by Garry Spoor
“I never said anything about giving up. This is only the end of Mathew Latherby. But, that’s not something you have to worry about. You have more important things to concern yourself with, like Shenataesi.”
“Like Shenna what?”
“That lost island that’s no longer lost. It’s called Shenataesi.”
“You know this how?” she asked. No one in their little group even knew if the island existed, let alone that it had a name.
“Because I was there.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m afraid so,” Luke answered. “I’ve known about it for a long time. Too long. It’s not a place I ever wanted to return to. I wished it had remained lost.”
“So, you were there?”
“Yes, and I wasn’t the only one. It was a long time ago, you see. Long before I even started the Guild. Back when the Hunters were a ragtag group looking for fame, fortune, and adventure.
“I first heard of the island from an old man named Sabri, who sailed as a carpenter on the merchant ship, the Zakary. They were trying to find a way through the maelstrom, beyond the Starlett Sea, but they never made it. Sabri and two other crew members were the only survivors. They reached one of the lifeboats before the ship went under. He says they were adrift at sea for four days before they spotted the island. Once on shore, he described it as an unholy place. He said the trees were unnatural, and they felt as if they were being watched. Sounds, that came from the forest sent chills down their spines. They never went inland, but by morning, there were only two of them left.”
“What happened to the other guy?” Kile asked.
Luke shrugged. “Sabri refused to say. All I know is, he and his companion decided to risk the open sea and the maelstrom rather than spend another night on that island. Against all odds, their boat made it to the shipping lanes where they were eventually rescued. They were both quite balmy and near dead when they were picked up. As a matter of fact, his companion never made it to port. Sabri moved inland, as far as Littenbeck, or what was to become Littenbeck. He refused to ever sail again. That’s where we found him, me and the other Hunters. We plied him with liquor and he told us his story, then we convinced him to take us back to the island.
“He was reluctant at first, and who could blame him, but she sweet-talked him into it, she always could, but now I wish she hadn’t. We chartered a small ship out of Sofland, paid a handsome price for it too, but we figured there must be something of value on that island. We found a way through the stormwall, but if I didn’t know better, I’d almost think it let us through. Once we were on the other side, it was only a matter of time before we found it. None of the other sailors would come ashore with us. They had all heard the old man’s stories. So, in the end, we went alone, just the four of us.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t even remember what happened after that. Only bits and pieces. I know we headed inland, through a dead forest, because that’s where we found the underground temple. Inside, there was a large well with some weird form of writing around it. Collin tried to read it, and that’s when things got hazy. I remember someone screaming… or laughing… I don’t… I don’t remember anything beyond that. The next thing I know, Nugnail is carrying me on his shoulders back to the ship. We were the only two who made it out.”
He trailed off after that, his voice faltering as he stared into space trying to remember something that was too painful. When he turned and looked at Kile, she could see the regret in his eyes.
“She died there, you know,” he added.
“Who did, sir?”
“Risa Ta’re. She died on Shenataesi.”
That bit of information was not something Kile wanted to hear. She had always suspected that Luke, or whatever his real name was, knew Risa Ta’re personally, and there was something between them. She remembered when he first showed her the portrait of the Hunter in the little room under the stairs in the Great Hall back at the Academy. The way he looked at the painting, it was clear he felt something for her, but she never knew how deep those feelings went or how long he carried them.
“I don’t like it, Kile,” he said, looking up at her. “The island, the Alva, the Valgar… you.”
“Me?”
“You were a lot like her. I knew it from the first time I saw you. That’s why I had to show you her picture. That’s why I gave you her Lann, why I taught you how to use them. She was in tune with the natural world, maybe not as strongly as you are, but that’s why I’m worried. She felt it. Risa felt it when we arrived. She didn’t want to go anywhere near that black-stoned temple, but I talked her into it, and now she’s dead. I don’t know what’s in there. I don’t know what this artifact, this Heart of Nilak is, but if it was hidden on that island, maybe it should stay there.”
7
The company traveled for two days, heading south to the province of Sofland. Their final destination was the port town of Salthaven. Kile had never heard of the town, nor had she been to the province, but that wasn’t saying much. There were still many places she had yet to see, but nowhere on her list was there room for an island known as Shenataesi.
Luke didn’t say anything more about the island. In fact, he didn’t say anything more about anything. After their little discussion, he left her alone with her thoughts, none of which were all that pleasant. The more she thought about the expedition, the more she regretted not seizing the opportunity to make a run for it. Luke’s description of the black-stoned temple and the well, with its mysterious writing, was too similar to the visions she saw when she connected with the Valgar. Could it be the same place? Would he be there? The strange man with the crooked yellow teeth? She could still see those eyes staring back at her from that dark pit. She could still hear the echo of his laughter ringing in her ears. When it was only a nightmare, only an illusion, she could deal with it. Now, though, she was planning on visiting him at home.
They left the grey stone monolith, known as the palace of Azintar, earlier that morning before the sun was even up. Daniel knocked on her door for nearly twenty minutes before she was awake enough to let him in. What with her two visitors, the previous night, and the copious amounts of juice she drank at dinner, she wasn’t ready for an early morning. After dragging herself out of bed, she declined the offer of breakfast so she could take advantage of the bathing facilities and prepare herself for what was promising to be an eventful experience. She wondered if she should tell the others about what she knew, but what did she know?
Roland met them in the courtyard, praising them on their willingness to undertake this expedition for king and country, although that didn’t seem to be the motivating factor for most of the members.
The Alva, Galan and Darfin, were looking for a means of bringing back their ancestral home, while Sergeant Jasa and his two men were simply following orders. Elmac was seeking knowledge, the older the better, and William Heaney saw it as just another job. Boraro and Creech’s reasons were their own, although Kile didn’t see them as being very patriotic. Daniel was there because he was still a Level Five Hunter and didn’t have a choice. Kile, being a Level Three, had the option of bailing out, but too many arrows pointed her to Shenataesi. She had to know the truth: about the island, about Risa, and about the Valgar, but mostly about herself. She wasn’t sure what she would find there, but something told her if she didn’t go looking for it, it would come looking for her.
They traveled during the day, stopping only to eat a simple meal of hardtack and water while answering the call of nature. Their conversations were quite lively, although Kile didn’t have much to add. It didn’t matter—she wasn’t included in any of them anyway. Elmac usually rode with the Alva, grilling them on their culture and their language. Galan seemed willing to entertain the mystic for the time being, but Darfin wanted nothing to do with the man and completely ignored him. Daniel seemed to find some common ground with Boraro and Creech, which, for some reason, bothered Kile. While Boraro was clearly one of the Sons of Terrabi
n, or at least she always thought so, Creech seemed to fit the part better. He was a dark man who didn’t have much to say. He watched everybody with his shifty little eyes, taking everything in and storing it for later use. She would describe him as being sneaky, like a rat, but she knew a few rats and they were often noble and honest, and this man clearly wasn’t. He had something to hide. Sergeant Jasa and the two soldiers rode a few lengths ahead of the group and didn’t associate with either the Hunters or the Alva. Their attitude didn’t surprise her. One of the first things she learned while traveling with Perha squad last year was regular soldiers didn’t trust Hunters. They thought them odd, and who could blame them. As for Heaney, their so-called leader, he took his job too seriously. He rode between the groups, giving suggestions, which could have been interpreted as orders, but it didn’t matter since nobody was listening to him anyway.
~~~***~~~
On the third day of their trek to the sea, Kile stretched out on Grim’s back and stared up at the clouds while Vesper slept on the pony’s head. Today there was a general lack of enthusiasm among the group. The pace had slowed down since yesterday. It was almost as if they were reluctant to go searching for the island of Shenataesi, not that they knew what it was called.
Kile still didn’t know what part she was supposed to play in this little saga. How much did they actually know about her Edge? Were they relying on her to lead them to the Heart of Nilak by talking with the animals on the island? If that was the plan, it wasn’t very well thought out.
-Heads up. Elf coming down the line,- Grim snorted.
Kile saw the dark-haired Alva riding down the column. Was he coming to see her? There wasn’t any other reason to retreat down the line. She quickly sat up, swinging her legs over Grim so she was riding forward once again. Sure enough, the Alva was heading toward her. If only she could remember his name.
“Greetings,” he said, raising one hand as he got closer. His melodious voice reminded her of the birds she often spoke to, and she wondered if there was a connection. “It is Miss Veller, is it not?”
“Yes,” she said as she quickly searched her memories for his name. He was either Galan or Darfin. Unfortunately, she’d had too much to drink that night, and all the names sort of ran together. “And you’re… Galan… right?” She crossed her fingers.
“Indeed I am. Galan Tasara, at your service,” he said with a slight bow. He turned his horse around to ride alongside her.
-Try not to stab this one,- Grim commented.
“I’m surprised you remembered,” Galan said and seemed pleased she did remember his name. “We didn’t have much of an opportunity to speak at the palace.”
“Or at the party,” Kile added.
“Party… I’m not sure I recall.”
“In Forthbar, about five months ago. Big party. Food. King. You don’t remember?”
“Oh, I remember the gathering well.” Galan shook his head. “It is hard to forget an assassination attempt.”
“An assassination?”
“It was there that a young vir woman attacked my kinsmen, Arbane. They say she was mad.”
“Oh, yeah… yeah, I heard about that. It was terrible… but… you don’t remember me?”
Galan hesitated and shook his head again. “I’m afraid not. I’m very sorry.”
“Oh, please, don’t be,” Kile replied. “As I said, we didn’t actually speak, and I wasn’t there for long. I was called away before all the excitement if you know what I mean.”
-I guess all vir look the same to the Alva,- Grim remarked.
Kile tried to ignore the pony, but that left an awkward silence.
“So, you’re an Alva,” she blurted out and regretted it.
-Oh yeah, real smooth.-
Galan gave her a curious look. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know much about the Alva, only what I was taught back at the Academy, and lately, I’ve been questioning most of what I learned back there. It’s only, you’re more fantasy than history.”
“Surely you must know something of my people.”
“Very little, I’m afraid. About the only thing I can recall was that your kind was here long before mine, and you lived in what we now call the wastelands. Oh, and I was also taught there were two clans of Alva, the Lys-alverie and the Morke-alverie.”
Galan gave her another one of those curious looks and she was afraid she may have said too much. It was never a good idea to show one’s ignorance too soon into the conversation. Much to her surprise, he laughed.
“It would appear you know more about my people than you let on, but I’m not sure how accurate your knowledge is.”
“I’m sorry. It’s as I said. Growing up, the Alva were more a part of myths and stories than anything else.”
“I do not doubt that,” Galan said. “It would seem we are doomed to forget our past in favor of our future, but in doing so, our past becomes our future. I guess that will always be the way of things.”
“I would truly like to know more about your people.”
Galan smiled. “I’m afraid the story of the Álfar, or as you like to call us, the Alva, is not one with a happy ending. For starters, there were four clans: the Villtur, the Sjór, the Liós, and the Dökk. We didn’t simply dwell in Kalistar, or the place you call the wastelands, we lived throughout Dal’val. From the mountains down to the sea. From the wall of Sanieria to the forests of Roramorie.”
Although Kile had no idea where these places were, she could tell they were of great importance to Galan. He was talking about his ancestral home, now occupied by the vir. Although he tried to pass it off as a mere historical fact, it was clear the account pained him. There was another moment of awkward silence as Galan stared west, over the plains.
“What happened to the other clans?” Kile asked.
The Alva looked at her, and at first, she thought he was angry with her, that maybe he blamed her for stealing his land. But his face mellowed and the smile returned even if it looked a little forced.
“The clans,” he repeated softly, shaking his head. “What happened to the clans?”
Kile shrugged, but Galan didn’t seem to notice.
“The Villtur were the first to vanish from our world,” he said quietly. “They dwelled in the northern mountain regions, the places you call Callor and Denal. That was until the arrival of the Ogre. They came without warning, attacking without mercy. They were savages. They nearly wiped out the Villtur. Those who survived were driven from their homelands. They came to live among the Dökk and the Liós. We tried to reclaim what was ours, but the Ogre were too strong. That’s when we sought aid from the vir. Not all the clans agreed though. The Sjór, for one, did not trust the vir and refused their aid. They turned against the other clans and departed the shores of Dal’val, sailing away from their homes forever. It was up to the Dökk and the Liós to avenge the Villtur. The vir agreed to help, in exchange for the lands east of the Medlin point and west of the Sanieria wall, but even that proved too high a price to pay. For once we drove the Ogre out, they poisoned the lands behind them, creating those abominable wastelands. The vir were… gracious enough, to allow us to live among them with certain stipulations. It proved too harsh for my people, and we left the shores of Dal’val to seek out the Sjór.”
And yet another slight variation to the history of the wastelands. Kile was beginning to believe no one truly knew the origin of the place. Maybe Mystic Elmac was right and it was always a desert.
She was about to ask Galan about the Sjór, and whether they ever reunited with the seafaring Alva, but after seeing the look on his face, she decided against it. The story of their past seemed to upset him, and inquiring any further was only going to make matters worse. Why didn’t she ask Luke these questions when she had the chance? Probably because it didn’t seem all that important at the time.
“May I ask you a question, Miss Veller?” Galan said after a while.
“Um, yeah sure.”
&nb
sp; “The blades you wear, they were made by my kinsmen. How is it you came by them?”
She had forgotten the Lann, which were currently strapped to Grim’s harness. Master Latherby had given them to her when she graduated from the Academy. They had once belonged to Risa Ta’re, who she now knew was an Alva. How much should she reveal to Galan? Master Latherby, or Luke, had gone out of his way to conceal his heritage. He never even tried to contact the Alva when they first appeared, and it almost seemed he was hiding from them.
“They were left to me… by an old friend,” she finally confessed, but she took too long. She could tell by the look on Galan’s face he didn’t believe her, or maybe he thought there was more to the story.
“I see,” he said, his eyes slightly narrowing. “And who taught you how to wield them?”
“An instructor… back at the Academy.”
“Did this instructor have a name?”
“Well… I only knew him as Luke. He used to work the stables.”
“I see. I would like to meet this… Luke.”
“I haven’t seen him since I graduated. I don’t even think he works there anymore.”
Kile knew her story wasn’t terribly convincing. The Alva probably thought she was lying, although she didn’t know why. Everything she told him was truth… in a way.
“Hey, what’s going on back here?” Daniel asked, slowing Maliea down to ride alongside them.
“I should probably catch up to my kinsmen,” Galan said. “I would like to speak more on this matter when there is time.”
Kile watched as the Alva rode to the head of the column. His questions, as well as his demeanor, concerned her. It could be her paranoia returning, however, she couldn’t help but think he was after something, or someone.
~~~***~~~
The town of Midrest was suitably named as it sat on the border between the provinces of Sofland and Blackmoore. The company put a fair distance behind them but still had nearly a day’s travel ahead if they wanted to reach Salthaven before tomorrow night.