Guild Wars: Sea of Sorrows

by Ree Soesbee

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  For my friend and sidekick Emily, whose courage inspires me to inspire others

  Time Line

  10,000 BE:

  Last of the Giganticus Lupicus, the Great Giants, disappear from the Tyrian continent.

  205 BE:

  Humans appear on the Tyrian continent.

  100 BE:

  Humans drive the charr out of Ascalon.

  1 BE:

  The Human Gods give magic to the races of Tyria.

  0 AE:

  The Exodus of the Human Gods.

  2 AE:

  Orr becomes an independent nation.

  300 AE:

  Kryta established as a colony of Elona.

  358 AE:

  Kryta becomes an independent nation.

  898 AE:

  The Great Northern Wall is erected.

  1070 AE:

  The Charr Invasion of Ascalon. The Searing.

  1071 AE:

  The Sinking of Orr.

  1072 AE:

  Ascalonian refugees flee to Kryta.

  1075 AE:

  Kormir ascends into godhood.

  1078 AE:

  Primordus, the Elder Fire Dragon, stirs but does not awaken. The asura appear on the surface. The Transformation of the Dwarves.

  1080 AE:

  King Adelbern of Ascalon recalls the Ebon Vanguard; Ebonhawke is established.

  1088 AE:

  Kryta unifies behind Queen Salma.

  1090 AE:

  The charr legions take Ascalon City. The Foefire.

  1105 AE:

  Durmand Priory is established in the Shiverpeaks.

  1112 AE:

  The charr erect the Black Citadel over the ruins of the city of Rin in Ascalon.

  1116 AE:

  Kalla Scorchrazor leads the rebellion against the Flame Legion’s shaman caste.

  1120 AE:

  Primordus awakens.

  1165 AE:

  Jormag, the Elder Ice Dragon, awakens. The norn flee south into the Shiverpeaks.

  1180 AE:

  The centaur prophet Ventari dies by the Pale Tree, leaving behind the Ventari Tablet.

  1219 AE:

  Zhaitan, the Elder Undead Dragon, awakens. Orr rises from the sea. Lion’s Arch floods.

  1220 AE:

  Divinity’s Reach is founded in the Krytan province of Shaemoor.

  1230 AE:

  Corsairs and other pirates occupy the slowly drying ruins of Lion’s Arch.

  1302 AE:

  The sylvari first appear along the Tarnished Coast, sprouting from the Pale Tree.

  1319 AE:

  Eir Stegalkin forms a band of heroes known as Destiny’s Edge.

  ACT ONE

  1219 AE

  (AFTER THE EXODUS OF THE GODS)

  You don’t know a storm ’til you ride the wind

  Beneath cold and blackened skies, O

  ’Til you’re sailing through a thunderhead

  With the lightning in your eyes

  Death, he laughs in the sails and the jags

  And the bloody sun won’t rise, O.

  —“Weather the Storm”

  A sharp breeze swept through Lion’s Arch, the curious offspring of cold ocean currents and warm southern winds drifting inland. It wove through the streets of the city, whispering in doorways and slipping down alleys. The cold season had been a long one, and ice still glinted on puddles of melt between stones in the uneven streets. Yet even in Kryta, winter must eventually yield to spring.

  The wind broke into a gust, and the ships at harbor shook and quavered in their moorings, pitching uneasily against the salt-soaked boards of the docks. Spray leapt up from a whitecap, foam trickling around sharp barnacles that freckled the mighty galleon’s hull. Sailors clapped their hands to their hats, and merchants grabbed their goods, keeping them close. On one of the larger vessels, a youth jumped down the ship’s gangplank, leaning into the wind and propelling himself forward with long, uneven strides.

  “Thanks for the extra work, Vost!” the young man yelled over his shoulder with a wave. He loped forward on the edge of balance, hardly caring about the wind that shoved against him. Torn, too-short pant legs flapped about his calves, and his shoes clung to the salty boards despite their cracked leather soles and worn stitching.

  Aboard the massive galleon, an older man waved down from the railing. With a leathery grin on his face, he called out, “Are you sure you don’t want to sail with us this time, Coby? We’ve plenty of berth and could use a good spotter out at sea!”

  “Sorry, Bosun Vost, but I can’t go!” Cobiah waved back. “There’s a pretty girl waiting in the city, and I can’t let her down!”

  “A girl? Ha! Good for you, lad.” The older man laughed. “See you on the horizon, then.”

  “Aye, aye, Vost. Take care!” The youth leapt over a crate at the bottom of the ship’s ramp, darting among slow-moving fishermen in the hustle and bustle of the crowd as he headed back toward shore. Whistling, he bounded over fishermen’s buckets and dodged through nets hung to dry, squeezing through the sailors at work without so much as an apology.

  He was a skinny youth, only just out of boyhood, legs ungainly and arms akimbo. Taller than most, Cobiah had not yet grown into his height, and he ran like an awkward colt still finding its balance. He was pale, with white-blond hair flopping about his forehead. Sharp blue eyes glinted in a lightly tanned face. The gawkiness of adolescence did not diminish a handsome face. It was perhaps a bit too long in the jaw, but it had a firmness and intelligence stamped on every feature.

  Cobiah skidded around the end of the dock, ducking under a thick wooden board being laid as a gangplank. He leapt up onto one of the wooden pillars of the dock to make the long jump to a second towering above the sandy beach. Thirty feet over the rocky shore, he balanced for a moment to enjoy the view.

  The Lion’s Arch docks stretched out like fingers from the sandy shore, reaching out to touch the ocean. Beyond that, a great stone city rose from the coastline, its ancient buildings shining white and yellow in the gentle morning sun. A soft whisper of green tinged the rocky cliffs around it, and mountains rose toward the clouds inland, beyond the city’s sculptured outline. Lion’s Arch had stood since the days when humans first colonized the nation of Kryta, like a foundation stone of the kingdom, and of civilization itself.

  Cobiah grinned and felt the wind shifting all about him. He smelled the bitter tang of the sea and the faint hint of sweetness from the spring’s first growth in city gardens and in distant plains. With a smile, he threw himself forward toward the streets of the city. Recklessly leaping onto the high crates of a loading area, Cobiah climbed down a stiff wooden piling until he reached the hard-packed ground below. Once there, he strode down small, wandering streets where scattered beach sand gave way to cobblestones and city dirt. Cobiah hurried as if Grenth, the god of death, were on his heels, and he didn’t stop running until he plowed face-first into the proverbial immovable object.

  Standing in the doorway of the Iron Tankard, a burly man threw his hand across the opening and held his ground. A hat hung low over his heavy-lidded dark eyes, protecting them from the sun and giving the man a perpetual scowl. “Well, well.” A lousy, lopsided sneer spread beneath the hat. “Cobiah. Late again.” The tavern keeper shoved the youth backward. “Yer not welcome here no more.”

  “Jacob!” Cob
iah protested with a winning smile. “You know it’s not my fault. I was helping out at the docks, carrying crates to the Indomitable. She’s to set sail at dawn, and—”

  “Din’t ya hear me?” the big man snarled, dark skin flushing with anger. “Yer not welcome!”

  “One of the crates broke,” the youth claimed quickly, ducking under the man’s muscular arm with eager abandon. Cobiah was quicker than the tavern owner, his skill at dodging honed by a childhood on the streets. “I had to get it all back together and in the hold before the stores got damp, and that’s why I’m late. It won’t happen again.”

  The tavern keeper gripped the back of Cobiah’s belt, hauling him out the door and onto the street. “Don’t care.” A grin spread across his features, showing long rows of sharp alligator teeth. “My tavern don’t need somebody that sweeps the floor after the patrons show up.” The gruff man’s malicious snarl never faltered. “You’re fired.”

  Cobiah paled. “Jacob . . . you can’t do this to me. I need this job.” He folded his hands together, begging, though hesitation replaced the friendliness in his eyes. “C’mon. I get it, you’re strong-arming to scare me straight. Let me in, and I’ll sweep up now, and tonight, too. Without pay.” Wheedling, Cobiah reached for the broom inside the doorway, but Jacob grabbed his wrist so hard that he bruised Cobiah’s flesh.

  “I don’t care! I’m tired of it, Cobiah. I’m done.” The man’s angry glare softened. “I know yer family’s got it rough, boy, but I can’t make no allowances. I got a bar to run.” Cobiah started to argue again, but Jacob thrust him back, releasing the youth’s wrist with a forceful shove. Jacob growled, “Now get goin’ before I cuff ya!”

  People on the street were staring, judging Cobiah with stern, unforgiving eyes. Someone brushing past muttered, “Lazy skale. Shiftless layabout!” Others shook their heads or whispered in mocking tones. A woman in a rich gown cast the pale-haired youth a glance that could have boiled eggs as she swept past. Cobiah didn’t bother to argue. He’d been called worse.

  It was as much as he could do to keep his face straight and his jaw square as he slunk away from the dockside bar. Jacob’s laughter rang mockingly in Cobiah’s ears, but it was nothing compared to what was ahead of him. He’d lost his job. The Indomitable was leaving port, so the extra money from loading the galleon would vanish, too. Few other ships were willing to trust a street kid to heft valuable cargo. There was little work in the crowded city of Lion’s Arch, and with no real skills or training in a craft, Cobiah was completely adrift. Just six silver coins in his pocket, all his prospects in ruins, and now he had to return home and explain it all . . . to her.

  The populace of Lion’s Arch hustled about their lives, ignoring the tow-haired youth wandering dejectedly through its cobbled streets. The city hadn’t lost any of its beauty; sunlight glistened on the waters of Lion’s Bay from the sandy cliffs of Lion’s Gate through the strait of Claw Island, illuminating soft white waves in the distant Sea of Sorrows. White sails hovered on the horizon like wave foam. He could hear bells ringing in the harbor, signaling the passing of ships in and out of dock. None of it meant anything to Cobiah.

  Yet despite the lost, desperate feeling, Cobiah couldn’t stop a smile from creeping to his lips at the sight of the most beautiful thing in the city. It wasn’t a sculpture or one of the magnificent buildings. It wasn’t sunlight, or sea waves, or even glittering gold. It was a little girl, squatting in the gutters outside Hooligan’s Route, playing with an earthworm that wriggled in the muddy dirt. She looked up at Cobiah with eyes the color of a clear summer sky. “Coby!” the four-year-old squealed, her grubby face breaking into a wide smile of joy. Leaving the worm to its own devices, the little girl dove into Cobiah’s arms, wrapping her hands around his neck as if to climb right up onto his shoulders.

  Cobiah laughed and whirled her about. She giggled, careful not to drop her faded rag doll. Though its yarn hair had worn to threadbare patches and its dress was little more than a dyed bit of burlap, the little girl cradled it close as he held her to his chest. “Heya, Bivy-bear. Sleep well?”

  His sister didn’t answer at first. Instead, she pushed her dolly into Cobiah’s hand. “Kiss for Polla?” Cobiah obediently gave the dolly a kiss on its forehead and handed it back to the girl. Only then did she reply softly, “No.” The little girl pouted, lower lip jutting out like a slice of ripe plum. “I had night-horses.”

  “Nightmares, Biviane?” Cobiah bounced his sister lightly, watching her pale curls tremble across her chubby, dirt-stained cheeks. She clutched his neck tightly and laid her head on Cobiah’s shoulder. In her hand, the dolly’s stitched lips smiled prettily, and her button eyes matched Biviane’s, for all that they stared out of a weary-looking yarn head.

  “I dreamed there was a monster outside. Polla was scared. I tried to sing a little song to make her feel better, but . . . that made Mama yell.” Biviane sighed heavily, kicking her feet in exasperation. “Mama took Polla away and put her in the dark place.”

  Cobiah’s blood ran cold. “Polla went into the dark place?” he asked carefully. “Just Polla. Not you, Bivy. Right?”

  Biviane lay her head on his shoulder, curls tumbling down onto Cobiah’s chest. In a small voice, she whispered, “Not me. I was very, very quiet, and Mama let me sleep.” A pause. “This time.”

  A breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding eased out of Cobiah’s lungs. “Good girl.” His hair lay against hers along the curve of his shoulder, matching like two skeins of the same thread. It was probably a good thing that Biviane couldn’t see his expression, for it took him several moments to get it under control. At last, with infinite care, he lowered his sister to the ground. “Here.” He forced a happy smile onto his lips. With a wink, Cobiah drew a silver coin from his pocket. He held it up, giving it a flourish so that the metal sparkled in the sun. “Do you know where I got this?”

  Biviane clutched her dolly close to her chest and opened her rosebud mouth with awe. She shook her head, eyes wide, staring at the money.

  Cobiah let the coin dance over his fingers. “See those big masts out at the last dock? That’s the Indomitable. She’s got three masts and three decks, and a hundred guns on each side. The king of Kryta built that ship himself, and she’s the finest one on the sea!”

  Biviane stared out over his arm, glancing back and forth between white sails and yellow gold. “That’s King Baede’s ship?”

  “His biggest one. And it’s a sight to see. It could fit a hundred soldiers on it, and still have room for fifteen houses, a thousand cats . . .” He smiled to see her mouth purse into a little O of astonishment. “And Polla, too.”

  “Wow.” Her eyes were big and trusting. “And you were on that ship?”

  “I was. I was helping to load it last night, and while I was putting a crate in the hold, I looked out of a porthole at the sea. Do you know what I saw there?” Cobiah leaned in close and whispered in Biviane’s ear. “A mermaid.”

  The little girl’s blue eyes grew as wide as china plates. “A real one?”

  “Yes, indeed. She’d come to see the king’s galleon. She had green scales from her shoulders to the tip of her tail, and she wore a dress made out of kelp and pearls. Her eyes were pale, like stars on the water, and her hair looked just like yours.” Cobiah tugged gently on a curl as Biviane giggled. “She said I was so handsome that she wanted to take me to the bottom of the ocean and keep me for her very own. But I told her that I wouldn’t leave my sister for the whole wide world.” He shook his finger teasingly. “Then she told me she’d give me some of her treasure if I gave her something in return. And do you know what she wanted?”

  “A kiss!” Biviane breathed.

  “I did, and she gave me this piece of silver. Now that I’ve told you the story, little miss, I’ll make you the same deal. If you give me a kiss, it’ll be yours.”

  With a gasp, Biviane threw her hands around Coby’s neck and kissed him on both cheeks, giggling. Hugging his sister tightly, Cobi
ah pressed the coin into her palm.

  “Did you really see a mermaid, Cobiah? A really-real one?” Biviane squealed, and her face glowed with delight. Cobiah couldn’t help hugging her again, breathing in the warm scent of his sister’s hair.

  “Go get some breakfast, Bivy. And buy a piece of candy for Polla. I have to talk to Mom.” Cobiah set the girl down on her feet and waved to one of the sailors passing by. “Romy? Are you headed into town?”

  “Aye, young Cobiah. What can I do you for?”

  “Can you take my sister to the muffin cart and help her pick out a nice sweet one? She’s not allowed to go into the city alone.” Cobiah smiled at the old man.

  “Why, of course I can.” Romy smiled, his green eyes adrift amid a sea of wrinkles and white beard. “C’mon, little lass. Ooh, is that your dolly? What’s her name?”

  “Polla!” Biviane said, taking Romy’s hand trustingly. She turned to look back over her shoulder. “I love you, Coby!” she squealed. “I’ll see you soon!” With a leap, she followed the old man, clutching her rag doll close to her chest. Cobiah straightened, watching his sister dance along the sand at the edge of the row of houses. Romy headed for the vendors at the docks, just a little ways down past where the big ships were moored, chattering happily to the little girl all the while.

  Cobiah watched as the two vanished into the press of people moving back and forth on the pier. Even after she was gone, he stood there, imagining that he could still see her bouncing golden curls here and there among the crowd. Finally, with a sigh, Cobiah turned toward the shanty and headed inside.

  The rotted door swung gently on ruined hinges. Inside the dark, filthy hut, the smell of tar and whiskey hung on foul air. The window glass was cracked and clogged with spiderwebs, and its wooden floor was thick with grime. The hut was composed of one choked-looking room. A faded red-and-blue rug lay dejectedly on the mud-and-slat-board floor. It was wrinkled and limp, looking very much as if it had died trying to crawl to freedom. The room’s central table tottered in uncertain balance, tilting precariously on three warped legs and a half leg resting on a rusted bucket. In the rear of the cottage stood a large bed behind a wide, withered-looking threefold screen of paper.