A little hesitant at first, Floanne soon became more animated as she shared some of the family’s most popular stories of her favorite relative. The slight angle of the deck, as the ship swung out into the channel, went completely unnoticed by either woman.
***
Chaska watched from the rail of the pirate ship as the Port of Argo appeared in the distance. His initial excitement over being chosen for this mission by his master, the Scarred Mage, faded as the reality of his situation came into view. He would have to act the part of a slave, but what exactly did that mean?
From his earliest memories, he’d been treated with respect and given special treatment because of his potential. Three years ago, when that potential finally burst forth and his true power manifested itself, even the Dark Lord took notice. He was still required to perform his duties and work alongside the other apprentices, but he soon eclipsed them in their studies and level of control.
None of that would serve him now. His master had made it very clear while attaching the life-thread; Chaska was not to use his power in any way. His sole purpose was to befriend the young man from Marlinor and gain his confidence. As powerful as he was, a sorcerer was no match for the young Deluti. He would have one chance, and one only, to snare Navon in a moment of weakness. He would either succeed or die.
The Captain bellowed out orders for the crew to prepare for entering port. Satisfied with the level of activity he observed and confident in the ability of his first mate, the Captain turned the ship over and approached the young sorcerer. In his hands was a pair of chains and shackles.
“I don’t know what you did to deserve this, and I don’t want to know. I learned long ago not to question the orders of Lord Scorpious. From this moment on, your life will change.” He snapped the cuffs over Chaska’s wrists, and then bent down to attach the ankle chains. “You will wear these chains until you reach the city of the Shadhuin. They are a rigid, close mouthed lot, but I’ve heard they treat their slaves well.”
Chaska struggled to control a surge of panic when he realized the chains effectively cut him off from his power. He doubted the Captain was aware these were a leftover from the Deluti Age used to control enemy sorcerers. A final calming breath allowed him to speak.
“They will remove these chains?”
“Of course. The chains are only to prevent you from running away while in the port. Once you reach their city, attempting to run would be foolish unless you can outrun a horse.”
Unless I’m on a horse of my own, Chaska thought, returning the Captain’s smile.
The Captain checked the attitude of the ship and the distance to the port with a quick glance, and turned back to the young man. “Come, we will be docking soon, and our contact will be waiting for you on the pier. He has been told the reason for your captivity is for a debt you were unable to pay. The Shadhuin will assume that debt, and you will work for them until they feel the debt has been repaid.”
The first mate gauged their approach perfectly. Lines were tossed to the pier and the ship docked with barely a bump. The Captain led Chaska over to the gangway and helped him step up.
“Remember, work hard, watch your tongue, and your ordeal will soon be over.”
As the young sorcerer carefully made his way down the narrow gangway to the burly man waiting there, he was afraid the Captain’s words might be true in more ways than he could imagine.
***
Navon’s days quickly fell into a routine of trips back and forth from the lake to the water troughs outside the city, ensuring all the animals had feed and keeping the area clean. His sense of isolation continued to deepen as the opportunities for conversation with Jamar were few. At least he had a place he could think of as his own since the elder reassured Navon the room was his for the duration of the sentence.
Their respective schedules left time for nothing more than the occasional greeting. Navon would rise in the morning before Jamar, since the elder sometimes stayed away late into the night. Even Moshere had only stopped by twice to see how he was getting along. Navon’s new master, Elder Atora, kept him busy most of the day caring for both the Brothers and the many beasts of burden. Not that the elder displayed any sign of disdain toward the young man, he was concerned for the animals under his care and had no time for the problems of others.
Every time Navon approached the lake to fill his buckets, the memory of the incredible vision shown to him by the Amulet would enter his thoughts. The constant physical labor freed his mind to pick at the details of that memory. If he let his senses wander and then focus on a particular object, details not visible to the eye would emerge. The grain of the wood used to make the buckets emerged revealing the health of the tree. Cracks in the stone, invisible to the eye, became like fissures in his sight.
He spent more time now with the other Brothers than ever before, opening his awareness of their thoughts a little more each time. In the morning and evening, when he replenished their bins with hay and grain, it was like walking into a crowded room. He was aware of conversations all around, but not quite able to pick out the individual speakers. Moshere was not surprised at Navon’s increased sensitivities and took it all in stride.
Early in the morning, Navon began to fill the first buckets of the day in the endless chore of keeping the water troughs full. Buckets in hand, he was about to return to the stable outside the city when a scream of pain and terror flooded the young man’s mind and forced him to his knees.
He was up and running before being aware of the destination, and quickly identified the cry as coming from one of the Brothers and not a human. The mental voice carried the feel of youth behind it and came from somewhere near the stables. Overriding the pain was a fear so powerful, Navon had to fight the urge to curl into a ball and hide in a dark corner.
Exiting the city, he not only had to force his way through a wall of sadness and anger, but also the Brothers who crowded the area projecting those emotions. Many were reluctant to let him pass. He continued to push his way through, ignoring them as best he could. His entire being was focused on the mind of the young Brother somewhere ahead.
Elder Atora’s deep voice, alternating between anger and pleading, led Navon directly to a scene he never expected. The elder, knife in hand, confronted an animated Moshere who stood protectively over a colt lying motionless on the ground. Both the colt’s forelegs lay at an unnatural angle. How that had happened was only a fleeting thought as Navon’s own anger erupted.
“Everyone, stop!”
The silence that resulted from his command, both verbal and mental, was quickly broken by Elder Atora who turned his blade on Navon and began hurling what sounded like accusations and threats. The words came too fast for the young Deluti to fully understand as his attention was focused elsewhere.
The moment Navon locked eyes with Moshere; he fell into a maelstrom of emotions and visions that stirred up the power resting deep inside his soul. The elder Brother broke contact, shaking his head. Atora looked on in disbelief as Moshere turned back to Navon and went down on one foreleg. For the first time, Moshere’s thoughts were clear and carefully expressed to ensure the young man understood.
“Elishere is my only son. Heal him or guide him into death. You have the power. Never should he feel edge of blade.”
The amulet hanging from Navon’s neck awoke and made him aware of an imbalance in his life. He had taken the lives of two innocents out on the plains and must restore life in order to compensate. Whether the power and confidence came from the amulet or rose up from inside him no longer mattered.
Motioning Moshere to rise, Navon hugged his friend around the neck, turned to the silent elder and addressed him in perfect Shadhuin.
“Put away your blade, Elder Atora. It will not taste blood this day. Now, either assist me in restoring Elishere’s legs, or stay out of my way.”
Either the command in the young Deluti’s voice or the power that blazed from his eyes sent the elder rushing to bring water and blanket
s. Navon sat on the ground next to Elishere and laid his hand on the colt. Opening his senses to the young one, he drew the fear and pain into himself and then passed them on to Moshere who stood nearby. Once the colt was calm and pain free, he began.
Navon’s newfound ability to un-focus and then focus inside, guided him as he carefully lifted the first leg onto his lap and began the arduous task of knitting together the ragged edges of shattered bone and torn muscles. Bone fused to bone, returning to the proper alignment. The outside world faded into darkness as the amulet guided him deeper to touch and repair severed nerves and broken blood vessels.
It was fortunate Elishere was in excellent health as Navon drew on the colt’s energy reserves to drive his body’s natural healing. He also drew strength from Moshere and several other volunteer Brothers, pressing on until not even a hint of a fracture remained in either leg. It took Navon a moment to realize the amulet no longer guided, but was encouraging him to un-focus. Once he did, oblivion overtook him.
The onlookers drawn to the scene that morning had departed long ago. There was nothing to see, and they certainly didn’t understand what was happening. Atora sent someone to find Elder Jamar as soon as Navon fell into a trance-like state. One or the other elder was always at the young man’s side as they watched in fear and awe.
Neither could detect the movement of Navon’s hands, but move they did. Hours passed as first one foreleg and then the other returned to normal. The swelling diminished and the ragged edges of the break, which showed through the skin, smoothed out and disappeared. The elders shared a look of concern when first Moshere, and then the other Brothers, sank to the ground, their bodies deflated, while Elishere’s filled out and glowed.
Jamar was the first to reach out; catching Navon as the young man’s hands dropped and he fell to one side. Elishere raised his head, gently pulled his legs off of Navon’s lap and stood. Several experimental steps later, he bent down to nuzzle the side of his healer’s face. He hurried over to Moshere and lay down next to his sire, resting his head on the elder Brother’s chest.
The two men watched and then turned to stare at each other in wonder. Elder Atora started to speak, but Jamar silenced him with a curt headshake.
“Don’t ask, Atora. I do not know the answers to your questions. What I do know is that the young man will need to sleep. Come, help me get him back to his room, and then we’ll care for the Brothers.”
As they walked back to the city, supporting Navon between them, Jamar worried. I may not know the answers, my old friend, but I’m afraid our lives will never be the same.
Chapter Seventeen ~ Acceptance
“. . . and then Grandmother said to him, ‘Majesty, if you didn’t want me to gaze upon the magnificence of your royal manhood, you shouldn’t be traipsing around like a little boy who’s forgotten his pants’.”
Laughing, Ronald threw back his head and bumped it against the bulkhead. “Ow,” he muttered, his sheepish grin setting off another round of laughter.
Floanne’s excellent imitation of an old woman, and her descriptions, made it easy for Sofia to picture the scene. Struggling to regain her composure, she gasped, “What did Mother have to say after that?”
“After the Queen sent him to their room with a smack on his bare cheek, she hugged Grandmother. Still laughing, your mother said, ‘I’ve never seen him so red faced and speechless at the same time. Thank you’. Of course, she told Grandmother never to tell anyone.”
“Well, she must have told someone.” Sofia pointed out; slightly offended one of the servants had disobeyed the Queen.
“Oh, Grandmother had to tell Mother and me so we wouldn’t be caught in the same situation. Please forgive me. I thought enough time had passed that I could share the story with you.”
The Princess leaned back, closed her eyes, and let the gentle motion of the ship, and the sounds that penetrated their small cabin, bring her back to the present. Straightening, she laid a hand on her former maidservant’s knee. “It’s alright, Floanne. All that is in the past, and I must look to the future now. But tell me, did your grandmother ever explain to you why you shouldn’t leave the Palace?”
Floanne shook her head. “No, she never had the chance. It’s strange; I remember when I was very young her telling me she had an important family secret to pass on when I got older. At breakfast on the day she died, she said it was time and to come see her that night.”
“Wasn’t that when she was in charge of my sister, Darnelle?” Sofia asked, struggling to remember.
“Yes, Grandmother was very unhappy then, but wouldn’t tell anyone why. It’s still a mystery how she died. They found her face down on the floor in her room, and the Palace physician was at a loss as to what had happened.”
The ship dropped sharply and began a slow rise. Floanne, eyes wide, stared at Ronald and whispered, “Are we sinking?”
The former lieutenant sprang to his feet, stumbled with the movement of the ship, and headed for the door. “I don’t think so, but I’ll check.”
He returned a short time later, smiling. “The ship is fine. One of the sailors told me that as we get farther out into the Straits, what he called a deep swell will occasionally come along, raise the ship high up and drop us way down. The water actually looks pretty flat. Care to look?”
Floanne’s emphatic head shake made it clear she wasn’t moving, so Sofia got up to join him outside. They made their way to the rail and stood quietly watching their homeland diminish behind them. Eventually it would be lost to sight altogether. It wasn’t until they glanced down at the water flowing past that the speed of the ship became real. Sofia craned her neck to stare up at the tapestry of sails humming in the wind. She couldn’t help but fill her lungs with the crisp, moisture laden air.
“Did you ever dream of being a sailor, Ronald?”
“No, not really. Oh, I fantasized swinging from one ship to another, sword in hand to battle the evil pirates. I soon realized I’d rather have solid ground under me, or better yet, a strong horse. You?”
“I wasn’t allowed to dream.”
Turning away from him, she spotted the first mate approaching, envious at how easily he moved with the ship. She had questions and hoped the man had answers.
“Bernard, right?” she asked before he could speak. “If we are attacked, how do we fight back?”
Taken aback by her forward manner, the first mate paused and searched the young woman’s face. The fire smoldering deep inside shone through her eyes and sent a shiver down his spine.
“Well now, thet not be likely, but Rogosh, he be wantin dis ship. If he attacked, maybe a couple shots from his ballista ta hole our sails, but for sure, grappling hooks ta be pullin da ships together.”
“Will many have swords?” Ronald asked, hand resting on the pommel of the weapon at his side.
“Naw, mostly clubs, knives, spikes and chains. Now thet Rogosh, he fancies his two short swords and knows howta use em.”
A sudden tilt in the ship’s deck forced both Sofia and Ronald to grasp the rail while the old sailor took it in stride. Frustrated, Sofia glared at him. “Bernard, if we are to fight from this Eye forsaken deck, you must share the secret of how you keep your balance.”
“’Tis no secret,” he replied. “Keep yer knees bent and let da deck move under ye.”
They practiced under the watchful eye of the first mate until most of the awkwardness passed.
“Now, afor I ferget, da Captain asks ye to join him in his cabin fer a bite ta eat.”
As they walked aft towards the Captain’s cabin, keeping their knees flexed, Ronald remarked. “Reminds me of riding a horse.”
The Princess laughed, shaking her head. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Before he could respond, they reached the cabin where the Captain greeted them with an outstretched hand. “Please let me apologize for earlier. The name’s Miles Gerrad, and be welcomed aboard Moon’s Shadow.” He held the door for them. “Come in. Come in.”
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“Thank you, Captain Gerrad. I’m Ronald and this is Sofia.”
Miles paused and caught her eye. “As in Princess Sofia Salidoris?”
“A Princess no longer, Captain, and you would do well to forget that name. You’ll live longer.”
Nothing more was said as each filled a plate with meat, cheese, and a chunk of bread. Miles pulled out a bottle of wine, and filled their heavy cups half-way. Handing out the cups, he raised his in a toast.
“Here’s to an uneventful crossing.”
Downing the last of her wine, Sofia stood and addressed the Captain. “Thank you, Captain Gerrad. If it’s agreeable, we will return later this afternoon. I have some questions, and I’ll try to answer yours, but right now, Ronald and I have things to do.”
Out on deck, Ronald followed her to an open area just aft of the mainmast, his question un-asked as she turned to face him.
“Ronald, do you remember the no-touch exercises Master Horshall taught you?”
“It has been a while, but yes, I remember. Why?”
“Maybe I’ve become too cynical, but I don’t share the Captain’s belief in a safe crossing. We should practice while on this moving deck or our sword skills will be useless. We’ll start out slow and move faster after we’ve warmed up.”
Several sailors paused in their work to watch, but soon lost interest. The familiar ring of steel striking steel occurred several times in the beginning, and each time, they stopped and repeated the exercise. It was slow and repetitive, but eventually the moves were completed in total silence. After fifteen minutes, they stepped back for a quick break and shared a water skin provided by one of the sailors. Now they were ready to practice in earnest.
The first mate turned to his Captain where they were watching from the top of the pilot house. “I’m not understanding. Why they blades no touch?”
The Pain of Compassion Page 17