Senka pulled a blanket around tight against the Far Sea’s buffeting winds. Her hands were somewhat healed now, no longer throbbing and making themselves known upon every waking day. She wrinkled her nose at the salty tang of the sea, a smell that would remain ever foreign in her mind. That and the stink of chimney smoke rising up from the shores of New Breden. She had slept cradled in Isa’s arms, just for the warmth, she told herself, and hardly noticed his stench, even with her nose pressed against his armpit. She knew she smelled like a turd too, but that didn’t make the scent wafting off the city smell any better. It was also the stink of too many people huddled together, sharing too little space for so many. It wasn’t natural, all these buildings built so close to each other. She forgot how much she loathed living like this.
The New Breden cityscape marched along below layers of stringy clouds, the Tower standing above them all like a blade thrust into the sky. A swarm of gulls circled high above the Tower, drifting on the plumes of warm air. It was an impressive structure, wider at the base and going narrower at the top, smaller towers branching off its sides like a stony tree. The smaller towers contained the houses of the Phoenix and the Dragon, among others. It was at least a hundred feet tall, surrounded by the rebuilt wall of stone flecked with bits of silver. It had a distinctive appearance unlike no other structure she had ever laid eyes upon. Even after seeing it almost a thousand times, it was still a marvel that left her awestruck.
Wetlands encircled the land before it evenly rose up to a plateau where the city had been constructed. A few shirtless dock workers milled about a broad pier, waiting for their approaching ship with the hope of procuring a few marks for their assistance.
Isa rubbed his hairless chin and head, bald as always and without a single stray hair. “Be nice to sleep on something not made of curved wood.” She felt his eyes on her and puffed her chest out, avoided looking at him so he could take her in.
Juzo snickered, giving the rigging a tug and drawing the boom in to slow the boat. “A place without Tigerians, unknown devils, Scab, and the Shadow princess is a fine place to me.”
“Have to agree,” Senka said with a warm smile.
Greyson stood with one barefoot on the boat’s edge, a huge grin spread across his lips. It wasn’t a smile of joy, but a grimace of anger and blooming rage, Senka reckoned. She knew the look of it, and the feeling.
“You’re looking mighty pleased,” Senka said to him.
Greyson’s face softened when he looked at her, his eyes losing a bit of their blaze. “Just glad to be free again. And with no chains.” Greyson made circles with his wrists as if reminding himself they still moved freely.
“No more shits off the side of the boat,” Isa smirked.
“Was almost starting to get used to it,” Juzo added.
Senka felt the smile that had started on her face suddenly dropping away. She remembered what her life was like here. Boring. Meaningless. Would it be back to slaughtering cows under Olin’s or some other tyrant’s orders? No, she remembered as if unearthing an ancient memory. She was in the Tower again, serving the Mistress. I’m useful, she thought. She had a feeling sooner or later she’d be back at sea on another ship hunting the Shadow princess. That was fine, she thought with a shrug, as long as she got some rest and a few proper meals.
She looked at Isa out of the corner of her eye, saw his smile turning into a grimace as though he was stepping back into his own dark cave. His eyes flicked to hers and she looked away. They watched the sea drift by in a heavy silence.
She wondered if she would see him again or if they’d simply resume their previous stations as if what had started to form between them had never happened. There wasn’t much time for romance in the life of a killer, she reckoned. Their voyage home, however, had shown her otherwise. She saw it in the way he looked at her. She saw a warmth in there that she’d never seen before in his frozen eyes. It wasn’t a romance by traditional accounts. They hadn’t even bedded each other yet, not that she didn’t want too. A boat with friends wasn’t the place. It was a romance brewed with subtle touches and long nights wrapped in each other’s arms in the guise of staying warm.
A heavy exhalation escaped her lips. She narrowed her eyes and gazed out at the westward sky. A line of smoke curled up behind the clouds. “Volcano is breathing,” she said.
Greyson smiled at her. “A wonderful sight indeed. Can usually see it from my room in the palace.”
Senka looked behind her to where their boat had passed. There wasn’t a trace of their journey on the water but a smear of bubbles. She realized she had been driving her fingernails into the gunwale when pain tunneled up a finger. Was that how her life would be? Fading to nothing, not a sign of its passing. Would she simply be forgotten when they returned?
They approached the docks, Juzo manning the boat remarkably well after Greyson’s tutelage. He had already known the basics but just needed some minor adjustments. They had all learned how to sail well after the two-and-a-half-week voyage, each taking a turn to keep the sail hemmed in and boat upright. Greyson hadn’t lied about his ability to navigate by the sun and stars, a most useful skill indeed. They were sunburned, coated in salt, thirsty, and had used the last of their water rations today.
The port was quiet. Waves lapped against unmanned fishing boats and merchant’s vessels. Their crews were likely already swilling ales and whores in the taverns with equal fervor. Along the docks sat coiled ropes, wooden baskets, and neat piles of oars.
Senka was the first to leap onto the jetty. Isa tossed her the lead rope. She leaned back, smiling, pulling the rope to secure the boat to a mooring. Juzo came next, working tightness from his legs and walking along a narrow gangplank. He was likely very weak from no proper sustenance during their trip, she thought. Greyson came last, stretching his arms up over his head as he strode down the gangplank.
A dockmaster sauntered out of a shack, his brows drawn with agitation, a clipboard swinging in his meaty hands. He greeted them with a tired sigh. “And who do we have here arriving so late?” He gazed over his shoulder, the setting sun above the Tower transitioning into shades of pink and blue.
“My name is Greyson Rogard,” Greyson said, pushing his mop of red salt-heavy hair back to show his face. “We demand sustenance and a place of rest.”
The dockmaster made a series of marks on his clipboard and said, “You’re not the prince. He left months ago for Tigeria, but never returned from his diplomacy mission. Reports came, said he’d drowned and became Sea Croc food. Even had the funeral and everything. Still sure about going on with that lie?” The dockmaster raised his head, eyebrows expectantly raised with a smirk on his lips.
Greyson grunted and balled up his fists. “You think so?”
A guard near the end of the docks slid his hand down the end of his spear, his neighbor moving his hand to rest comfortably on his sword hilt. Both of the guards lazily walked down the pier after exchanging weary glances. The dockmaster went on, bumped his chest against Greyson. “You’re an impostor, a liar of the most despicable sort! You know what the good King Ezra does to men who’ve been saying they’re the prince? Take their heads right fuckin’ off!” He drew a line across his throat with his finger.
Senka saw Isa’s jaw flexing, his hand inching for the dagger under his rope belt. After all the struggle, all the trials, she didn’t want to end up skewered on the end of a guard’s spear. Or in all likelihood, be forced to kill a man just doing his job.
Greyson struck the dockmaster with a shocking blow that only a noble could administer to one below his station. His opened palm seemed well versed in the act. He snarled into the dockmaster’s face, making him wilt back. “You will obey my word, dockmaster, or I will strip you of your title and lands, your families will starve, and I’ll swing the headman’s axe myself!” Greyson screamed in his face. “Show some respect for your betters,” he growled as he stalked off, slipping between the astonished guards.
Senka followed after him, legs
heavy with exhaustion, the others trailing behind. Senka eyed their traded possessions sitting in the hull of the boat, precious during their journey, all but garbage now.
Greyson stopped a few feet after the guards and wheeled around to face them. “Do either of you know where the Arch Wizard is?”
Isa, Senka, and Juzo exchanged glances of confusion.
“Why are you seeking her?” Senka asked.
“Have you already forgotten what we saw, Senka? The beasts… the demons. Everything!” he said breathlessly. “We must tell her at once.”
“The Arch Wizard?” one of the guards scratched his jaw. “It’s late.”
“Yes, the Arch Wizard!” Greyson snapped.
“Like-likely in her quarters, where she always is. Never leaves her nest,” he said with a wry smile.
“She doesn’t take visitors at this hour,” the other guard said in a girlish voice.
Greyson stalked up the dirt path that wound up towards the city. His shoulders were raised like he was intent on violence.
“I assure you, he’s not normally like this,” Senka said to one of the guards with a friendly clap on the shoulder.
Once they were about half-way up the path, Greyson marching with purpose, she spoke again. “A great performance,” she said, jogging up beside him. “Saved us a lot of explaining.”
“Really didn’t want to fight anyone,” Juzo said, raking his hand through his hair. “Looking forward to getting back west… too many men here. My stomach rumbles.”
Isa glared at him.
“It wasn’t a performance,” Greyson said behind a cage of teeth.
“What’s this about?” Isa asked.
“You’ll see,” Greyson said with half a head shake.
She was finally home, but home felt like a stranger. The reality was that New Breden and the Silver Tower were never her home. It seemed grander than she remembered it, so many buildings leaning over the streets as if to crush you under all their weight of wood and stone.
They made their way through the city streets, all but empty except for an occasional shady looking fellow. Shops were closing their doors. Shopkeepers were sweeping debris out from within their tomb-like stores. Empty carts lined the market quarters, wares packed and hauled back for storage.
She stared at the perfect magically cut cobbles when she saw a face that might’ve looked familiar, not wanting to be recognized, or worst of all, having to engage in a trite conversation. She didn’t have the stamina for it. Her heart lurched in her chest at every face she thought familiar. Maybe she knew more people here than she remembered.
She found it odd that Greyson was doing the same, turning his face at eyes that were gazing at him for too long. She thought she understood. Being in the public eye had to be tiring. The news of his death meant he could hide from the public for a time.
Isa was staring up at the Tower, but towards the east along the coastline. She traced the path where she thought he was looking, following a solitary path of beach, and up a patch of craggy rocks. It looked almost impassible for all but the most dexterous. Along the rocks were humps of beach grass lolling in the breeze.
“She sent me there. Murdered my guard.” Greyson’s jaw worked. “Killed my friends. Tried to drown me out of the histories. All for what?” he barked.
Isa’s brow furrowed at Greyson. “What are you speaking of?”
“Who sent you there?” Senka asked. “Say what you just said again.”
Greyson only shook his head, his eyes fixed upon the Tower.
“Don’t forget who I serve, boy,” Isa casually said. “I follow you only for my curiosity. Try anything out of line…”
Senka paused as the others continued marching, Greyson at the lead. She let out an exasperated sigh then followed. Greyson led them up the narrow street that ended at the Tower’s bridge. They passed a few apprentice wizards in robes of red and blue who regarded them with curious stares.
Senka closed her eyes and inhaled deeply on the misting of fresh water. It poured down from the cliffside to her left over the bridge. From the outcroppings of rock came the roaring whitewater from the Lich’s Falls which became Lich’s River, eventually making its way to the Far Sea. Bulbous green Sand Buckeye’s swayed on the cliffside, their giant mouths yawning open and waiting for an unfortunate fish to fall into their gullets. The water roared under the bridge and gurgled out to tributaries. Along the rails were new additions, small immaculately carved statues of the Dragon and Phoenix perched along rail posts.
A pair of guards stopped them with their gleaming spears crossed before the portcullis leading under the Tower’s gates. Isa stepped ahead of the group and raised his head for them to see. “Know my face, know my flesh.”
One of the guards cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir,” he sheepishly said as he raised his poleaxe and stepped aside.
“Go on ahead, Master Dodred. Please keep your visitors close,” the other guard said with a grunt. “Arch Wizard doesn’t like visitors this late.”
“So we’ve heard,” he said over his shoulder.
Isa led the way down the narrow tunnel that led into the Tower’s courtyard. He looked up at the murder slits, and she followed his gaze. There were pairs of eyes alight with amber, shrewdly watching them as they passed. She gave them a nod, remembering how fearsome a woman wielding the Dragon could be. The tunnel air was cool and refreshing, the stones smooth under her bare feet.
Isa led the way across the courtyard. They swept by shrubs tortured into beautiful shapes resembling the Dragon, the Phoenix, and other shapes they didn’t naturally take. Leave it to city dwellers to change even how the plants grew, Senka thought with an inward scoff. Fountains endlessly gurgled in musical tones that draped the gardens in a feeling of peacefulness. There were many things the Mistress did right and commissioning gorgeous gardens was one of them.
A figure strode toward them between a row of bushes carved to resemble the waves of the ocean. He had a long sword draped over his back, an unkempt gray beard falling over his chest, shoulders round with muscle that belied his age. He moved with an air of danger and definite purpose. There was a familiarity to his movements.
“Master Claw!” Senka squealed, then felt her cheeks burning with shame at the sound. It was an old, wrong feeling. She should’ve hated this man, but she had forgiven him she realized. She paused and chewed at her inner cheeks.
He stopped a few paces in front of her, fingers twiddling at his sides and shaking his head. “Senka. I’m sorry. What I did… wasn’t right. I was trying to protect Gaidal, knew of your addiction and…” he trailed off, looking at his worn boots and scratching his neck. “I don’t know.”
“I understand. Not sure I would have done something different. All that is behind me now though. I think,” she said with a nervous snicker. “Good to be back, master.” She forced a smile and felt the ice melting between them.
“Don’t master me,” he said with a laugh, arms opened for a hug. “You’re back! Alive. And let’s see if you’re well.”
Greyson grunted with frustration from behind.
She ran over to him, passing a lithe blue-robed boy staring at a flower bed. She fell into Claw’s strong embrace and nuzzled her nose in his unadorned shirt. The fabric was rough and had a musty smell. Claw had all he could ever want in the Tower and still wore the most ragged garments he could find. He’d said once that he’d take a life of poverty over a life of luxury. Living in squalor reminded you how little you truly needed, he’d said. She pushed herself back with a wince, skin burned from too much time under the sun.
Claw waved a hand over her, glowing faintly with the cool glow of the Phoenix. “You’re hurt,” he frowned, eyes bursting alight with a brilliant, almost blinding, blue light.
“How do you know?” She looked up at him through squinting eyes.
“I know. Mistress has discovered new ways to use the powers, and teaches us when she has the time.” He grinned and waved his hands over hers. She moaned as
her skin tightened, laughed as the beginnings of the white raised scars on her hands slowly gave way to beautiful elixir colored skin. All her pains vanished in an instant, and her body filled with a sensation of being bathed in warm water. She tilted her head back and swallowed, lost in the Phoenix’s glorious bliss. “Thank you! My thanks to the Phoenix too.” She met his eyes with a smile, saw they were lined with concern. “Wish you had traveled with us. Could’ve sure used your abilities. Why we didn’t have a wizard…” she shook her head.
“I wish I could have traveled with you as well. However, my place is beside the Arch Wizard. Come, there is much to discuss, much you have missed. The Arch Wizard is expecting you. Anyone else want healing? And who’s that?” He pointed at Greyson.
“Traveling companion we rescued during our travels,” Isa muttered. He and Claw exchanged a pitying look. “You can heal him first, maybe he’ll stop whining.” Isa nodded at Greyson.
Greyson growled and crossed his arms. Claw made his way between them, administering healing to Greyson, making him grin with satisfaction.
“She knows we’re here?” Juzo asked, arms crossed over his bony chest.
Claw raised an eyebrow at him then turned on his heels with a grunt to face Isa.
“Right. Nyset,” Juzo said with a laugh, his cruel teeth reflecting the light of the Phoenix. “Almost forgot how resourceful she is.”
Claw let out a harsh grunt as he grabbed Isa’s wrist. He furrowed his bushy brows down at Prodal’s brand. “Strange marking you have. Seen it before in the North.” He nodded, met Isa’s eyes with a foreboding weight. “Not a fair bargain you’ve struck. Not fair at all. Reckon the debt is never paid.”
Isa circled his wrist out of Claw’s grip. “Did what I had to do. Thanks for the healing.” His jaw pulsed with tension. He probed at the soiled bandages around his chest where the strange Death Spawn had wounded him.
“Dark tidings,” Claw muttered. He motioned for them to follow, leading them through the gardens and onto a broad path of stone before the Tower. The bottom of the Tower was surrounded by new buildings made up of mostly stone. There were dormant workshops for blacksmiths, stables with horses being rubbed down, and ample room for storing the excess grain harvested from the New Tower in Helm’s Reach. Everything you’d need to ensure things ran smoothly. It also seemed to have everything you’d need to withstand a long siege, Senka thought grimly. The walls of the buildings were unusually stalwart, maybe thick enough to withstand a catapult stone.
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