Journey of Darkness

by Samantha Jacobey

  She did not look up at him as she spoke, and Piers could feel the twist in his gut. He never paid for flesh, and this was why. “You have no shame here, Meena,” he whispered. “You are among friends.”

  “Am I?” she clipped, raising her chin and shaking her dark locks. “You made it quite clear your group is full and you have no intention of taking us with you.”

  “That doesn’t mean we won’t help you leave Whitefair if you choose. We will see you to another place, another town, where you may begin again,” he assured.

  An angry tear spilling over, she shook her head once more as she studied the girl beside her. “Now that you have heard my tale, shall we hear yours?” she asked firmly.

  “I don’t really have one,” Amicia denied, pulling her legs up and hugging her knees to her chest with her left arm, her right still holding her cup. Sipping at her wine, she hoped Meena would move on to someone else.

  “No, I insist,” the older woman spat with a nod. “You wanted to know of the dragon. Tell me how you are able to use the orb.”

  “I don’t know how,” Amicia sighed. “It started as soon as we got here. The sirens gave me a magic shell so I could talk to them.” She patted her chest and the device underneath.

  “You are able to use it, though,” Meena pushed.

  “Yes, and later I used some crystal from the elves and now your magical ball. I don’t know why though. I swear it,” the girl insisted with a sob.

  “It’s ok, love,” Piers soothed, his gaze fixed firmly on the wan. “Why don’t you tell us why. You obviously know something about it.”

  Her glass empty, Meena considered pouring another before placing the empty cup on the table. “As I said, I have had my powers since I was a young girl. I have done all that I could to hide them, as well. But, there are some who can see our gifts within us even when we do not wish them to see,” she observed, staring into Ami’s clear green eyes.

  The air caught in her chest, Amicia struggled to breathe. This was it. This was the moment she would discover the truth. “Who am I?” she whispered, scarcely able to form the words.

  “I do not know,” Meena confessed, placing her hand over the girl’s atop her knees. Giving her a pat, she smiled, “I only know what you are not. You are not a mortal of the rim.”

  “No shit,” Rey gasped, standing slowly. “And how do you know this?” he demanded, squeezing his empty cup in anger.

  “I am a wielder of magic,” the woman replied. “Would you like another drink, Rey?” she offered, deciding she did need another glass. Pouring a generous amount, she could feel the tension in those around her. Releasing a deep sigh, she sat back into her seat next to the girl.

  “The orb can be used for many things,” she explained, holding it up and producing a scene across it; a meadow from the glen. “I can watch all the corners of Eriden. People, places, events. I can watch what is in the past, and I can see some of what lies ahead.”

  “Some?” Piers asked.

  “The future is an ever-changing thing, like a glass of water being carried by a person who runs. Sloshed one moment, flat calm the next, with bits being splashed out from time to time,” she chuckled. “To ever think we can know what it will be like would be folly, as every step we take changes what it will be.”

  “I see,” he agreed, studying her. “You have watched Ami, then. You know who her parents are.”

  Catching the question in his observation, she cut her eyes over at the girl. “You do not know the line of your birth?”

  “No,” Amicia whispered. “The parents who raised me were not my own. My mother confessed it upon her deathbed. I have come to Eriden to discover the truth behind the blood within my veins.”

  Her heart aching, Meena sighed, “I wish that I could provide you with that which you seek. Alas, I have never lain eyes upon you before this night. Not even in my magical glass have you appeared.”

  “But when we met, you seemed to know me,” Ami denied.

  “I recognized the power within you. You are a very powerful being, Amicia Spicer, and I see you, one to another. I have hidden my talents, but they are well practiced. I would make a good addition to your group, and I assure you I would do all that I could to further your cause,” she promised glancing around at the gathering. “Should I leave you a moment to decide?”

  Realizing she was asking if they needed time to take a vote, Piers folded his hands, extending two of his fingers and tapping them against his lips. “Anyone opposed?” he asked gruffly. His eyes darting around the group, he waited. When none voiced a concern, he smiled. “Well then, I guess you are officially in. I’m beginning to think we need a name for our little troop of vagabonds,” he laughed.

  Rising, he placed his glass on the table and announced, “We need to get some sleep. We will gather supplies first thing and head out as soon as the sun sets tomorrow.”

  Rising in agreement, Meena led the two girls inside, where they were given her bed to share. Pulling out the remainder of her blankets, she brought them out for the men, who would stretch out on her patio to sleep.

  “Where are you going?” Piers demanded when she started down the steps.

  “To sit below and think,” she replied with a smile. “I am accustomed to the late nights.”

  Nodding, he followed her, sitting beside her halfway down, the point at which she had slapped him earlier. When they were comfortable, he leaned towards her and asked, “So, is there anything else you’d like to share?”

  “I’d like to hear a bit about you if it would be acceptable.”

  “Aye, it’s acceptable,” he grinned, looking up at the stars before he began.

  After he had shared a bit about his youth, he told of a few adventures on the sea. Finally, he explained how he had come across the girl, hiding in their hold, followed by the dragon, the raft, and washing up on Eriden.

  Meena smiled as he spoke, drawn in by his gravelly voice and the way he commentated on everything. “You have enjoyed your friends, now that you have found them,” she observed.

  Staring at her, taken off guard, he blinked for a moment before recovering with his best smile and pushing on. Completing their quest, up to that point, he finished with a shrug. “And that’s about all there is to know about me.”

  “Ah, but you have left out the most important thing,” she giggled, leaning away from him. “Piers Massheby is a liar.”

  His grin gone in an instant, he growled, “What’s that supposed to mean?” Here he had thought he was being suave and in the least winning her trust, and this was her reply?

  “You speak well of your friends, but you pretend that they annoy you. You take charge of them but act as if it is a burden. You care very deeply for them, but you never tell them so,” she replied quietly. “Amicia is quite taken with you, but I am certain you have never mentioned that you share her feelings,” she finished.

  “Ok, that’s enough,” he spat, holding up his hands and preparing to leave her there.

  “What’s the matter? Can’t bear to face the truth? Or just upset that I have seen what lies within you?”

  Glaring at her, he could not believe she had been so bold. “Do you always talk this way to people? Cause it seems like this would be bad for business,” he made the jab with a laugh.

  Smiling, she waited patiently.

  “Come on, you don’t have something snappy to say?”

  “You are a good man, Mr. Mate. An excellent guardian and provider. Why have you not married that girl?” she asked in earnest.

  “Because I’m too old for her,” he bit angrily. “You know, you reach a certain age, like we are, and you just know things, and that’s something I know. I wasn’t meant to have a wife and a family. Not like other people.” Blinking rapidly, he looked away, his eyes focused on the street below them.

  “Our age,” she chuckled.

  “Aye,” he nodded, pointing back and forth between them. “We’re the same age. I’ll be fifty in another year. And don’t you
tell them that!” he spat, realizing the blunder. “They don’t know I’m a day over forty!” Staring at her, he gave a small grin at the joke.

  “You think people our age don’t deserve it, or are you punishing yourself for something in your past?” she insisted.

  “Maybe both,” he agreed, losing the smile. “I really am too old for her. Someday, I think she and Rey will make a go of it though, at least I like to think so.”

  Her eyes wide, she demanded, “You think I don’t know what you are up to? Either you plan on sailing that boat with only you and Bally or you know you are never leaving Eriden,” she accused. “If she is not a mortal of the rim, you cannot take her away from here. This is her home.”

  “Aye, it’s her home.” He raked his hand through his hair, twisting his locks for a moment, then setting them free. “I’m working on it. I don’t know what we’re going to do.” Cutting his eyes over at her, he swallowed. “You’re really starting to scare me with this telepathic shit, by the way.”

  “I’m not telepathic,” she laughed. “I just know people. And I am a smart woman. I see things, and I listen to what people say.”

  Shaking his head, he glanced up at the stars, observing, “It’s getting late.”

  “Yes, tonight is spent. But we will speak again, Piers Massheby, of this I am certain.”

  Cutting his eyes over to glare at her, an odd feeling twisted in his gut. “I’m a womanizer. I chase women, young and old. I get them into bed, and I never look back. You should watch yourself.”

  “Oh, so now I am a conquest to be had?” she observed with a laugh. “You are certainly full of surprises, Mate.”

  “You called me a liar, and that isn’t true. I may not always tell everything I know, but I don’t make a habit of lying to people I care about.”

  “No, you only lie when you must. And to yourself,” she sighed, getting to her feet. Stepping through the curtain without looking back, she stretched out on her bench in the kitchen and closed her eyes to sleep.

  Day Traders

  The group awoke with the sun the following morning, each rising and taking care of their personal needs. Meena poured water for them to wash and provided bread and dried fruit for their breakfast.

  Watching her as she moved, Piers felt as if a rock had settled in his gut. He had so many conquests to his name, young and old, and he preferred the young. There had been few who could resist his charm.

  Speaking with the wan into the early hours of morn, he had shared far more of himself than he ever had before, given her parts of his past even the others in his company had never heard. Accepting his basin to scrub, he smiled down at her, a flutter of happiness sparked by the green flecks in her eyes.

  “Where shall we go to gather what we need?” he asked, then washed his face and pulled his hair back into the scrunch, fastening it at the top of his neck.

  “We have a market,” she supplied, helping herself to a small plate of the food. “We can’t all visit, though. Amicia definitely will need to remain here. As the siren. The rest of you may come, but we must be careful.”

  “Why can’t I go?” Ami asked with a small pout.

  “You would be recognized, my child,” Meena soothed, having taken to the girl. “We do not know what you are, but others will recognize that you are unique.”

  “Aye,” Piers agreed, taking a seat and tearing a large chunk of bread off of the loaf. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll get everything we need and be back as soon as we can. You will stay here, along with Rey and Bally. Sit tight, and for the love of God, do not attract attention to yourselves,” he commanded, giving the two young men a stern glare.

  “Aye, sir,” they replied in unison, genuinely afraid of what he would do if they disobeyed.

  Donning the robe and hood they had fashioned for Rey, Animir joined Piers and Meena as they slunk down her stone steps and marched along the path. Making a few turns, they arrived in a large market, where a vast open area filled with small stalls spread before them, the roof made of large beams such as those that had protected the spring from the harsh sun.

  Some of the cubicles had wooden or reed roofs, while others were open to the sun and sky above. The air stifling around them, most of the people wore the coverings, and Piers felt glad that they had sacrificed one of their blankets to make them. Arriving at their first stop, he pulled the fourth of their elven goblets from his bag and placed it on the table in the center of a short round merchant’s stall.

  “How much for my elf cup?” he asked, noting the man appeared to be sizing him up.

  “Thirty pieces,” the wizard replied.

  “Come now, you know it is worth three times that,” Meena intervened with a shake of her head.

  His back to them, Animir kept his eye on the street, watching as others moved along, not seeming to notice the trio.

  “Yes, but where is the profit in it if I give him so much?” the merchant groaned. “I must leave room to earn a few pieces for myself!”

  “I only want a fair price,” Piers replied with a frown. “Sixty pieces,” he offered.

  Pursing his lips, the shop keeper studied him, then nodded. “I’ll give you fifty, but you must sell me two. That would be a hundred for the pair.”

  Holding the dark expression, the Mate considered the trade. If he gave him the second, that would be the last of the goblets, and they had little else of value to barter. Realizing it would be hard to make any further transactions without coins, he sighed, then produced the final cup. “Here, take it.”

  Accepting the gold pieces, he dropped them into his pouch, then growled, “We need the blacksmith and someone who can sell us a few more arrows.”

  “Follow me,” Meena commanded, leading them through the maze of paths. “Will we also need water?” she asked as they moved.

  “Aye, we have waterskins, but if it will take us so many days to clear the desert, we will need a few more,” he agreed.

  “That much water will be hard to carry,” she observed.

  “You have a better idea?” he demanded, stopping to face her.

  “I can get us a water stone,” she informed him, her face grim. “It holds many times what your waterskins can carry, but the price will be steep. What else do you require besides the arrows and the weapon you seek from the blacksmith?”

  “Food,” he clipped. “We don’t want to starve to death, either.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” she promised, pointing ahead of them. “The blacksmith is in the corner, at the end of this row. Tell him of your need for arrows, and he can provide you with those as well. And I’ll need fifty of your coins,” she stated calmly, opening her hand.

  Studying her for a moment, he hesitated, not sure of her intent. Deciding he didn’t have much choice but to trust her, he worked the strings open on his pouch and poured a generous amount into the outstretched palm. “Is that enough?”

  “Yes,” she agreed, dropping them into a bag of her own. “Shall I meet you here or back at the house?”

  Scanning the market, he sighed. They had seen no sign of danger since they had arrived there, only crowds of people eager to buy and sell their pitiful wares. “The house is fine,” he agreed. Ready to finish his business there, he turned his back on her and pushed his way to the end of the row, the elf close behind.

  Stepping into the smithy’s stall, he inhaled the scent of the fire and sweat deeply, a smile curling his lips as he did so. “Hello,” he greeted the shop keeper warmly.

  “Hello,” the man before him barked. Matching the first mate in size and stature, his bright red hair stood out among the locals. “A fellow mortal of the rim,” he observed, offering his hand. “Shamus Smith.”

  “Aye,” Piers agreed, giving him a firm shake. “I’m in need of a blade for a spear and a few dozen arrows if you can swing them.”

  “Of course,” Shamus agreed. “One hundred quid and I’ll get you fixed right up!”

  “A hundred,” the Mate faltered, aware he would fall far sh
ort after what he had given the woman. “Can we trade for something else?”

  “I’m afraid I only deal in gold,” the smithy laughed.

  “Well, what can you get me then,” Piers grumbled, dumping his resources into his hand and counting them. “I have sixty-six pieces left, and it’s all that we have,” he snorted.

  Studying the lot, Shamus pursed his lips. “I have an older blade I could sell you for that. Been meaning to rework it, but it would get you by in a pinch.”

  “May I borrow your forge?”

  “Borrow my forge!” the other man laughed. “What the devil for?”

  “I’ll rework it myself,” Piers offered, pulling at his covering and shirt, revealing his broad muscled chest.

  “Well, if you insist on a new blade,” the shopkeeper laughed, accepting the coins. Placing an old strip of iron on his anvil, he grinned. “If you’re going to work it from scratch, I’ll take sixty and leave you enough for a pint at the pub when you’re done.”

  Handing him the money, Piers lifted the hunk of metal and inspected it, then set to work. Wiping soot across his sweaty brow soon after, he hammered against the hot ore, forcing it into shape.

  Watching anxiously, Animir noted the number of onlookers who had gathered around in the street. Casting his gaze over them cautiously, most seemed harmless enough, as quite a few were local women, obviously enjoying the show. He chuckled to himself, considering if they should have charged for the view.

  “Where shall we acquire the arrows?” he asked, allowing his partner to continue his work.

  “I’ll fetch them for you. Twenty you said?”

  “Two dozen I believe was the agreed sum, but twenty will suffice,” the elf agreed.

  Disappearing for a few minutes, Shamus returned with the group of shafts bound tightly with a section of twine. “Count them if you want,” he suggested as he held them out.

  Accepting the bundle, Animir gave them a quick survey, satisfied that they were very close to the right amount, if not exact. “Thanks,” he replied, throwing them over his shoulder to hang on his back. Seeing that his friend was going to be there a while, he left the stall and wandered down the way.