The Rokkaia Chronicles

by Rhys Thomas

  The next shown a man tackling a lion, whose tail was divided into three sinuous snakes. One such head clung venomously to the man’s thigh; he wore what resembled an early roman soldier attire as he fought the snarling jaws of the lion.

  We turned right, and I came face to face with a mural. It was cast in a heavenly radiance, though that was more by artistic measures than divine. White puffy clouds enclosed the edges of the mural’s frame, and at the centre stood a tall white tree atop a pink grassed hillock. It’s white leaves as wide as my hand, and the fruit it bore the size of my head. Coiled around the base of the tree protectively was a massive white snake with red eyes.

  The image tugged at my mind for several second’s seemingly drawing me in and keeping me there, then we passed by a display case with several old leather-bound tomes. Ahead of me and the ladies, the sailor-butler-servant-man knocked on a light brown oaken door. A call came from within, and we entered with our guide holding the door open for us. I gave the man a nod of thanks and greeted Thiomin as the big man patted my shoulder. “Come and sit, our meals will be here shortly,” the big man told me.

  We sat at a rectangular table centred in the Captain’s room. At the back I noted a drawn curtain to what I assumed was the captain’s study. A short flight of steps lead to an oval partition drawn shut to what could only be the bedroom.

  I saw several display cases filled with oddities, book shelves and more.

  Captain Grimsley stood at the head of the table his demeanour friendly and comfortable, I sat to his left as Thiomin sat on the captain’s right, Shre sitting closely by my side as Ilya sat next Thiomin.

  The two chatted like old friends and I turned to Shawn Grimsley. “Captain, I don’t believe I ever did introduce my lovely companion when we came back aboard the Naiad.”

  “It’s quite alright, I’ve had heard tales of the last Grove-mother of old Zwericania,” Shawn said, his eyes roaming from me over to Shre. He smiled at her and tentatively shook her hand as I introduced the two. I was about to ask him how long till we arrived back at Ny’thier city when the door to the cabin swung open and a cook along with two members of the staff brought in a cart and trays of food.

  My stomach growled, and I realised how immensely hungry I was. We ate greedily make’s appreciative noises as we did so. Though I noted Ilya was a light eater, and barely ate more than few spoon or forkfuls. Even then she would grimace.

  The starter was a simple sugared biscuit and gravy affair. I inhaled three immediately, which caused a few chuckle’s at my expense when I began to suffer from hiccups. Then main meal was a roasted leg of lamb with a drizzle of mint sauce, small parcelled roasted potatoes, a moderate collection of carrots which I avoided and peas.

  We had our choice of drink’s to have with the meal. Ilya chose to drink coffee, Shre had glass of red and I a finger of whiskey. Afterwards we moved into a more comfortable sitting arrangement, Shawn and Thiomin sat side by side leaning against one another which made me smile. Whereas Shre and Ilya practically draped themselves across me. Shre head was nestled in my lap and Ilya legs hung over Shre shoulders. A small circular plate was on the table, a few crackers, a small selection of cheeses and cold meats.

  We all nursed our drinks as Shre, Ilya and I recounted our very brief stay on Farland. “So Vivik Grayson is working for Goldranos Imperia,” Thiomin shook his head disapprovingly. “That lad always had been trouble; knew he would only get worse as time went by.”

  Then Shawn sighed heavily, “I know Thiomin, but he weren’t always bad.”

  “You know him - knew him?” I asked either of the two. Shawn looked guilty whereas Thiomin look annoyed and gaze into the middle distance.

  “Yes, we found Grayson as a lad of less than 10 moons. He was scrappy and frightening even then, a feral thing. We tried to civilise the boy but all we could manage was to lock him away with water and food enough to survive till we made a port.”

  “The witches took him in then,” Thiomin took over, returning his attention back to us. “Said, the lad had great potential as a navigator. Except the kid had only ever been at sea a few times and once amongst the floating debris of a wreck ship.” Thiomin cast a side eye at the captain.

  Shawn breathed a sigh as he took back over the conversation. “So, I offered to train Vivik, which wasn’t his name back then. Unfortunately; we had a run of bad luck, things going missing, goods being tossed into sea from our hold. Then my men showing up dead after night watch, we found Grayson on one such evening after he tore one my strong men’s throat out and was painting across the man’s forehead. It was then that we found out Grayson’s navigation skills were linked more towards combat than travel.”

  “What happened?” Shre asked the captain. “It didn’t end well at all lass,” Thiomin answered. We all grew quiet, as we digested the conversation and meal.

  “So, how long till we’re back at Ny’thier?” I asked Shawn, deciding it was probably best to change subject.

  “Ah, yes. We’ve a problem with that,” Shawn replied looking slightly embarrassed. “We received a magical missive from Penelope, the evening you set out for Farlands shore.”

  “What kind of problem?” I asked the captain, my stomach suddenly sinking, and I felt Shre tense because of me and Ilya because of the Shawn’s words.

  *Chick, everything alright?* I sent to Marisa, and received an instant reply, along with the mental image of her human form covering her head with a pillow.

  *Everything’s fine. Sleepy - shut it,* came her response. My eye twitch involuntarily, she was either eating or asleep 24/7.

  “There’s been some odd sighting of a large force heading through the Dale mountain towards Glen’dal. Penelope has asked that I leave you ashore east of here, she said ‘this the favour I’m calling in Alaric.’ Then there was a request that you act as a diplomat and travel to Ogress mount and beseech the Ogre Queen to send aide to Glen’dal. The force does seems to be an unnatural one.”

  “The Shi’en,” I agreed with some level of certainty I didn’t know.

  “Shi’en, what does a myth of long begotten creatures got to do with this.” Thiomin said raising an eyebrow at me.

  I smiled slightly at the big man, “they’re looking for me and places I’ve been I imagine. That and looking to conquer all of Viria.”

  “Why you lad?” he pressed. I raised my hand palm up and connected to my delve. The sudden rush and thrill was electricity running through my veins and I felt my head and chest surge with power as they flowed down Shre root’s. The dryad gasped audibly and stared up at me, her big green orbs glowing a deeper jade green, as liquid gold warmth bled into my own eyes igniting the semi halo coronas in a gleaming shine as my runic arms flared with a jade and golden glow.

  My body ecstatic with aether and an intense need to spring into flight, to shape and create and then return all of it to ashes to raise once again. Squashing down that sudden need, I flickered a small flame to my palm. It was a struggle to actually produce something so meagre and small. I was drowning in aether, and as about as quickly as I summoned the flame to hand and showed both the First mate and Captain, I cut the connection the to my delve.

  Slumping in my chair with a groan, I closed my eyes as the my delve closed slowly, almost regretfully cutting off. “Alaric, are you alright?” Ilya asked me.

  “Y-yeah,” I stammered, my breath coming hotly. I looked down as Shre pressed her head against my belly, I saw tear’s trailing down Shre cheeks. I didn’t ask her what was wrong, simply stroked her wild hair affectionately. I looked to both men, Thiomin was visibly shocked, but Shawn expression that caught my interest.

  “So, it’s finally time?” he asked quietly, mournfully. I didn’t exactly know what he meant by that, but I nodded regrettably all the same. “Then we’ll take you where you need to go,” Shawn said firmly sitting up straighter in his chair.

  “Shawn - you can’t mean-” Thiomin tried to say but the captain cut him off with a shake of his head.

&nbs
p; “I know where we’re to go afterwards as well. Once your business with the Ogress is complete.” The captain told me, I expected this was either his navigation skill playing into the foreground or he was one of those Ra’al had sent a message to.

  “Shawn, we must discuss this – what you’re saying it’s-”

  “We will, Thiomin. Trust me, this is important. It’s something I would even stake the Naiad on,” Shawn said. Thiomin grumbled and sat back in his seat with a grunt, we chatted some more till we all collectively called it a night. As we left Shawn caught my elbow drawing my attention, “If you are who I think you Alaric, then the Naiad will accompany you.”

  “The crew?” I asked stunned by his resolve.

  “They’ll see the correct course we must take,” with that he let me go and wished me a goodnight and rest. We returned to out quarters to sleep the rest of the night away.

  ~*~*~*~

  I awoke late the next morning to find myself alone and devoid of pleasurable company. *Morning chick,* I sent to Marisa, finding myself missing her company greatly.

  *Someone’s in a good mood this morning,* she noted, and I felt her wheedle her way through my thoughts. *You’ll not have to worry about Aria and I.*

  *Why’s that?* I asked and sat up to crack my neck, back, arms and chest.

  *We’re to set out tomorrow for Banes Horren, where the ogres live and should arrive there just after you do.*

  *Hmm, it’ll be good to see you both, and Sishshik of course. How’s the little trog anyway?*

  *Well, Aria’s a bad influence on him. She’s got him training the spear now,* Marisa said with a hint of pride for the troglodyte boy.

  *We’ll discuss our issues as well then,* I thought to her firmly.

  *I… I know. Love you,* she said sounding subdued and meek.

  *Love you as well chicken,* I sent as a reply.

  Then did something I hadn’t done for little while, I decided to workout. I spent the rest of my morning into the afternoon doing a sets of three weighted squats, then I proceeded to jog the distance of the Naiad. She wasn’t a big ship but cutting it close to a hundred or so laps dizzied the mind. I paused for a break. Several of the crew men had joined me in my workout and I looked to the Aft deck where I saw Thiomin and the Captain lounging and chatting as they watched the sunny day go by.

  Around the ship, men’s sang as others danced and I even saw Shre dancing with them, the dryad’s face alight with laughter. Off to the starboard side Emilia was nestled into her reading as she idly stroked the flower bud which housed her familiar.

  She hadn’t liked the message her grandmother sent but understand the intent for reinforcements. Ilya was on the foredeck her twin scimitars waving and as she weaved her body through a slow dance. I wanted to test myself further, see how much could I lift or how high I could jump. But I also didn’t want to scare the crap out of the crew, so I left it alone for now and went back to doing laps, burpees and squats.

  The day slowly progressed by and we sailed east skirting around the north side of Haroxi’s shore. The Ogress mount was supposedly an off shoot of the actual Dale mountain, but a long-ago earthquake had crumbled a large swath of the mountainous terrain between what is now Ogress and Dale.

  I also belatedly realised I hadn’t felt the daily allotment of aether. Yet when I checked my pool. It was fuller than before.

  Late in the evening, the ladies and I enjoyed another well-cooked meal with the Captain and First mate. Afterwards we all settled out on the deck as the merry crew filled the night with warm light, music and dance.

  Kegs were parcelled out and each filled a mug or two before the kegs were retrieved and stored below. I sat on a small barrel stall, listening as a strong man by the name Kaywin strum an instrument similar to a lute. It had 15 strings, but each knotted an inch or two before the narrow neck and the soundboard was more of an hourglass shape than a teardrop.

  Decorative scroll works were carved throughout the soundboard and neck of the instrument. “What is the instrument Kaywin is playing?” I asked Thiomin.

  The big man eyed me like I had grown horns, “it’s a Lonsen. Kaywin bought it from a man on the spice isles. Paid a fist of silver for it, taken him several cycles to learn how to play the rotten thing.”

  “You don’t like it?” I asked with some surprise.

  He shook his head, “no I like it now. But it was an infernal thing while he was learning,” he replied with a light grumbling laugh. I felt an impulse to play this Lonsen, my fingers tickled and twitch. Thiomin must’ve noticed my shiftiness, “play do ye?”

  “No- not really...” my voice tapered off. I was unsure if I could, I had play some guitar as in my later years after everything that had happened to me as a child. The support workers had stated that it would do me good to pull my focus into a hobby. That hobby had consisted of many thing’s and one among them was music.

  “We’ll ask after he finishes up, I doubt you’ll do much worse than me on it.” The big man clapped me on the shoulder, and I fidgeted watching Shre and Ilya dance together. Emilia was swaying in her seat, as the crew sang and stomp to the music and I could see that she wanted to join them; but she kept her twilight flower bud close like a shield.

  A couple of more dances later, and Shre and Ilya clung to each other, a carefree expression of ease and enjoyment written across their faces. “Kaywin!” Thiomin called out to the man just as he started to pack his Lonsen into an ornately polished wooden case. “Alaric here was wondering if he could take a look at your lady.”

  “My lady, Thiomin sir?” Kaywin asked glancing from his Lonsen to Thiomin and then to me. A look of alarm, panic and distrust flitted across his face. But the man rose up and respected the first mate’s wishes. Walking stiffly over Kaywin gently handed me the Lonsen where I sat and stood by me. “Be careful with her, ere?” he asked me pointedly.

  “I shall,” I said in my gravest of tones, though I internally rolled my eyes.

  He released his grip and let me hold the instrument, “can you play, Master,” said Shre and I looked to her. A smile adorned my face, as I shifted on my seat and laid the Lonsen across my lap.

  “We shall see,” I told my dryad sagely. I cast a look around and saw that everyone had grown hushed and was watching me. No pressure, I thought and settled myself. I strung a cord and listened as it hung in the air, then did several more. Shaking my head and reaching over I tuned the peg’s for the string’s I needed.

  A stir built inside me, as I loosen my grip and relaxed my fingers, then I played. My fingers plucking and strumming the cords of a familiar song, called the Tidal Man on Broken Shore, a song from Wyatt’s memory surfacing. I glanced up briefly as my fingers danced across and I eased through the notes. I saw my ladies huddled together leaning against the other with Shre in the middle.

  A forlorn look of sorrow on each of their faces, I felt it hit me deeply to see this and it showed as I played. Time past and I found myself no longer playing music of Morten, Wyatt’s world. Instead I was stringing solemn lyrical notes like that of the peace after a vicious battle.

  The mourn filled quiet that followed the death of a lover, the intake of breath before the wail. Some miniscule piece of me thrilled at this. Not the context of which I was playing but more so that I was playing something I hadn’t and couldn’t recognise, but I knew it to be a Planar Lords funeral song.

  As I brought myself to a stop, I eased myself up to a stand, feeling suddenly weak, embarrassed and sorrowful. The fact that I knew something like a funeral song made me blanch slightly.

  I cast off the Lonsen to Kaywin, and without another word I walked off to my cot in our cabin. Tears streaming down my face. I slept fretfully that night, images and blurs, wailed at me like vengeful ghosts. They banged and smashed their misty translucent bodies against the ceiling and floor of my dimensional plane. The nightmare ended with the same warning and threat of discovery from who I now assumed was the Deep-one.

  I wanted to answer and ca
ll back in challenge, but I held my tongue forcibly and covered my mouth; cowering like a child hiding away from his abusive parents.

  I awoke groggily the next day and spent most of it in a despondent daze, barely having the sense of mind to open my mouth and accept food and drink. Still hearing the taunting voices of those from my past. But which past? I couldn’t tell the difference. I could hear the women talking in hushed worried whispers about me.

  But then I fell asleep again.

  Few more day’s and then land.

  I roused the next day feeling more myself and saw that I was alone, I stretched and thought about to talking to Marisa but eventually decided to leave her be. She had as much to sort out mentally as I did. The door opening drew my attention and I watched Emilia entered the room, she stopped when she saw me. Her face ranging from worry, to surprise, to elated in rapid succession.

  “Hey Em-” Before the word’s even left my mouth, the witch bolted back outside the room and I heard her sprint at full tilt down the corridor. “Huh?” I grunted questioningly.

  Getting up and cracking all the right places I yawned and slumped languidly onto the cot. Deciding it was probably best to get washed and dressed I got up, just after I finished and was tugging on a thin brown tunic when the door exploded open and three exhausted women of different height, races and skin colour slumped inside.

  “You know... We may have to fix the door if you all keep using it that way,” I said slyly. They all looked up at me, a mixture of delight and apprehension on their painfully beautiful faces. “What?” I asked them.

  “The... Shi’en force - They’ve... Cut off the-” said Ilya.

  “What happened to you yesterday?” Shre asked interrupting the panting dark elf and stepping towards me, the quickest to recover. Emilia for her part simply rolled over to face the ceiling, her cheeks flushed pink from exertion. I blinked trying to order my thought’s, “cut off what?” I asked Ilya with a frown, then turned to Shre. “Nightmares,” I said simply to the dryad.