Collecting Legends

by Shadowy Star

Legend Eight

'Moon's Spirit' was a fast schooner, created for navigating through tiny fjords and shallow waters with equal easiness or so Gerald had been told by William Radgast, the captain who was obviously as proud of his ship as if it were flesh of his flesh. 'The fastest ship on Morgot,' he'd said. Gerald presumed, she was indeed, and thus perfectly suited for the kind of business Gerald knew the captain was running.

"Too bad, you know, Felizia, my navigator, is giving birth to a child right now," the captain was telling him now, quite succeeding at dropping his marine accent. Gerald smiled a cold smile of satisfaction. "Damn her for that!" the man went on. "You understand, there's no other navigator available and I've to drop the passage tonight."

Gerald frowned in annoyance. If what he'd heard in one of the haven's numerous taverns this afternoon was even half-true, the captain would have to face more than simply an unpleasant conversation with the docks inspector right in the morning. Perhaps he just didn't know that he needed to leave Morgot as soon as possible. Gerald wondered if he should point it out to the man. Then he reconsidered. Perhaps he would need that bit of knowledge later.

Then again, to sail the Serpent at night without an experienced navigator was in fact nothing short of suicide. As Gerald could tell from a certain stormy experience when they were on their way to Mount Shaitan. How fortunate that Damien had turned out to be such a quick learner back then. He ignored the feeling surging through his heart at that, and focused on his anger instead.

"As I said, I need a passage to Kale. Or Seth or Aramanth, that doesn't matter," Gerald repeated patiently. Though his patience was rapidly running thin.

"And as I said," the captain made, obviously growing angry, too, "that would be difficult. Since there no more faeborn Healing it'll take time for Felizia to feel better. You have to wait."

That was it! No one dared tell him what he should do! No one except ... someone who no longer was on Erna…

"My abilities should make a crossing possible," Gerald said evenly, hiding his anger. However, his statement seemed to finally stun Radgast into silence.

"I know nearly every navigator by his or her name in each port of the Serpent," the captain said, voice heavily laced with distrust. "Who the trice-damned Hell are you?"

Gerald decided it was time for more resolute means.

"I can't wait until tomorrow," he said, interrupting whatever the captain was considering doing or saying now, "and neither can you if your business is of the kind I suppose it to be." He added a knowing smirk, enjoying how the captain's face had gone ashen. "I don't care what else this vessel is transporting nor do I have any interest in informing the local inspectors about," he filled his voice with malice. "I think crossing the Serpent tonight could turn out to be both necessary and profitable for you." Radgast looked shocked at that. "You should decide quickly," Gerald didn't urge, letting the stupid man draw his own conclusions. "The tide is turning right now."

William Radgast seemed to think hard before he finally nodded. "Alright," he said, his eyes full of poorly hidden dread. "To Seth, then." He shrugged, as if coming to the conclusion this his passenger was too dangerous to argue with, and walked back to his cabin.

One hour later they were on their way, the waters of the Serpent dark and treacherous between them and their purpose. Coreset painted the skies with various shades of orange, gold and yellow, and the earth-fae lit everything with its crystal blue glowing. The tide was running strong tonight, strong enough to make a landing easier. He'd managed to lead them through Morgot's dangerous riffs though not as effortlessly as he'd thought. The minus of a strong tide was the water's speed when it changed direction and then you had to navigate very carefully. He had to concentrate hard until they finally reached deep waters.

The fae currents shifted slightly at the edge of his sight, snapping him abruptly back to reality. He focused his attention. They were still there, telling of presences and absences, of tendencies and odds and probabilities. That's what it's all about, he thought bitterly. Probabilities…

His thoughts circled around that in a spiral that led him down and down. Maybe the probabilities back then would have been different if he hadn't go to the Patriarch. He had made a Divining at this twice but… For the first time in either of his lives he considered the possibility of having made a mistake back then. He could have misinterpreted the results of those Divinings. The chances for that were approximately zero but still… Maybe they would have managed to overthrow Calesta without the stiff and conservative Church Head's help. Maybe then Damien would have had a place to go to and wouldn't have felt lonely and thus wouldn't have committed suicide? Or maybe if they hadn't gone to the Keep… They surely wouldn't have met Andrys and none of the later events would have happened. Damien would still have had the Church. He would be alive…

When did he start care, he asked himself. When on their journey the hatred he first had felt for the infuriatingly stubborn priest had been replaced by something else? Maybe it'd begun that fateful night on Morgot when they'd been attacked by the Dark Ones. Even that early on their mission, Damien's courage had impressed him beyond words. Later on, the steadfastness of Damien's faith had showed him there was still something good in the world, something he could still believe in. He'd felt proud of having created such a powerful thing as the Church of Unification and at the same time had envied Damien his faith – a faith he himself couldn't share wholly, not after all he'd seen and done.

And still, that look of absolute loathing and abhorrence in Damien's eyes when the priest had learned the Hunter's true name – well, had it pleased him? Or had it hurt? Maybe both, he thought. He didn't remember when the layers of corruption that shielded him from every even so tiny human feeling for so long had started to fade. Maybe it was after they'd crossed the Canopy, after that link he'd established between them. Maybe it was then when, feeding on Damien's fears, he couldn't help but learn the pureness and humanity of the priest's soul, too. He'd been drawn to this purity as inevitably as a moth to a candle flame. Was it then, he asked himself, when his feelings started to change even more? Was it after Damien rescued him from the Master of Lema's fire? Had he felt more than thankfulness back then already, even that early?

He remembered how reluctant he'd been to let Damien go alone even if he hadn't let it show. And when the Wards hadn't reacted as quickly as he wanted them to he'd almost run into the Citadel himself. He remembered those moments when Damien's pain had flooded his own being, when he'd wanted noting more than to kill the mad sorceress himself for what she'd done to his friend. He remembered his own helpless rage and something else, something that had made him rush over, right into the so very instable, pitch black tunnels under the Citadel, to where he'd felt Damien's presence. He remembered the rush of relief when he'd felt live pulsing steadily under his fingers on the side of the other's neck.

He closed his eyes reliving that memory again. He'd promised to protect the other, and had failed so miserably, and Damien had never blamed it on him. So forgiving…

Or had it been later, onboard of the 'Golden Glory'? When there had been nothing but the ocean's endless waves and those moments of conversation when they'd struggled for a common ground? When having an enemy in common wasn't enough? Was it then when he'd felt that overwhelming need for the first time – to connect again with the world of the living? It must have happened somewhere in between, he decided. Because when they faced the Undying Prince he'd felt so immensely guilty for his deception. Even if there hadn't been another chance, even if they would have failed otherwise… It had hurt so much to repay Damien's trust with a lie. And even that Damien had forgiven.

Gerald clenched his hands around the railing. All of a sudden, he remembered another crossing when, hunted by Calesta, they'd had to face that storm. It was then when he'd begun to understand…

He closed his eyes. The burning in them was nothing in comparison to the pain in his heart.

His hands loosened their hold on the cool metal of the railing. The Serpent's waters lay, deep and tempting, below.

TBC…