Trade Winds


Chapter Four


It was quite lucky that the storm that had been hovering between the Windsoul and the North Ocean had been rather contained. The captain hadn't wanted to try a run through it, but he also hadn't wanted to waste more time than necessary sailing around it. As it was, the detour around would only take half a day, so he opted for that choice. I was privately grateful for the decision. Flying through storms, while not particularly difficult for me, still is not my favourite thing to do. Why take unnecessary risks? After all, even the most skillful helmsman or the most agile ship couldn't dodge lightning.

We skirted along the edge of the tempest, occasionally catching the tail-end of wind gusts that had escaped the roiling storm. These the Windsoul endured easily, with only the slightest shudder as the gusts struck her broadside. I kept our course steady, so that those small wind-shudders were the only disturbances to the ship's passage through the North Ocean. Wanthope took his turn at the wheel just as my mind started registering signs of hunger in the rest of me. My stomach growled as I swung down the ladder to the deck below the bridge.

Landric was fast becoming my favorite crewmember on the Windsoul, for his role as chef. I sniffed the air as I neared the galley, wondering what was being served.

'I'll be ruined for any other ship after this,' I told myself, hardly loath for it. Before Vyse had managed to get a decent chef from Yafutoma, his crew, myself included, had all had to take turns as chef. I still can't even look at fish stew. But Landric was skilled at his job, and it worked out that he enjoyed making his concoctions almost as much as the crew enjoyed eating them. It was altogether a win-win situation.

"Lawrence!" Tresa beamed as I entered the galley, and followed me up to the long counter that divided the eating area of the galley from the cooking area. "So you've finally been let off the bridge!"

"I suppose," I replied shortly, picking up a bowl and casting an inquisitive eye over the pot Landric was feverishly stirring. I was the last in line; the twins waited to be served in front of me.

"So d'you know if we're nearly at Horteka?"

"Well, we should be nearing the great rock wall that separates the North Ocean from Ixa'taka soon…" I responded.

"Oh." Tresa fell silent a moment, and I watched as Landric ladled some of whatever the pot contained into Galen's bowl. Suddenly a thought struck her and she brightened. "Hey, I don't suppose the Cap'n said if we were going to put in at Horteka?"

"No," I shook my head, "he didn't say."

I stepped up in front of Landric as Galen followed his brother to one of the eating tables. I held out my bowl hesitantly, feeling a little wary of the smell of the meal.

"What exactly is this you're serving today?" I asked Landric as he dug the ladle deep into the pot. He drew it up, steaming and full of…

"Fish stew!" he declared happily. I could feel the color drain from my face. I hurriedly snatched back my bowl before any of the stuff could land in it.

"Uh… maybe I'll just have some bread?"

"Wha'?" From the tone of Landric's voice, nobody had turned down any of his food before. Tresa was staring at me in astonishment.

"If I could just have a good chunk of bread, that'd be great," I repeated, feeling a touch green. I tried to ignore the fact that most everyone in the galley was staring at me.

'Why did it have to be fish stew?'

"Bu'… bu' why?" Landric asked, baffled. I kept the bowl in my hands well away from the ladle he still held suspended over the pot.

"Bad experience with fish stew," I explained briefly. 'If he doesn't get that slopping ladle back in the pot, I'm gonna—!'

"Er, alrigh'…" Landric stuck the spoon back in the stew, turning around to grab a half loaf of the thick, coarse ship bread that was being served with the meal. My grip on my bowl relaxed marginally. " 'Ere ye go, then."

"Thanks," I murmured, taking the proffered food. I turned, steadfastly not looking at any of the other crewmembers, and sat down at one of the tables.

"Er…What—?" Tresa started, her curiosity finally becoming too much for her to handle. I interrupted before she even got the question out.

"Have you ever sailed on a ship without a cook?" She blinked.

"No… Why?"

"Don't. Ever. Unless you really have faith in your crewmates' cooking." I tore off a bite of bread, turning my attention to the task of eating. In my peripheral vision, I saw Tresa's mouth form an 'o' of realization, her eyes widening with sudden understanding.

"That's right… Captain Vyse had only a skeleton crew for a while…" She said. I swallowed the bread and glared at the remaining hunk in my hand. I wasn't feeling all that hungry anymore.

I stood up and left wordlessly, leaving the bread on the table behind me.


I took back the wheel from Wanthope, though there wasn't much of a point; we arrived at Horteka mere moments later, and I was sent to inform the Captain. I knocked curtly on the door to his quarters and stepped back when it swung open under my fist.

"Ah. Lawrence. Have we arrived, then?" Twyblade held the edge of the door in one hand and a roll of paper in the other.

"Aye Captain," I replied. The words were barely out of my mouth before he was moving forward.

"Excellent! Wanthope, chart a course for the location I've marked on this—" Twyblade thrust the roll of paper at his Second "—and Lawrence, take the wheel."

"Aye sir," we chorused, moving to comply.

"Bow angle up five degrees, rise to an altitude of one-three-zero-zero. Turn her to the southwest eight degrees," Wanthope said after a pause as he unrolled the map.

I turned the wheel steadily, bringing the Windsoul around to face that direction, and slowly pulled a lever on the controls up, causing the fins at the back of the ship to angle to give us more lift. She rose easily, riding the wind like a cloud. I was starting to like the ship, even if the crew was… odd.

"There it is…" Twyblade said at length. The humid haze that hung over Ixa'taka seemed to draw back like a curtain, revealing a tiny island floating alone in the sky. I wondered immediately why we had even bothered coming, as the thing was little more than a tree-thick rock. I couldn't even see any signs of habitation. There were just trees; trees and… green.

I darted a glance at Twyblade. He looked at the island with a sort of satisfied smile on his face, some emotion glinting in his eyes before he turned away and started toward the ladder down to the rest of the ship.

"Wanthope, call the others to the main deck. Lawrence, you'll be staying with the ship, along with Landric." His voice carried over his shoulder to us. I spared a moment of indignation. I was as well-known for my fighting skill as for my sailing; why did I have to stay behind?

'Stop being foolish,' I told myself, almost rolling my eyes at myself, 'You still need to learn how to work with the crew before you join them in a landing party.'

"So I just hold the fort until the group returns?" I asked Wanthope as he started to leave after giving out his orders over the ship's intercom. He nodded once.

"This should not take long," he told me, and disappeared down the ladder. Well, all right then. I watched them walk into the thick vegetation from the bridge's wrap-around windows, and settled back to wait.

'This should be boring,' I rubbed the back of my neck, leaning against the control console. 'There isn't anything to protect the ship from on this island. I wonder why we're here… maybe there's some ancient treasure.'

I thought back to the tales Captain Vyse used to tell to anybody who'd listen, about the ruined city of Rixis. It had been fabled to be haunted… and dripping with treasure. While the former had been somewhat true, the latter had ended up being a myth.

My eyes swept the tree line of the island. Perhaps there were ruins somewhere in that tangled mess? Somewhere… deep… in that tangled mess? I jerked in surprise as a flock of brightly colored birds exploded from the jungle off in the distance a ways. Well, whatever the Captain was after on this little rock, he seemed to have found it. Either that, or there was some sort of animal and it just attacked the group.

'I hope it got Meshin,' I thought uncharitably. Having him on the same ship as me was definitely unnerving. I usually don't have the problem of a crewmember hating me; at most it's just a mild dislike. And I usually just kill my enemies outright, and not worry about them later. Having to leave this guy, who so obviously wants to spill my blood—preferably all of it—alive wasn't really a happy concept.

Leaves moved out on the island. Tresa, Kender, Galen, Wanthope, Twyblade, and Meshin emerged from the foliage. I watched them quizzically. They were spread out in a defensive perimeter, as if they expected to be attacked by something. Their heads swiveled around, alert and wary, and I noted with a frown that a few had their weapons at the ready.

'Their weapons… and nothing else,' I realized with a little jolt. It was true; there were no treasure chests slung between them, no ancient relics or weathered maps clutched in their hands… nothing. 'What did we stop at this island for, then? And why do they act as if they're just making off with a king's ransom in gold and diamonds?'

All of them seemed on edge, a mere breath away from springing into action. All except Twyblade, who strode forward confidently, unconcerned. I stared at him; he acted as if he were on a picnic!

Then he halted unexpectedly, his head turning off to the side. He made a swift gesture out toward the trees, a savage chopping motion. And then Meshin was darting into the jungle, drawing a moonstone pistol from a holster at his hip.

I blinked, and abruptly felt extremely uneasy. My stomach twisted, and I had the sudden thought that, maybe, I didn't really want Twyblade to know I had seen any of this. I backed away from the windows slowly, and went to the table that stood behind the helm. It was strewn with maps, and I quickly pulled out one of Mid Ocean.

I settled myself into a stance that made it seem as if I had been there for a while, artfully creating the scene. With any luck, the captain would assume I had been looking at the maps, and not watching the events outside.

'Why did we stop here?' I wondered as I glanced over the map. It was a new one; Soltis was drawn where before only the tiny Shrine Island had been. 'And why were they acting like they expected a sword in the back? Surely there aren't any people on this rock; it's much too small… Isn't it?'

"Man the helm, if you would, crewman Lawrence," I heard the Captain's voice before his head cleared the top of the ladder. I nearly jumped, blending the jerk smoothly into the movement of straightening up from the slight stoop I had assumed over the map table.

"Aye aye, Captain." My voice gave nothing away; it was as bland and disinterested as ever. "What's our course, sir?"

The Captain gave a wolfish grin, "We sail due north."

He looked energized, excited. Whatever the reason for stopping at that diminutive Ixa'takan island, it definitely had had an uplifting effect on the Captain.


Chapter Five


I was asleep in my hammock when the Black Pirate ship was spotted. I snapped awake at the snick of the intercom turning on, and was already up and on my feet, completely aware, when the Captain started speaking.

"Attention all crewmembers: a Black Pirate ship has been sighted off our starboard side. They appear to be sailing on an intercept course. Prepare for battle."

The message was short, but the captain spoke casually and unconcernedly. Even so, I was running high as I snatched up my cutlass from where it hung on its peg beside my hammock, dashing out of the room even as the twins, with whom I shared the space, scrambled to get up. Battle! Adrenaline was beginning to pulse through my body.

Though I don't take particular pleasure in killing others, it's hard to not enjoy the fighters' high that grips you when facing down an enemy. It's intoxicating.

I was almost on the deck when a voice called my name behind me. I spun around.

"Lawrence! Get to the gun deck and stand by in case we need a cannon shot!" Wanthope ordered, as he ran past me.

"But sir," I protested, "isn't Meshin the Windsoul's gunner?"

"Meshin is held up fighting on deck; you need to take his place. That's an order, sailor!"

Then he was out of sight, and—what else could I do?—I turned and ran back toward the gun deck. I knew how to prep and fire the cannons, sure enough, but there was a reason I was a helmsman rather than a gunner. And I couldn't help but feel resentful that I was stuck below decks while the rest of them fought. Did they think all the stories about my part in the battles against the Gigas were pure fabrication? The adrenaline and anticipation that ran through me made me itch for a part of the action.

"Damn it," I muttered, and kicked a cannon lightly, "I don't have this cutlass just because it looks good hanging from my belt…"

I couldn't hear much through the ship's hull, and only faint noises filtered through the cannon ports, which were all still closed. I wondered what was going on. The Windsoul was a sturdy ship, yes, but even so… I should have been able to hear some sounds of the battle up on the deck.

Feeling thoroughly irritated, I sat on the cannon and waited. I stewed in my own juices a while, before I heard booted feet thudding down the corridor. Swiftly, I stood, my hand going to my cutlass hilt.

"Huh," I grunted, seeing it was only Galen when he halted in the doorway. He seemed not to notice my half-drawn weapon, and looked at me calmly.

"The Captain wants you to help us transfer all the loot from the Black Pirate ship to the Windsoul."

"So they surrendered?" I asked, sliding gracefully out of the defensive crouch I had assumed. Galen gave me an odd look.

"No. They didn't surrender," he said, and turned around to walk out the door. I furrowed my brow at his back, somewhat confused at his remark. I followed him up to the main deck.

The rest of the crew had obviously done some cleanup, because there were no bodies to be seen. They must have had already cast them over the side of the ship, to be swallowed up by deep sky. This is what is usually done with the dead on a ship; it was simply pointless to waste cargo space or living space to keep a corpse, which would grow putrid and rotting quickly anyway.

Taking a brief glance around, I realized the meaning behind Galen's comment about the Black Pirates not surrendering: there were no prisoners, nobody left alive. Evidently, they had all fought to the death. That wasn't common, even with opponents such as Black Pirates, and I wondered why the Black Pirates had fought so hard. It was a given that, if they surrendered to us, we would loot their ship, so perhaps they had cargo that they really didn't want to give up…

"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Tresa behind me. I looked back at her over my shoulder. "We could use some help searching their ship for all the treasure that's tucked away on board."

She walked around me and stood poised at one of the ropes that connected the Windsoul to the Black pirate ship, her hands akimbo.

"You'll have to cross the ropes; we haven't found a plank long enough to serve as a bridge yet."

"That's fine," I replied, and approached the ship's side. My eyes narrowed as I surveyed the gap. We'd been able to lash the two ships somewhat close together, but there was still a sizeable stretch of air between the two vessels. It would have been impossible to get them right next to each other because of the chance that they'd crash together, and because of the fin-oars that sprouted from both hulls. The distance was spanned by a handful of thick hemp ropes.

While I could have run across one of the ropes, I didn't want to seem arrogant, and I glanced around for any possible alternatives. I was pleased to notice a boarding rope tied to the railing nearby. It led up to one of the high mast poles of the Black Pirate ship, providing a crude swing to carry some one from ship to ship. I loosed it from the railing and stepped back, getting a grip high enough up on the rope so that I landed on the opposite deck, rather than swinging smack into the side of the other ship.

The wind whistled in my ears as I sailed through the air between the two decks, and I watched attentively for the best moment to release the rope…

My boots made a satisfactory thud as I landed on the deck of the Black Pirate ship, echoed by another thump as Tresa landed beside me from her own rope-swing over. I tied my rope off at the railing to keep it out of the way, and scanned the deck.

When I saw Twyblade standing off to the side, I moved toward him. He said: "We've already started to move the goods stowed in the hull over to the Windsoul. Could you search the rest of the ship for things like the personal items of the crew?"

"Aye aye," I replied. But it wasn't just me he spoke to; Tresa added her own affirmative a second after mine, and Twyblade nodded to the both of us.

"Get on with it. I'd rather not linger on this task; we have other items of business."

"Let's go, Lawrence!" cried Tresa as she seized my arm and gave it a tug. I extracted the limb from her grasp and wordlessly walked to the door that led presumably below decks. She pouted behind me a moment before realizing that I wasn't going to stop and apologize, and ran to catch up.

"Cold as ice," she huffed when she had caught up. I merely ignored her, and opened the door to one of the ship's rooms.

It was the crew's quarters, a long room filled with two rows of hammocks. I drew my cutlass and cut down one of them, gathering the cloth into a makeshift bag and sheathing my weapon. There were a few things worth taking in the room, but pirates mostly tend to either wear their wealth or spend it right away. The greater portion of the crew's personal effects would have been stripped of the corpses before they were cast overboard.

Tresa tossed me a small gold idol she'd found, and led the way to the next room.

"This is my favourite part of the job," she admitted, her boisterous good humor having returned, "I love looking for shinies! The others can have their heavy-lifting; I don't care that they deal with the bigger treasure, it's this that's really gratifying!"

"Huh," I said noncommittally. My favourite part of any job was the part when I got paid.

"Plus, I get to pick over the best stuff," Tresa continued. She flipped out a thin dagger from somewhere on her person and started picking the lock to a chest. I gave a goblet of some dubious silver-ish material a once over before putting it back on its shelf. Worthless.

There was a tiny noise to my side somewhere, just beyond my peripheral vision. As I turned, Tresa suddenly shrieked.

"Look out, Lawrence!"

Halfway through the turn, I realized that there was a man flying through the air at me, a long kitchen knife in one hand. Then my instincts and all my fighting experience kicked in. I truthfully couldn't tell you with any certainty what happened in the following few seconds, but the next thing I knew, I was standing about a foot to the left of my original position and the man was lying facedown where I had been standing. My cutlass was in my hand, and slick with blood. The man did not move.

"Oh," said Tresa. Her eyes were wide. "You move fast."

I wiped my blade on the body and sheathed it, before kneeling beside my attacker and flipping him over. His face was still twisted in a scowl, but his eyes glared out sightlessly. I had killed him with a deep, long slash across his soft belly. I averted my face at the stench of rent bowels, and let the body flop back onto its face.

I looked for whatever niche he'd leapt at me from, and my gaze fell upon a cabinet whose doors still swung slightly on their hinges. It was just large enough to conceal a man. My eyes narrowed as I straightened from my crouch and looked down at the body. It was a rather futile thing he'd done, and I wondered contemptuously if he had hidden there where the fighting had first broken out or if he'd fled when things started looking bleak for his side. In any case, it didn't matter anymore.

"Come on," I said, "let's go on to the next room, but watch yourself. There could be more hiding."

There weren't any more pirates waiting in ambush, but there wasn't anything else either. In other words, the ship was just about barren of anything of value.

'This must have been the worst Black Pirate crew in existence,' I thought as I swung the pathetic bag of treasure over my shoulder, 'No wonder none of them surrendered; they had nothing to lose, and everything to gain!'

The rest of the crew was waiting on deck when Tresa and I emerged. Tresa bounded up to Twyblade immediately.

"Cap'n! You shoulda seen him! There was this guy and he was gonna knife Lawrence, you know? But Lawrence just—! And his cutlass—! Woosh!"

"What?" asked Twyblade sharply. I felt a chill go down my back at his tone; it was so controlled, yet terrible with fury. Tresa wasn't any more immune to it than I. She checked herself quickly.

"Oh, but nothing happened Cap'n," she said, putting an odd inflection on the word. Twyblade continued to glare at her, and she shrunk away to stand silently behind the other crewmembers. The Captain turned to me.

"What happened, Lawrence?" he asked. I was a bit confused at his concern.

"One of the pirates was hiding, and he rushed me. But I killed him before he could touch me," I replied.

"That's all?" Twyblade pressed. I nodded. A little of the tension seemed to leave the captain then, and he turned to address the entire crew.

"Alright, well, we've gotten everything of value onto the Windsoul, so let's get back on track," he gestured for everyone to return to our own ship. A plank had been affixed to create a more stable bridge between the two ships, to make moving some of the larger items to the Windsoul easier, so we all just had to walk across. The two ships were steady and sky was calm, so the venture was easy and just about devoid of all danger. Like walking on solid ground, but for the sight of the clouds far below on either side.

Meshin was the last to cross, and when he was aboard, he told the captain: "She's all rigged up; we have five minutes to get as away far as possible before she blows."

Kender and Galen hauled the plank over the railing, and started to detach the ropes binding the two ships. The task was completed quickly.

'We're going to blow up the Black Pirate ship?' I thought. The Windsoul was already angling away from it; Wanthope evidently was up at the helm.

"Good," replied Twyblade, "thank you, Meshin."

He raised his voice so that everybody could hear him, clapping his hands together, "Right! Let's get back to our places now. Tresa, bring that bag with the items you and Lawrence scavenged to my quarters, please."

"Yessir, Cap'n!"

"Lawrence?" The captain said. I looked at him, "Please go relieve Wanthope from the helm, and tell him I want everything we've taken on inventoried."

"Aye." The twins, Meshin, and Landric had already gone below to their respective stations, and Tresa was just disappearing through the door with the sack of treasure tossed over her back. Twyblade gave me a nod, turning his back and walking off.

I paused a moment, looking back at the ship we were leaving behind. It would explode soon. It really was a pity that we didn't have a large crew, otherwise we would have been able to split into two crews and had both ships. As a sailor, I hated to see a serviceable craft be thrown away like that, and as a pirate I hated to see something as potentially profitable as a ship go to waste. Selling it or using it, a ship would definitely bring in a bit of gold…

We hadn't gotten too far away, and I could see the ship clearly. Before, I hadn't really taken note of the craft itself, being preoccupied with what was inside. This time, I really looked at the ship. And realized that it had no sails.

'What the…?' The same unease I had felt on the Ixa'takan island returned, ten-fold. Ships had sails, obviously, unless they were powered by something other than wind, like the Delphinus. This one had masts, though, and was obviously wind-powered. It didn't make sense that it wouldn't have sails, especially if Twayblade had said it had sailed up to us, intending to attack. It wouldn't have been able to move. And Black Pirate ships always had black sails. Always. 'What's going on here?'

There was a flash of light and flame as whatever Meshin had planted on the ship went off, and it sunk quickly. I watched until it had dropped from sight, as I tried to think if it had had sails earlier. My eyes widened. 'I never saw the ship until it was all over and Galen came to get me from the gun deck. Come to think of it, I didn't see any of the crew except that one man who attacked me, and then Twyblade was very upset that that had happened… And, come to think of it, I… had a strange feeling about that ship…'

I remember that Twyblade had ordered me to the bridge, and hurriedly started walking.

'There's something going on, and I'm not in on the secret…' I felt slightly nauseous with the disquiet that thought brought with it. I wouldn't allow myself to acknowledge the thought that followed that line. I didn't want to contemplate the idea that, perhaps, Twyblade was lying to me.


Chapter Six


Both Twyblade and Wanthope were waiting for me when I arrived on the bridge. I paused a moment when I saw them. 'Uh-oh…'

I walked straight up to them, however, keeping a stoic bearing. I was late, and deserved punishment for it. I knew this, and I accepted it. Wanthope was frowning, but Twyblade had no expression whatsoever on his face. I didn't think that was a good sign.

"Lawrence," he said, his tone just as bleak as his expression, "you are late."

"I'm sorry sir, there's no excuse for it," I replied, fixing my eyes on a spot somewhere beyond his right ear. There was a pause as Wanthope looked at Twyblade and Twyblade looked at me.

"When I give you an order and you hear me, I expect you to obey quickly, not at your leisure. Do you understand?"

"Aye Captain."

"Good." There was another pause as Twyblade stared at my face before saying, "I'd like to speak with you in my quarters. Wanthope, take the helm for a while longer."

I felt vaguely uncomfortable at this, wondering just how dead the Captain was planning on making me. As a newcomer to his ship, I sure wasn't making a very good account of myself. Already I had one crewmember set against me, and now I had angered the Captain.

I followed Twyblade silently through the door at the back of the bridge. There was a desk in the adjoined room, and I stood before it as Twyblade wandered around to the other side, taking his time. He did not speak for a while, staring out the porthole set in the wall behind the desk. I glanced around the room, taking in the scattered papers, piled books, and eclectic odds and ends that dominated every even surface available. A gold astrolabe winked at me from under a paper titled 'Rumores and Mythes of Arcadea.' My eyebrows lifted a bit at the archaic spelling, but my attention was yanked back to Twyblade as he finally spoke.

"You are an intelligent man, Lawrence, so I won't insult you by thinking you have not noticed this yourself. Piracy is fast becoming a dead profession- or, at least, the Blue Rogues are dying out." Here he paused, as if waiting for my comment. I merely nodded tersely. Yes, I had noticed. I was probably hurting the most out of the two of us. Twyblade continued:

"There are a lot of Rogues wondering what they'll do when the skies can no longer support them. Obviously the Black Pirates will be able to last a bit longer, as they have no qualms about attacking Valuan vessels, but the Empire is slowly eliminating the threat. The Blue Rogues already lost a large target in the Valuan Empire; what will happen when we lose our prey of the Black Pirates?"

Twyblade sighed, turning around and sitting at his desk. "I am responsible for my crew. I chose them for their individual abilities, abilities that don't have much calling in the world Arcadia is becoming. They will be looked down upon as ruffians by others, discarded as untrustworthy. I cannot allow this to happen. Even now, I am striving to make a future for them, as is my duty as their Captain and leader."

'How… noble,' I thought dryly. 'I wonder if I'm included in on whatever benefits he scrapes up. There was nothing of this in our deal…'

"However, I need the help of my crew to attain that goal. I'll need their help… and yours," Twyblade looked up at me for the first time during his little speech, putting his hands on his desk and leaning forward a fraction of an inch.

"My help?" I repeated, a note of doubt creeping into my voice. Twyblade stood abruptly, striding over to a wall of bookshelves. He pulled out a roll of paper—a map?

"Do you know how many of the Purple Civilization survived the Rains?" He asked. I blinked at the seemingly random question.

"I had thought the entire race had been destroyed…"

"No," the Captain shook his head, "the homelands of the Purple Civilization were completely destroyed, and all the people there killed, but a handful of Purple citizens were not in the Lands of Ice during the catastrophe. They had been travelers, explorers of a sort, and had managed to escape the annihilation of their civilization by virtue of this. Somehow, on whatever islands they were on at the time, they had managed to survive the Rains that shattered the world, along with the survivors from whom all Arcadians today are descended."

I was able to wonder briefly why Twyblade was telling me this before he unrolled the paper in his hands with a flick of his wrist, slapping it down on his desk in the same motion. I caught a glimpse of something that looked like a diagram or a web of some sort, but didn't have a very good view from where I stood.

"My plan hinges on a forgotten treasure of the Purple Civilization, but none can claim it but one of its citizens. Meshin possesses a very small fraction of this heritage, but you, Lawrence… It runs so much stronger in your blood."

To say I was surprised would have been an understatement. But I felt my astonishment melt quickly away into skepticism.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, "How is it that you know this, when I myself did not?"

Twyblade gestured at the paper spread across his desk, and I took a step forward to look at it more closely.

It was written in some language I could not recognize, but it was indisputably a genealogy. It seemed to go back for an impressive number of generations. I glanced up at the Captain.

"The language of the Purple Civilization was nearly lost to time," he said quietly, "but some few documents remained, and I was able to decipher this paper.

"Callaech der Zwal." He pointed to one of the top names, then slid his finger down, speaking a name here and there. "Yvenne vorth Kiir… Sborje der Zwal… Sborje der Gurt… Hesta vorth Crost… Danth der Blut… Hans der Blut… Paul der Blut… Lawrence."

He kept his finger on the last name, and looked up at me. "The blood has thinned, it is true, but you are still a descendent of the Purple Civilization."

I had gone very still when he had named first my grandfather, then my father, and finally myself. Up until then, I had still believed it to be some mistake. I slowly pointed to the name that was connected to my father's by a thin line of ink. "What does that say?"

"Meyrin Hallis."

I leaned back, carefully keeping my emotions from showing in my expression. It was my mother's name. The paper contained the names of my mother, father, and grandfather. That was a bit too much to be coincidence, but it also may have simply been contrived. Who had kept this record?

"Forgive me if I don't immediately accept this paper as the end-all-be-all," I said, "But I wonder as to its dependability. Where did you get it?"

"It had been handed down in your father's family for generations, until it came to your great grandfather. He left it in the care of a scholar who kept his records, even after your great grandfather died, the scholar held onto the papers. I had the great fortune of coming across it in my search for information on the forgotten treasure of the civilization."

"Yes… that treasure…" I muttered. Twyblade discerned the question in the words, and explained.

"I heard of the treasure several months ago, during a stay in Esperanza. It captured my interest, and I pursued any of its rumors or tales of which I caught wind. That was when I discovered Meshin's heritage, and the necessity of such a heritage to claim the treasure."

"And you weren't sure if Meshin's heritage would be great enough to secure the treasure, and so you went looking for other Purple descendents," I guessed. Twyblade nodded, his eyes alight with determination.

"But I am sure that you could easily claim it, and that is why I am asking for your help."

It explained a little Meshin's animosity toward me; he probably felt slighted, as if his captain thought him as useless. I was silent for a moment. "What is the treasure?"

"Ah…" Twyblade said, and chuckled, "It is a thing which all the records speak of very cryptically, but I have reason to believe that it could fulfill my goals."

"Uh huh… And what's in it for me?" I folded my arms calmly, looking at Twyblade directly. "There was no mention of this in our earlier agreement."

"If you help us," Twyblade said, his passion for the quest bleeding into every word, "You could live like a king."

I admit: this declaration sent a lance of greed through me. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to lay my hands on that treasure, and I would have agreed to anything that would make what Twyblade said come true. But my skepticism and rational thought returned quickly, bringing down such feverish thoughts. I swept the genealogy before me once more with a quick glance.

"Well," I said, shrugging, "I suppose we will find out if I truly am a descendent of the Purple Civilization when we try to take the treasure."

Twyblade grinned, taking a step toward me to offer his hand to shake. I took it, gripping his hand firmly and jogging it up and down once, briskly, before letting go.

"I assume that our destination is then the Lands of Ice?" I inquired.

"It is. To be precise, we sail for the Ruins of Ice. You were there before, I understand?" Twyblade made his way toward the door, our meeting clearly over.

"Briefly," I allowed. "It's only accessible by sailing up under the continent. The Windsoul can take the pressures of the lower altitudes?"

"Of course." Twyblade gave me a sardonic look. "I've heard the legend of the voyage of the Delphinus numerous times, and read at least three written accounts. They were the most recent instances of anyone venturing to the Ruins of Ice, and I wanted to know what my crew and I would be facing."

"I didn't mean to insinuate that I thought you were flying blind into what you didn't understand…" I said stiffly.

"Not at all; it was a prudent question. Now, if you could relieve Wanthope at the helm?"


Chapter Seven


The Ruins of Ice were not a very pleasant location. The low-hanging, dull clouds that obscured the sky made it so that it was never very bright under the Purple Moon, and they also ensured that the continent had a constant supply of snow. That snow fell in thick flakes, which clung to the bridge windows until the heat from the inside melted them away. Sailing in such weather was slow going, because apart from the snow, there were the icebergs. No matter how big they were, it was no easy task to spot a white mass of ice in a swirling white mass of snowfall. These things conspired to make the crew tense and waspish.

Of course, it didn't help that there was the inherent eerie feeling of a place where nearly an entire civilization met a rather unpleasant end.

Finding the Ruins was simple enough; having been there before I remembered where the sub-continental port was, and managed to negotiate a course that ran under the landmass for most of the way, providing a natural snow-shade. Without the sloppy stuff fouling up the windows, I was able to sail a bit faster than the crawl the weather had necessitated before.

Once the ship was secured in its moorings at the port, I went down to the deck, rearranging my thick coat so it didn't gape open at my throat, and flicking the collar up to protect the back of my neck. It might not have been snowing under the continent, but there was the ever-present wind of the lower altitudes to contend with. I also checked my cutlass in its sheath at my hip, making sure I could draw it quickly and easily at need.

The wind blasted my face with a chill like a thousand knives, and I grimaced into it, eyes watering. Last time I was here, I hadn't left the ship. Now I was rather wishing I didn't have to. 'How did Aika and Fina manage? I'm feeling the bite of the Lands of Ice, and my clothing is substantially more winter-friendly than either of theirs…'

I sloughed my way through the few inches of snow that had accumulated on the Windsoul's deck, and joined the four other huddled figures there. Twyblade turned to me.

"Landric, Tresa, and Kender are staying with the ship this time. The rest of us are going into the Ruins," he said, his breath billowing out in white clouds. I nodded.

"It should be warmer inside," I said, "The city will be somewhat insulated, being in the interior of the continent, and there won't be any wind."

"Right. Let's head in," he turned and quick-stepped down the boarding ramp, across the port, and into one of the doors set into the side of the continent, with the rest of us following with just as much haste.

As I had pointed out, it was much warmer inside than out. The city was dead, true, but even though it did not have the warmth life brought, the rock, ice, and snow that surrounded the city insulated it at least a little bit. It was still necessary to pull one's collar close around one's neck, but there wasn't as much of a bite to the air as outside, and no wind to speak of. We pressed on, Twyblade leading.

I took the opportunity to take a good look around, trying to assimilate all I could of the ruined city. The structures were all made of a purple-tinged ice-like substance—I couldn't tell if it actually was ice or not, and that made them of great interest to me. I wondered about how the city had been created… whether the great caverns through which we walked had been carved out by people, or had formed naturally. The ice-and-rock walls didn't bear any of the telltale marks of man-made tools, but that didn't count for much; they could have been smoothed away.

"This city was once known as Glacia," Twyblade said into the silence. He glanced around as we stopped at a fork in the pathway. "This way."

"Many of the buildings here are undamaged," I commented.

"Yes, we're far enough underground that the Rains of Destruction didn't crush the buildings. The fires and the gasses, however… they cleaned out all the life, even as the city itself was untouched." Twyblade would have continued, but there was a sudden chaos of motion and noise behind me as Wanthope cried out and Meshin grunted in surprise. Or maybe vice versa… Either way, I spun around with my cutlass drawn.

Wanthope was furiously trying to stave off two Scorflies that had apparently taken exception to his presence. Meshin had a pistol in his hand, but obviously hesitated to use it for fear of accidentally shooting the First Mate.

There was a swish of cloth and a rush of air by me as Twyblade lunged, his short sword slashing down in a bright green arch. He had infused the blade with a Green Moonstone, against which Purple creatures were weak. A Scorfly dropped, sliced in two.

By the time the body hit the ground, I had shaken my distraction and had finished off the second creature, stepping forward to spear the Scorfly's body with my cutlass. I withdrew my weapon from the corpse.

"To your right!" shouted Galen's voice somewhere behind me, and I reacted immediately, dropping and rolling to my left as something struck out at me. When I came back up, I was facing a half dozen Tsirats. The Tsirat that had lashed out at me fell back to rejoin its fellows, its leathery wings beating swiftly.

Another of the monsters darted forward to attack; I swung at it with my cutlass, but it dodged around the blade. It apparently decided I wasn't as prime a target as Wanthope, because it didn't come around to attack me from behind. Instead, it followed through with its dodge around me, heading for Twyblade's second-in-command. I felt rather relieved, actually, because another of the Tsirats came at me, aiming for my face. If the first monster had attacked from behind at the same time, I doubt I could have gotten them both before one wounded me.

As it was, I delivered a vicious slash to the Tsirat, sending it spinning off to the side with a gash in its abdomen that oozed a foul-looking ichor. It wasn't dead, however, for it spun off into Galen, striking him in the side. The wounded Tsirat managed to deal Galen a blow across the chest, spilling his blood. Galen gave a cry, falling back. I pounced, finishing off the Tsirat as it collapsed to the ground.

As I turned, prepared to engage the next monster, somebody shouted behind me.

"Moons! Heed my will!"

A green-tinged gas hissed into existence around each Tsirat as Twyblade used his Green Moonstone to cast Noxus. Almost in unison, the monsters swooned, shuddered, and died.

I wiped my cutlass blade clean on the leg of my breeches, and sheathed it. Twyblade looked down contemptuously on the corpses, spared a brief glance at Galen (who stood with one hand to the wound on his chest), and gestured.

"Let's continue on."

I glanced at Galen as well, before following the captain. His wound was not deep, though it bled messily because of its length. It looked bad, but it was not serious. We walked on.

Moments later, the group stopped at a fork in the path. The right-hand path seemed to lead deeper into the city, while the left disappeared around a jutting edge of stone, hugging the wall of the cavern. Wordlessly, we glanced at Twyblade. He looked briefly at each path before jerking his chin toward the left. As we started down that way, I noticed that the walkway, edged by the same strange material that formed the buildings, became narrower in front of us. We'd have to go single-file. Twyblade went first, of course, and I followed directly behind him as Meshin and Galen fell in behind me. Wanthope brought up the rear.

We walked silently, almost as if we feared disturbing the stillness of the city. It certainly didn't help with the disturbing feeling that drifted around the Ruins and lifted goose-flesh on those parts of you that weren't already prickling with the cold. I scowled and shrugged my coat closer around me, keeping one hand close to the hilt of my cutlass.

Rounding the bend in the path, I blinked in surprise as the walkway followed an incline up and turned into an enclosed corridor that cut through the solid stone of the continent's core. There were lights all along the length of the corridor, still shining even after all this time. They were encapsulated in chunks of ice that had been faceted so the light was amplified; obviously whatever was generating the lights did not also generate heat, or else the ice would have melted long ago. Whatever the source, the lights glittered coldly in the narrow corridor.

'I hope nothing tries to attack us in here,' I thought grimly, 'Especially from behind. I don't think we'd have much success in a battle in here. There's not enough room for us to maneuver very well.'

The corridor wound its way on and on, occasionally branching off into offshoots, even more rarely bulging out into balconies that overlooked the city proper. We remained on the same path, never turning off onto any of the offshoots. I don't know exactly how long we walked, but just as I was beginning to tire of the monotony of it, the corridor suddenly opened up into a small cave.

I scanned the room quickly, seeing no immediate threats, and stepped out of the corridor into the center of the cave. There were runes carved into the floor, and long, looping designs. At the exact center there were three pedestals, and in the wall opposite the corridor entrance was a door. It was shut, and proved—as Twyblade gave the handle a tug—to be locked.

Meshin, Galen, Wanthope, and I spread ourselves out within the room, our eyes never still, constantly on the lookout for anything that may prove a threat. Twyblade crouched by the door, his nose inches from its carved surface. He rocked back on his heels and stood smoothly.

"It's a puzzle," he stated. "We just need to figure out what to do to get the door to open, and these runes and symbols are clues."

I cast a dubious eye over the tangled web of symbols, thinking sarcastically: 'Oh, sure. Piece of cake.'

I walked around the room, eyes cast down to the carvings in the floor. The lines just meandered all over the place, without much of an order or apparent purpose. It didn't even seem that there was much of a pattern to the carvings; it all just seemed haphazard and nonsensical.

"Perhaps… These three re-occurring symbols? Are they a sort of password?" Twyblade murmured, his voice echoing slightly, overlaying the sound of everyone's footsteps. He moved away from the door, stepping up to one of the pedestals. Placing his hands on either side of its surface, he frowned down at it. I looked over his shoulder, seeing that the pedestal had four levers on it, each paired with a symbol that was etched above its respective lever. Three of the symbols were the same ones Twyblade had pointed out.

The captain pulled down one of the levers, an action accompanied by the harsh grating sound of old metal rubbing together. Not surprising, considering how old the levers were and how long they'd been sitting motionless. The levers on the other pedestals—identical to the first—made similar noises of tortured metal. Once the third lever was wrenched down into position, there was a rumbling of gears within the walls of the room.

A hidden door to one side dropped down, expelling a puff of dusty, stale air. With the air came a Cerosik, the animal's eyes glinting red with rage at being disturbed. It heaved its large body forward with a speed surprising for its girth. I heard Twyblade hiss a curse as he drew both his short sword and normal sword. I had my cutlass ready in the blink of an eye, watching the Cerosik warily.

Its head was weaving back and forth as if it were a snake. My eyes narrowed. It was almost as if it…

"Look out!" I shouted, throwing myself to the side just as the Cerosik unleashed the spell it had been conjuring. Fortunately, my crewmembers had swift reaction times, and braced themselves as the Crystalen spell coalesced. The Cerosik had been aiming for Galen, evidently, for the spike of ice called up by the spell lanced through the space he had been standing seconds earlier.

Before it could recover to launch another attack, we moved, en masse, against the beast. I leaped into the air, coming down hard with my cutlass on the Cerosik's torso. The animal was well protected, however, by its tough skin and the thick blubber that kept it warm in the snowy climate. My sword bit deep, but not deep enough.

"Lawrence!" shouted Twyblade from behind me. From the tone of his voice I could tell what he wanted; I rolled out of the way, and the captain came down with his two swords, aiming directly for the gash I had already laid open in the Cerosik's side.

The creature was bellowing, trying to avoid the blows, but Twyblade's aim was sure, and he sliced the wound open further. Bright blood splashed onto the floor, steaming in the chill of the room. Then Twyblade was darting out of the way, as Meshin darted forward, sighting down the barrel of his gun. As the Cerosik threw up its head in agony, Meshin fired. The shot hit the animal in the throat, but didn't kill it. I moved in for the kill, but underestimated the range and speed of the animal's heavy tail.

I huffed as the thick, muscular tail collided with my chest. The blow knocked me off my feet and sent me flying. Whatever breath was left in my lungs after the blow was smashed out of me as my back slammed into the wall. I gave a very undignified, breathless squeak as I tried to drag air back into my body, my head ringing. I was barely aware of Twyblade severing the Cerosik's spine with a slash to the back of the neck, so intent on regaining my breath was I.

Finally, slowly, I stood up, my lungs back in working order. I winced a bit at the soreness of my ribs, but was otherwise unhurt. I cleaned my cutlass (it had remained firmly in my hand; I had learned long ago to never drop a weapon) and sheathed it.

"I don't think that was the right password," I said wryly. Wanthope gave me a disapproving look. Did the man have any sense of humor at all?

"No… I don't think it was…" Twyblade agreed, eyeing the pedestals. He messed around with the levers once more, pausing before pulling the third. He looked up at us, "Ready?"

We fingered our weapons, and Twyblade pulled the final lever. As before, there was a grumble of gears and levers from within the walls, and a second hidden door opened. This time, however, there was no irate Cerosik lumbering out at us. When the dust settled, we peered carefully inside the dim doorway. The compartment within was empty save for several heaps of bones. Whatever dangerous animal the ancient Purple Civilization had contained in there as a guard dog evidently hadn't weathered the long years very well. Curious, I went over to the door from which the Cerosik had come from. Looking in, I saw a scattering of bones on the floor—obviously the remains of weaker, more unlucky Cerosiks—and a jagged hole where one corner of the cell had collapsed.

How unlucky for us that that single Cerosik had outlasted its fellows—'probably by cannibalizing the bodies, I shouldn't wonder'—and that it happened to be in that chamber when we accidentally opened it. Judging by the light filtering through the hole in the back of the cell, the Cerosik could come and go from its confinement freely. Things certainly would have been easier had the Cerosik not been in the cell when the hidden door opened.

'Oh well… Nobody was really injured anyway.' I turned back around. Twyblade was back at the door, scrutinizing the carvings in its surface. The others were running their hands carefully over the walls, trying to locate any other hidden doors.

I wandered over to the doorway that led to the corridor we had entered through. I sighed and leaned against the side of the doorway, my eyes falling on the floor and its designs. I folded my arms, idly tapping a finger on my elbow.

There were three pedestals, so a combination of three levers had to be chosen. But there were four levers to choose from. So there were something like 24 different possibilities… and that was assuming the same lever couldn't be pulled twice on different pedestals.

'I don't know about the others…' I thought to myself as my gaze traced the lines on the floor, '…but I'd rather not find out if all the traps and security mechanisms survived all these years or not. Better just be sure we've got the right combination before we go triggering any other hidden doors… or worse.'

Then suddenly… I straightened, the realization hitting me like a lightning bolt.

"No," I said, my voice loud in the stone-and-ice room. "It's not a puzzle. It's a maze."

"What?" Meshin said. I made a gesture that encompassed the entire expanse of the floor, drawing everybody's attention down.

"Oh… you mean the lines in the floor are…" Galen said in sudden comprehension.

"Yes." I walked swiftly. "See, if I follow along with the markings in the floor… It ends up outlining a maze… a flat labyrinth. You can't get lost in it, but if you follow it…"

I walked as I spoke, and Twyblade caught on quickly. He hastened to the 'labyrinth's' start, and began walking the circuit.

"If you follow it, it will lead you to one of the three pedestals…" he said eagerly. I nodded, and paused in my walking to point at the floor. At my feet was inscribed a symbol.

"Right, and there are three paths in this maze, leading to each of the pedestals. Along the way, however…" I trailed off as Twyblade stopped in his tracks, staring down at the floor at his feet. I couldn't help the grin that grew on my face. "There are symbols that correspond with the symbols on the levers of the pedestals. One symbol for each path, one path for each pedestal."

"Brilliant…" said Twyblade, almost in a daze. "When we follow the paths, it shows us the right symbol and leads us to the pedestal the symbol belongs with."

Wanthope had started out on the maze, and as Twyblade finished speaking, the three of us each stood at a pedestal. We looked at each other, and then at the twins, who stood ready with their weapons, just in case.

"Ready?" Twyblade asked quietly. Wanthope and I gripped one of the levers on our pedestals and nodded. Twyblade settled his hand almost lovingly on one of the levers before him and said: "Right."

On cue, we pulled the levers at the same time. Then we paused, listening. For a moment, nothing happened, but then a low growling rumble, much deeper than before and quickly growing louder, grated out from beneath our feet. You could almost trace the sound as it traveled from the cluster of pedestals to the locked door and up into the walls around it.

The door moved. There was no mistaking it; the door shuddered once, and then began inexorably opening. All five of us approached the entrance slowly, weapons in hand, moving carefully through the doorway.

The room beyond the door was large, and lit by a single central source. There was a huge, suspended ice crystal in the middle of the room, surrounded by tables and what looked almost like the control consoles of a ship. The light shone from within the ice crystal, just like a larger version of the lights in the corridor.

But there was something different about this one. I froze just inside the doorway, staring in surprise at what else was contained within the ice.