by Dawn Dagger
Her lids started to grow heavy, and Levanine let them slide close, yawning largely. It had been a very long day, and she was very tired and very sore. After what seemed like mere seconds in the expanse of darkness, Levanine felt herself being hoisted up. Her eyes flickered open to see Guy held her. He bent down, lying a small, wooden wolf on the stones around the long-gone fire, then cradled her close, starting back towards the huts nestled on the hill.
Levanine decided she had nothing to fear, so she closed her eyes once more, and fell asleep.
Chapter 23
The speed at which a sloop was being built was beyond Guy’s expectations. Achaki ran to and fro, from the massive collapse of wood and rats that was the sloop Bartender had given them to the capable new base, carrying piles of timber, tools, and any number of other strange things meant for building. Moskuna-- that was the dark-skinned man-- hammered away at the frame.
The two of them had been making noise since before sunrise. A few of Guy’s men, including Rakifi and a man named Testan, helped, gathering wood from the beach and sometimes cutting down new saplings on the edge of the forest. The sun beat down and shone in the sweat on their skin, but they never stopped. Achaki-- as scrawny as he was-- was stronger than many of Guy’s own sailors. He was impressed. He would have much rather had the boy as a swabby than the lazy Kasha, if his father would have ever allowed.
“It’ll be done before two night’s time, so start prepping supplies, and get Palae on inventory!” Guy called to Quinn, who was sitting with his back to the ocean, his head lowered in his lap. He was hungover from drinking too much.
“Good!” He shouted irritably, shaking a fist at him. “Sooner we get out of this Ursona-adored place the better! I can’t believe you and Levanine let me drink that much!”
Guy took one last satisfied glance at the progress of his escape and strode over to Quinn, before patting him squarely on the shoulder. Quinn peered out of the corner of his eye to look at him.
“You see, Quinn, we had a very serious funeral to arrange. We could not exactly babysit.” He turned and began to walk off.
“Oh, Tenebis’ temper on you!” Quinn shouted after him.
Guy chuckled to himself and then made his way to a pile of crates, a small smile on his face. Everything was going perfectly well. The spices would nearly be enough to make up for the price of the wine. Intelligences finished paying for what he had lost. To make up the money to Moskuna, he would simply have to capture a ship, or make an undeniably good deal to one of the lords of Avondella.
His newest sloop would not be the grand and imposing beast the Red Running Royalty had been, so it would not be easy to attack another ship, or defend their own, but it would work. It would carry them efficiently to Avondella, where his true Royalty awaited his arrival, with its ornate carvings and dark wood.
Guy pulled the map out of his leather satchel and examined it, then, when satisfied with how short the distance to Avondella was, stored the map away, then approached Paela.
“How goes?”
“It goes, Cap’n!” He plucked a charred stick from behind his ear and scribbled something onto a small parchment he had scavenged. “Twelve crates of hard biscuits, two crates o’ dried beans, four barrels o’ ale, and I managed t’ree barrels o’ fresh wate’, but it came at what I promised were a hefty price, Cap’n.”
But of course, seemed reasonable. “No fruits? We can fish for meat, obviously, but no fruits?”
Paela shook his head. He pushed his thin-rimmed spectacles back up his nose. They were practically useless- both lens shattered now- but he tried to use them anyways.
“Looks like we’re going foraging.” He turned away before Palae could protest. “Hopefully we can find something. I will not have scurvy taking over the ship.”
“Aye, Cap’n. I’ll gather a few men and send them to the woods. Most of the are drunk, meaning they’re useless, but the few who aren’t might be o’ help.”
“ Do what you need to, I trust your judgement. I’ll see if Levanine would like to help.”
“Cap’n, if I might ask,” He scuttled up to Guy’s side like a boat-rat, his back hunched and his curled fingers nervously twitching together. “She is you’s mistress, ain’t she? Why does she help with everything? The men murmur, even Silva.”
Guy looked at him, his beady, black eyes saying he knew many things, and that Guy was doing a terrible job at pretending she was his. “My own reasons, many of which I’m sure you have figured for yourself.”
“Just… be careful in Avondella. Spies, y’know.”
“Yes, I know, I am not a fool. I will not be tricked.” He said with no conviction. “Anyways, she will help.”
“O’ course.”
Guy gave him a last nod and began to wind up the path towards the huts, the one where Levanine was sleeping. She slept more than the other men because she needed the energy to heal. He was fine with letting her sleep. Kept her out of trouble.
He did have to get better at flaunting her and keeping her close. Palae was right, of course. People were suspicious, and suspicions led to people getting hurt. Give them the wrong idea and everything that is planned falls through. Whatever plans they were conniving.
Now that he understood how Levanine was, he figured it must be easier to pretend to care deeply about her.
“Levanine?” He knocked on the door, calling cheerfully. He was in a good mood. Maybe he should growl a little more, couldn’t let her think he was too nice, now could he? Guy chuckled at himself, muffling it with his sleeve. Avondella was so close he could taste the perfumed air.
“Levanine?” He called again, concerned she did not wake at the first call.
Just as he opened the door to the hut, a terrifying roar shook the island.
Chapter 24
Levanine’s eyes fluttered open as golden light warmed her lids. She was lying on a cot, covered by a thin blanket. The sun was pouring in through an open-air window cut into the wooden wall of the hut she was in. She sat up quickly, startled she had slept in so late into the day, and grimaced as pain shot through her ribs. She wasn’t quite healed yet.
Levanine rubbed her eyes and glanced around. Clothes were folded neatly at the end of her cot and, on the pile of timber that served as a table, the wolf the Captain had carved the night before sat watching vigilantly over her. In the filtered sunlight of the afternoon it looked much larger than before.
She rose quickly, despite the protesting of her body, then stepped out of the room to get dressed in the dark space where the chamber hole was. Upon returning to the room, she grabbed her dagger, sliding it into the belt of her pants, pulled on her boots with a small struggle, then tied up her hair. She stood and reached for the wooden wolf.
Levanine jerked her hand away in surprise as her skin came into contact with the wood. The figure was warm to the touch. It’s just the sun. She chided herself, peering closer at the carving. Why had the warm wood unsettled her so?
She shook her head, unsure, but feeling quite silly, then walked out of the hut, leaving the little carving behind. Levanine was aware they were setting sail soon, and that they needed more supplies than the bloated bartender would give them. She knew the men knew nothing of herbs or fruits, and with Eldred gone…
A small sigh passed between her lips and she hurried her steps, trying to recall the herbs she knew were useful, as well as what they could, or could not do. Levanine was able to recall three or four plants, which would have to do.
The sun was shining pleasantly, and for once it was all warm. Her muscles ached and her ribs throbbed, but she ignored the pain and climbed the winding path towards the copse of twisted trees at the top of the hill.
The trees of the forest were gnarled with ugly yellow and brown leaves. Their limbs reached out like claws, brambles gathering around their roots, and all of the warm, drinkable sunshine seemed to disappear into an eerie darkness.
Levanine stopped at the edge of the cop
se, staring into the darkness. She quickly tied up her hair into a braid so that it did not snag on the brambles.
A shadow flitted above her. Levanine shook off her shivers and stooped, stepping into the copse, urging herself on. Her eyes roamed over the brown mosses and dead branches, trying to find berries or roots of a familiar shape that they could take onto the ship.
Levanine had used her herb knowledge to save herself on more than one occasion, but that had been so long ago, she wasn’t going to take unnecessary risks. If she couldn’t identify the plant for certain, she wasn’t going to take it with them. Eldred would have been so much more useful than she, had he survived…
Shriveled berries like drops of blood clung to thorny branches and wilted flowers sunk shamefully to the ground. Nothing useful. It all looked like poison. No birds sang. Not even crows shouted angrily, which was unsettling. She could not hear the ocean in the forest, making her feel as if she had been suddenly lift off of the face of Kelthaltar, forever stuck in the copse of trees. Was this what Ursona was like?
Levanine fought through the reaching trees, pain and discomfort winding through and knitting in with her body. Just has she began to despair and wonder if she would ever find anything at all, she stumbled into a small clearing. It was just as dark in the shaded dell as it had been in the barrier of twisted trees, but at least this space was more open. The grass was dark and matted, branches and leaves crunching loudly underfoot as she roamed.
Levanine shuffled through the thorny shrubs lining the clearing, her eyes searching, desperately now, for anything at all. A pool of dark, stagnant water sat in the center of the dell, making her wrinkle her nose. As she wandered around it, mud squished under her boots and her steps became slightly harder to pull from the ground.
Eventually, she came to a near barren bush, upon which clung a handful of delicate, white flowers. She hadn’t realized how awful the carrion smell that plagued the copse was until the sweet, pleasantly overpowering perfume of the flower sank into her nostrils.
She knew that smell.
Levanine fell to her knees in the cold mud and began to scoop the flowers into her hands as quickly as she could. She deposited the flowers in the pouch at her hip, then held it as if it were gold itself, rising with a groan of pain.
These were rare, sweet, powerful. Envied. She felt panic hammering her heart in her chest. She glanced around before moving onto the next bush, tense. She had heard stories about finding these flowers though. Seen scars. Heard of the children missing.
Once Levanine was satisfied with the less than impressive amount of flowers she collected, she hobbled toward where she had come from, carefully glancing around once more. A branch snapped and she wheeled around, her hand reaching for her dagger. There was nothing. It was quiet. She turned abruptly, prepared to run, but instead slammed into something solid.
Levanine yelped and stumbled backwards, gripping her dagger in her hand, but not raising it. A figured stood hunched in front of her, her face hidden in the hood of her tattered, brown cloak. Levanine swallowed.
The woman’s gnarled hand reached toward her, the crooked fingers uncurling.
“What do you want?” Levanine whispered, her throat closing up.
“You should not take what is not yours.” The woman’s voice was raspy, like the wind rustling through shriveled leaves. Stern. It was threatening.
“I-I need it.” Levanine’s voice wavered as she hugged the bag to her bosom. “Our crew needs it.”
“And you think those who spent so long growing it does not?”
The trees felt as if they were closing in. The carrion smell intensified, overpowering the flowers. Levanine couldn’t breathe. “Y-you work for yourself and the beasts of land. No birds or beasts dwell here. Let us have it.” She bartered breathlessly, clutching her pouch tighter.
“You are not one to be making demands.” The figure, an old woman, began to circle around her, causing Levanine to feel more and more closed in. Levanine was prey. A thief. Her muscles coiled painfully, ready to spring. “I want a payment for taking what you should not even know of. They hide for they are meant to stay from prying hands and peering eyes.”
Branches-- sharp, snapping twigs-- raked through Levanine’s hair, causing her to yelp. “I have nothing to pay you!” She shrilled.
“Thistles do not bloom here… and although beasts rarely dwell, birds do. All creatures need a home.” The statements made little sense to Levanine’s swirling head, but the woman said it was if it explained everything. The woman twisted Levanine’s brown locks in her wooden fingers, a raspy chuckle heaving its way out on one of her labored breaths.
“I keep all of the blossoms?” Levanine’s voice was not much more than a whisper itself. The smell of death- a sickeningly sweet odor that fogged her mind- was so overpowering Levanine feared she would keel over and pass out.
Something pushed her to the ground suddenly, and she sunk into the decomposing leaves, her knees digging into the cold, wet mud. Her body was icy from pain. Her head was swirling. “Fine…” She whispered, giving in. “A home, for your birds.”
She was sure she would pass out.
As Levanine stumbled toward her hut, she clutched the purse in her hands, kicking mud off of her boots. The Captain would be pleased. Though a handful of flowers seemed hardly impressive, and could not fill the hole where Eldred had been, they were more useful than he would initially realize.
She realized that they also still needed fruit, which she had failed to find, but she let neither of these realizations dampen her mood.
Levanine trotted towards her hut, her whole head feeling lighter. She had succeeded in her searching and gaining some of the most powerful herbs to exist in any of the lands of Kethaltar, and was no worse for the wear. In fact, she felt better than before.
Well, she needed a bath to get the carrion smell and mud off of her, but other than that small detail she was fine. Eating a flower had proved to help her feel better, and she had made it back out of the forest safely.
Levanine strolled into the hut and looked around for a board that was clean. She needed to dry the flowers so they did not mold. The sun was blazing in the sky, so it would not be an impossible task.
She scuffled through the dirt and dust, gathering a loose board, a long, flat rock, and her dagger. She carried the three things outside and tossed them on the ground, then pondered about which would be best for what she needed. The board wouldn’t get warm quickly enough, and the blade might shrivel the petals. She decided on the rock.
Levanine pulled her satchel out and pulled the flowers out delicately, one at a time, lying them faceup on the rock with meticulous care. She positioned the rock to face the sun, then nodded to herself in satisfaction.
She stood up and brushed the dust off of her trousers, heading back toward the hut. She needed to grab the little wolf and Guy’s precious book before seeing if the men needed any help building the ship. She had to keep the two close. They felt special.
Levanine stopped short as she walked through the door into the back room. The sun had lowered, so it was no longer beaming on the table, but when Levanine peered she realized the wooden wolf was gone. Had someone stole it? She dropped to her belly and peered under the sagging cot. Maybe she had knocked it over, did not realize it? Surely the hag hadn’t taken it…
She stood back up and grabbed her book off of a nearby pile of rubbish, peering around for the totem. She took a second to glance at the tome, then decided it must be protected by runes. There was no other explanation for its unharm. Levanine giggled to herself, storing the book in her satchel. Look at her, understanding such things.
A quiet growl suddenly vibrated behind her and she tensed, standing up straight. Levanine slowly turned around, holding her dagger.
Two large, glowing eyes glared at her, tossing green light around in the dark shadows of the room. A huge, brown paw took a step forward, thumping loudly against the dirt. An enormou
s, brown beast crept out of the darkness, cornering Levanine against the wall. Its body was bristling, muscles rippling and shifting beneath its skin.
She stared up the muzzle of a stiff-haired wolf. It glared, baring its teeth and snarling. As the sun fell against the chest and back of the beast, Levanine realized it had a strange texture, as if it was made of wood.
Was it somehow the wooden wolf?
Its nostrils flared as it continued to creep closer, then its deafening roar suddenly shook the hut.
She was going to die.
Chapter 25
Guy rushed into the hut, unsheathing his longsword. He barreled to the back of the hut, stopping short in the doorway in surprise. Levanine was cornered by a massive beast- a towering wolf. It had the appearance of being made of wood. Her eyes were bright with fear and tears and her hair, her once beautiful and long hair, was cut beneath her ears.
“Levanine!”
The wolf swung its head to face him, and glared at him with glowing eyes, its haunches trembling and its fangs bared in a snarl. “Back!” Guy barked, pointing his blade at the wolf. “Get back, beast!” Had it hurt Levanine?
The wolf crouched, snarling, its gaze still poisonous. It swung its head between the two of them, letting out another low growl. It wasn’t scared of him. Levanine did not move, instead gripping her dagger with hands as white as her face. Guy acted on the adrenaline pumping through his veins and swung his sword, throwing himself forward. He slashed at the wolf’s chest with a fierce cry. The force of his blow shot back through his own arms and Guy fell backwards onto the ground. The beast yelped and skittered back itself, a long gashed carved into its chest.
The wolf turned suddenly and lunged at Levanine, who shouted and dove sideways. Guy swung the flat of his sword up, raising in the same moment, and slapped the beast’s huge nose with it. It barked roughly in pain. “Levanine, run!” The beast snapped at him with its deadly fangs and he hopped backwards, rolling his sword in his hand.