan. Taro, however, had something else in mind. Something that had been brewing in the back of his mind ever since he’d been in Endra Edûn. As he’d told the Sun King, it was a loathsome plan, well beneath his station, and not something most honorable men would consider.
In the late hours of night, well after most of the crew had gone to sleep, Taro was still awake. The cabins below deck were crowded with crewmen taking every space. Makeshift hammocks were strung up between wooden beams, and men sprawled out in cots on every inch of floor space.
Taro and his friends had claimed a dry corner for themselves. It wasn’t perfect, but there was a rather large crack in the hull that gave Taro a glimpse outside. He watched for hours as forests gave way to grasslands, and grasslands gave way to the rolling dunes of the Helian desert. Above, the cloudless dark sky glittered with a thousand diamond-like stars, stretching from horizon to horizon. The moons were particularly large tonight, and even though it was well past midnight, it seemed bright outside.
That made what Taro was about to do a bit more difficult. Still, it would be easier than explaining it to the others. They wouldn’t understand.
Lokír was propped against a barrel of grain, snoring loudly, his beard ruffling with every exhale. Fenn was sleeping on his stomach, with his face buried in Craetos’ journal. Kurian was sitting cross-legged, his eyes closed, not making a sound. It was almost like he was meditating, but when Taro gave him a jostle, he didn’t stir at all.
Sure they were asleep, Taro reattached and buckled his prosthetic. He took their traveling purse, removed about one sixth of the coins, and tucked the rest into Fenn’s pack.
Stepping quietly, Taro moved through the cabin, trying to keep his feet and walking stick from striking one of the sleeping crewmen. The air above deck was surprisingly cold considering they were well into the desert. Taro crouched behind a stack of storage crates and took the time to count every crewman above deck. Just four in all.
One of them was manning the helm, chatting idly with a nearby friend. The other two were probably supposed to be patrolling the deck, but were instead singing songs and drinking whiskey beside a flickering oil lantern. Taro couldn’t have asked for a better setup. He moved briskly to the dinghies on the starboard side of the ship and began to ready it to set sail.
The tiny boat was attached to a wooden crane. Taro kept an ear on the men on the opposite side of the ship, knowing that he was safe as long as he could hear them singing and talking amongst themselves. He turned the crank, and the dinghy rose a few feet off the deck. Just as he began to turn the crane to bring the dinghy above the water, he heard a tapping nearby.
Tap, tap, tap.
At first, he thought it might be a bird cracking shells, or perhaps part of the ship had come loose and was rapping against itself. But when he looked up, he saw two yellow eyes staring down at him from the top of the crane.
There, balancing effortlessly on the narrow beam, was Kurian.
“Did you want me to move?” Kurian asked at full volume.
Taro shushed him, glancing back to see if the crew had heard them. They hadn’t.
“What are you doing?” he whispered angrily.
Kurian leapt off the crane, and landed on the floor as gently as a falling leaf. “Me? I’m going out for a leisurely moonlight stroll.” He looked about conspiratorially. “What are you doing? Same thing, I expect.”
Taro rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to be clever?”
“I don’t need to try, it just happens naturally.”
Taro shushed him again. “Keep it down.”
Kurian lowered his voice a marginal amount. “If you don’t want people to know you’re doing something, that usually means you shouldn’t be doing it. That’s what Antherion used to say, anyway.” Kurian began to walk along the very edge of the ship, his arms outstretched, teetering over the river water below. “What are you doing, anyway?”
“Leaving.”
“That much, I gathered. But why?”
“What’s it to you?”
Kurian gave him a perplexed look. “The who
le ‘we’re your friends’ talk didn’t make it through to you?”
Taro scoffed. “Don’t patronize me. You barely know me, we’re not friends.”
“Kyra isn’t?”
“Kyra…” Taro began. “Kyra’s more. But that’s why I waited for her to be far away. I’m about to do something I’m not proud of. I don’t want her involved.”
“It’s that bad, is it?”
“I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. But I knew the rest of you wouldn’t approve.”
“So you know me perfectly well, do you?”
Taro continued to ready the boat for departure. “I know enough. Another ‘good guy’ with a silver spoon up his ass. My sister’s following some maniac, my family’s destroyed, I can’t go home, I’m in constant pain every minute of every day. And Kyra—” He swallowed his words. “No matter what I do, things just keep getting worse.”
Kurian’s demeanor soured. “Do you know how I ended up in prison?”
“Not really,” Taro said.
“I killed hundreds of people. Men. Women. Children. All for the greater good. I’m reviled in Castiana, a worthless half-breed only tolerated because of my father. And after I saved the world, they tossed me in some cell to rot. Please, tell me again how good I have it.”
Taro went to speak, but Kurian cut him off hard.
“And Fenn,” he said firmly. “Fenn comes from a family of grape stompers. He might be snide at times, but he almost sacrificed his life for his friends in Syseril. And he’s been with us every step of the way. He could’ve gone back to Endra Edûn with Kyra, but he stayed. As for Lokír, he’s had to deal with my grandfather destroying his people. His country. His culture. How many of his friends died in Firholt, do you think? How many of them are dying right this very moment?”
“You heard him yesterday,” Taro said. “‘Our cause is just, our way is noble.’ I don’t care about a noble victory. You guys can take the noble path, and I’ll take the path that leads to Vexis’ head on a spike.”
