As the amber of the morning grew slightly brighter, the men of the first colony filed into columns, fully prepared for their departure. Jhames and a small company of his advisors and personal guards rode at the vanguard; Seig and his officers followed behind. Yasen and his woodcutters mounted their horses and took up the rear of the party.
Cal sat atop the timber cart, waiting for the line of men to move in front of him, when he heard his name being shouted from behind. “Cal! Cal, wait for me, brother!”
“Have you decided to ride with me now?” Cal teased Michael, surprised to see his friend again.
“No, horse face, we have decided to ride with you,” Michael said as he pointed to the old Arborist who had been staring at him during yesterday’s ceremony.
“Well, alright then,” Cal said, hurrying them up onto the seat of the cart. “But I am not promising that you will have such a luxurious passage back to the city as this one here.” Cal spoke good-naturedly, but couldn’t quite keep his uneasiness from resurfacing. Michael still did not seem to grasp either the significance of the coming darkness or the reality of his fantastical encounters, and Engelmann was still a bit of an enigma to him.
“I will take my chances, young groomsman, for the answers to my questions would be worth the blisters and aching feet of ten such journeys,” Engelmann shot back.
“Very well,” Cal responded, determining that perhaps this Arborist may be worth trusting after all.
Cal gave the reins a twitch and called to the heavy horses to make their move forward, following the line of men that began to progress along the heights of the Talfryn Pass towards the ships anchored in the bay. The ground beneath the pass had been made inhospitable to horse or cart, as the angry and grieving king had ordered its once smooth and rolling countryside to be littered with huge shards of rock.
Though the Talfryn Pass was a monument to Kaestor’s murdered daughter, and a marvel of the engineering minds of Haven, it was by no means the prize of the south. From high atop the pass, and even from as far away as the windows of the Citadel, the star of the sea could be seen shining her unfailing lamp from the peak of her great tower. Maris, the beacon tower of the south, burned without fail as a guiding light for all the mariners and fishermen alike.
It has been said that since the departure of Illium and his ten upon the bow of the great ship Wilderness, the beacon tower Maris has not once extinguished her flames. At the pinnacle of her height, nearly two-hundred hands high, the white stone tower was capped in a bronze, ten-pointed star, whose metallic points reflected and were illuminated by the enormous, burning lamps inside its great form. Maris was perhaps the last sight of Haven that King Illium, the light seeker, had ever seen. Tradition held that if the star of the sea continued to burn without a moment’s relief, it may catch his eye again and guide his lost ship along the darkened and dangerous shoreline back home.
The hooves of the company’s horses knocked and clopped along the high stone passage, and the creaking of Cal’s timber cart sang in rhythmic harmony to the music of their departure. Off in the distance, the cold, dark waters of the bay came into view. The lamplight of Maris danced upon the lapping waves, revealing the two magnificent ships anchored off of the port there in Bright Harbor.
“There they are, brother!” Michael shouted. “Have you ever seen such a sight?” he excitedly asked.
“I have seen things, my friend, that no man-made vessel could dare compare to in beauty,” Cal mused out loud.
“Oh?” Engelmann chimed in. “Do tell us, groomsman, just what are these spectacles of beauty that have dulled your senses in such a way as to brush off this handcrafted magnificence as nothing more than commonplace?”
“I tried to tell Michael earlier, but he wouldn’t listen,” Cal said with a touch of sadness to his words. “I know that I let my imagination do quite a bit of the talking sometimes, and perhaps I have been known to get lost in the fantasies of legend. But all I want now is what I have always wanted, Michael—to be able to tell you of the things that truly matter. For it seems to me that beauty horded and unshared is sure to wither the fastest of all.”
“Hmmmmm …” muttered Engelmann with an intrigued stare in Cal’s direction.
The two young men waited for Engelmann to elaborate, but he just sat there, a small grin on his face and a slight twinkle in his eye.
“I’m sorry, brother,” Michael said finally, “but you have to admit this all sounds a bit too fantastic to believe. Oweles and Sprites and—”
“Now!” Engelmann interrupted his pupil mid-thought. “Are you saying that you don’t believe him, Michael? Are you saying that your mind is so damn flint-like that you can’t for a moment imagine that there are magics in this world that go beyond the scope and experience of a life experienced behind the safety of these jeweled walls?” Engelmann scolded him.
“Wait, what? Are you telling me that you do believe these tales of Oweles and Sprites?” Michael asked, incredulous.
“Indeed I do, groomsman,” Engelmann replied. “I may be long in my years here on this world, and I may have seen too many kings come and go, and I may be the oldest remaining witness to the perishing branches … but I will never presume to know all the depths or mysteries of the mind of the THREE who is SEVEN.”
Cal studied this Arborist here in his timber cart, high on the Talfryn Pass, and something in his heart knew that Engelmann too had heard the voice of some great Magic.
“Even if this were true, even if there are Oweles and Sprites in our world, what does it matter to me?” Michael reasoned with irritation.
“Perhaps, young groomsman,” Engelmann spoke, “perhaps the same door that brings the wonderful and magical mysteries that we have yet to see, may also bring unknown evils that we cannot begin to imagine?” Engelmann looked to Cal to see if his presumption hit near the truth.
Cal’s eyes met Engelmann’s, and he knew he had found a trustworthy ally. He nodded slowly to the green-haired Arborist, willing him to accept his next words. “You two must listen to me now, for if you will not, then what hope does the rest of Haven have of learning the truth before it’s too late?” Cal ran his hand over his face and pressed his eyes with his fingertips. “There is a great evil lurking in the shadows of the fading light. Iolanthe, the Queen of the Sprites herself, warned me of such dangers—”
“Iolanthe?” Michael mocked, unable to help himself. “They have names now? And queens, too!” He laughed. “How can you expect me to take these lies seriously?”
Suddenly, Cal’s long cloak flew open in a rage of wind and wings as a small figure moved as a luminescent blue blur, shooting out from his hiding place. The creature hovered with his sword drawn and his face contorted in a grimace of offense, poised to strike at Michael’s throat.
“Lies, are they? I will only ask you one time, and this grace is given to you only because of your friendship to Calarmindon Bright Fame!” Deryn shouted. “Recant your insults and your ignorant words and I will let you go on breathing! Do not, and this Arborist will need to search for a brighter student than the likes of you.”
Michael stared, wide-eyed in pure amazement. “Are … are you … are you what I think you are?”
“You will take back your ill-tongued words at once!” Deryn ordered, his voice bubbling with rage.
“I … I am sorry, please … forgive my ignorance. I had no idea,” Michael begged the Sprite.
“Then I will keep my promise, and offer you grace,” Deryn said, sheathing his miniscule blade into his tiny, blue scabbard. “But disrespect my Queen again and you shall not be so fortunate.”
Cal smiled ear-to-ear at the look of astonishment on his friend’s face. “Perhaps you will trust my ridiculous tales a bit more now? Huh?” Cal said with a satisfied laugh.
Michael stared quizzically at the sight before him, and then looked back to his friend who was driving the timber cart. “How have you kept him a secret all this time?”
“Cal has kept nothing, groomsman
,” Deryn corrected him. “I have chosen to stay hidden, and it wasn’t until your insolent blasphemy against my Queen that I chose to reveal myself and right a grievous offense.”
“I am sorry, I promise, I meant no offense! I, well … I didn’t even know your kind existed,” Michael apologized sincerely.
“I was not aware either, my dear Sprite friend,” Engelmann said enthusiastically. “For I thought that the treachery of the sorceress Šárka had destroyed all of the ancient Jacarandas, and with it the whole of your kind.” Engelmann shook his head. “I never supposed that I would live to see the day when the Sprites of the violet trees flew freely in this greying world of ours again! Ha, ha!” He let out a boyish, excited kind of laugh.
“Michael, Engelmann,” Cal met both of their gazes. “This is my friend Deryn, a sentinel of the house of Iolanthe, Queen of the Sprites and keeper of the secret grove.”
“The secret grove,” Engelmann mused, his words conveying his giddy astonishment. “Oh what sort of great tale have we stumbled our way into? What sort of tale, indeed?”
“Stumbled, you say?” Cal asked, a gleam coming into his eyes. “I am learning, rather quickly, that there is no stumbling into the story or the will of the THREE who is SEVEN.”
Engelmann thought about it for a moment, then conceded with a nod to the wisdom found in this young groomsman.
Deryn bowed before the two men, then came to rest his wings upon Cal’s lap before he spoke. “Your friend has been given a most important and perilous assignment, and I have been assigned the task of aiding him in its completion.”
“And just what is this assignment, Cal?” Michael asked. “To tend to the horses of the colony? It can’t be something as plain as that.”
“No, Michael,” Engelmann answered. “It is not that at all.” Engelmann stared the golden-haired groomsman in the eyes and spoke what he had already known to be true. “His task is to seek the light.”
“Is that true?” Michael asked him, looking back and forth from Engelmann to Cal and then down to Deryn.
“It is indeed true,” Deryn replied. Cal nodded in agreement, rather awestruck at the perception of the old Arborist.
“Well then … how did you know?” Michael asked Engelmann.
“Is it not obvious?” Engelmann answered in his typical fashion. “Just how do you suppose I might have come to this unsurprised revelation? Huh?”
“Enough with the riddles, Engelmann, we haven’t the time for them. Besides, my thoughts are …” Michael looked down at the otherworldly creature that stood surreally on the lap of his friend, “a bit preoccupied at the moment.”
Deryn bowed to him in mocking acknowledgement.
“Nothing about this is obvious to me!” Michael continued. “Cal talks of Sprites and Oweles, and suddenly a Sprite appears! Next I suppose an Owele will come flying out of the sky.”
Engelmann could hardly contain his mischievous grin. “Well, that would be an interesting turn of events now, wouldn’t it? Oweles certainly do seem to appear at the most opportune times …”
Michael narrowed his eyes at Engelmann. “You aren’t saying … wait. Are you telling me you found this out from—”
“The Oweles,” Engelmann said matter-of-factly.
“You have seen the Oweles too?” Cal asked excitedly. “Did they warn you? Did they tell you what lies in the shadows beyond the wall?”
“Not exactly, young Bright Fame,” the Arborist said with that knowing look to his eyes.
“Then what did they tell you?” Michael demanded.
“That you and I have a part to play in this story.” Engelmann turned to look his young pupil in the face. “We must endure, Michael. I fear that Haven as we know it will not last much longer in this world, and if we hope at all to see this light that your friend here has committed his life to seek … well then, we must endure.”
The horns of the Capital guard cut brightly through the heavy air of conversation, signaling with their brass notes that the company had arrived at Bright Harbor.
“We must go now,” Cal said with longing and worry in his eyes. “I have to find this light, brother. If Iolanthe is right, then it is our only true hope.” Cal opened his cloak wide and Deryn darted inside to shelter himself from the curious eyes that would soon surround them. With the Sprite safely concealed, Cal hopped down from the timber cart and onto the cobblestone streets of the harbor town. He reached up and grabbed his pack, and with a grunt of exertion he retrieved his sword out from under the very bench his two friends had been sitting on.
Engelmann’s eyes were caught by a curious gravity as they beheld the ancient, white scabbard of Cal’s blade. “It would seem to me that there is yet an even deeper magic at work here in you, Bright Fame,” Engelmann said, nodding to the sword.
“Yes, Arborist,” Cal replied humbly. “Though I never did ask for it.”
“That is certainly no blade of Haven,” Engelmann pondered aloud. “The hilt is all wrong to have been fashioned here in the city.” He scratched his mossy beard and thought on it for a moment. “No, I suspect this blade was forged long before there was even a walled city to fashion steel like this. This blade is special, that I can see plainly. However, just exactly what kind of special is not quite so obvious.”
Cal reached down and wrapped his hand around the bronzed wood grip, whose cross brace resembled high-reaching branches that curled up around the leaf-shaped blade. He looked up to the Arborist, searching his face for his true thoughts, and when he could not perceive what they were, he lowered his eyes and began to explain.
“It came to me when—”
“All blades are special, young groomsman, but very few carry with them the weight of calling and the deep hum of magic,” Engelmann interrupted. “It is better that your steel there stay anonymous, lest greedy hands get greedier.”
Cal nodded to the old Arborist, acknowledging his words without betraying the sword’s true identity, and an understanding passed between the two of them. “I must go now, brother,” Cal addressed his long-time friend. “When you pray, and I hope that you do often, remember me. For I fear that my charming, good looks and my small, blue-winged friend here will not be nearly enough to fully protect me from whatever perils lie unknown in the shadows of the Wreath.” His attempt at flippancy betrayed the worry that he had so carefully tried to keep hidden.
Michael jumped down from the cart and gave his friend a strong embrace. “I will, brother. I will.” Cal turned to leave and began walking in the direction of the rest of his company, when Michael shouted out to him. “What about the rest of us? What are we supposed to do?”
Cal yelled back in reply. “Endure, brother! And tell your Captain Armas what I told you, if he still has a heart that will listen!” And with those words, Cal walked to the wharf to join the men of the first colony of Haven.
Chapter Forty-One
The wharf was alive and buzzing with movement as porters loaded crates of cargo and supplies into the two sister ships. The vessels were even more stunning in person than were their replicas in the small square of Abondale. They gloriously rested at port, their amber and silver sails still bound and fastened to the yards of their masts, revealing hidden works of artistry only visible when the sails were not unfurled.
The two great masts of the Resolve were carved and fashioned to resemble enormous flames licking and climbing greedily up the whole of their lengths. The ship was made to look utterly ablaze as her deck railing and masts were consumed in resolute hues of subtle amber and glittering gold. The Determination’s mizzen, main, and foremasts were carved in the likeness of the great tree. Her yards and sprays resembled lesser branches born from her great, grey trunks. The shimmering silver of her sails and the grey tones of the timber gave the ship a ghostly magnificence as she sat upon the waters of the Dark Sea.
Cal was mesmerized by the enormity of their beauty and couldn’t help himself from staring, his jaw gaping at the craftsmanship of Carina, the shipwright.
“No, I’ve never,” Cal laughed his reply.
“To think of the cost, the expense and sacrifice paid for such a pair of vessels … it makes my mind spin in wonder,” Yasen said.
“I’ll wager that the timber from just one of these ships could fuel a whole borough for a month!” Cal speculated. “Though perhaps the fruit of these extravagances might fuel the whole walled city for years.”
“It very well could have been my axe that felled the timber to birth these ships, so let’s just hope I cut down the kind of timber that likes to float, huh?” Yasen said with a wink.
“They look sea-worthy enough to me,” Cal admired.
“Aye, but none of us knows what we may encounter out there upon the sea,” Yasen said, suddenly growing serious. “No one has ventured this far from the tree in a great many years, and the tree’s power has diminished since then.” The North Wolf turned around to take in the sad view of the tree, whose waning strength did not inspire much confidence in the hearts of the soon-to-be mariners.
“Some say it’s the tree, you know?” A touch of fear colored the brave chieftain’s voice. “That perhaps its failing is what has caused the North to grow so cold.”
“So what does that mean for us as we sail west ... even farther from the reaches of its rule?” asked Cal.
Yasen turned to meet the eyes of his friend, and the lines of dread could not help but be seen there on his face, even amidst the scars that he bore. “That is what I am afraid of, groomsman. I do not know what we can expect. The North has always been cold, but not cold like this ... not like it has been these last few years.”
Cal nodded. The realization of what Yasen was alluding to brought with it a heaviness that he would have gladly exchanged for naiveté in a heartbeat. “And the sea ... it has always been unpredictable, hasn’t it?”
“Aye, brother, indeed it has,” Yasen replied. “Still though, whatever uncertainties or inhospitalities we encounter, we will show them what we men of the North are made of! Huh?” He spoke with exaggerated sarcasm, hoping to buoy the spirits of his comrade.
The Great Darkening (Epic of Haven Trilogy) Page 36