The Path of Dreams (The Tome of Law Book 2)

by Matthew W. Harrill

  Belyn shook his head. “Too risky. You would have to know exactly where you are going.”

  “But we would in this case,” Raoul protested. “We would be going back to Eskenberg.”

  “It is not as simple as that,” Belyn disagreed. “The room I had set aside is guarded from without. Were any of us to appear in there we would surely be dead before we managed an explanation.”

  “But they know you,” Raoul persisted.

  “They know of me, but they do not know what I look like. The whole set up was through a third party. I know the location of the room, but in order to guarantee the safety of myself and those I was dealing with, we never met. As far as they are concerned, we would just be intruders and trust me my friend, you do not want to be an intruder in that particular place.”

  Raoul slapped his hands onto his thighs in an outright gesture of defeat. “So much for a good idea.”

  “Don't give it up just yet, Raoul.” Keldron said encouragingly. “There is not much for us in Eskenberg anyway, just a whole bunch of Law wizards who were quite happy to wring our necks, and our rooms which have almost definitely been emptied of anything and everything. We have not come this far just to go back to the start.”

  “What about Obrett?”

  “He can take care of himself, and he would not want us back for our own safety.”

  Raoul frowned. “I know that we can make this focus work brothers. We just have to have faith.”

  “And time.” Belyn added. “Which is exactly what we will have when we are aboard the ship. We will have time enough to learn every square inch of its hold, and if we can get this to work, we will be able to practice it. All we should worry about now is getting on that ship in the morning. Let us go to our rooms, and get all the rest that we can.”

  The night passed comfortably for them all. The inn, as was typical in Leallyra, did not stay open late and the patrons had filed out quietly when time had been rung. Order was paramount in the city. The morning dawned, and for once they were all reluctant to rise. It was Belyn that had them all up despite their protests, battering down the doors with huge meaty fists. They ate a hurried breakfast, and with brief thanks to the innkeeper for his hospitality, the six of them were out of the inn and hastening along the promenade towards the berth of the Grotesque. Waves lapped quietly, and the air had a chilly undertone to its salty freshness. Occasionally a bigger wave would surge up, rushing against the pebbles. Few gulls could be heard at this time of the morning, for they were mostly out at sea.

  The Grotesque was in an obvious state of readiness, and all that she awaited was her passengers. A few sailors milled around the dock, ready to cast off lines Others were climbing the boarding steps, and there were several passengers also en route. Aside from that, the dock was a quiet place at this time of the morning. The sun had not yet made an appearance, as the hills up behind the city would block any sight of it for some time yet, so it was a clear blue sky that was the most heartening thing for them. It promised good weather, and this was a positive omen. The ship rocked gently, ropes straining with the tide.

  “All aboard for Rhothamy!” A man shouted out from the deck as they approached. Belyn led the way onto the ship, the two women holding tightly to the ropes behind him as they climbed the steps.

  “A good day for it,” Keldron commented to one of the sailors.

  “Aye,” the man replied as he looked up at the sky. “There be a strong breeze off shore, and we should make good time. You are the last of them. If you'll be getting aboard, we'll be off.”

  Keldron did as he was asked, and climbed the steps to the main deck of the ship. What he saw when he got there astonished him. At least a score of the tribe were awaiting them on the deck, and Malcolm and the two ladies were already amongst them, bestowing greetings and blessings. “Well I never. So this is your surprise?” he said to Belyn, who was grinning broadly.

  “It is. I could not believe that so many had made it this far when I came aboard last night, and to have them all on this ship.”

  “That is not all,” a nearby tribesman added as he overheard the discussion, “there are at least twice this number that have sailed for the Isle already.”

  “How did you all pay for this?” Raoul asked, still quite stunned.

  “We have our means,” the man replied, patting his tunic. “Just because we are not merchants, it does not mean we do not have experience at their skills.”

  Raoul nodded, accepting the point. “Well the omens get better and better, don't they?”

  “Cast off the ropes! Hoist main sail! You there, up in the rigging!” A man yelled from what must have been the wheel-deck. Suddenly amongst the crowded deck, there was a flurry of activity. Ropes were being coiled; sails dropped and billowed out as they caught the breeze. The ship lurched into action. Every one of the passengers went to the sides of the ship to lean out and watch the city behind as they started on the most momentous journey yet. The ship turned as they left the docks, but it turned to the South.

  This caused a moment of panic for Raoul. “We are going the wrong way!” He said aloud.

  “Land lubbers,” snorted a nearby sailor. The man in question came to stand between him and Belyn, who was content to watch the waves hitting the promenade they had walked up the evening before. “We have to go this way because of the shallows, mate. That's why there are three docks, because shallows are dotted around that will ground those that do not know the routes. This city is safe as houses because only the sailors guild from Leallyra know the proper way through.”

  “Oh,” was Raoul's short reply.

  The man clapped him on the shoulder. “Don't worry, matey, we will make a sailor of you yet! We have a huge journey before us.”

  “I am not doing any of that,” Raoul announced, “I am a paying guest.”

  The sailor looked at Belyn. “You haven't told him yet have you?”

  Belyn looked a trifle embarrassed. “No I haven't. I was going to break it to him gently.”

  Raoul frowned with suspicion at the both of them. “What do you mean?”

  “I uh… had to sign one proviso to get us on board, my friend. We are part of the crew.”

  “You what? We are… I am not…” Raoul was pretty much lost for words at this point.

  “It's okay, matey,” the sailor said in reply, “we can always send you back to the docks. The swim is not too bad from here.”

  Raoul looked at them in a state of desperation. “I am cursed, I swear it.” He stomped off to somewhere he could be alone.

  It was at this point that Malcolm and the two ladies returned from their sightseeing. “Am I right in hearing what I thought I heard?” Malcolm said to Belyn. “Are we all signed onto be sailors?”

  Belyn heaved a sigh. “Yes that is the case. It was the only way. If you are not happy?” He left the question hanging.

  “On the contrary,” Keldron said, his face brightening at the prospect. “They are all looking forward to it.” The others murmured comments of agreement.

  “That is good then, for you shall all be having plenty of experience of a sailor's life before the end of this journey.” A voice spoke to them from behind the cluster of people, a voice accompanied by a rather odd smell. They turned and were mostly surprised to find themselves faced by a pirate who had a pinched little nose, and large eyes, almost making him look a bit like a cat. “Go find that miserable wizard,” he ordered the sailor. “Let us see how he finds a watch in the crow's nest.”

  “Aye Captain,” the sailor replied, and moved away.

  “Captain Flynn.” Belyn offered his hand, which the man took in a firm shake.

  “Wizard. So these are your companions, are they?” He looked them over one by one.

  Yerdu stared defiantly back at the man. “I suspect that the reason for the ship's name stands before us.”

  The sailor chuckled. “Aye, this is your captain speaking lass. There could be no finer name for such a magnificent ship than that of her mas
ter. We could have had 'Flynn's Revenge' or some such name, but at the time my then wife and I were not on the best of terms, and she provided the name when ridiculing my face.”

  “It is appropriate.” Yerdu said.

  Flynn let out a bellow of a laugh. “Ye Gods I like this one. She must be your wench, wizard.” That simple comment stopped Yerdu in her tracks. Her black hair bristled with indignation, and she turned away to look at the sea.

  “So what do we do now, captain?” Belyn asked, openly amused that somebody had managed to silence Yerdu for once.

  “My first mate, Benson, will show you around the ship, allocate your quarters and such. Once you have all your gear stowed, we will begin to show you a bit more of the life of a sailor. It will make true men, and women out of you.” With a nod the cat-faced pirate left them to their own devices.

  “Ooo would you look at that,” Joleen said as she looked out over the sea. They turned towards the city, and as they did so the Grotesque passed the tip of the southernmost dock. Directly behind it stood the Ducal Palace. It was a great wide building, built of the same stone as the rest of the city but on a much grander scale. Its magnificence belied the previous view. Great windows abounded, bordered by pillars that looked as if they had been carved where they stood. A blue flag with a white star hung fluttering slightly in the breeze, the flag of the Duke of Ciaharr. A similar pennant had been hoisted on the mast of the Grotesque, thus proclaiming its origins. The city spread up the gentle incline behind the palace, making the view from the deck of the ship all the more imposing. That was not the only reason it appeared so. In front of the palace there were four cutters, armed to the teeth with cannon and archery platforms. Similar positions had been built into the dock itself.

  “Nobody is going to gain those docks without a fight,” Keldron observed.

  “They would be fools to try,” said a deep voice from behind them. Joleen and Keldron both turned to find a tall man with dark hair standing a few steps away from them. He wore dark blue clothes more like a uniform than the scrappy rags of the other sailors. “With the defences of the city coupled with the maze-like qualities of the shallows, only those that sail from this city would know how to raid it, and they are all accounted for as members of our sailors guild. Only the foolhardiest of pirates would even attempt it.”

  “Would you be the First Mate?” Joleen asked him warmly.

  He smiled, a big, easy smile that emitted confidence like a master at work. “My name is Benson. You may call me Jared.”

  “Jared,” Joleen replied, a dreamy look on her face.

  Keldron did his best to hide his irritation. It was not like him to have such feelings, but the effect the first mate was having on Joleen was quite unnerving. “Are you going to show us to our quarters?”

  Benson moved his alluring gaze to Keldron, and the wizard suddenly understood that this was the way the man was with everybody. He was not some hawk out to prey on unwary passengers; he was just a man of supreme confidence. “Indeed I am, master magician. If you will all follow me.”

  Looking at the way Joleen suddenly followed the man, Keldron felt resigned to a difficult journey ahead. “Roll on Rhothamy,” he grumbled under his breath.

  Chapter Twelve

  Zya marvelled at how her luck seemed such a double-edged blade. Since returning to Bay's Point she had experienced joy and pain in rapid succession. She entered the city life and peace with her family in moments, and just as quick was taken from them by Ralnor Scott, who had known she was returning. She had found the answers that she sought, and yet they only led to hardships. She was not sure which defined her current situation. She looked over at the table in her room, at the seven stones that rested in their stands. They defied her, presenting a challenge that she had just had to take a step back from. Her task was to decide which stone best suited her characteristics as a human being. The trouble was that she did not see any obvious differences in them. They were all grey, dull and had polished surfaces. They were all of a uniform shape, a little larger than an egg. How was she supposed to differentiate? If it wasn't for the fact that it felt right to have accepted the offer of an initiate's post at the Earthen Cleric's Guild, she would have walked out. Her feelings told her she had something to learn here. Feelings were the problem. She was not allowed to do anything by instinct. There had to be proof, and proof that her tutor could see. The infuriatingly polite Ralnor Scott had told her that this task measured her ability beyond all other, and would continue to do so. She thought back to the day that she had met the strange little man. He had a cold handshake, and his eyes looked in different directions. She could not help but stare at them whenever he was in the room with her. He also had a way about him. Quiet, but authoritative from the moment they had met. He had been nearby on guild business when she had collapsed. He had trailed them as far as he could and then just waited until he saw somebody he recognised. That was the way that he put it of course. Zya didn't believe a word of it. When pressed, the man would shut tight like one of the shellfish that were so popular at stalls in the harbour. He had made an eloquent offer. More out of curiosity than anything else she had accepted her place, on the proviso that she could come and go to visit her family. That had rankled him, but he had relented.

  The biggest surprise for Zya had been when he led her to a building very close to the kitchen that she had worked in. They entered through a grand opening, all doors and columns decorated in various earthen hues. He had given her a tour of the building, introducing her to many other initiates, and several of the more prominent members of the guild. It had not been what she expected. Everyone was dedicated to the Earth, studying and understanding it. The whole building had an aura of peace, the complete opposite to the manic rush of life outside of the guild walls. That had been the major factor in Zya's decision to remain. What had also convinced her was the feeling that she just belonged in the guild. It was only when they approached the kitchens that she realised they were the exact rooms that she had been working in. She was astonished, as was Ralnor, that she had been under the eaves of the guild for so long and not even known it, and from that point on she had attempted to study under Ralnor's tutelage.

  “So here we go again,” she said, half in annoyance at herself as she stood over the stones once more. “What would Ralnor say?” She thought for a moment, before breaking into an impression of the little man. “In all fairness, Zya, you have the tools to find the solution. It's all there, right in front of you. Use them and job done! It's all solved.” This light-hearted moment cheered her, and Zya's heart felt less heavy. Things were definitely different with this problem. When there was something she could not understand, he would not explain, but would sit there and stare at her with the slightest of grins on his face. He knew the answer, but would never tell her unless she became so worked up that she was tying herself in knots. This was such an occasion, but it seemed that he was desperate for her to find the true path herself. She paused in the motions of picking up one of the rocks. That had been the one rule he had set.

  “Touch the rocks, and the test is over. Why should I not be allowed to touch them? What is so special about seven little stone eggs that I am not allowed to handle any of them without failing the test?” Banging her fist on the table hurt her hand more than vented her anger. She shoved the chair back, and stomped over to the window. There was not much to see out there, but it proved a sufficient distraction, allowing her to calm and compose herself once more. There was a clear view of the Duke's Tower, from which the monotonous tone of the bell rang away the watches while daylight passed, and there was a distant street that appeared in a small gap between the rooftops of the guild and an adjacent building. Not many people used it, mostly the menial staff of the guild. It had taken her a while to figure out what was so familiar about it, but then she realised that it led to the entrance that she herself had once used. Still, it was nice to be able to see the Ducal Palace without any hindrance. The immense vaulted roof and numerous wings
capped what looked almost to be a private city. There were certainly streets in the area surrounding it, but she did not know who lived there, nor was anybody willing to talk about it. The walled enclosure went right up to the sea though. Most odd for an open planned city. Knowing that she was distracting herself, Zya returned to the conundrum of the seven stones. She passed her hand close to one of them and closed her eyes. “Seek what not you can see, but what is hidden behind the veil that obscures sight.” She spoke aloud to herself, wondering where the phrase came from. It was either her father or the unnamed woman that had given her the understanding to realise that her dreams meant more to her than to many others. It made sense though, as she was much more able to clear her mind and focus on the problem in front of her. She reached out, seeking the ovular shape ahead, and sensed nothing. Something drew her hand left. On pure instinct, she moved with the sensation, following the unseen path to the source of the feeling. The feeling grew as she hovered her hand over another of the stones. It felt warmer, and there was a notion that she could only describe as right. Testing herself, Zya moved her hand further to the left, and the only response she felt was that she should move her hand back. Doing so, she opened her eyes. The third stone from the left, one off of the middle. It looked no different to the others. It was grey and dull, with the occasional blemish in its polished surface. There was definitely something different about it despite the ordinary exterior. “I touch the stone and it is the end of the test,” she said aloud to herself. “Touch the stone…. Touch the stone….” She grinned impishly, and stepped across to the open door. Peering out of the room, it was clear that nobody was around. Ralnor had left her to the test a good long while before, and two bells had rung since then. She closed the door as quietly as was possible, thanking Ilia for her divine guidance in reminding whomever responsible to keep the hinges oiled. The door shut with the barely audible click of the handle as Zya eased it up. She was now ready. There was no other way to test her theory without doing this, so as she prayed that nobody would walk past she tipped the table until the stones fell out of their stands and rolled off the edge. One fell, then another, and another. They all made the dull sounds of stone hitting stone, with neither stone nor floor yielding and breaking. Two more rolled down, which they were she could not see as it took all of her concentration to lift the edge of the table. There was a thud and a crack. The final two stones rolled down, making a total of seven. She dropped the heavy table back to its feet with relief. “I miss the open road,” she said to nobody but herself and the four walls surrounding her. Zya was fitter and stronger as a traveller, but there was no call for physical tasks in the confines of a chamber. Anticipation flooded her as she stepped around the table to look at what she had done. Seven stones lay on the floor by the edge of the table, and her joy crumbled into frustration and defeat. Seven stones that looked no different to the seven stones that had been on the table. All grey, all dull and all still in one piece. She sat back onto her chair, legs crossed under her, and contemplated the test. Her instinct told her the stones were different. What it had not shown her was any proof, and that was what Ralnor expected. It was not enough to know that there was a difference, that there was a way around things. He needed to see evidence of that. For him the easiest option was never the best one, and he had let her know that in no uncertain terms. What instinct told her, evidence told him. She decided that this was not a time for evidence, and closed her eyes once more, reaching for the stone that she knew was different. Her feelings guided her to it. It was a red source of warmth beneath her hand, and as she knelt down, she felt herself reach into it. The feeling came in a moment of revelation to Zya, who had never before felt inside the structure of the stones, just over the surface. Her stone was different to all the others in one particular way: At its core the stone was hollow. There had indeed been a break as one of the stones hit the floor. She felt through the stone for anything wrong. There was a crack along one edge, a hairline fracture that would reveal the difference to her should she have the nerve to reach for it. She was certain now that this was the stone that needed to be selected, and she kept her eyes closed as she reached for it, lest sight put her off. The stone glowed with invisible warmth as she picked it up, and as she opened her eyes, she could see a crack in the narrow end of the stone. Just a little flick of the wrist, and the top fell off, as if somebody had cracked the top off of an egg. She looked inside, and was instantly ensorcelled by the beauty within. Despite the tiny aperture, Zya could see how the grey of the outer stone faded and became clear as crystals grew out. The clear filaments turned a vivid purple before becoming white at their tips. When she caught the light correctly, the crystals lit up with a violet fire. Reflecting light onto their neighbours, it was enough to stun the senses. This was definitely a different stone. Almost reverently, she picked up the top of the stone, and placed it back so that it formed a whole once more. Strangely enough the top did not fall off, but fit like the final piece of a puzzle.