by David Rice
The Captain reappeared at the rail. His voice remained stern but was coloured with a warmer tone. “If I take you, can I see your fabled ships?”
Cinn smiled as he concentrated. He nodded but was too focused to speak.
“Yes,” Kirsten yelled. “Yes! Of course!” She looked back at her Papa. “We’ll need a cot for one of our injured.” Then looked back to the Captain. “Thank you!”
Captain Engram, Master of The Evalyn, Rounder of The Hook, Robber of the Chancellor’s Cache, and Friend of the Rajala, shivered in wonder. “All I wanted to do as a boy was fish,” he said quietly to himself. Then his face hardened once more and he barked commands. “Ropes!” he called out. “And slings for the horses and their injured.”
***
Once The Evalyn safely had the ocean under her keel and the breeze biting her sails,
Captain Engram took a moment to drop into the forward cabin to speak with his latest guests. “So,” he began, tightly amiable, “I’m Engram, Master o’ this fine ship, an’ I’d like to be knowing more of your business now, starting with names.”
Cinn held up an open palm. “Cinderstream of the Salt Isles.” He nodded towards his companions.
“Grumm Rockbottom of Thunderwall.”
“Olaf—of the Barley Hills—north of Halnn.”
Engram turned an eye towards Kirsten. “And you, young lady?”
“Kirsten Starwatcher,” she said.
Engram’s expression twitched. “And this is your Papa?” Kirsten nodded, and then regretted her response.
Engram frowned. “So, the rumours were true. He didn’t die after all.”
Kirsten put her hand on the pommel of her sword. “What you you mean by that?”
”Lornen still wants him dead. That’s a bit of a complication for me. Some of my crew might talk.”
“Lornen’s dead,” Kirsten stated flatly.
Engram’s eyes widened. “So that would leave Koppinger in charge?” he mumbled to himself. “Well, that changes things in a hurry.” Engram held up both hands and sat down on a bench. “No offence meant.” He began to chuckle and then stopped when he saw the tension of Kirsten’s posture. “I—It’s sad to see your dad like that. Old before his time.”
Kirsten nodded.
“You know, he had some hand in making sea travel safer for us all—but I didn’t know that he had a daughter—well, not for sure.”
Kirsten relaxed her hand but it stayed beside her sword. “How could you know that?”
Engram grinned with subdued embarrassment. “It’s the docks. Rumours are like kisses and drinks there.” Seeing Kirsten’s scowl grow, Engram hurried to continue. “Your mom—an’ her mom—they were born an’ bred in the docks like me, you see, an’ everyone knew yer mom— I mean, everyone knew of her beauty. It’s why the Prince hired her for your Papa’s tower. We all thought she’d be free of the worst, you know—”
“My mom?” Kirsten squeaked. “My—mom?”
Engram softened his tone with apology. “I’m sorry if I’m offending you in some way, Miss. I mean we all thought she’d done good, an’ by marrying an army officer, well that made her a real success story in the eyes o’ so many.”
Kirsten rocked back on her heels and the stomped to the far side of the cabin. When she turned, she was staring at her Papa’s limp form but her voice was a razor aimed at Engram. She pulled back her hair to display the shape of her ears. “My mother is from the Salt Isles, sir,” she hissed. Then the full realization of Engram’s words sunk in. Kirsten sat down abruptly and she whispered angrily. “I’ve think I’ve met the mom you’re talking about. She was no beauty. And your gossip—that’s about—” Kirsten’s face turned red.
“Sister?” Engram’s voice dried up. He cleared his throat quickly and turned to face Cinn. “What course, Master Cinderstream?”
“Just Cinn. West-northwest.” He stood and gestured towards the door. “I’d like to enjoy the sea air, Captain?”
“Of course,” Engram replied. They hurried from the cabin.
“You have a sister?” Grumm puzzled.
“That’s exciting,” Olaf added. “What’s her name?”
Kirsten took a deep breath. “I had quite a few for her, actually. But her mom called her Leonara.”
Grumm coughed. “I’m going to lean over the rail for a bit,” he mumbled, and swaggered against the rock of the ship towards the cabin door.
Olaf grimaced. “You need help cleaning your Papa?”
Kirsten’s reply was crisp. “I’ll change him myself. But getting him clean? No,” she spat. “That’s on him.”
Olaf slipped out of the cabin but he could still hear Kirsten’s angry shout.
“I know you can hear me, Papa. You lied to all of us, and that’s all on you now.”
***
Kirsten hardly spoke or slept for the remainder of the journey. Grumm’s stomach gradually adjusted to the motions of the ship, although his sea-legs were never under him for long. Olaf felt lighter and happier with every day’s travel away from the threat of drakes or Halnnish assassins. And Cinn, he shivered with anticipation for the homeland he hadn’t embraced in decades.
Cinn encouraged Engram to dare the thick fog, and Engram trusted the elf’s directions for each change of course. What choice did he have? The sails were slack and the current pulled them wherever Cinn whistled.
Like an explosion of sudden light, the sun was upon them, the sea sparkled like countless green-blue gems, and the redwood arches of Salt Isles’ longhouses seemed to sprout from the coastline. The waters lapped the approaching docks, and flocks of sea birds soared high and lazy overhead.
Engram’s entire crew raced to the rails or called out from the rigging. They laughed and hooted for no other coast had ever held so much vivid beauty as this.
“Your home. It really exists,” Engram exclaimed. “And its—incredible.”
Cinn dropped to one knee, his hands heavy upon the rail.
Engram turned quickly. “What’s wrong?”
“My people,” he replied, his eyes filling with confusion. “They’re gone.”
The Evalyn glided up to one of countless open spaces on the redwood piers. Without a word, Cinn dropped from the boat and sprinted towards the distant buildings.
“Everyone else, kindly wait for the ramp,” Engram barked.
Once the ramp was deployed, Kirsten led the group ashore. Four of The Evalyn’s crew carried Muren in a litter. Once on dry land, Kirsten pushed away her awe for enough time to indicate a shaded area where he could rest.
“Cinn?” she shouted. “Hello?”
The massive open framed buildings echoed her voice.
“Where are they?” she asked, frustration building. She looked at Grumm and Olaf then pointed at her Papa. “Wait here. Keep an eye on him.”
Grumm sat down immediately. “Real ground,” he cooed.
Olaf rubbed his belly. “Real food is what I’m interested in.”
Kirsten ran from building to building. Each one seemed the same. They were tidy. Storage cupboards were sealed against the weather, and there were many places where shadows or marks upon the wood suggested furniture had once rested there and been well used.
But it was all missing. She rushed to the farthest end of the largest longhouse and screamed into the thick woods. “Mother!” She screamed it again and again until her legs
wobbled and she sank to the timber floor, and wept herself dry.
A few birds flew away. The rest of the forest’s life carried on.
Dragging her feet like anchors, Kirsten returned to her friends before sunset. Olaf had discovered one of their cooking pits gracefully hidden in the floor and had started a small fire.
The gnome had placed Muren’s cot along the edge of the fire’s warmth.
“No sign of Cinn?” Kirsten asked.
Olaf shook his head sadly. “No sign of your mother?”
Kirsten’s entire body vibrated as she sat down, facing the tree line,
but did not answer.
Grumm kept watch, occasionally tossing a worried look towards Kirsten.
“They kept pots and spoons and everything we might need stored right under the planks,” Olaf spoke up. “As if they were going to return. Maybe your mother will be right back?”
Kirsten grumbled and thumped the floor with her heel.
“She won’t be back,” came the unexpected reply.
Everyone turned towards Cinn who had suddenly appeared along with an older elf in turquoise and sea green.
“Where have you been?” Kirsten snapped. “Where did everyone go? Who’s that?”
“This is Loremaster Lian,” Cinn explained. “He has stayed behind to guard our libraries.”
The older elf studied Kirsten with a measured eye and bowed modestly.
Kirsten launched to her feet and strode towards them all. “Where is my mother?”
“Don’t be petulant,” the loremaster stated. He held up a hand. “One wave at a time.”
Kirsten stopped in her tracks and vibrated.
”I’m making soup,” Olaf offered.
The loremaster sniffed the fumes emanating from the cooking pit and his face curved with disappointment. “Let me help you,” he offered. “Please.”
“I asked you a question,” Kirsten snipped.
Cinn put his hand on Kirsten’s shoulder and she shrugged it away. “Calmly,” he said. “Or you will break every chance for help that we have.”
“There have been many days of excitement and sadness, argument and action,” the loremaster responded while working on their meal. “Understanding must be built like a ship. In
the proper order.”
Cinn smiled to himself.
Kirsten winced. Another elder who made games with words.
“Soup, first,” Loremaster Lian smiled. “Then answers.”
***
Lian sat back from where he had spent much time huddled over Muren.
“So?” Kirsten prompted. “Can you help him?”
“He wrestles with two weaves, one recent and one older,” Liam calmly began, “The weaver of the most recent is now dead so he might soon be free of its effects if he chooses.”
Kirsten glared at her Papa and waited for the elder to continue.
“The older weaving is lodged in his heart and began by shaping his own impulses. This makes it stronger.”
Kirsten sat forward. “But you can undo it? Tell me you can.”
“I cannot. Only the weaver may release him. Then the choice will be entirely his.”
Kirsten’s face twisted. “It was my mother, wasn’t it?” Lian nodded.
“So where is she? Where has everyone gone?”
Cinn held up his palm. “Our people left once a drake appeared. They are sailing west towards a land that might not exist.”
“It exists,” Lian corrected. “But The One has sealed it from all harm with mountains and oceans.”
“Another land?” Kirsten perked up. “I don’t understand. Everyone lives here.”
Lian smiled enigmatically. “Before the elves, the One created his true first children. Innocent, pure, and incapable of change.”
“How can there be another sort of children of the One?” Kirsten puzzled. “Aren’t the elves the Eldest? That would make you the first.”
Lian’s smile widened. “I contend that we refer to ourselves as the eldest because we live the longest. Although, the ancient fragments suggest the first children are unchanging and therefore immortal.”
Cinn grinned in embarrassment. “Those tales aren’t literal. It’s an allegory about growing from childhood to adulthood.”
Lian did not argue. “Perhaps. Or they exist. Elsewhere.”
Cinn scoffed. “To the west? Have all of our kin sailed west to chase some distant hope?”
Kirsten felt her heart tingle at the notion. Wasn’t life all about chasing hope?
“Let’s go back to the drake,” Olaf blurted. “A drake came here? But I don’t see any signs of fire. How can that be?”
“This drake was unique in its suffering,” Lian stated. “It bore unhealing wounds. A web of burns along its face and side. Weeping tears in its wings.”
“I don’t care about the cursed drake,” Kirsten interrupted. “And I don’t have time to read any children’s stories. If my mother can heal my Papa then we need to go to her now. If that means sailing after their boats, so be it.”
Cinn glared at Kirsten. “Be patient. There’s more to hear.”
Kirsten bit her lip and fumed.
Lian sighed and took several moments to collect his thoughts. “After the drake had alighted upon our most removed outcrop, we veiled it in fog and impressed upon it the compulsion to leave. The drake was too weak to fully comply so we did the unthinkable. We healed the beast so it would go away.”
“It didn’t turn and eat you?” Grumm exclaimed.
“No.” Lian bowed slightly. “Mercy is a powerful language, it seems.”
Grumm sat back, his universe realigned abruptly. “So, you’re content with making the drake someone else’s problem?”
Cinn winced. Lian ignored the comment.
Kirsten spoke up. “What of my mother and the rest of our people?”
Lian examined Kirsten’s features carefully. “I can see much of Alandris in you. She was an inquisitive loremother, and my friend. But it was her own impulsive nature that prevented her from joining the rest of our people on their voyage.”
Kirsten’s temper flared and only Cinn’s voice prevented an eruption. “Where is my aunt, if not with her people?” Cinn asked. His face paled. “Were the rumours of judgement true?”
“Judgement?” Kirsten snipped.
Lian nodded, his eyes filling with regret. “She had broken a key tenet. She had willfully mothered a child, and she had used sparkweaving as the snare.”
“What?” Kirsten exclaimed. “She charmed Papa?” Kirsten’s voice slid towards hysterics. ”Ballok was lying? Ballok was lying!”
Cinn raised an eyebrow.
“The elves of Longwood called me an abomination because I was half-elven!”
Lian’s sadness expanded. “Their views are misguided,” he said. “You are not an abomination. Cinn has told me how you have wielded your sword and faced the drakes to protect others.”
Kirsten’s voice lowered and she shivered as she spoke. “You’re right. I’m not an abomination.”
Lian shook his head no. “Child,” he added. “You are innocent, and your talents a gift. Even now I sense that you seek to help your father, perhaps even redeem your mother. There is no higher purpose than that.”
Tears burst from Kirsten and she turned away. “Where has my mother gone?”
Liam looked down, as did Cinn. “Sadly,” the elder stated, “it is the one place that you cannot go.”
“Where?” Kirsten demanded.
“Xlaesin,” Cinn answered. “Your mother was sentenced to travel to Xlaesin to bolster the weave or serve the One in whatever capacity deemed necessary.”
Kirsten jumped to her feet. “My mother makes a mistake and she is cursed with eternal slavery or slow death on an ice flow?”
Lian nodded. “That is far from poetic.”
The Fahde was in Kirsten’s hand in an instant, and the blade was at the loremaster’s throat, its gem filling the longhouse with blinding radiance.
“So, if I commit a crime, would I have to go, too?” she snarled.
“Kirsten! No!” Cinn and Grumm yelled together.
The loremaster pulled away, shaking. “There is no quorum for such decisions.” He looked pleadingly at Cinn. “But we saved a boat for you, and for me. In case you returned and wished to follow our people.”
Kirsten withdrew the blade. “So, there’s an elven boat that could take us to Xlaesin?” The loremaster hid his face.
“I think that means yes,” Olaf offered.
“Fine,” Kirsten replied as she sheathed the Fahde. “There’s just a few co
nditions—”
***
Kirsten helped lift her Papa into the center of the dual hulled elven ship. Once he was secured in the aft cabin of leathers, furs, wood, and silks, she sat back and vented openly. “The entire Salt Isles heals a drake that could have destroyed them—and who knows who else, but curses my mother for something profoundly less serious?”