by James Duvall
“They say that,” Kanes said, ignoring the last bit. There was an art to annoying people the proper way. People like Skalde didn't want confidants. They didn't need them. But if properly riled, sometimes the truth would come spilling out in a grand ego-driven rant. “But Binks came all the way out here cause he thought you had his sailor. Crew up and came with him too. There's barely a handful of them left in the skyport. Why not just go to him directly and arrest him aboard his ship? It would've saved us all of this walking.”
Skalde leaned across the table. “Mr. Kanes, I am only going to say this once. I have very little patience for the meddling of Fletcher Street. I answer to the guild, not to you. Understand? If it helps you sleep at night, know that you have done your kingdom a great service by delivering these artifacts into the hands of the guild. I have work to do, detective. You may go.”
There was something in the way Skalde said 'you may go' that prompted Kanes to clap his hands together, tip his hat, and promptly leave. He had overreached.
That's a dangerous man there, Kanes thought, strolling through the quiet of the campground. Everyone around seemed to know it. People kept their voices down even around the campfires. Usually a raucous place this time of night in any other traveling party. Kanes sat down at one further out from Skalde's camp and the ever-watchful eye of his gryphon. There was at least conversation there and the rain had let up enough that he could sit on an old stump without immediately feeling the moisture creep up into his trousers.
“Swig of the bottle?” Kanes asked, seeing one making the rounds. The men exchanged glances and one passed it over to him. Kanes made a show of inspecting it, sniffing the open bottle and giving the contents a swish.
“Feh...” he said and handed the bottle back. “Miserable march on the road without the proper equipment... I'll be back faster than you can chug down that swill.”
To his word, he returned with a bottle and a half of the best Magashan whiskey his expense budget could buy. Real bottom shelf stuff but more than enough to push back the chill of a cold rainy night. He took a long pull from the first bottle and then passed it to the man seated at his right.
“Magashan whiskey? Never had it,” he said, studying it in a clumsy approximation of Kanes' inspection of the... whatever that watery imitation was supposed to be.
“Ha ha, then you are in for a real treat. Those centaurs know how to drink. Well, and how to brew I suppose. One follows the other usually.”
The man, ostensibly a carpenter, took a taste. His eyes lit up from the burn of it.
“Kicks like a horse,” Kanes warned.
“Come on, pass it on,” an older man said, impatiently reaching for the bottle. The younger man reluctantly surrendered it.
The older man took a sniff and then tipped the bottle up. He was supposed to be a laborer, another of the men helping Skalde build his lighthouse, but he bore too many scars for a man that hadn't tasted war in his life. Kanes drank with them for a while, letting them talk and share his whiskey. Nothing bought loyalty the same way as a bottle of whiskey around a campfire. As his eyes scanned the forest, he caught the faint outline of a gryphon watching him with eyes that burned with soft, sapphire light.
Binks was up and walking the next day, which meant he was no longer on the back of the cart, like it or not. The lighthound was ever-present at his side with the piteous, panicked look of someone that could see the future coming toward him like an airship dropping from the sky and onto his head. He had nothing left to do but look on in dumbstruck horror. It wouldn't pay to be the gallowsman that day.
“So why kill poor old Samuel Raimes?” Kanes asked. Binks did not answer. “That's alright, you don't have to talk to Fletcher Street. I am just the only one what stands a chance of getting between you and the king's justice.”
“Raimes attacked me in the alleyway. He abandoned Aebyn on the wreck of the Wild Hawk and thought to come get him back. Aebyn's followed me of his own volition ever since, its his prerogative,” Timothy said, repeating the story he'd already given three times.
“Sticking with that one then?” Kanes asked.
“It happens to be the truth.”
“The truth doesn't look good for you, Mr. Binks,” Kanes advised. “Why didn't you just give the gryphon back?”
The prisoner shot him an angry look. “Aebyn is not mine to give to others. He wasn't Raimes' to own either.”
Kanes was silent.
“Would you rather I confess that I heartlessly murdered him in disgust to liberate Aebyn from his servitude? Is that what you want to hear?”
To this Kanes shrugged. “Now there's a story that might get some attention from the royal court. You should go with that. Might win you some fame, but I'm afraid it won't change the fact that you knifed a bridger and I found you going around in his clothes.”
“I purchased these,” Binks said, irritated.
There's a strange thing to take offense to, after he's already confessed to killing Raimes.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Why do it? I mean, why dress yourself up like Raimes. Having the gryphon with you is one thing, but passing yourself off as a mage? Now that's just asking for Fletcher Street to come knocking. Did you think I wouldn't show up this far out?”
“We were captured by the dwarves,” Binks explained. “They found us in the ruin of old Forrander University, nosing around in an old alchemy laboratory. It was the best story we had at the time, given we had Samuel's ring and a lighthound with us.”
Kanes whistled. He let Binks tell the story again from the top, starting with rescuing the crew of the Wild Hawk, Raimes attacking him in the middle of the night, the disastrous trek into the Mistwood that had won him the Arlorian Focus that Skalde now possessed. Most disturbing was Bink's recounting of a conversation he claimed to have had with Skalde only a day before Christopher's murder. His description of Skalde's dismissive mannerisms and threats, both veiled and oblique, was a dead ringer for Kanes' own experiences with the man. This was his fourth time hearing the story and it had changed very little. He wasn't sure what to make of it.
One thing's for sure, he's been in a room with Skalde before.
Here was a detail that Skalde had left out. What else had he neglected to mention? Kanes got his answer late in the evening when the lighthouse came into view. This meant they had crossed the road to Nothnor a few hours before and were now north of the city and near the west coast. The shardwall glowed with the ever-present light of the old university.
A less clever man would have marched directly to the front of the small caravan and demanded Skalde explain himself. Thing was, men like Skalde never explained themselves to anyone. Certainly not to a detective, at any rate.
The lydrium foundation of the lighthouse shone like fresh snow on a moonlit night. A halo of gems orbited the quartz focus at its top, all floating in defiance of gravity. Skalde approached it directly carrying the Arlorian focus he had taken from Binks. This he placed in a fixture at the base of the lighthouse. Presently the quartz began to dim. Kanes did not like where this was going. He hurried up to Skalde at a brisk pace, meaning to arrive before the focus was charged. Fate seemed against him on this one and instead he arrived just as Skalde produced the now brightly growing gem from the lighthouse.
“Yes?” Skalde asked.
“You have what was taken from you,” Kanes said, though he was beginning to doubt even that. “I'll be leaving now, with my prisoner.”
“I may still have need of Mr. Binks' services,” Skalde answered, vaguely.
Kanes shook his head. “That's not how this works, bridger. If you have questions for Mr. Binks he will be under lock and key until such time as I can get us transport back to Cahen, where he'll stand trial.”
The attack came so suddenly that Kanes had no time to prepare. A wave of bright light crashed into him, breaking around him like a river coursing around a heavy boulder. When it was over no one looked more surprised than Skalde himself
.
Kanes took a look down at himself and then reached up and felt to make sure his hat was still in place. It was.
“Nearly blew my hat off I think,” he said. A single feather, blue as a cloudless sky, fell from his duster and collapsed into ashes as the wind found it.
Skalde's face twisted into rage. “Kill him,” he ordered, his voice shaking with barely contained anger.
The detective turned to face the dozen or so men that had been drinking with him each night on the road. He could see the hesitation in their eyes. He had been friendly to each of them, and they had just seen him shrug off a lethal blow with cavalier indifference.
“Who's it gonna be first?” Kanes asked, brandishing his revolver in one hand and a vial of bright blue mist in the other. He bit the cork and yanked it free, then tossed the vial into the space between him and the others. He opened fire at Skalde, driving him back with a hail of bullets. Somewhere on the other side of the clearing he heard pistol fire crack. He jammed another set of bullets into the revolver and raced across the battlefield. He hoped Binks would be ready.
Halfway across the clearing Aelengy surged up from the shadows, blocking the way. Kanes fired twice, but the gryphon was quick, ducking to the side and then springing forward, forcing Kanes back. One of the mercenaries braved the cloud of mist and emerged in time for Kanes to shoot him once in the shoulder and then again in the chest, dropping him.
“It's just smoke!” someone shouted.
Kanes fired again at the gryphon, halting his advance long enough to focus his energy on the cloud of thinning mist. He could see shadows of men coming through it.
“Sorry boys...” he said, tossing a fireball into it. The heat drove him back several clumsy paces. Aelengy shielded his eyes with a wing. Men began to scream as they found themselves enveloped in the all consuming inferno. The wall reached up into the night sky, separating Kanes and Aelengy from the others as effectively as shardwall. A second vial sent Aelengy on the retreat and extended the wall.
Surrounded by fire, Kanes was completely alone. He kept his eye on the sky, expecting to find Aelengy's shadow fall over him, but the dusk tracer did not dare to face the flames.
“You'll hang for this, Skalde!” Kanes shouted over the roar of flame. He pressed another vial of mist into the alcove at the base of the lighthouse. When he was far enough out he dropped the empty casings from his revolver and placed one of the specially marked bullets into the firing cylinder. He leveled the gun and took careful aim at the base of the lighthouse. A fireball shot from the gun, roaring like a great gust of wind as it rocketed across the clearing and careened into the lighthouse. The lighthouse exploded, ejecting a bright column of fire and debris high into the dark sky.
Chapter 32
Faith Enough
Alsimor, Land Uncharted, Shard Uncharted
The sailors say there's a warp singer living at Firevane Falls. A few of them were drinking and swimming with the dragons and all and they said they saw it looking down from a high rock overhead. How they could tell what it was that far away and drunk in the middle of the night is anyone's guess. Send another crew through their and they'll swear there were mermaids in that water or harpies lurking in the trees over the pools.
Statement collected from first mate of an airship based out of Cahen on its way to Magash
Sapphire only realized how long it had been since she had last spoken when Rain's head appeared in the high window, looking down at her in concern. She tried to conceal her anger, her disappointment, the deep sense of betrayal welling up inside of her like an angry volcano.
“Are you alright, Sapphire?” Rain asked, his voice gentle as always.
“Yes,” she said shortly, turning her eyes away from him. “I figured out how to escape.”
“You.. have...?” he asked, hesitantly.
“I have,” she answered, her voice still sharper than she wanted it to be.
“The cells are warded against magic...” Rain warned her gently.
Sapphire nodded once. “Yes. They are. However...”
With Rain still watching she slid her water bowl over to the bars and poured it out, letting the water seep into the cracks in the floor.
“It's almost morning... they'll be gone soon.” Sapphire looked up at the little window. She wanted to see Rain's face. “You'll be gone soon.”
For a moment Rain only looked confused. His eyes widened. “You're taking me with you?” he asked, hopefully.
Reaching beneath the support bar, Sapphire placed a paw on one of the smaller stones. Frost bloomed all around it, spreading in a slow, steady wave across the stones and into the vulnerable mortar. The cracks started slowly at first, slow enough that she worried it might not work. Then the stone beneath her paw snapped like a twig beneath a horse's hoof. The broken stone sagged and Sapphire scooped it out. She reached in again, repeating the process, freezing the water that had worked its way between the stones and down into the earth like the spreading roots of a weed. The next set of stones came out in an armload. She squeezed against the floor, forcing her wings to lie flat against her back. Every now and then she would check on Rain, expecting to see worry in his eyes, but finding only mute curiosity.
Another rock came up and at last Sapphire was able to press her belly tight against the exposed dirt and force herself low enough to guide her wings beneath the cross bar. She came up on the other side covered in mud, but beaming in triumph. Shaking dirt and debris from her fur, she stepped in front of Rain's cell where the wall would not let him hide his tail blades from her. Their eyes met through the faint shimmer of Sapphire's shield.
“I saw you, after they brought me back,” she said. “You're one of them! You've been lying to me all this time! Manipulating me!”
Rain's eyes softened and when he spoke he spoke gently. “I only lied about where I came from,” he said. “Nothing more. We needed to get to know you. To see if you could be trusted.”
“And if not? Were you the one deciding if I lived or died?!”
Rain shook his head vehemently. “No! No you were never going to die.”
“And that was why you blasted me out of the sky?” Sapphire demanded.
Rain winced as though he had trod on a pin. His head sank until he was staring at the floor. “That was... regrettable...”
Down the hallway Sapphire could see the sky beginning to brighten outside. A shadow crossed the door and Blaze appeared half-running, half-flying up the corridor. Sapphire braced herself, bringing her shield up for the impact. Her focus shimmered and spun as it twinkled into existence above her.
“You? How did you get out of-” Blaze's words were cut short. Purple light surged around him. “Rain!”
“I will take care of it,” Rain said calmly. Blaze disappeared as Tempest had, his body turning to a thin purple mist that held its shape for a hesitant moment and then vanished with the wind.
Sapphire breathed a sigh of relief and sat to watch the same happen to Rain. He, however, had not gone. Instead of disappearing he blinked several times, shaking his head side to side and squeezing his eyes shut as though trying to shake sand from his eyes. Then he was still. His eyelids slid open to reveal bright white orbs that shone from within. White, misty magic trailed from them.
“They were going to offer you a cure,” he said, solemnly. Misty white light crawled across his back like tendrils of fire and he screamed in pain. White mist began to rise all over him, coming off his body like steam.
“I can cure myself...” Sapphire said meekly. She found herself crouching low to the ground, wings spreading of their own accord. She backed away until she bumped into the opposite wall.
“For Dawn!” Rain said. He cried out again in pain, closing his eyes to the daylight. He shook his head, opening his bright, burning white eyes. Power flowed out of them. It flowed from his jaws and down his throat, pooling around him and spreading like a fog across the floor. He spoke in a ragged voice, “A cure for Dawn, for the sickness that consume
s him. Do us this kindness, and Brazen will let us give you the cure.”
“H-how can I trust you?” Sapphire demanded, rising back to full height. All of her fear gave way to her anger. If they were lying about this... “How can I trust you!”
“Blaze... He was burned. You saw he was burned? Tempest caught you when you fell, but you were not struck. You lost consci-AHHHHHH!” Rain's words broke into a scream of unbridled anguish. He gasped for air before he continued, wide-eyed and panting.
“Blaze interceded for you!” Rain shouted. “Have faith, Sapphire! Faith!”
White fire flared up violently around Rain before he collapsed, his body dissolving into soft, sapphire light. Sapphire stared into the empty cell, her eyes still stinging from the brightness. She did not realize she had stopped breathing until her first breath came as an audible gasp.
“R-Rain...?” she asked, hoping he might answer. No answer came. The cell was empty. No trace of Rain remained, nor did any trace of Blaze mark the corridor floor where he had stood when the morning took him. Sapphire lowered her nose to the ground but found only the subtle sent of moss and damp stone.
From the exterior archway she watched the sun rise over the mountains, bathing the ancient city in light undimmed by the shardwall. The sky opened up, blue and empty, vast as the western sea. Sapphire alone occupied it, rising high over Alsimor and surveying it from above. It had a circular footprint, nestled like an orb into the cradle of the mountains.
Victorious, she flew along the road of white paving stones and crossed the bridge onto the island at the city's center. The river flowed around it on either side, its banks now marked by craters of burnt grass and blackened soil. Sapphire circled the white tower in a lazy spiral, letting the mist of the waterfall rise up around her, cool and damp. Atop the tower she landed near the far edge. She felt her heart quicken as she scanned the gardens on alert. Treading carefully she approached Arya's sleeping form.