by Rob Scott
‘Cape Cod to Long Island? I don’t know enough about the East Coast to even hazard a guess-’
‘I think there’s a ferry from Buzzard’s Bay,’ Steven broke in. ‘Take that; it’ll save time, but you’ll need to open the portal by the following day, let’s say five o’clock, regardless of where you are. That gives you twenty-two hours to get your mother, get the portal and get to Long Island.’
‘It should be plenty of time.’
The Morning Star turned into the wind. To Steven it felt like the nautical equivalent of running into a wall. He sat back down, his knuckles white on the chair.
Hannah braced herself against the bulkhead. ‘Even if it takes me all day to talk her into it, we can make the Island in a few hours.’
‘I don’t know. Your mother can be awfully persuasive,’ Steven recalled getting the hell beaten out of him. She wasn’t someone he would ever underestimate again. ‘Either way, there or not, open the portal at five o’clock, twenty-two hours after you step through. We’ll come through at five past five.’
‘Steven, you haven’t answered my question,’ Garec said. ‘How are we going to do this? How do we “take the head off the snake”? Can we attack Mark from the other side before he brings this army of killers through to wipe us all out or, worse, invites a wave of fury and death to mow us down where we stand?’
‘I don’t know,’ Steven said, truthfully.
Alen sighed, clearly unconvinced.
Steven said, ‘We’ve known since my return to South Carolina that Nerak could detect the far portals when they were opened. He followed me through to Charleston Harbour, despite the fact that he should have been tossed anywhere on Earth. Why is that?’ Steven didn’t wait for an answer. ‘He chased me across the country, racing me to Lessek’s key, and all the while Garec, Mark and Gilmour were opening their portal every twelve hours. Why didn’t he come back, take their portal and simply wait around for me to return? I would have been a sitting duck.
‘When I returned, I started paging through Lessek’s spell book; Nerak could have used that to return to Eldarn. Eventually, he did. Why did he linger in Colorado? We know he pursued Jennifer Sorenson, Hannah’s mother. Why? If he didn’t need the portal, why did Nerak follow Jennifer into the mountains? Was it for fun? Did he want the portal, even though he could have returned without it? What was he doing hanging around over there?’ Steven tried to answer his own questions. Nerak knew we had Lessek’s key and that we were about to waste our time running for Sandcliff Palace. With us heading in the wrong direction, there was no need to rush back. We were no threat without the table and he assumed we had no idea where the table was; so he waited-’
‘And he learned,’ Gilmour interjected. ‘He took souls, how many we can’t begin to guess, but he probably took new souls every few avens: workers, teachers, doctors, anyone who might help him develop an accurate and comprehensive knowledge of Earth.’ He looked at Alen. ‘He was filling his own head with a thousand Twinmoons of missing information.’
‘And deciding how and where to take your world,’ Brexan finished Gilmour’s thoughts.
‘Taking Mark Jenkins clinches it,’ Garec said. ‘He’s been going on and on about that rutting beach since he arrived. He claims it was Lessek showing him that he’s some kind of heir: the prince of Eldarn.’
‘The prince of all worlds,’ Hoyt said to himself.
‘So, Garec, to answer your question, finally,’ Steven chuckled, ‘I don’t know if we can hit Mark before he opens the spell table. If we try, he’ll know, because our only resources across the Fold are the far portals and he’ll know when we’ve opened them. However, if we wait to strike until Mark has opened the table-’
‘We run the risk of him first inviting this evil essence into Eldarn.’
‘He won’t,’ Steven said. ‘He’ll be preoccupied with the Fold itself. Moving that many people is a big job, even for the world’s most powerful magician. There are only so many ways to do it and if he wants to shift a sizeable force to Jones Beach, Mark will have to rend a significant window for them to cross.’
‘They’re not going in single file,’ Hannah said.
‘I’d have to pee about every half-aven,’ Hoyt laughed at his own joke.
‘While Mark’s opening the door, or widening the door, I should say, that’s when he’ll be vulnerable… well, relatively. And, yes, that’s when we’ll hit him from the other side.’
‘So he’ll know we’re there?’ Garec asked. ‘He’ll know we crossed?’
‘Maybe,’ Gilmour said, ‘if he detected Hannah’s little field trip yesterday, he might think we’re moving back and forth. If Hannah goes through at seven o’clock and opens the portal for us the following day, Mark may believe one of us is ferrying supplies or weapons.’
‘It can’t hurt to hope,’ Brexan said.
‘What time is it now?’ Gilmour asked.
Garec checked Steven’s old watch. ‘Four and forty minutes.’
Hannah suddenly looked nervous. All right,’ she said, ‘I have two hours. I’m going to try and get some sleep.’
‘We all should,’ Alen said, moving towards the door. ‘Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.’
‘You’re a master at understatement, my friend,’ Hoyt said, passing what remained of his bread to Brexan.
‘Thanks,’ she said as she followed him into the companionway. ‘Are you going back?’ Brexan whispered.
‘Back to Falkan? To Orindale?’ Hoyt said.
‘Yes.’
Alen slowed to listen; he didn’t look back.
Hoyt pressed against the wall, allowing Steven and Hannah to pass. He watched them disappear together into Marrin Stonnel’s old cabin. Turn and look at me, Hannah. Just once. Look at me once, and I’ll follow you wherever you’re off to. When the door closed, Hoyt sighed and said, ‘Yes, I think I am. You?’
Alen’s shoulders slumped and he made his way through the darkened companionway to the stairs in the main hold. Good, he thought to himself. That’s good. Alen never heard Brexan’s reply.
Garec waited for Gilmour on the main deck. The breeze was numbingly cold, but it was welcome after the closeness of the captain’s cabin. The discussion hadn’t taken long, but the Ronan archer was weary, and he could sense that the exhaustion in his bones was not about to let up. He waved to Kellin, gestured that he would be right there and then listened for Gilmour on the stairs.
When Gilmour arrived, he was smiling. ‘I wondered where I would run into you.’
‘You promised to tell me.’ Garec kept his voice down. It was unnecessary on the brig-sloop’s deck, but he felt the need to whisper, regardless. ‘First, it was at Seer’s Peak, when you said you were sure Lessek would want to communicate with me. Then it was in Wellham Ridge, when-’
‘When I said that one day I would tell you the truth; yes, I remember.’ He pulled a pipe from his tunic and as he put it to his mouth the tobacco apparently already packed tightly in the bowl started smouldering. ‘I did promise, didn’t I?’
‘And since I’ve just agreed to follow you into another world, a world of pizza and barefoot coffee and turkey and bullshit, I think now might be a good time.’
‘I want you there with us because I am worried that Mark’s analysis of his lineage might be accurate.’
‘Mark?’ Garec hadn’t expected this. ‘You mean all that nonsense about being Rona’s prince, Eldarn’s king?’
‘Exactly,’ Gilmour said, ‘and since so few things we’ve experienced or encountered in the past several Twinmoons appear to be coincidental-’
‘There haven’t been many; I admit.’
‘Then I think you may be the one who can save Mark… or who will save Mark, I suppose, if Mark can be saved.’
‘Me? How?’
‘Again, this is only an old man’s speculation, but I believe your great-great-grandfather would have wanted you there, to follow in his footsteps as the king’s protector.’
‘Hold just a moment, G
ilmour.’ Garec held up his hands. ‘Are you saying that you knew my great-great-grandfather?’
‘No,’ Gilmour frowned. ‘I knew your great-great-grandmother. Her name was Etrina Lippman, and she came from Capehill.’
‘Right, right,’ Garec yawned. ‘My mother mentioned her; they used to call her Ettie or Etta or something.’
‘Etrina Lippman of Capehill, Garec. Does that name sound at all familiar to you?’
‘Only if you hearken all the way back to my childhood and those early days on the farm with-’ he stopped himself. ‘Wait… Etrina Lippman. I have heard that name. It was-’
‘In Tenner Wynne’s letter.’ Gilmour pulled the faded parchment from his tunic. It had been wet so many times now that the ink was a blurry smear.
‘Pissing demons.’ Garec exhaled through pursed lips. ‘Not me, too. I don’t want that. I don’t want anything to do with that. That’s all-’
‘Don’t worry. You heard Steven: if he has anything to do with it, Eldarn’s new government will be a democracy, probably a republic, once we get the schools organised and the printing presses up and working and the populace better informed and… oh, rutters, but there’s lots to do, assuming, of course, that we’re all still here in two days.’ He turned to lean on the port rail. The river was a black highway in both directions. Barges, shallow drafting schooners, ketches and catboats plied the waters, their watchlights lit and flickering in the middlenight breeze.
Garec looked out over northern Malakasia. There was a tremor in his voice, in part from the cold, but more from the catastrophic news that he was next in line to rule Falkan. ‘You use those words, demo-thing and repub-whatever. Gilmour, I don’t even know what they mean.’
‘Trust me, Garec, I am not interested in you as a potential monarch of Falkan. I think it would be a profound waste of an otherwise productive and compassionate person. However, I am interested in your great-great-grandfather’s legacy. He was the king’s protector and, like it or not, essentially nothing of what we have encountered, done, seen or accomplished in the past three Twinmoons seems to be by chance.’
‘Some grand plan,’ Garec muttered. ‘It’s a perfect tangle to me. We’ve barely known if we were up or down, ahead or behind. How can you suggest that this is all part of some intricately woven tapestry?’
‘We can’t take the risk. We need you there.’ Gilmour watched the waves lap and splash along the waterline. ‘You’ve always thought of yourself as the Bringer of Death. It was wrong of Sallax and Versen to give you that nickname, because you have a real gift, Garec, you are a real virtuoso with a bow. Like it or not, I believe that’s your grandfather’s legacy.’
‘And a great deal of practising,’ Garec said. ‘Give me some credit. I put in the avens at the yard.’
‘True, but think of your dream, that vision from Lessek on Seer’s Peak.’
‘To be honest, I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up,’ Garec admitted. ‘It was Rona. I watched Prince Tenner’s attempt to continue the Grayslip family line and then I watched as the Forbidden Forest, the hills around Riverend, dried to dust and died.’
‘Rona’s protector,’ Gilmour whispered, ‘not the Bringer of Death.’
‘I won’t rule,’ Garec insisted. ‘It isn’t in me. I’m no leader; I’m a worker. I’ll do anything, but I won’t rule.’
‘You think I see that as a character flaw?’ Gilmour grinned. ‘It may actually be a sign of great wisdom and self-knowledge that you wish to avoid your birthright. But, given our experiences along this merry trail thus far, I need you with us at Jones Beach. You know Steven; he’ll be looking for any opportunity to save Mark. It will be his weakness and there’s nothing we can do about it, except to convince him that you’ll be watching for a chance too.’
‘Very well, then.’ Garec looked for Kellin; she was still in the bow, wrapped in a cloak and bouncing on her toes to keep warm. ‘I’d better go and talk to her.’
‘Good luck with that.’
‘Thanks,’ he said as he started forward, then paused. ‘Wait, one other thing – Gilmour, how did you know Ettie?’
‘Tenner Wynne never arrived in Capehill. We assume he died the night Riverend burned. That left your great-great-grandmother pregnant and alone, an embarrassing situation for her. She was the daughter of an important import-export merchant from Capehill and rumours about her condition, and how she came to be in that condition, were all over northern Falkan-’
‘Where you happened to be wandering, lost and plenty dishevelled-’
‘After failing to defeat Nerak at Sandcliff, yes.’
‘How’d you meet her?’
‘She was a rich woman with no husband and a burgeoning stomach.’ Gilmour smirked at the memories. ‘But she lost no social standing, suffered no humiliation and never went into hiding. I introduced myself to her and we became friends; I about pissed myself when I read her name in Prince Tenner’s notes. But looking back on it now, it makes sense. She held her head high, knowing her child was special.’
‘Well, that was certainly- how does it go? Naked pastry-chef luck?’
The old sorcerer laughed out loud and hugged Garec. ‘Good night, my boy.’
‘Good night, Gilmour.’
He watched Garec move beyond the foremast, then whispered, ‘I’m proud of you, Garec. I truly am. If I’d ever had a son-’ Gilmour wiped his eyes. ‘Well, that’s just silly, isn’t it?’
EIGHT AVENS
Dawn found the Morning Star running north, with Captain Ford at the helm and clearly in his element. He was deeply relieved to be putting distance between his ship and the Welstar docks. Shouting orders to his weary crewman, he gazed downriver, plotting how to reach the Pellia headlands by the midday aven. The morning was cold and steely; the sun barely rose behind low clouds.
‘Pel!’ he ordered, ‘haul those mains in tighter; I want to squeeze this crosswind while it lasts.’
‘Aye aye, Captain!’
‘Then you and Kellin get some rest. Send Garec and Brexan up to take your place, and Hoyt if he’s feeling up to it.’
‘Sir, don’t you think-?’
‘Pel! Tubbs, Kanthil, Marrin and Sera are on their way to the Northern Forest-’ he smiled sadly as memories crowded his mind, ‘-are you honestly going to take over as the one dough-headed horsecock on this boat who insists on questioning my every order?’
‘Captain?’ Pel snapped to false attention, saluting smartly but comically. ‘Everyone questioned your orders, Captain.’
‘Get out of my sight, Pel,’ he laughed. ‘You too, Kellin. Get some sleep.’
The Falkan woman, clearly not as amused by the sailor’s antics, nodded as she disappeared below.
‘Garec will have his hands full with that one,’ the captain murmured to himself. ‘She doesn’t look happy, nope, not happy at all.’ He hummed a jaunty shanty, at odds with the grey day, and basked in the moment, alone on the deck of his beloved old ship and heading for open water. The Welstar River was still crowded, but no one gave the little brig-sloop with her oversized colours a second glance.
When Pel’s replacements appeared, he motioned Garec into the bow and gestured for Hoyt and Brexan to join him at the helm.
‘Good morning, Captain,’ Hoyt said. ‘Did you sleep?’
‘Not yet, son. I find it’s easier to go with no sleep than to have just a bit.’
‘I hear you on that,’ Hoyt agreed. ‘I feel like I’ve been run over by a laden wagon.’
‘You may feel bad, but I’m pleased to see you actually look a bit better.’
‘Those pill-things Hannah brought back for me are working wonders,’ Hoyt said, ‘especially since I don’t have to taste them. My shoulder’s dried up, the swelling’s gone down and I even feel like eating again. I can walk around a bit too – it’s astonishing medication.’
Brexan broke in with a small frown, saying, ‘You should still be taking it easy. Why don’t you go back and lie down for a while? I can handle this.’
/> ‘No, no, I’m fine,’ he protested, ‘and it feels good to be out here. It’s a nice morning to be up and about.’
‘That it is,’ the captain agreed, then, changing the subject, said, ‘I don’t need much help up here this morning. We’re all shipshape and running fine, and I know I won’t be able to sleep until Pellia’s no longer in sight. But I do want to talk with you about your plans. I need to get back to Southport before too long. We’ll make for Orindale now and I’ll take on cargo; it’s a captain’s market there in the wake of Mark’s devastation last Twinmoon.’ He paused to watch Garec, in the bow. He’d unslung one of his quivers and was methodically checking fletching and tips, running his fingers down the shafts to check they were all still straight and true. He turned back to Hoyt and Brexan. ‘You both know I’ve lost most of my crew, and so I’m inviting you two to stay on with me, as long as you like. I’m going to be a busy man while Orindale’s shipping companies are rebuilding. I’ll try to confine my runs to Orindale and Southport – that shouldn’t be too difficult to do – so you won’t have to worry about going too far from home, either of you.’
Brexan put a hand on his arm to stop him. ‘Captain – Doren – thank you. That’s a wonderful offer, it really is… but I’ve got to get back to Nedra and the Topgallant. She’s not getting any younger, and I felt like what I was doing there was- well, something special.’
He looked puzzled. ‘And this isn’t? Brexan, you’re out here saving Eldarn-’
‘I suppose, in a way; I made a tiny contribution – but this is different; you can’t be a hero every day. There has to be something else, something good, and steady…’
‘Something good and steady? That’s why I’m here-’ he gestured around the quarterdeck. ‘You’ve just described the reason I sail this little boat back and forth across the Ravenian Sea.’
Brexan said, ‘I can see that… but I’ve got to find my own peace. It’s been a long journey; I’ve come a long way…’ Her voice tailed off for a moment, then she went on, ‘I managed – quite unexpectedly – to kill the man who started me on this road, but you know, when I finally watched him die, I realised I was missing Nedra and the comforting predictability of the boarding house – where, come to think of it, I’ve got a four-hundred Twinmoon party to reschedule.’ She laughed. ‘Gods, just think of all that food to cook!’