‘Commander.’ Allisus saluted. ‘Captain Roenda reports there are treasures on board the pirate ship that she is certain were taken from Wennock. Her men are busy loading the booty onto rowing boats to take ashore. And the prisoners are being loaded onto another boat ready for you to present to the governor.’
‘Very good.’ They moved further out of earshot of the crew. ‘Allisus, how would you judge the mood of the crew?’
‘Morale is high; this skirmish has boosted their confidence and we’ve added another ship to our fleet.’
Farrell watched Stone Haven’s flag raised on their new ship and heard the cheers swell through the crews spread between the three anchored ships.
Allisus nudged his arm. ‘You could at least smile.’
Remembering his place, Farrell made a fist and punched the air. ‘Another victory, lads, well done.’ His voice carried on the breeze, powerful and full of deceit. The crew cheered him, chanting his name.
Farrell’s thoughts remained with the four dead crewmen and their families. Then he thought about Kalaya; if he led them there, how many more would die?
He remembered his father and the sadness in his eyes even when his whole fleet had cheered and adored him in victory. Fynnock’s words replayed through his thoughts, as though the great man stood at Farrell’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. ‘Being in charge is not all glory, son. Men look to you for leadership, but sometimes because of your decisions, people die. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be a worthy leader. The trick is not to let it show.’ Farrell smiled to himself at the memory.
‘We’ll definitely be back on good terms with the governor now.’ Allisus’ words broke through Farrell’s reminiscence.
‘At a cost,’ Farrell said.
‘There’s always a cost,’ Allisus said.
***
Callisa faced the door, her hand shaking as her knuckles rapped against the faded wood. She clasped her hands together while she waited for an answer. The door creaked open and the smell of smoke drifted out.
‘Sentinel, come in.’ Thal smiled and moved aside for her.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you, Thal,’ she said, stepping inside his home. As the door clicked shut behind her, she turned to face the Elder. ‘Tei’s running an errand for me and this can’t wait for her return. I’ve tried to work things through myself for the last few days, but I need to talk to someone who understands the harsher aspects involved in being a Sentinel.’
‘I’m always here for you to call upon,’ Thal said humbly and waved her towards a chair.
Callisa nodded, knowing she could trust the old man. She took a seat by the fire before speaking. ‘I know the enemy… but he knows me too.’
The Elder looked unnerved but was quick to mask his emotions as he sat opposite her. ‘Who is he?’
‘Rathnor, the leader of the Assembly. He’s a powerful mystic but he’s hidden his magical abilities in order to rise to a position of influence.’
Thal’s gaze didn’t leave her face as he processed her words. ‘What are you planning to do about him?’
‘Something I may regret.’ She paused and sighed deeply. ‘He must be stopped at any cost, but that means risking another to the task and if they fail...’
‘Have you decided who you’ll send?’
She hung her head. ‘No, and it’s the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. How can I ask someone to stroll into the enemy’s lair and be my assassin? Whatever the outcome, they will likely die.’
‘This task needs someone with the speed of youth, but also the guile and patience that comes with age.’
‘That’s sounds as impossible as the task I’m asking of this person.’
‘Not if you choose wisely.’
‘Do you have anyone in mind?’
‘I cannot decide for you,’ Thal said solemnly.
Callisa met the Elder’s eye; he looked sad and regretful, worn down by the difficult life of a Confidante. She realised she would have to carry the burden of choosing someone alone.
Making her goodbyes, Callisa left Thal’s small home and headed further into the settlement to walk amongst the people. She opened herself to the magic of the island, waiting for the answers to reach her. At the training ground, a group of men were practising wrestling, archery and swordsmanship. She stopped to watch them preparing for the summer games. The games had been arranged to honour the new Sentinel, but Callisa had declared they be held to honour the many fallen heroes lost to their cause.
There was an air of excitement hanging over the training ground, and her arrival sparked renewed effort amongst the competitors and heightened the hubbub of gossip in the watching crowd.
Callisa perched on a seat a short distance from all the activity and studied the men as they trained. They were mainly youngsters, competing for the glory of being the new champion.
Almost immediately one man stood out. His skills were undeniable even to Callisa’s inexperienced eye. He was young, athletic, and light on his feet, and when she looked at him, she could see the assassin within him. The woman in her couldn’t deny he was handsome and she enjoyed watching him move across the training ground, so confidant and assured.
‘He’s a good choice,’ an old man said as he stopped next to her and pointed towards the training ground.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Young Benon, there. He’s the favourite to win the summer games. I’m betting on him.’
The old man continued on his way and Callisa turned back to watch the training.
As if sensing her gaze, Benon turned towards her. He ran a hand through his hair and offered her a shy smile. The action lit up his face and she forced herself to wave in reply.
If only it could be as simple as attraction between two people. If only she could be selecting a partner instead of selecting a man to potentially send to his death. As she rose to leave, she took a last look at Benon and knew the island had answered her.
***
‘That’s willow, hazel, rowan, apple, elder, ash...’ the gardener reeled off the list of saplings and shrubs as sailors carried them aboard The Saviour. ‘Remember, these plants are used to inland conditions so protect them from the sea air and salt water. But try and allow a little sunlight to feed the leaves each day.’
Farrell frowned to himself, unsure how that could work unless he ordered the crew to carry the young trees in and out of the hold each day. He was sure that wouldn’t go down well.
‘Once the plants are established in their new home, you can consider pollination and propagation. Some plants like the ferns pollenate through spores; some like the strawberries spread through runners and make new plants for you. But in order to start producing fruits, you will need to pollenate them yourselves until you can introduce pollenating insects.’
Farrell nodded, overwhelmed by all the information he’d taken in over the last forty-eight hours.
‘Come back to Wennock in late autumn when many plants will be entering their dormant stage and may take to being moved more readily. Then you can tell me what plants have thrived and what species are not happy on Stone Haven and we can draw up some new plans.’
Farrell shook hands with the gardener. ‘Thank you, Tomason, for everything.’ Farrell patted his pocket where he’d stored his pages of scrawled notes. ‘I’m hoping some of the older generation will remember their farming backgrounds and can start teaching the young people what to do. With your help, I’m beginning to believe this might work.’
‘If you can get the conditions right, the plants will flourish.’
‘I hope so. And then you’ll have to visit Stone Haven and see how your plants are faring.’
‘I’d be honoured, if the governor can spare me.’
Shaking hands again, Farrell made his goodbyes and climbed the gangplank. He strode to the helm of his ship where Allisus was overseeing the loading, and glanced down at the dock. Tomason was still watching the last batch of plants in clay pots carried aboard by ungentle sailors�
�� hands, wincing as if the mistreatment of his plants caused him personal injury.
‘Now that’s a man who loves his job,’ Allisus said, nodding towards the foreigner as he hurried back through the crowded dock.
Farrell remembered the hours of lectures and hundreds of plants he’d been shown - the names of which now all blurred into one. He’d wanted to talk about planting crops, but Tomason had advised him to establish life in the soil first. He deduced that the reason they’d failed in the past was because they had tried to plant too much too soon.
There was quite a commotion on the dock as sailors winched bag after bag of soil up to the deck. The Red Slayer and The Huntress were also similarly laden with soil in the hopes of replenishing Stone Haven’s barren earth.
‘Well, you’ve certainly outdone all previous efforts,’ Allisus said, as they watched the crew sweating and swearing over the pulleys and ropes.
‘I guess I have.’
He spotted the shipwright on the dock, taking his team of men to repair the new edition to the Stone Haven fleet. Once it was seaworthy, they would follow on behind with the remaining supplies from Wennock.
A whistle signalled the last of the stores were loaded and the remaining sailors scurried up the gangplanks before the platforms were hoisted aboard. Below, dockworkers were poised to untie the mooring lines.
‘We’re all set,’ Allisus said. ‘Just waiting for your word.’
‘Give me a moment,’ Farrell said, as he noticed Buck heading towards them.
The old hermit stepped gingerly along the deck, avoiding the sailors preparing the sails. Farrell noted how the crew still ignored the old man, the stigma of his hermit life making him unwelcome.
Buck stopped before Farrell and, with a nudge from Allisus, remembered to salute. ‘I found your island,’ he said, grinning widely.
Farrell put an arm around the hermit’s shoulders and led him away from any inquisitive ears. ‘Tell me what you’ve seen.’
‘I managed to sneak through the magical barrier surrounding the island to see the land within. It’s a wonder to behold, Commander. Kalaya is plentiful and full of life, pulsing with a magical essence the like of which our people have never known.’
Allisus raised his eyebrows.
‘Are you certain?’ Farrell asked, though looking at the hermit’s face, he saw no trace of madness.
‘Yes, Commander. It is everything you hoped it would be and more.’
Farrell allowed himself a small smile. ‘That’s news I’ve been longing to hear. Thank you, Buck.’
The old hermit saluted and then headed below to his cabin.
Farrell nodded to Allisus, who whistled loudly down at the crew.
‘Weigh the anchor; it’s time to go home.’
***
They rode along a ridge with the countryside opening out below them. The sun was rising and he could see for miles in all directions. He saw the bridge they had used to cross the Avalene during the cover of darkness. Brogan had travelled further in four days with Tei than he had in his entire life. The farm and Newington were all he had ever known, but now he realised Kalaya was even more beautiful than he could have guessed. The space surprised him. It was a land of unspoilt beauty, where nature ruled. It was so different to the packed streets of Newington.
He knew Drago had come from the White Mountains to the north, but his friend hadn’t talked much about his travels or his homeland; now it was too late. Brogan sighed; there were so many things left unsaid, so much he wanted to thank his friends for, but most of all he wanted to say sorry for involving them in his life and putting them in Rathnor’s path.
A short while later, Tei signalled for them to stop. Brogan drew on Biscuit’s reins and waited for Tei’s next move. While they stood in silence, he found himself studying the lithe shape of her body in the saddle and the way the wind caught at her auburn hair.
Oblivious to his scrutiny, Tei continued to survey the land. Her gaze swept slowly across the vista and then she looked back at him. ‘I can’t detect any sign of pursuit, but we should keep travelling while we can.’ She urged her horse down the slope and into the valley, not bothering to wait for his agreement.
Brogan followed behind her, hating the dragging silence that gave him too much time to focus on his grief and the guilt that came with it.
They rode for another few miles until Tei stopped by a patch of woodland. He looked across at her expectantly.
‘We can rest here for a while,’ she said, dismounting and leading Starflower into the woods where they instantly blended in with the thick foliage.
Brogan followed her into a small clearing. They cared for their horses in silence. When they finally sat down together, Tei shared out the food supplies they’d bought from a homestead the previous day, not meeting his eye once. The silence between them became maddening. Brogan took the food, but he couldn’t force himself to eat.
Tei looked up at him and smiled tentatively. ‘You should try to eat something.’
‘Only if you agree to stop being so considerate. I can’t stand the sound of my own thoughts anymore.’ Brogan tore into the cheese she’d given him. ‘Tell me about yourself, your life. I think the need for secrecy has passed.’ He washed down the mouthful of cheese with mead, waiting for her to respond.
‘Where do you want me to start?’ she asked, reluctance on her face.
‘Were you always an exile?’
A wistful smile played across her lips. ‘No, for nineteen happy years I was a tailor’s daughter in Seatown. I had to hide my magic, but at the time that was my normality. I never saw a problem with the way we lived…’ she broke off to wet her throat with mead.
Brogan watched her swallow, and saw her tongue dart out nervously to lick the mead from her lips. Tei still didn’t meet his gaze; he knew what he asked of her was painful, opening old wounds that were still struggling to heal. Finally, she took a deep breath.
‘Last year I was content with my life, but then my father’s friend called unexpectedly and the next thing I knew we were running for our lives. A mystic attacked us on our way to Turrak and my father was wounded protecting me. I only found out how bad the injury was when Rike and Garrick arrived, by then it was too late...’
Brogan listened avidly to the story of Tei’s life, how she’d evaded the Masked Riders - not always successfully, seen friends and innocents murdered, until she’d eventually led the exiles to find their Sentinel. ‘So now I know,’ he said when she’d finished her recount.
‘Know what?’
He tilted her face up to look into her intense green eyes. ‘Now I know why you carry such sadness.’ He stroked her cheek, tracing a tear. ‘I know why you push me away when you want this as much as I do.’
‘I’ve lost too many people already.’
She tried to pull away but he leant in and kissed her. This time she didn’t withdraw from him but surrendered to the kiss. Brogan pulled her close and her arms wrapped around him.
When they pulled apart, they looked at one another. Tei laughed softly, the sound warm and comforting, and he felt a thrill as she grasped his hands and squeezed them tight.
‘I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day you left me,’ he said gruffly.
‘Nor I you,’ she whispered.
Brogan looked into her face and knew in a moment of joy that she cared for him too. Then the waves of grief rushed up to crush his spirit and he hung his head. ‘It’s too soon after…’
Tei squeezed his hands again. ‘I understand.’
He studied her face and saw she spoke the truth.
‘Let’s get some sleep,’ Tei said. ‘We need to move on in a few hours.’
Brogan lay down, wrapping the blanket around him. Light still streamed in through the branches above them, and birdsong surrounded him. As he closed his eyes, he saw the burnt out shell of his home and pictured his friends’ faces. How could they be dead?
Rathnor would pay. He would suffer for all the lives he�
��d taken. Filled with thoughts of revenge, Brogan eventually drifted to sleep.
***
Morane pulled on her coat and headed outside into the evening. She kept an eye out for the guards. They had been less attentive in recent days, but she still stuck to the shadows where she could. The island drew her along, guiding her towards something. It was a strange sensation, but she accepted the magic was leading her somewhere important.
She left town without being spotted and walked until she reached a forest. It was almost dark, but she could make out the shape of something inside the trees. She drew closer and saw it was a pony carrying a girl on her back.
Instantly, Morane felt the magic within the child and knew she’d been compelled to leave her home to help this bedraggled-looking pair.
‘Hello there. Are you lost?’
The girl hesitated and then nodded mutely.
‘And are you alone?’
The girl didn’t answer, but cast her gaze away to peer into the forest at her back. She gripped the pony’s mane tightly, but her hands still trembled.
‘It’s late, why don’t you come to my house? I can make you some dinner and then you can sleep. I won’t ask any questions until the morning. How’s that sound?’
The child hesitated, but she was still clearly afraid of the forest.
‘I have a warm fire and a bed where you can sleep as long as you need.’
The child studied her with unnerving scrutiny, before she led her pony out of the forest.
In the dying light of evening, Morane could see the child was young; too young to be out alone. She longed to ask what had happened to her parents, but she’d agreed to hold off the questions and didn’t want to lose the trust she had gained.
‘She’s a fine-looking pony.’ Morane studied the unusual colouring of blue grey fur and white mane.
The girl’s hands stayed protectively wrapped in the pony’s long mane.
‘But she looks tired and hungry,’ Morane said gently. ‘I’m friends with the farrier. He’ll look after her for the night, feed her and check she’s alright.’
The girl shook her head vehemently.
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