by BJ Hanlon
He’d thought about the decision to join the Raven since he’d woken. He knew it was the right choice for them. The only choice really. They had to join her, she offered a way out, an escape so they could be free.
Hopefully, it’d lead to the life he wanted. One with Arianne.
A drip of brown sauce slipped down her face, Edin wiped it with his thumb. She smiled.
Together, that’s what he wanted. What was the cost though? The lives of many men, all dead because of him.
“He is dead,” Edin said quietly as he spooned another mouthful to her lips.
“Good,” Arianne said with a hint of venom.
Edin glanced at her eyes, a dark look flew in and out before they turned piercing gray-green again. The spoon clacked against the wood bowl and Edin looked down. Empty, he stood. “I’ll get a refill.”
Arianne nodded and laid back in the bed grinning and said, “I’ll be waiting,” while she patted his spot.
Outside, the floorboards creaked and the ship groaned as it lurched right. Edin planted a hand against the wall to steady himself. He couldn’t remember if the galley was at the bow or stern but he knew how to get there. He only left Arianne’s room to use the bathroom, what the seamen call ‘the head.’
The sound of men chatting and the light at the end of the hallway acted like a beacon. As he stepped into the mess hall, ten or so crew members looked up at him. Among them was Flack.
The boy caught his gaze and nodded a silent hello.
Edin was surprised to see him here. On the floor of the cabin, he saw watery boot prints, puddles, and droplets forming little elongated dots like a comet. Then he remembered the comet. The one that burst.
Suddenly, Edin became aware that there was an awkward silence for a moment. Then the conversations resumed.
Edin went toward the small galley with the bowl. He hadn’t gotten a bite, it was good Arianne was eating but his stomach growled.
He glanced at the cast iron pot on the huge stove. A half yard tall and another half in diameter. His mouth watered at the smell, even if it was gruel.
“Sorry lad,” the cook said, “let the last of it go.”
Edin sighed though he wasn’t sure how much he would’ve ate anyways. The lurching didn’t do much for his stomach. Turning back, he caught a quick movement off to his side. He almost flinched but saw it was Flack coming over to him.
“You hungry?”
“A bit,” Edin said sarcastically and looked at the empty bowl.
“Here,” Flack handed him his bowl and a hard piece of bread. “Dunk that rock it in the slop, moistens it a bit.”
“Kid, you may be the captain’s spawn, but don’t call me stew a slop nor my bread a rock,” the cook said.
“What else would you call it?” Flack shot back then raised his hands as if he were giving up. “Always so ornery.” He turned back to Edin with a sly grin. “A lot of chefs are temperamental.”
“How many chefs do you know?”
“Plenty of them. Some like to be called culinary artists…”
It took Edin a moment to realize the kid was using words that seemed too long for a street urchin. Too educated for a criminal.
“Thanks Flack,” Edin said.
“No prob, it’d be nice to know someone when I get to the island. Seeing as you and your girl are heading there, I figure I better make myself a friend.”
“You’re going…” Edin lowered his voice, “to the Isle of Mists?”
“Yep, my pa arranged it. Wants me to be better…”
Edin raised an eyebrow, “are you a…” He caught himself from saying magi, habit he figured. Many of the men probably knew they were smuggling magi to the Isles. They just didn’t care.
“I’m going to get an education; no university will take the son of a smuggler and a crime boss… no matter how much money.” Flack shook his head, “plus, my mum expects Carrow will be on fire for a while. So Pa is stashing me away. Delrot has a university, I was hoping to study economics.”
“Your old man?” Edin almost missed it. The cook, chef or whatever, just called him the captain’s son. “Ashica?”
“Don’t see him often but he tends to bring me things… negotiated with the Praesidium to let me stay at the Isle.”
Edin felt awkward standing in the middle of the galley with a bowl of food and bread, he nodded over toward a bench. He hadn’t given much thought about what to expect upon arriving. As if a gate had been thrown open, questions ran through his head.
What was it like? What type of people lived there? Were there fantastical creatures, like fairies, dwarves, or gnomes? What about the buildings? Edin had a thought that magical buildings could be built in any way, even upside down. Did the laws of the mundane world follow the same rules? Those would be better answered by someone else, Edin guessed.
“What’s the Praesidium?” Edin sat at the end of a long bench. The sailor closest to him scooted a bit further away.
Flack sat across from him. “The leadership. A council of magi run by the First Among Equals or FAE for short. He’s pretty much in charge and tells everyone else what to do.”
“That doesn’t sound like a council,” Edin offered. “Sounds more like a king.”
Flack shrugged, “politics is not my cup of whiskey.” He looked around. “It is what I heard though.”
“What else do you know about the place?”
Flack’s brow furrowed as he placed a hand on his chin. “There are three separate islands, all connected by bridges. Delrot, the main island, was created by a volcano thousands of years ago, maybe millions. It’s huge, don’t know the dimensions. It is the main city and houses much of the population.”
The boat retched sideways and he heard the jangle of metal pots. He noticed Flack tilt with the ship as if he were part of it.
“According to my old man,” he caveated. “There are a few hamlets on the other two islands; they’re mostly farm and ranch land. Growing food is easy there, herding livestock is much more difficult… they only have limited space.”
Edin nodded.
“But the city is just as any other. They have schools, a university, shops, artisans, taverns… a couple inns, mostly for the farmers from the other isles since visitors are rare. And there’s no undercity. I think it’ll be nice to live under the sun for once.”
Edin bit into the bread, it scraped the roof of his mouth as he crunched.
Flack must’ve seen the look on his face and smiled. “Dunk it in the broth, you don’t take directions very well do you?”
Edin stiffened, rubbing his tongue along the raw part of his mouth. “Not really, no.”
Flack chortled. “Better learn, it’s very… regimented on the isle.”
Feet shuffled and chairs scraped the floor. He glanced over and saw the crew heading toward a wide step ladder. “End of lunch?”
“Yep. Listen, you want to know more, talk to Le Fie, I’m only saying what I hear. I have to head back, the old man wants me to teach me about the sea, how to read the charts, waves, and stars… blah blah blah.” He stood and followed the men up disappearing through the hatch to the deck.
Water drizzled in the open hatch and
the mess quieted substantially. He heard the movement above, soft patters of men moving in the storm.
The cook whistled in front of his wash basin. He glanced around, saw only Edin, he winked and reached into a cabinet and pulled out a dark bottle of something. He took a swig.
He lowered it, wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist and said. “Whiskey?”
“If you’re offering,” Edin said. He felt his mouth watering more than when he wanted the gruel. Actually, he wasn’t even hungry anymore. Odd, he thought as the cook poured him a drink and raised the mug.
Edin took it and sipped. Over the top of his mug he saw cook’s eyes widen looking at something behind Edin.
The cook spun around, the bottle nearly slipping from his grip.
Edin turned and saw Le Fie st
anding like a wraith in the doorway. The long black hair, sharp jaw, and high cheek bones gave him the appearance of an outlaw or a pirate.
Edin wasn’t sure what to make of the man. Until the last ten minutes, he was the only person who had spoken to him since they boarded the ship. And his words were only ever in whispers above Arianne’s sleeping form.
He took a sip of the whiskey and tilted it toward the man. They were about the same height, Le Fie was a bit thinner at the shoulders, his arms weren’t as large but Edin could sense a strength that was more than pure muscle.
“Would you like some?”
“I rarely partake,” Le Fie said. “It hinders my facilities… and my job.” There wasn’t any judgment in his voice but maybe a hint of longing.
“Sometimes, the facilities need a bit of hindering,” Edin said taking another sip. “What is your job?”
Le Fie said nothing but Edin could feel him probing with his eyes. Le Fie took a few steps, Edin noticed a limp as he sat down at a bench. In Flack’s spot.
A door slammed too hard causing Edin to jump. When he glanced around, he saw they were alone. He took another drink from the mug, a little deeper this time before he moved closer. He wasn’t sure what this was about, but the probing gaze grew until it felt more uncomfortable than a long form lecture about human reproduction given by Master Horston. One with drawings…
The old man may have had some experience, but Edin didn’t want to know… though now, he’d listen to that lecture for a month.
“So, is Le Fie your real name?”
Le Fie’s tongue seemed to be running over his teeth. “No.”
“The Darsol Rose, that’s your… gang…”
Le Fie nodded once.
Edin tried to glean some sort of response deeper than that but the man’s dark pupils didn’t seem to give away secrets. He shifted on the bench and took another drink. “And you do what exactly?”
“What is needed.”
“Spying? Assassinations? I knew someone like that.” He paused, looked into the nearly empty mug. The dull outline of his head waved in the deep brown liquid. Edin saw no features in it. “She’s dead.” No answer. “So, are you trying to recruit me or something?”
“You haven’t the skills nor the stomach lad, like your father.”
Edin wasn’t sure if that was an insult or a compliment. A wave crashed into them but now Edin’s body swayed with it.
“You knew Rihkar?”
Le Fie nodded.
How many others knew him? Maybe all of them? What about his family… Edin’s family. Did he actually have any? Could it be possible he wasn’t alone after all?
There was a long silence while Edin stared down at the mug before emptying it. “I met him… but I don’t know him.” Edin said.
“To be expected. I’m sorry to hear about your mother. A strong woman I hear. She died defending her home… and her mage son.”
Edin felt his face grow red and he clenched his jaw. He glared at Le Fie and anger came with the memory. “And where was my father? Off rambling around, living his life while he left us… left her to die. He knew I was… what I was, didn’t he? Why didn’t he come for me?”
Edin stood and went to the cook’s hiding spot. He pulled out the bottle and brought it back to the table. A hollow bonk echoed as he slammed it down.
“I am not sure,” Le Fie said. “What I am sure though, is if he thought you were in trouble, he’d have come immediately.”
“Bull,” Edin shouted. “That blotard can rot for all I care.” He felt the anger rising in him like the swelling of a volcano. He thought of his mother, Grent, Horston, Dephina… and the old guard Foristol. How many could’ve lived if only Rihkar had come for Edin before all of this.
Edin growled. “I hate that man.”
“You’re not the only one…” Le Fie said, he paused, looked at the bottle and turned back to Edin. “He,” Le Fie started, then paused. “Never mind, this isn’t my place.”
“Then why bring him up?”
Le Fie was quiet for a moment, pondering what must’ve been a very interesting painting of two mounds on the wall. “Commonality I suppose. But that isn’t why I wish to speak with you.”
Edin glanced around again, there were stacks of dirty bowls on the counter. Remnants of broth, meat and potatoes were scattered across the floorboards, something scurried across the ground, snatched a carrot and disappeared back the way it came.
Edin sighed. “What then? I suppose I owe you for saving her.” He looked down the hall and poured himself another drink, a little too much and caught Le Fie looking gloomily at the amber liquid flowing into the mug. It would’ve been less uncomfortable if he was getting a drinking lecture from his mother.
“I am a tosoria,” Le Fie said. When Edin didn’t respond he said, “a fire magus.” Le Fie flicked his fingers and a small blue flame appeared suspended above his hand. Edin watched as it shifted colors to green, white, yellow, and then red. He remembered the fires in the cave…
It kept changing, like sun rays piercing a crystal. He barely heard Le Fie. “I’m sorry, what?” Edin asked looking back.
“What are you… exactly?”
Le Fie held his gaze. But slowly, Edin had to look away from that intensity. On Le Fie’s cheek, was a small scar cut in almost a V and nearly invisible except in a shadow. He was clean shaven, too clean shaven, as if it had been done today… somehow done on a rocking ship. If that was true it said a lot about the man.
“I am a philios.”
“A spirit mage, very rare. No philios has lived on the isles in two centuries.” He paused, “and?”
“And what?”
Le Fie’s eyes appraised him again for a moment and Edin drank. If he was going to be interrogated by the quietest interrogator of all time he might as well get a bit tipsy.
Edin averted his gaze back to the painting at the far end of the galley. It seemed odd, the mounds held what looked like saucers at the peaks. It took him a moment, his eyes focused and he sat up straight. They weren’t mounds after all, it was a woman without her top. He grew slightly red and quickly looked away.
Le Fie nodded. “Tell no one of your talents. Your father was powerful.” Le Fie said drawing Edin back to the present. “As magi grow older, we attain more power. There are theories that we become one with the talent as we age. I’ve seen a centenarian, a man of a hundred years, create a vortex to rival any hurricane. But your father could nearly raise mountains at your age. It sure made your grandfather proud.”
Edin swallowed. Talents? He said talents right? Not talent, singular.
Le Fie knew, Edin remembered the boat and when he controlled the water, used the ethereal knives and then the lightning. Did Le Fie see it all? The look in his eyes said, yes.
“Some people fear power like that. They fear what a person more powerful than they are can do. Anything out of the ordinary, anything that could supplant the current structure of let’s say the Praesidium, will be looked upon poorly.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I didn’t.” He winked. Again, Edin was taken aback by it. Then Le Fie sighed. “Your father was a dear friend to me growing up. Our families were close. If you wish to talk about anything…” Le Fie stood and turned toward the stairs. His limping gait barely noticeable. “Do not tell anyone about the talents. Here or on the island. We have a couple of weeks until we reach it.”
Edin had questions. Quite a few but at that moment, like what did it mean that many people didn’t like his father? Edin drank the whiskey and sat silently.
This seemed like an overture, extending an offer of friendship. Could he trust the man he assumed was an assassin and spy? What would Arianne say? What if he was spying on Edin for the Inquisitor or for this FAE? Edin felt a bit unsteady. He turned toward the picture, saw the chest, felt redness growing, and then quickly headed back to the medical bay.
2
At Sea, At Peace
The door squealed
open and he found Arianne staring up at him. In a moment, he knew she’d be smelling the booze and hoped she didn’t care.
“It’s been nearly an hour. Where have you been?”
“Sorry,” Edin said, holding up his hands. “I spoke with Flack.”
Arianne laid her head down and twisted to her side inviting him to lie facing her.
“And Le Fie.”
This perked her up a bit, “he’s here?”
Edin forgot, she never actually met him nor knew she’d been near death and he healed her. Edin hadn’t told her that and also that he’d been taking care of them. He wondered if all this was a ploy to get information for his spy masters.
“He’s the one who was here before, he healed you.”
“Oh.”
“He wanted to talk with me… I think he saw me using my… other talents.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them...”
Arianne swallowed, she looked almost sad for a moment and looked back up at him. “What happened… I remember being shot… the bolt in my shoulder… then nothing.”
“I killed them,” Edin said quietly. The look in some of the guards’ eyes… their fear. Edin hadn’t just killed them. He slaughtered them… then there was Foristol. An old man, well past his prime. Why did he attack? It was stupid, he’d just seen what Edin could do but he still came at him… and died.
Edin could see the look on his face as the sword gutted him. Edin felt the pang of sadness rolling through him like a fog down a still mountain.
A hand rested on his and he felt a squeeze. He looked toward Arianne, she offered a soft, warm smile.
“They’re not the same as us. We’re better, stronger. We have the talent and morals. These mundanes… they’re brainwashed by lies. They have hunted our kind, murdered my family and yours. How many other families have been torn apart because of the church’s lies? You saved me. Would you rather I be dead?”
“Of course not,” Edin said. He thought about Grent and Horston and Dephina… mundanes that he was supposedly better than.