The Rock of Ivanore

by Laurisa White Reyes

  Jayson gazed for a moment at the throngs of people crowding the streets. “Take a close look, boys,” he said. “Lord Fredric’s idyllic society. No Agorans, no Noamish, no inhumans of any kind.”

  Jayson led them to a small tavern on the main thoroughfare. The wooden sign that hung above the door read THE SEAFARER TAVERN. “You two wait here,” he ordered. “I have to seek an audience with his Lordship. I should be back by nightfall.” Jayson started across the street, when Marcus stepped forward, taking him by the arm.

  “And if you don’t come back?” Marcus asked, wondering if the queasiness he felt was due to hunger or dread.

  “Then I suggest you leave Dokur as quickly as you can,” Jayson said. Then he added with a wink, “but first, promise me you’ll buy yourself a new satchel before you go.”

  Jayson pulled on his hood and slipped into the crowded marketplace.

  Marcus joined Kelvin by the tavern door. “Why doesn’t anyone like my satchel?” he asked, but Kelvin made no reply. He tried a different question. “Shall we go inside?” Again Kelvin remained silent. Marcus tried once more. “I said, shouldn’t we go in?”

  “I heard you,” replied Kelvin sharply. The triangular crystal once again hung from his neck, and he rubbed it between his thumb and index finger. Marcus knew Kelvin was angry, and justifiably so. He also knew Kelvin would never forgive him unless he apologized—a situation that would make traveling with him unpleasant, to say the least.

  “I’m sorry about your pendant,” said Marcus. He hoped Kelvin sensed the sincerity of his apology. “I found it in the alley back in Noam. I planned to give it back, and I would have returned it sooner had I known how much it means to you. Please believe me.”

  Kelvin said nothing, and Marcus worried that he might not be forgiven. But after a few moments, Kelvin spoke. “It was my mother’s,” he said. “She died when I was barely a year old. This pendant is all I have of her.”

  Marcus knew the pain of being orphaned and the longing a child feels for a mother long since dead. “I’m truly sorry,” he said. While the crystal had been in his possession, Marcus had only looked at it briefly. But now, seeing it in Kelvin’s hand, he noticed its beauty as if for the first time. “It’s Celestine, isn’t it?” Marcus asked. “It must be worth a small fortune.”

  Kelvin nodded. “That’s why I keep it hidden. But for me its value is beyond price,” he said, tucking the pendant into his shirt.

  “It’s not just the pendant, you know,” Kelvin continued. “You’ve kept things from me, lied to me. You care only for yourself. I cannot forgive you for that. We are both here for one purpose, to find the Rock of Ivanore. You can wait for Jayson if you wish, but I have no more need of him—or of you.”

  Kelvin’s words cut deeply. Now that they were in Dokur, Marcus found himself wanting more than ever to confide in Kelvin, to tell him the truth about Jayson, but a glimpse of a familiar face in the crowd stopped him.

  “Look!” he said, discreetly pointing. “It’s Arik!”

  Forty-one

  e have to warn Jayson!”

  Marcus’s words were urgent. Jayson had kept his identity secret and had traversed across the entire island to deliver a message he claimed could save Imaness. Now Arik, the man who seemed bent on stopping him, was right here in Dokur.

  “You’re right, of course,” said Kelvin reluctantly. “But first we need to know what Arik is up to. Wait inside. I’ll be back soon.” Kelvin stealthily threaded his way into the crowd and fell in a few yards behind Arik. Soon they were both out of sight.

  Marcus pushed open the tavern’s heavy wooden door and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light. The room was full of people. Men and women occupied nearly every table in the place, and several servers bustled through the crowded room, delivering plates piled high with food. One server in particular caught Marcus’s attention. Her hair, which flowed across her shoulders like a river of black onyx, shimmered in the firelight. He guessed she was four or five years older than he, but that fact seemed trivial compared to her beauty.

  A large, dirty man shoved Marcus so hard he nearly fell on his back.

  “Outa my way, boy!” said the man, swinging a half-empty wine bottle in his fist. Marcus stepped away from the door and sat at an empty table near the kitchen. The dark-haired server plopped a plate laden with food in front of Marcus with a loud clink.

  “Ale?” she asked, filling a mug from a ceramic pitcher. The server placed the mug in front of him, and he drank from it greedily. When he set down the empty mug, she smiled at him. Marcus noticed that her eyes were as bright green as a grassy field in spring.

  “Been traveling?” she asked, refilling his mug.

  “Yes,” he said, suddenly aware of his unkempt appearance. The smell of sweet potatoes and roasted lamb made his stomach grumble. “This looks delicious.”

  “Well, it does fill an empty stomach,” she replied.

  A large, round woman appeared at the kitchen door. “Mouse!” she bellowed, wiping her pudgy hands on her apron. “Come get the pies out of the oven!”

  The server grinned apologetically. “That’s me,” she said as she started for the kitchen. “If you need anything more, just wave. I’ll see you.”

  Several minutes passed with an array of people going in and out of the tavern. Marcus watched apprehensively, hoping that none of them would be Arik. He bided his time by practicing magic with small, inconspicuous tricks such as levitating his fork by condensing the molecules of air beneath it and warming some food that had grown cold. He even managed to get a chair to move several inches, though when the man who had been sitting in it sat down again, he landed on the floor. Marcus stifled a chuckle and went back to his meal.

  Xerxes, who had until now been silent, shook his head. “Magic is not for sport,” he said disapprovingly.

  By the time Kelvin returned, Marcus had cleaned his plate.

  “I followed Arik across town to the Dragon’s Head Inn,” said Kelvin, breathless. “Tristan and Zody are being watched by the Mardoks there.”

  “What about Clovis?” asked Marcus, alarmed.

  “Clovis, too. I heard Arik order one Mardok to take them all upstairs.”

  “We have to help them,” said Marcus.

  The server called Mouse came to the table with a plate for Kelvin. She held out a mug and began filling it with ale. Kelvin gave Marcus a wary glance and lowered his voice. “That’s not all,” said Kelvin. “I also heard Arik say that he and the other Mardoks were going to the watchtower.”

  “Jayson told me that he had to warn Lord Fredric about something important,” added Marcus, “something that threatened all of Imaness. Could this be what he meant?”

  Mouse set the mug on the table. She took up Marcus’s empty plate and wiped the table with a dishcloth.

  “We have to get word to Jayson at the Fortress,” said Marcus, rising from the table.

  “I’ll go,” said Kelvin.

  “No, you’re much better than I am with a weapon. Free Clovis and the others. I’ll find Jayson.”

  “All right, but be careful!” Kelvin took out his dagger. “Arrows are too dangerous in this crowd,” he said, slinging the crossbow across his back. He stood to leave but paused. “Find Bryn, too, will you?”

  Kelvin hurried out of the tavern, leaving his untouched food and ale behind.

  Marcus reached into his satchel for a handful of coins and dropped them onto the table. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said to Mouse.

  “You’re going to the Fortress,” she said.

  A cold chill went through Marcus as he realized that his conversation had been overheard. He politely excused himself, but Mouse followed him to the door.

  “You’ll never get into the Fortress alive,” she pressed. “The guards will run you through before you get two steps inside the gate.”

  Marcus drew his cape tightly around him. He longed for the warmth of his home in Quendel, of the casual days that filled his life there.
As a boy, he had never imagined such dangers existed in the world, and he felt horribly unprepared to face the challenges he was certain now awaited him.

  “I must go,” he said. “I think one of my friends is imprisoned there, and another friend is in danger. I have to warn him.”

  “You mean Jayson?” There was an earnest look in Mouse’s eyes. She spoke the name as though it was a prayer.

  “Who are you?” asked Marcus. He sensed there must be more to this woman than aprons and dishtowels. “The cook called you ‘Mouse.’ That’s an odd name for a woman.”

  Mouse lowered her voice. “My name is Kaië. As a child, the Fortress was my home.”

  “Can you get me safely inside?”

  “I’m not called Mouse for nothing.” Kaië untied her apron and tossed it to another server as she led Marcus out the door. “I’ll take you,” she added, “but only on one condition.”

  “Anything,” answered Marcus.

  “Tell me about Jayson.”

  Forty-two

  he harsh sounds of the city reverberated against Marcus’s skull like a constant crack of thunder, causing his head to sprout a throbbing headache.

  Kaië deftly weaved her way through the crowd while Marcus struggled to keep her in sight. When they reached the far end of the square, a sour stench churned his stomach. He covered his nose and mouth with his cape to keep it out.

  “What is that smell?” he shouted over the din. “It stinks like rotting cabbage!”

  Kaië did not slow her pace but called over her shoulder. “It’s the public latrines you smell. The city’s waste is emptied into an open pit where it drains through a channel into the sea.”

  Marcus wanted to tell her how disgusted he felt, but he feared that if he opened his mouth again he might vomit. Instead he hurried to catch up with his guide. Soon they were out of the city, climbing a tall, green hill. He was glad he had Xerxes with him to help with the climb.

  With the stench of Dokur’s sewers behind them, Marcus uncovered his mouth and drew several deep breaths in succession. The clean, salty air that filled his lungs refreshed him.

  Above them loomed the Fortress, a mighty castle built of massive granite blocks. But Marcus was not interested in the Fortress just now. His eyes were locked on the magnificent scene directly below them. There, endless ocean waves laced in foam rolled into shore and gently lapped against the white sand. Only the shadow of the watchtower marred the beauty. Marcus stopped to listen to the lull of the ocean.

  “Why are we stopping?” asked Xerxes impatiently. Marcus ignored him. He did not want to answer him in front of Kaië.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Kaië had stopped her relentless march to stand beside him. “I’ve spent my entire life in Dokur. The sea has been my companion and confidant. I had hoped one day the sea would bring me my freedom.”

  They stood for several moments gazing toward the horizon. Marcus thought he saw a dark spot in the distance but could not tell what it was. He strained his eyes, trying to make out more detail, but Kaië tugged on his arm.

  “We must hurry,” she said as they resumed their climb. “If Jayson was arrested, he would have been taken directly to Chancellor Prost, keeper of the law.”

  “Arrested? But he came to warn them!”

  “Warn them of what?” asked Kaië. “Please tell me.”

  “But I swore an oath.”

  In Marcus’s hand, Xerxes shook with annoyance. “This is no time for secrets!” he said. “This girl can be of use to us! You will have to confide in her!”

  Kaië stopped and crossed her arms. “I won’t lead you another step until you explain what is going on.”

  Marcus hesitated to reveal the secret with which he had been entrusted, but without Kaië he knew helping Jayson would be impossible. “Dokur is in danger,” he began. “Jayson came to warn Lord Fredric, but it seems his enemy, Arik, has already arrived.”

  “Arik is here in Dokur? What does he plan to do?” she asked.

  “I don’t know exactly,” replied Marcus, “but I think he plans to capture the watchtower.”

  Kaië’s eyes flashed with fear. “Arik must intend to prevent the tower guards from sounding the alarm,” she said. She turned hastily, increasing her pace. The distance between them and Dokur grew quickly.

  Marcus turned his gaze again toward the sea. The dark spot he had seen before seemed to have swelled to twice its size, but still he could not discern any shape to it. In the harbor, Dokur’s navy lay as though asleep, their sails bound tightly against bare masts. The sight of them filled him with foreboding.

  Forty-three

  he Dragon’s Head Inn was a dilapidated nook in the dirtiest part of the city. With its entry located in a dark alleyway, it was the shelter of choice for Dokur’s most nefarious individuals.

  Kelvin pressed himself against the alley wall, hoping the shadows would conceal him from whomever might gaze down from the second-story window. Earlier he had followed Arik to this place and had even slipped inside and hidden beneath a table. It was here that he had overheard Arik’s plans.

  All but one Mardok was to accompany Arik to the tower, with the one remaining left to guard Clovis and the others. But in the time it had taken Kelvin to get to Marcus and back, he could not be sure that Arik and the other Mardoks had not already returned.

  Kelvin’s hands, moist with apprehension, gripped the handle of his dagger as he slipped through the door. To his surprise, he found the room empty. Even the barkeeper was nowhere to be seen. This time he did not take refuge under a table but made his way toward the staircase at the far side of the bar.

  Kelvin crept along, his dagger drawn. Each step caused the floorboards beneath his feet to creak. He paused occasionally to listen for movement in case Arik and the Mardoks were lurking about, but he heard nothing. As he continued past the bar, however, he heard a low groan. Kelvin turned, his dagger held high, ready to strike. On the floor behind the bar lay the barkeeper in a pool of his own blood. The barkeeper groaned again and weakly lifted his hand.

  Kelvin sheathed his dagger and tore a strip of cloth from his shirt, hoping to use it to stop the bleeding. As he knelt beside the man, he realized that any attempt at saving his life would be futile. The man struggled for each breath, and his body convulsed uncontrollably. Kelvin took his outstretched hand.

  “How are you, my friend?” Kelvin asked softly, forcing a smile.

  The man managed a feeble smile of his own. “In death’s grasp,” he whispered. “I overheard their plan to take the tower! Arik and those monsters . . . seizing the tower . . . a fleet of enemy ships waits beyond the harbor!”

  The man fell into a violent fit of coughing, and his breaths became even more labored. “I am the only one who knows.”

  “Hush, now,” Kelvin soothed. “Keep still.”

  “No!” the man’s face twisted in an agonized expression. “You must go to the tower! Warn the guards—or Dokur is lost!”

  “But my friends are being held captive upstairs. I must rescue them.”

  The man grabbed Kelvin’s hand and pressed something into his palm. “Free them quickly! Then go to the tower! Swear you’ll go to the tower!”

  Kelvin opened his fingers. In his hand lay a key. “I swear it,” he said.

  A tranquil expression eased across the barkeeper’s face. Then, with one last breath, he died.

  Forty-four

  t the top of the hill, two hundred yards or so from the base of the Fortress, Kaië dropped to her knees behind a large boulder. She pulled Marcus down beside her and put a finger to her lips.

  She motioned for him to help her. They leaned their weight against the boulder, and it slid away easily, revealing steps descending deep into the earth. Marcus followed Kaië, a thin finger of sunlight their only illumination.

  Soon they reached the bottom of the steps, but whatever lay ahead of them was hidden in darkness. Marcus’s stomach tightened into a knot. He had no choice but to trust Kaië.

 
; “This tunnel leads to Lord Fredric’s private chambers,” she explained. “It was built as a means of escape should Dokur ever fall under attack.”

  “Do you take this route often?” asked Marcus.

  “Only once before. The night I followed Ivanore.”

  Xerxes gasped in surprise. Marcus covered the bird’s beak with his hand but, realizing the futility of it, let go.

  “That was completely unnecessary!” grumbled Xerxes.

  Marcus grasped Kaië’s hand and turned her toward him. Through the darkness he could see nothing, but he listened for the sound of her breath.

  “Who are you, Kaië?” Marcus shivered. The tunnel was damp and cold. “You know about Jayson, and on your insistence I told you why he came here. Now you say you know Ivanore. Explain this to me.”

  “My mother was Ivanore’s maidservant,” Kaië answered. Her breath was steady, certain. Marcus felt it on his face, warming him. “When Mother died, Ivanore became like a new mother to me. When she ran away with Jayson, I went with them. I remained by her side when they were betrayed and dried her tears when Jayson was exiled. Their separation broke her heart.”

  Kaië’s breath faltered and her voice choked, but she regained control. “That night, as she escaped, I followed her through this tunnel. When she realized I was following her, she pleaded with me to remain in Dokur and watch the sea until Jayson returned. I was to tell him where to find her. I swore to her that I would deliver her message, and every day for the past fifteen years I have waited. Now, finally, I will be able to fulfill my promise.”

  The warmth of Kaië’s breath moved away from Marcus, and he heard her footsteps echoing against the stone floor ahead of him.