-A funeral pyre mounted on a raft drifts slowly downriver, spinning slightly in the lazy current. Atop piles of used floppy disks and drained batteries sits a battered laptop, its low-quality screen open and flickering as it makes its final journey downriver into the sunset…
Dart: Is this really necessary?
Shade: -Belts him over the head- Yes! Now silent, and observe its passing!
Garren: … uh, I hate to say it, but he's got a point. That computer still works perfectly well, and besides, do you really think the full barbarian burial was really… practical?
Shade: It's warranted, believe me. And besides, look! I found a new one! And it has speakers! -Giggles insanely- And it's all shiny and pretty and…tee hee! -Pokes a button-
+OUT OF CHEESE ERROR. REDO FROM START.
All: …
-SPLASH-
Dart: -turns to watch Shade swimming downriver, desperately trying to catch up with the funeral pyre- Hmmm. I suppose we shouldn't have lit the raft on fire before we shoved it off, huh?
Garren: Psh. Her fault for insisting.
Okay, maybe the situation isn't quite that off-color, but poor I've definitely found some of the drawbacks of the whole new laptop shabam. My old laptop, the wonderful little thing that it is, ran off of windows 95 and a hard drive that on occasion as able to be overloaded almost exclusively by word documents. However, excepting the brief episode where the old screen became disconnected and needed replacement, it never crashed, hardly ever froze, and only rarely showed me the blue screen of death. And while my new laptop is a definite improvement- it's probably about eight years younger, if that says anything- in terms of technology, it also has locked up and frozen on me three or four times with the first couple hours of use. It also goes into 'hibernate' at intervals, and be darned if I can get it back to normal without a fight. Heheh… doesn't say much about my skill with computers now, does it? XD However, now I can download precious episodes of Bleach. Shade be a happy girl.
IMPORTANT: In other news, has once again tweaked their rich-text editor, which has as a result once again screwed over the formatting I've been using for the fic. Both Dart and Ark's thughts are enclosed in ( ). I feel anger.
Anyway, on to the Q&A:
Queens of the Rose Wings: They're winglies all right, but Nova has spent her whole life pretty much in Ulara exclusively, and has only a vague idea of how things are really positioned in the outside world. And as for Garren, well… we just won't talk about Garren. He has no sense of direction, and would have trouble finding his way out of a wet paper bag. Besides, Endiness is a big place, and it's difficult to predict where either Dart or Ayrel would be at any given time.
The Orange Cow: XD The duck man and I have a lot in common, some days. I'm a big Terry Prachett fan, as you could probably tell from the blurb above. Anyway, Nova did mention her mother, I believe, but her momma's not Charle. I don't think her mother's actually made an appearance as of yet, now that I think of it. Hmm. I'll have to correct that at some point.
Shadow Rave: Tygris is taking a break back in Ulara. Poor Nova. Now she has to teleport Garren's butt all over Endiness again. XD
A/N: Sorry if any of the information in the first section of this chapter is inaccurate; I'm going by what I remember was said of the original dragon campaign during the game, so I'm probably wrong on some accounts. In either case, this was my take on what I got out of it, and I rather like how it turned out.
The wind screamed through the high passes, shrieking and wailing as it blasted over bare rock and ice, picking up what little snow there was to be found and tossing it into the empty air. Mountain peaks, gray and jagged, protruded here and there from the swirling wall of cloud surrounding them, their dull faces ominous and threatening in the yellow-brown light. The sun was nowhere to be seen; here, amidst this bank of cloud, there were no landmarks, nothing to aid navigation. Only the gusting wind and shifting cloud, masking the familiar and fogging the senses in an ever changing show of shadow and vapor.
Through the midst of this phantasmagoria Flanvel drifted aimlessly, utterly at the mercy of the blasting winds. She listed slightly to one side; a section of her pitted shell hanging loose from her underbelly, scraping against the lower peaks from time to time as she passed above. So deep was the wound that it seemed she must split in two; through the rents could be seen glimpses of her inner decks, a honeycomb of desolate and abandoned passages and yawning, empty galleries. The dragoons had done their work well; with their accursed dragons to support them they had routed the tower of nearly all of its crew before a retreat could be ordered. Thrust through it all, pinning the loose shell to the rest of the ship was the Arrow, the final assault of the humans launched from their earthbound battery. The human engineers had done their work well; the Arrow had pierced through the heart of the tower, destroying the central controls and completely severing the steering mechanisms. Now Flanvel was lame, a ruin of former glory adrift in the mountains of Gloriano, sinking inexorably lower with each passing hour. Lower. Always lower.
She was his brainchild. At her helm he had set himself apart from those fools who had called themselves worthy, shown them all how the true right hand ought to command. Fueled by his magics she had ruled the skies at his whim, striking terror into the hearts of those infantile creatures who had made their bid for freedom… and failed. With her as his fortress, he could have torn the world apart to its foundations.
Or so it had seemed.
He felt her pain. Every split, every fracture, every groan of tortured material thrilled through his brain and set his nerves afire. She was dying. Flanvel, his greatest creation, named for the chariot of the gods, had been humbled at last by those whom she had pursued for so long. Such bitter insult went beyond mere humiliation; not only was it absurd, it was unimaginable. And yet, it had come to this.
It was supposed to have been the final downfall of the so-called Liberation Army of Humans. Flanvel was to be the vanguard, the spearhead of the assault on the graceless, ugly habitation the humans had named Vellweb and dared to call their capitol. The hammer of wrath, sent by Melbu Frahma himself to crush the rebellion once and for all. But when Flanvel had sunk through the clouds to confront the fortress at last she had found herself alone, with naught with whom to share the skies save for the dragons and their masters. Even then, he had not feared for her. She had faced the dragoons before and come through unscathed. He had not expected the raw strength of the dragons themselves providing the dragoons with the literal opening they had needed to breech Flanvel's hull. Not expected the loss of the crew.
Not expected the Arrow.
It had been days since, but without the crew there was no way to repair her. She would die where she would fall, and he with her. For in her creation he had poured too much of himself into her, bound his blood to her steel with the very magic that coursed through his veins. Even if he were to survive the crash, too much of himself would die with her to make living an option. It was a grim thought, but he had never been one to ignore the reality of the situation. Resigned to this, he turned his thoughts back to the question that had plagued him for days now, though he thought he knew the answer. Why had the wingly fleet failed to appear at Vellweb? With the full might of the empire it would have been a crushing victory, with little loss or risk at the hands of the winglies. There should have been no reason for their absence. None at all. Except that there had been whispers. Whispers that the dictator himself feared his powers, feared that one day his strong right hand would grow weary of playing the servant and rise against him. Certainly, it was true that Frahma had devised a way to limit his power, providing a safeguard should that day ever come to pass. And yet… had he thought it enough?
Even so… he tore his eyes from the view port to look around at the bridge where he stood, his thin, sallow face growing grim. Frahma's power, it was rumored, knew no bounds. But neither, it seemed, did his paranoia. In years past he had feared Frahma; now he only felt contempt. To accuse him of conspiracy, to place him on trial, would have been insult enough. But to destroy not only him, but also his beloved Flanvel with an underhanded method such as this…not only was it unforgivable, it was craven. Treachery had always been the dictator's favorite card, and he played it often and from afar, secure in the knowledge that any repercussions, should there be any, were unlikely to come back to haunt him.
Still, there were ways. Looking out sadly one last time at Flanvel's ruined husk, he turned away and spread his hands, eyes hardening resolutely. Frahma wished to rule forever; in his arrogance, he sought to defeat death and attain immortality.
The sigils shimmered in the air as he began to trace their patterns with both hands at once, unhurried, careful not to miss a single detail. True, he knew not a way to defeat death itself. But immortality… he brought his fingers together and drew them apart, tracing a perimeter around himself. Ah yes. In a way, that was exactly what he had managed to obtain.
Outside of the circle the air flickered, the faintest outline of a tall, skeletal man beginning to take form. Gradually, as the spell progressed, the image would 'flesh' itself out, until the projection became an all-but-solid duplicate of himself. The imprint of his mind, the whole of his powers, and the bulk of his awareness would remain within it even as the bones of his true body would rot and turn to dust. The spell took time to create; it would take hours for the form to fill itself out, let alone to gain his imprint. And yet, when it was finished, at least a part of himself would remain, patiently awaiting the day that Frahma may chance to find the ruins of Flanvel. Until then, he would remain with her.
A shade of himself, to accompany her lonely ruin through the ages to come.
o
Someone was pounding on the door to his room, the sound reverberating dully through the darkness. Slone sat up groggily, awakened by the persistent banging. Throwing back the sheets he lurched out of his cot, feeling his way along the wall to the door at the top of the stairs. Groping for the latch, he lifted it and shoved the door open a few inches, glaring out through the gap.
"What is it?" He demanded, his voice harsh and thick from sleep.
The lad on the other side took a step back, caught off guard by his unkempt appearance. "Ah, I was… well, that is to say, the Master sent me to tell you that you're to escort Aska and Peolin on their hunt this morning. He, uh, also wants you to designate a detachment of the guard for transport duty by this afternoon."
Slone grunted non-committally and ducked back out of sight, pulling the door shut behind him. Ear to the wood, he listened to the errand boy's retreating footsteps until he was sure that he had left the stable, then sunk down onto the stair, burying his face in his hands.
Was he awake? A sleep? Dead? After that dream, he could almost believe it. A part of him still felt as though he were on the deck of the doomed airship; the memories of the cloud-enshrouded peaks so vivid that he could still taste the sharp air, still hear the shrill cry of the wind as it rattled the broken shell of the Flanvel…
His beloved Flanvel…
He screwed his eyes shut, digging his fingers deep into his brow. No matter how hard he tried now, there was no way to keep the memories from resurfacing and mingling with his own. The intrusion was no more welcome now than it had been before, but the last of his medicine had run out, and the apothecary refused to sell him any more. Even the temples refused to help him; unless he could somehow manage to produce something of value, they would continue to turn a deaf ear to his pleas. But even in the service of the Alphine family, things of value were difficult to come by, as he had discovered. At first he had thought that there might have been able to slip something of value from the safe house, but after nearly being caught in the attempt, he had discarded the idea. No, if he was to do business with the temples, he would have to find something else of value to them. But this would take weeks or even months, while in the meantime the dreams intruded farther with each passing night.
Raking his cheeks with his fingers, he barked a laugh. He was going mad; he was sure of it now. Still, no one knew. So long as he kept his mouth shut and did as he was told, people would continue to think of him as moody and taciturn; a bit strange, maybe, but certainly not a madman. There was little danger there. Still, it was not a comforting thought.
A small shiver ran through him and he clasped his arms tighter about his head, suddenly aware of how ragged and loud his breathing sounded in the close darkness.
There had to be another way.
Zion's POV:
The sun glimmered on the crests of the heaving ocean waves as they raced the length of the ship, dashing against the hull in sheets of white spray. The whole world washed smoothly by as the Blue Wind ran before the wind, her snowy sails full and booming overhead. The sky above was a rich hue of blue, dotted here and there with thin wisps of cloud. Even the Moon had faded, reduced herself until she was little more than a pale impression in the western sky. In any direction there was no land to be seen; just miles upon miles of sparkling, rolling ocean. All in all, it was a breath-taking sight.
And oh, how I hated it.
I leaned heavily over the rail for the third time that day, trying my best to ignore the gentle rocking of the ship as I wondered when, if ever, I would next be able to keep a full meal down for more than an hour. Which was a shame, because the cook Shane had hired to run his galley was actually pretty good. But whenever I was aboard a ship the food just had a habit of making a ritual second appearance, whether I wanted it to or not.
Gingerly, I leaned back a bit. That was the problem with being out in the middle of the ocean; there was nothing solid for me to keep my eyes on. Everything was always rocking back and forth in the most nauseating way, even when the ocean was calm. The motion of the ship didn't help either; even on a big sailing ship like this one the deck had a bad habit of rolling beneath your feet whenever you tried to take a step, making it a challenge for me not to look like an idiot as I staggered across the deck, grabbing the rail for support whenever I could. By itself, the moving scenery was bad enough. With the shifting deck thrown into the mix, it became almost unbearable.
My stomach gurgled, and I moved away from the rail in a hurry. No sense in causing a fresh bout of sickness because I had spent too much time leaning over the side watching the waves. Deciding that the best course was probably to avoid looking at the waves altogether, I stumbled across the deck to the cabin house and slid down the ladder into the shady hallway below.
Timbers creaked and sighed overhead as I made my way down the hallway, one hand trailing along the thick guide rope that hung from the low ceiling. Mentally, I added that to my list of grievances with boats. All ships, no matter what size or type, seemed to be made for men about the height of my shoulder. As a result I had to stoop wherever I walked, occasionally bumping my head whenever a wave rocked the boat the wrong way. Grumbling, I made my way back to my cabin, stopping briefly in the galley to pick up a ship's biscuit and a tin of milk. Nowadays, it seemed to be the only thing my stomach had a chance of handling. Nibbling on the corner of the rock-hard biscuit absently, I pushed open the door to my cabin and dropped down onto the cot gratefully, slopping a bit of the milk on my hand in the process. Dunking the biscuit in it to soften it up a bit, I flopped my head back against the wall, glad that the only window was small and set directly above me, preventing me from seeing more than a small patch of blue sky.
Normally, I shared the cabin with Ry, but for the moment he was above deck enjoying the weather. He seemed to have something of a soft spot for ships, I had noticed. He certainly shoved us on them often enough. True, it was the fastest way to Mille Seasu, but still…
Bracing myself, I pulled the soggy biscuit out of the cup and bit into it with a grimace. After a week and a half out on the ocean, I was beginning to wish that we had walked instead.
I finished off the biscuit and milk and set the tin aside, brushing the crumbs off of my lap. Kicking off my boots, I swung my legs up onto the cot and stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the slight motion of the ship around me. As long as it was calm, I figured, Imight as well get some sleep. I seemed to be doing a lot of that, lately.
When I awoke, the room was dark. A thin stream of moonlight was filtering in through the window above, but for the most part the cabin was sunk in shadow. I blinked sleepily, trying to guess the time. I hadn't been a sleep for all that long, had I?
"Finally decided to wake up, did you?"
I turned my head sideways. Ry sat on his cot across the room from me, his face clearly visible in the moonlight. When he saw me look, he held a finger to his lips. "Shh."
"Spit it out, Shane. I want the truth, now."
"Don't I always tell the truth?"
"The whole truth."
The voices were muffled, but clearly audible. I sat up slowly. Kaelin and Shane, by the sounds of it, but where were they? I pointed over my shoulder at the wall, and Ry nodded. In her room next door, then.
Shane sighed. "You're a difficult sister, you know that?" He complained. "Can't you just accept for once that I am your brother, and like it or not, I am going to try to look out for you?"
"I'm not a fool, Shane. No one in this family does anything without self-interest as at least partial motivation."
"You are difficult."
"You and Lyke made me that way," she told him indifferently. "Live with it. So what's the deal now? Does father want me back for some reason, or are you just trying to make some foolish bid to reconcile the two of us again?"
Surprisingly, he laughed. "Reconcile? The two of you? Honestly, Kaelin, I thought that you were smarter than that. I'd have a snowball's chance in… well, you get the picture. Besides, I'm busy enough trying to cover Lyke's butt. He's trying to start his own separate business, you know."
"Turncoat. Good for him. Bravo. Now sit your ass back down and answer my bloody question before I take a yard of your-"
"Hey, calm down a bit." There was a slight 'thump' on the other side of the wall, and I assumed that Shane had sat down. I glanced over my shoulder at Ry. He was leaning forward now, listening intently.
Shane cleared his throat. "This, uh, does have to do with father, though."
"Figures."
"Kaelin, I'm doing you a favor and explaining this for you. Now please just sit quietly and let me get on with it? Yes, this has to do with father, but not how you'd think. He's not doing too well, Kae. He's getting on in his years, and the weather's starting to effect his health. It's nothing serious for the moment, but the physician says that as long as he stays in Furni, it's only going to get worse."
"So? Ship him out of the country."
"We've tried." He sighed again, more heavily this time. "Believe me, we've tried. Be damned if he'll agree, though. But pretty soon the sickness is going to start effecting his mind too, and there's no way that the business will survive if he starts to make faulty decisions."
Kaelin whistled lowly. "Ouch. I always told him that he was senile, but I never really meant it. Are you sure? What are you going to do about it?"
"What can we do? We've tried convincing him, but that hasn't worked. I tried taking charge for a bit, but I don't have the guile for the job and besides; he just overrode me at every turn. We've tried just about everything. Except for one." He took a deep breath. "We're gonna try to supplant him."
There was a bump. "What?" Kaelin exclaimed. ""You can't do that! He's the head of the freaking family!"
"Fine time for you to start worrying about things like that," her brother shot back. "The way things are now, we don't have much in the way of a choice. Besides, it's not our father that we're supplanting. We're after Nicholas Alphine, the merchant lord. If we can force him out of his position as head of the business, we can replace him and send him and mother south to Tiberoa or Fueno. He keeps his health, and the business loses no status due to botched decisions."
"So either way, we win." Kaelin mused. Unconsciously, perhaps, she had begun to include herself in the family again when she spoke. "Who's in on this right now?"
The cot creaked. "At the moment, just mother and the twins. The rest are too young to be involved. Lyke knows, and he'll help if I press for it, but otherwise he's too far away to be much good at the moment." He paused for a moment, and then almost as an afterthought added, "And you, of course."
"Don't count on it," she told him darkly, but there was something in her tone that suggested otherwise. "Mother too? I suppose she'd want him to move for his health, but isn't this a little extreme for her? She was never too involved with his end of the business. "
"No, but she did take care of management. Trust me Kaelin, we can handle this."
"Good for you, but if that's the case, I don't see where you'll be needing me. I assume Lyke's taking over once you move him out, right?"
"Well, that's the tricky part."
"What do you mean, tricky?"
Still listening, I glanced over my shoulder and exchanged glances with Ry. For some reason, I couldn't see this ending well.
"It's not Lyke we want to take over. It's you."
There was a bang. "Now that's just going too far!" Kaelin yelled, and both Ry and I jumped. "You think you can… why don't you take that and… you…" She trailed off, apparently, for the first time since I'd met her, at a loss for words. At last, after a long moment of fractured silence, she managed to get out a lame, "You can't do this to me."
"I'm sorry Kaelin, but we don't have any other options. Lyke flat out refuses, and I'm just not suited to run this sort of thing. Any one else is too young, and besides, you're smarter than any of us."
"Not any more, I'm not. Lyke got the better of me in Bale, easy."
"Kaelin," Shane's voice was pained. "You used to be able to outwit father himself. Why do you think he was so reluctant to let you go? You do realize that he's officially named you heir, don't you?"
"But-"
"And the entire business will be left in your name, regardless?"
"But I…"
"You make a big show about hating the family, but if the business was about to crumble, you'd step in and fix things again, wouldn't you?"
"Arrgh, business, business, everything is always bloody business!" She snapped. "I hate the whole damned thing! Look what it did to Lyke. Forget that, look at what it did to us! We're a whole family of sneaking wretches raised to lie and take advantage of people since birth! Father used to practically sic us on each other so that we could learn to go against our own blood, if necessary!"
"I know," Shane said quietly. "Soa, don't I know. And that's why it has to be you, Kaelin. You know what's wrong, and you aren't afraid to speak out. You're the only one who can turn this whole mess around and make it decent again. You're honest, in your own way, and you'd never be as brutal as father is with his competition. But you're smarter than he is, and you can put that to good use. This is our one chance to set things right again, Kaelin. You can't run from who you are anymore."
The silence stretched. I shifted uneasily on my cot, trying to make as little noise as possible. What would she do now? What could she do now, for that matter?"
Still silence. And then…
"I hate you, Shane. I really think I do."
"You'll do it then?"
"I didn't say that. It's just…give me some time, okay? You chose a really bad time to dump this on my plate."
"You've got as much time as you need. Where're you going?"
"Up on deck." The cot creaked again. "I need to find someone else to talk to for a while. Good night, Shane."
"Good night Kaelin."
There were footsteps, the sound of a door opening, and then one set of footsteps faded off down the hall in the opposite direction. The other lingered for a moment, then quietly started past our cabin. Suddenly suspicious, I lay down quickly and hauled the covers up over my body. Ry must have done the same, because when the door cracked open the room was still, the two of us apparently fast a sleep.
Kaelin peeked into the room tentatively, as though unsure of whether or not she ought to be doing so. I lay as still as I could, keeping my breathing slow and regular. Did she think we might have heard?
She muttered something under her breath, then sighed and left, shutting the door softly behind her. I waited until her footsteps had faded completely from earshot before sitting up, pushing back my blanket.
"Well, that was… interesting."
On the other side of the room, Ry said nothing at first. The moonlight had shifted slightly, but I could still make out his features dimly as he stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. Then, softly, he replied.
"Yeah. Interesting."
Dart's POV:
The ocean undulated like a steel-grey ribbon against the craggy shores of Mille Seasu, mirroring the clouds in the northern sky. The Blue Wind, her sails still set for the stiff winds of last night, cruised on a course parallel to the rocky shoreline leaving a swath of hissing foam in its wake. With my coat wrapped tightly about my body to ward off the chill I stood in the bow, watching the coastline slip past. Though it was still technically autumn, the air carried the feel of snow and the clouds hung low and threatening. Thankfully, we were close to port; after a relatively easy voyage, the last thing anyone wanted to deal with was snow.
(Dreary sort of morning, isn't it?) I remarked.
Ark grunted a reply. Over the past few days he'd become increasingly preoccupied, withdrawing to a somewhat secluded corner of my mind where he'd stay for hours on end, apparently lost in thought. Any questions I sent his way either went unanswered or received short, waspish replies, so I eventually gave up and left him alone. It didn't take a genius to guess what was bothering him.
I shifted my weight, leaning over the rail to watch a seabird soar past with mild disinterest. I couldn't tell exactly what Ark was thinking, but the weight of his discontent and annoyance pressed so heavily against me that it was almost an effort to keep his moods separate from mine. The time lost on board the Blue Wind grated against him; it had been almost two weeks since we had left Tiberoa, and neither of us had any way of knowing what Ayrel might have been up to in that time. After the trap we sprung on her in the Valley, it was a fairly safe bet that it was nothing good. And unless we managed to come up with another trump card in a very short amount of time, we both knew that we'd be the ones fighting at the disadvantage. And in the meantime, there was still Kaelin's mess with her family…
With a sigh, I rested my chin on my hand. Definitely a dreary sort of morning.
Behind me, a board creaked. Carrying a mug of steaming liquid that smelled suspiciously like strong liquor, Cai came to stand at the rail beside me, his face grey and haggard from lack of sleep.
"You're up early," he commented after a moment, his voice flat and toneless.
"I could say the same for you." I glanced at him sideways as he took a long drink, wondering what he wanted. Cai customarily avoided speaking with me at all costs.
He set his mug on the rail and wiped his mouth. "Never slept." He admitted. "I don't think I'm cut out for the life a fugitive. Too hard on my stomach."
"Stomach? Not your nerves?"
"My nerves are fine. It's just that my stomach's feels like it's trying to eat itself whenever anyone mentions the name 'Furni'." He shuddered, and then took another drink. "It's like being shoved into a den of snakes. And you say you live like this?"
"If you live with anything long enough and you can get used to it, I suppose. How's your wife handling it?"
"Better than me."
The conversation died away slightly at this point. Cai stared fixedly out at the horizon, taking such deep gulps of his rum that I started to wonder if he wasn't trying to erase his fears of the impending arrival in port by the simple expedient of drinking himself senseless. There was a sort of viable tension that hung in the air between us; I leaned forward, waiting.
At last, Cai emptied his seemingly bottomless mug, coughing a bit on the last swallow. With a grunt he set it aside, clearing his throat.
"Look," he said at length, with great reluctance, "I… want to apologize."
"What?" I asked, bewildered. I wasn't sure what I had expected him to say, but it certainly hadn't been this.
"Apologize." He grumbled. "You've been trying to help us as best you can, but I haven't exactly been easy on you."
I shrugged, not really knowing what to say. "Forget about it. I haven't been all that friendly with you either."
"You've got that right," he grumbled. "But I can't deny that you know what you're doing. You figured out a way to get that woman out of the palace, and somehow managed to keep the Moon Child off of our backs while we were doing so. And you still got us out of the country in one piece afterwards. If you hadn't shoved us into that mess in the first place, I'd say that we owed you." He clenched his jaw. "However, I still don't see where you got off giving my wife a weapon without my consent."
"She's a big girl, Cai." I told him mildly. "I'm sure she's capable of looking after herself."
He glared at me; for a moment I thought that he might decide to forget his apology and start another argument. I needn't have worried. Barking a laugh, he shook his head and looked back out at the horizon.
"I'll be blunt with you, Ry. I don't like you. You're secretive, manipulative, and downright vicious when the mood takes you. Because of you the temples are after us, and by consequence I'm fairly sure that our lives have been ruined. We face death or slavery if we're caught, but that's only if these bloody excursions you keep sending us on don't kill us all first." He snorted. "Plus, you're just downright odd."
I laughed, unable to help myself. At least the man was honest.
Cai didn't look over, but the corner of his mouth tightened. "On the other hand, the last time I checked, the temple hasn't even been able to touch you yet. They want you bad, but you know how to keep out of reach, and somehow I think that's the only thing that's saving us." He scowled. "I'll keep out of your face from now on, Ry, provided you do one thing."
"What's that?"
He gave me a dark look. "Don't screw up." With that he turned and stalked away, his boots thudding on the deck.
I watched him go, my face still. Then I turned away. "I had a wife once, you know."
Cai's footsteps stopped.
"I tried to stop her fighting too," I continued, as though nothing had happened. "'Course, that was before we were wed, but still, be damned if I could. She was determined to fight for as long as I did. Wasn't strong in body, but she had a strong heart." I stared into nothing, remembering. "In the end, though, it wasn't the fighting that took her from me. She took sick years later and died before a proper healer could reach her. Years ago." I glanced back over my shoulder, to where Cai had rooted himself to the deck. "That sickness cheated me of my promise to protect her. I couldn't save her. But-" I added, "that didn't mean she ever stopped fighting."
I held Cai's gaze for a long moment. Overhead the sails boomed and cracked against their ropes as the wind shifted slightly, gusting offshore.
"You…" Cai dropped his eyes first, shaking his head. "I think I'm going to go look for something else to drink. I don't think I'm ready to land in port just yet."
As Cai disappeared into the cabin house, Ark seemed to rouse himself from his corner. (Careful, Dart. You shouldn't go around talking about stuff like that)
(What?)
(You've been chased by the temple for years. You were married to Shana for years. I'd stop throwing that word around so casually, Dart. Regular people only have some many years to speak of)
(People use the word lightly all the time, Ark. There's nothing big about it)
(You only look thirty-two, Dart. Thirty-three, if only because you're a bit weather-beaten. Cai won't catch the slip, I don't think, but you can bet Kaelin would have been all over you after that, knowing what she already knows)
(All right, fine)I said, a bit peevishly. He did have a point, though.
(Just thought I'd point it out)
(I'm sure)
o
We landed in port late that afternoon, the sun low in the western sky. Though it was not yet evening a slight chill was in the air, and there was the piney scent of wood smoke carried on the breeze. As the Blue Wind drew level with the dock, Shane called out to a porter over the side, asking that transportation be made ready for the moment we disembarked. Two covered carriages, both deep blue with a silver tree-and-thorn crest emblazoned on the door, wheeled up at the end of the dock. Shortly before we arrived in port, Kaelin had told us that Shane had extended an invitation to stay at the manor for a day or two until we had our destination sorted out. The family did not deal often with the Furni temple, so we ought to be reasonably safe, he had reasoned. And so we were ushered into the coaches and were swept out into the crowded city streets, rattling over cobbled bridges toward the eastern end of town.
We had thought to split ourselves and what little baggage we had between the two carriages, but in the end all of the luggage had been tossed into the first carriage with Kaelin and Shane, while the rest of us had been forced to crowd ourselves into the second. Sandwiched between Zion and the side of the coach, I gritted my teeth as the wheels bumped and jarred the cart uncomfortably.
"Hell's teeth," Cai grumbled after a particularly nasty bump. "There's two carriages! I don't see where they thought they ought to jam the six of us into this one." Wedged in on the other side of Zion, the fact that he swayed slightly in his seat was not entirely due to the rough driving; though he had regretfully set aside his rum some hours before hand, he still hadn't completely shaken off the aftereffects. Solana, seated across from him next to Mariko, pretended not to notice.
"They're brother and sister, aren't they?" Amaya replied after a moment. "They probably have some things they need to talk over." She sat opposite me, next to Mariko. Ever since they had been taken from the palace in Fletz, Amaya and Mariko had become almost inseparable, one rarely appearing without the other.
"There's still such a thing as common courtesy. Even if they had to talk, couldn't it wait until later?"
Zion and I exchanged glances. No one else but us knew about the conversation we had overheard between Kaelin and her brother that night on board the Blue Wind. I was fairly sure that not even Kaelin knew that we'd overheard. Still meeting his eyes, I shook my head very slightly. What went on between Kaelin and her family were her own personal matters; unless she chose to talk about them with us outright, it wouldn't be right to mention it to the others.
Zion shrugged, as if to agree, then rested his head against the padded back of the coach. "Guess some thing are too important to wait," he said, answering Cai's question. "She comes from a weird family."
Cai grumbled a bit more before falling silent. For a while the only sounds were the creak and rattle of the coach and the muffled fall of hoof beats from the horses drawing it. Leaving the city behind, we rumbled onto a shaded forest road that twisted and turned back among the evergreens. With a heavy sigh, I leaned back against the seat and rested my head against the window.
(Ark?)
Reluctantly, the dragon stirred. (What is it?)
(Did you sense Ayrel at all passing through Furni?)
(Of course not) He snorted. (You would have known if I had. But we didn't pass anywhere near the temple, so I couldn't say for sure whether she's here or not. As it is, I have trouble feeling her when she's not using her magic; she could have been in a house next to us and I might not have even noticed)
I watched the trees sweep past as the carriage turned onto a side road. (What are we going to do when she catches up with us? She won't be hesitating to use her magic this time)
(I know)
(So what are we going to do? Even with the divine armor, I can't compete with her in a battle of magic. From what I understand, Ayrel's magic is limited only by her imagination. The canon isn't flexible enough to counter that sort of variation)
(It was never meant to) Ark replied tersely. (The armor's attributes reflect those of the dragon from whom it was created. In the case of the divine armor, it was limited to my physical attributes only. At the time, I thought that was disgrace enough. I wasn't about to leave the imprint of my mind on it as well, so I sacrificed a certain amount of mental flexibility and shifted the emphasis to sheer power to compensate. Understand?)
(I think so. So there's no way you could change that now?)
(No)
(Damn) I closed my eyes. (So we have to work with what we've got, then, huh?)
Ark didn't reply.
I sighed, taking his silence to mean yes. As the carriage rolled to a stop, I opened my eyes and ducked just in time to avoid Zion's arm as he jumped to his feet, eager to get out of the coach. The rest of us followed suit, ducking through the low door down into the cobbled courtyard in which the carriages had been parked. Ahead of us, Shane and Kaelin had already exited: Shane was instructing a pair of porters as to what to do with the little luggage in the coach, while Kaelin stood a distance apart, looking apprehensive and grim. Looking up, she caught my eye and came over, shooting one last glance back over her shoulder at her brother as she went.
"I promised myself that I'd never have to come back here," she said quietly, turning to regard the courtyard with distaste. Flanked on either side by a two low stables, the end opened into a wide gravel avenue that wound up a long hill to a tall manor house looming large in the distance. From my angle it was difficult to judge, but it was easily four times the size of the Anlade's manor in Tiberoa.
Kaelin watched my expression, amused. "Horrendous, isn't it? I honestly think that if anyone suggested to anyone in my family that they build something a reasonable size, we'd have a collective heart attack."
"Seems like it," I replied faintly. "Are you sure your father isn't trying to make a bid at the throne of Mille Seasu?"
"Why would he? Kingdoms don't make a profit." She frowned up at the manor, scrubbing her palm with her fingers. "Father should be out to greet us soon. He never misses the chance to look down his nose at me."
"What are you going to tell him?"
She shrugged, still frowning. "As little as possible. For the moment, at least, I think I'm just going to build off of the story I fed Lyke back in Bale. In short, I came down hard on my luck and have regretfully returned to the house of my youth, humbly seeking shelter and assistance." She made a face. "Hopefully I'll be able to tell that to father without sounding so sarcastic."
"Do you think he'll believe you?" I asked.
"Hardly. But it'll confuse him, and buy me some time to start 'accidentally' letting hints drop about the 'real' story. Which, may I add, will be an even bigger crock than the first one." She scratched her elbow. "I only need to buy a few days. We'll probably be gone tomorrow, so it doesn't have to be anything elaborate. With any luck, I'll be clear and away from here before anyone starts to catch on."
"What about the rest of us?"
She waved one hand. "Guests. Shane says he usually makes a point of offering hospitality to business partners or anyone's who's helped him, so Father's used to it. That'll cover Cai and the women. For the moment, you and Zion are my partners in crime again. Does that work for you?"
"Does it matter? You're the expert in these matters, not me." I scratched my chin. "I think I'm going to have to go into Furni tomorrow, though. There're a few things that I need to check into."
Kaelin raised one eyebrow, but before she could speak, Shane slipped up beside her. "He's coming." He informed us quietly.
I glanced back over my shoulder. A tall man dressed in blue was making his way down the long flight of stairs, accompanied by a small body of men dressed in leather and plate armor. Beside me, Kaelin took a deep breath and straightened her vest. "Well, no point in putting this off any longer." With a visible effort, she forced her face into a pleasant expression. "You lot stay back here while I talk things over with the old coot. I don't want to have to drag this out any longer than I have to."
I rejoined the others as she crossed the courtyard to greet her father, arm in arm with her brother. Shane embraced him formally when they met, though I noticed Kaelin made no move to do so. Arms crossed, the pleasant expression quickly slid off her face as they spoke, and after a moment she shifted around so that her back was to us. Silently, we waited, within earshot, but too far away to clearly hear what they were saying. Then, at long last, the conversation broke off and they came toward us, guards trailing along behind them.
"So these are our guests, Shane?" Kaelin's father asked, fixing Cai and the others with a piercing look. "And Kaelin's… partners," he added, his eyes flickering to Zion and I. "Men. I should have known."
"I don't work well with women, father. You ought to know have remembered that," She reminded him with a frosty smile. "They can be a little difficult, but once you bang it through their heads that women can think too, they're worth their weight in gold."
"I imagine," he muttered, eyeing the sword hanging from by belt.
I frowned slightly. There was something familiar about him that I couldn't quite place. Tall and bone-thin, his slicked-back hair had turned almost completely iron grey with age, and his tanned face, though lined, was softly angular and regal. I was almost positive that I'd never seen him before, and yet…uncomfortably, I looked away, not wanting to seem to stare. As I did so, however, my eyes landed on Kaelin.
I blinked.
(Well, well) Ark laughed. (I don't suppose that you're going to share this with her, are you?)
It was like standing her next to a mirror. There were some obvious differences, of course, but otherwise, Kaelin was the spitting image of her father. Suddenly struck by the irony of it all, I looked away, fighting to keep my face straight as I felt her suspicious eyes on me. I was fairly sure that she wouldn't find anything the least bit entertaining about the matter, but still…
Lord Alphine coughed harshly, covering his mouth with one hand. "Pardon me. Captain Trebara? Would you be so kind as to take your men and our honored guests to the guest suites? My daughter and I-" he rested one hand heavily on Kaelin's shoulder "-have much to discuss, an we would not want them to become uncomfortable."
Kaelin winced. Next to her father, a tall man with pale skin and black hair nodded his head curtly and motioned toward us with his hands, indicating that we follow him. Unable to refuse, we left Kaelin behind with her father and brother and followed the guard up the stairs into the manor.
Up close, the manor was even larger than it had seemed from the courtyard, but Captain Trebara didn't hesitate. Leading us inside, he took us though the central portion of the building and up a double flight of stairs into the eastern wing of the manor. At last we came to a short hallway, tastefully decorated with small carpets and the occasional painting hung from the wall. Dark paneled doors lined either side of the hallway, and one by one Trebara showed us to our respective rooms, until only he and I were left standing in the empty hallway.
Showing me to the door at the farthest end, he pushed it open. "If you have any complaints, a maid will be around later for cleaning. Take them to her."
"Thanks."
He bowed curtly and turned to leave, brushing against me slightly as he passed.
(Dart!) Ark barked a sharp warning and I whirled around, already aware of what was happening. Sweeping the guard's legs out from underneath him with my shin, I seized him by the shoulders and knocked him backward over my knee, driving him down violently into the floor. His head rebounded once off of the hardwood, then lolled to the side, unconscious. A few feet down the hallway, the violet spirit, which he had dropped when I had felled him, skittered across the floorboards and bounced off of the wall, rolling slowly back toward me. Carefully, I stepped back over the captain's limp form and bent to retrieve the spirit.
(What was that about?)
(Your coat moved back a bit when you turned. He must have caught sight of it then)
(That wasn't what I meant) I rolled the spirit back and forth between my fingers. (What are we going to do with him? He'll be awake soon)
(Let me erase the memory. He won't be any danger if he doesn't remember what happened)
(Right) Crouching next to Captain Trebara's inert form, I reached out and set my free hand on his forehead. Watching carefully for any sign that he might wake up, I relaxed the mental boundaries between Ark and I, allowing him to work his magic. There was a slight surge as he reached out to the other man's mind, then nothing.
For a few moments nothing happened. Then, with a hiss, Ark suddenly severed the connection.
(What is it?)
(I can't get a grip on his mind) He growled. (There's nothing for me to work with)
(What do you mean?) I asked, a bit alarmed.
(His head is a complete mess. One second a memory is there, then it's gone in the next. It's like trying to catch a thin fog. Either his memory is total crap, or… this guy is completely mad)
(Are you sure?)
(I've touched a lot of minds, Dart. Trust me, I know. Ordinary people couldn't function with a mess like his)
I pulled back my hand and got to my feet, studying his face. Though he must have spent a considerable amount of time outdoors his complexion was wan and sickly, and black-grey shadows surrounded his eyes, even in the well-lit hallway. An insomniac, more than likely. (What do we do with him then? If his mind's as patchy as you say, will he even remember this?)
(I can't say. We'll leave him for now, but otherwise I don't think there's much that we can do short of killing him. And that might draw a bit of attention)
(Just a bit) I took a step back, and, still watching his face, fumbled at the carrier belt to find a clasp. My fingers slipped; the spirit fell back onto the floor, rolling until it stopped next to the Captain. Biting my tongue, I bent over and reached for the spirit again, but as I did so, it began to emit a soft glow.
I cursed and snatched the spirit up, snapping it back sharply into its holder. Almost immediately, the glow died away. It wasn't a strong connection, but even so…
At my feet, Trebara started to stir. Automatically I moved another step back. We really didn't need to deal with something like this right now.
"Ry?"
I glanced up. Solana was leaning out of her door just down the hallway, looking apprehensive. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw the guard lying on the floor at my feet, then looked up at me sharply. "What's going on?"
"We've got a problem." My fingers grazed the violet spirit in its holder, and I looked up, meeting her eyes. "A very big problem."
Ayrel's POV:
It was finished.
Walking around the table, I ran my hand over the smooth wood of the staff; admiring the contours of the twisted shape my magic had forced it into. About three feet long and coiled and knotted like an old root, the staff had been a piece of ordinary driftwood. We'd affixed an empty glass globe to the broad end; it protruded only halfway from the wood, as though the stick had absorbed it somehow. A luminous mist swirled inside it, glowing ever so faintly in the moonlit room I had chosen as a work place. At first we had been stumped as to how to go about making the thing, until mother had one day inadvertently stumbled on the secret. The staff did not draw its power from one singularly powerful spell; instead, it depended on nearly a dozen, all interwoven and supporting one another. It had been a complicated matter, finding a way to weave them together in such a fashion, but after a few sleepless nights, we'd managed it.
Somewhere high overhead, the bells began to toll the hour. Midnight was far-gone; it would be daylight in a few hours. Mother had gone to bed as soon as we had finished the staff earlier that night, but I was still too alert to sleep. Its completion had filled me with a sort of restless energy, and I prowled around the table in an endless circle, unable to take my eyes from it. Such a plain thing, and yet…
"Ayrel?"
I stopped pacing. Father slipped soundlessly into the moonlit room, clutching a sheaf of folded papers, looking weary but pleased with himself. Setting the papers on the table next to the staff, he sunk into a chair with a sigh. "They arrived in port this evening on the merchant ship Blue Wind, just like your mother said. Apparently they're staying at the Alphine Manor just up the coast."
"Took them long enough. What's with the papers?"
He dragged one hand through his short-cropped hair, making it stand on end. "A report from Commander Mychael. He arrived in port a few hours ago with our guests from Serdio. He's already started up the river with them to Deningrad."
"That's good. I was starting to worry that they wouldn't get here in time." Pulling up another chair, I sat. So we're almost set then, aren't we?"
"Almost. All we need now is a way to separate Dart from the others."
"Hmm…" Reaching out, I ran my fingers over the staff, feeling the smoothness of the warped wood. Across from me, Father leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
There was a timid knock at the door. Sitting up, I took my hand off of the staff. "Come in."
The door cracked open and an old priest shuffled in, looking tired and apprehensive. "I'm sorry to bother you at this hour of the morning, divine one, but there's a man at the temple entrance demanding to see you. The guards have tried to chase him off, but he's being very insistent. He claims to have something important to tell you." The priest looked perplexed, as though he could not imagine what could be so important that it was worth bothering with at this hour. "Of course, I can have the guards take him away, if you wish," he added quickly.
My curiosity piqued. "No, don't bother. He's at the front entrance, did you say?" The priest nodded. I looked over at father, who hadn't even bothered opening his eyes. "Father, do you want to come too?"
"I don't see why not." Reaching up, he rubbed his forehead with one hand, and then suddenly disappeared. I followed immediately, the room around me dissolving only to be replaced with the dimly lit entrance hall of the Furni temple.
Two guardsmen stood on the doorstep a few feet away, trying to hold back a lean middle-aged man in a long cloak, who seemed determined to break past them. When I appeared behind them, however, he jumped back, dropping onto his face so fast that at first I thought he must have tripped and fallen. The two guards, also shocked at my sudden arrival, stumbled away, stammering.
"Your H-Holiness! He-"
"Yes, I know." I cut them off curtly. "Return to your posts, both of you. I won't be needing you. And you," I added, turning to the man kneeling on the stairs as the guards clattered off, "what did you want? I appreciate your efforts, but it is a little early in the morning, don't you think?"
The man slowly got back to his feet. He was rather tall, and almost unnaturally pale, even in the golden lamplight. His eyes were sunken and hollow, and his scraggily black hair was in disarray. He might have passed for one of the homeless people living along the docks were it not for the highly burnished breastplate he wore underneath his cloak. "Please forgive me, my Lady, but I could come at no other hour." Turning back the neck of his cloak, he revealed the crest of the Alphine family stitched to the dark fabric. Letting go, he took a deep breath and lifted his head, meeting my eyes.
"I have some information that might interest you."
Run away :P Mwehehe…