by Barb Hendee
Wynn reached the ladder's top, stepped through the rail-wall's open gate, and planted her feet firmly on the smooth deck.
Leesil grunted behind her, and she turned.
He climbed with one hand, the other arm wrapped behind to support Chap on his back. Wynn grabbed Leesil's arm and helped him gain the deck. Before he made it all the way, Chap scrambled over his head. The dog nearly knocked Wynn over and flattened Leesil on the deck's edge.
"You're welcome," Leesil grumbled, clambering up.
Magiere, Brot'an, Sgaile, and Osha followed. Only then did Wynn take her first good look about the ship, instantly wishing she had quill and paper in hand.
The strange sidewall-in place of a rail-with its shallow swoop-and-peak edge had caught her eye as she climbed the ladder. But up on the deck, its most striking aspect was a complete absence of planks.
The deck's glistening wood was as smooth as the rainwater barrels she had seen in an'Croan homes-fashioned from inert wood by elven Makers born with an innate gift for thaumaturgy. Longer but narrower than any three-masted vessel she had seen, the entire hull appeared to have been melded into one solid piece, without a single crack or seam in its smooth, tawny surface.
The masts, rigging, and other fixtures were separate pieces, judging by the way weather had aged them. Wynn wondered even more how the deck remained comparatively smooth and richly colored. Halfway between center mast and forecastle was a meshed grate over a large raised opening.
"What is that?" she asked.
"The deck hatch to the cargo bay," Osha answered in Elvish.
Wynn tilted her head back to see the bulges of furled sails hanging from pale yellow masts. The fabric was almost iridescent white, as if made from sheot'a cloth, the elves' equivalent to satin. But this did not seem likely, for where would they find enough cocoons to weave so much material?
"Ah, dead deities!" Leesil moaned.
The ship was still anchored in the bay's calm water, but Leesil already wore a sickly glower.
"Finally," Magiere sighed under her breath.
Wynn knew that nine days was not an unusual length of time for cargo ships to harbor at port-and she and the others lived at the whim and charity of these elves. She could not help note how foreign, though lovely, Magiere appeared on an an'Croan ship.
Her black hair sparked wildly with red from the bright sun glinting off open water. She seemed even paler than usual, surrounded by the vessel's rich color and the wide blue sky. In black breeches and a white shirt recently tailored within the city, she had donned her studded leather hauberk and strapped on her falchion. And recently, Magiere had taken to constantly wearing gloves.
The crew stared at Magiere as well, but their expressions did not echo Wynn's appreciation. Neither Leesil nor Magiere seemed to notice these angry looks, and Wynn was reminded of one clear fact.
Magiere had to leave elven lands and never return.
Chap had learned why and passed it through Wynn. Magiere, born in a blood rite, had been made for a purpose.
Unlike an undead or just a normal human, she could enter elven land. Its natural safeguards could not stop her. Worse still, she fed upon the forest by her very presence, as her undead father had fed upon the living. Magiere had been made to breach any place that the undead had not been able to enter during the long-forgotten war. This knowledge left Wynn fearful of what might come in the future. Magiere's very presence and creation suggested that war-like in the time of the Forgotten-would come again.
A tall, thick-armed elf in a brown head scarf dropped from the aftcastle and plodded toward them. Most likely, this was the hkomas-the "able authority" or ship's captain. Brot'an met him halfway, and Wynn tried to edge close to catch their words.
A stab of nausea took her by surprise.
Why do Sgaile and Osha remain with us?
Chap's words flooded Wynn's head, spoken simultaneously in every language she knew. She had grown accustomed to snatching meaning from the tangle of tongues. Glancing behind, she found Chap eying the two elves suspiciously.
More than a dog, Chap was an eternal Fay, born into the body of a majay-hi-a colloquial term, loosely meaning "hound of the Fay." The breed had descended from the long-forgotten times when wolves were inhabited by Fay during the war of the Forgotten History. This made Chap doubly unique, and only Wynn could hear him in her head.
This was not supposed to happen.
Two seasons past, she had meddled with a mantic ritual to help Magiere track an undead. The attempt had gone horribly wrong, and over the passing moons Chap had tried more than once to cleanse her. But the taint remained and kept manifesting in new ways.
"I do not know," she whispered to Chap. "Sgaile said the hkomas would be uncomfortable having humans aboard without an escort."
No-the an'Croan council of clan elders requested this ship. Sgaile's continued presence is something else… and too sudden. Something more has happened since the ship's arrival-and your babbling our plans to Brot'an.
"Oh, drop that already!" Wynn whispered, but her feelings were mixed.
She too wondered why Sgaile chose to continue his guardianship into this voyage, but part of her was glad. A respected member of his caste, when Sgaile spoke, people listened. Osha's presence was another matter, and left Wynn unsettled in ways she did not understand. Their travels and ordeals in an'Croan lands had brought out the best and worst in him. In the end, she counted him as a friend. But when they said farewell on the river's shore at Crijheaiche, she had never expected to see him again.
Osha caught Wynn watching him and raised thick eyebrows, making his horselike face appear even longer. Wynn turned away, but Chap continued studying the young elf.
He is profoundly relieved… concerning something to do with Sgaile.
"You see that in his mind?" she whispered, surprised.
Within his line of sight, Chap could pick out surfacing memories from a sentient being's conscious thoughts, but she was not aware he could sense emotions.
No, it is plain on his face… and the way he follows Sgaile about, waiting to fulfill any command in an instant. Osha could not long hide a secret, unless he pulled that cowl over his entire head.
"Stop being so pompous!" Wynn said too loudly.
Slightly raised voices pulled her attention back to Brot'an and the ship's hkomas, and she tried to decipher their rapid Elvish. From what she could follow, the captain's inhospitable manner with Brot'an came from the vague instructions concerning the destination of his "passengers." Wynn had expected this. Moments later, a troubled Brot'an walked past Wynn straight toward Magiere, and Wynn hurried to follow.
"Did he refuse?" Magiere asked.
Brot'an shook his head. "The hkomas will take you south, but the elders did not choose the best ship for you."
Magiere's pale brow wrinkled as she crossed her arms.
"Why?" Leesil asked, already gripping the deck's rail-wall, as if growing more unsteady on his feet by the moment.
"This vessel serves coastal an'Croan communities," Brot'an answered. "From here, it sails east around the point before it turns south down the coast."
"How long?" Magiere asked.
"Five or six days at a run… but this is a main cargo vessel. It will stop at every harbor, especially those of other rivers reaching the coast, where the barge clans bring goods from the inlands."
Leesil's eyes widened as Magiere's mouth fell open. Wynn braced herself for the coming storm.
"What?" Magiere growled. "We were promised a ship to take us anywhere we asked to go!"
Osha fidgeted slightly in alarm, glancing about the ship. Several of the crew glared in Magiere's direction. They might not understand her words, but her rising tone was clear.
"Magiere…," Sgaile warned softly.
"You led us onto that barge, and all the way to the coast," she snarled, "promising to get us out of here. But we've been trapped in this city, waiting. Now our ship's stopping at every town along the way? You-you're-"
Magier
e turned away toward the rail-wall beside Leesil.
"We need to go south-now." Her voice weakened to a whisper as she closed her eyes. "Please… now."
Leesil slid his hand across her back, glancing at Sgaile.
Wynn shared Leesil's concern over whatever had whispered to Magiere in her dream and showed her the six-towered castle coated in ice. But in their travels, they had uncovered no other clues regarding the whereabouts of the artifact. Wynn felt they should do everything possible to help Magiere, and not continue questioning the lead they had.
"This is the only ship," Sgaile said, his voice tight, "unless you wish to linger here even longer. The elders arranged passage once-they would not do so again. It is either this vessel, or we travel back across the Broken Range on foot… by whatever way you found to reach us. And then head south. What is your choice?"
Magiere slowly turned her head toward him.
Wynn lost sight of her companion's pale face, but she saw Sgaile's large eyes narrow. He crossed his own arms. Magiere turned away again, staring out over the bay, and Wynn knew Magiere's answer.
"Their belongings have arrived," a crew member called out to Brot'an.
Another skiff pulled in beside the ship, and two elves in the small vessel hoisted up baggage. Wynn hurried to help Osha as he began hauling in their belongings, which had increased during their visit in Ghoivne Ajhajhe.
Magiere's comment about being trapped was not precisely correct. They had used their time in the city to prepare for the coming journey. Magiere was not certain about their path, but she knew their destination lay in a mountain canyon so high up it was locked in snow and ice all year.
"Ah, here are your new coats," Osha said in Elvish, and tapped Leesil's shoulder as he pointed down to the skiff.
"In Belaskian," Wynn chided without thinking. "You need the practice."
Osha gave her a sheepish smile and repeated in broken speech that Leesil and Magiere could understand.
Wynn had not spoken much to Osha since his arrival. It seemed they easily fell back into a pattern in which she insisted he speak an appropriate language that her companions could understand.
One elf in the skiff below climbed halfway up to hand off their new coats. Magiere had specifically requested these garments.
Made of sheepskin with the woolly side inward, they were also lined with a thick layer of rough-spun cotton fabric. The outer hide had been deeply oiled against bad weather, something Brot'an added to their specifications. The new garments would maximize body heat retention in a cold climate.
Meanwhile, Wynn and Leesil had arranged for smoked meats and dried fruits, water flasks, tea, and other goods. They had little to trade, but Sgaile handled the negotiations, ushering them out of any shop to await him. Wynn had an uneasy feeling that most of the items had been donated, since an anmaglahk had requested them.
The hkomas's harsh voice called out for sails to be set. Wynn watched the crew scramble into the rigging to ready the ship. And it struck her that they were truly leaving. She sighed and returned to her companions. Magiere appeared calmer, but Leesil swallowed hard, looking more uncomfortable.
Wynn heard Brot'an talking in low tones to Sgaile as the master anmaglahk prepared to descend to the waiting skiff. Then Brot'an handed something to Sgaile. Both his words and gift, if that was what it was, passed too quickly for Wynn to catch.
Sgaile glared at Brot'an with his fists closed tightly on the hidden object.
Osha tensed up, his expression aghast. Sgaile seemed about to argue or question, but Brot'an raised a finger and his lips moved in one brief phrase.
"Chein'as?" Osha whispered too loudly.
"Tosajij!" Sgaile hissed at him.
The younger elf cringed in embarrassment. His wide amber eyes flicked toward Leesil, who wavered as he tried to lift baggage from the deck.
Wynn wondered at the word Osha spoke, and why Sgaile ordered him into silence.
Chein'as-the… "burning" ones?
Brot'an started to descend, and Wynn's thoughts rushed to all he had done for her and her companions. She knew how much she irritated him at times, but he had been their protector and adviser-at a cost Wynn could not even estimate.
"Brot'an…," she called, and then lost her nerve.
Brot'an halted, then stepped back up on deck. He came closer, until he towered over Wynn, and grasped her gently by the shoulders.
"Farewell, little one," he said, and lowered his head to whisper, "and do not stop asking questions."
Wynn nodded with a sting in her eyes.
Brot'an turned away, pausing once before Magiere. A shadow of sadness crossed her pale face. She, too, had depended on his wisdom in this strange land. But Leesil…
He remained crouched over the baggage and did not rise. Too much had happened between Leesil and the master anmaglahk for him to ever trust the man. Brot'an climbed over the ship's side and vanished from sight.
Sgaile turned hard eyes on Osha and pulled him away toward the ship's aft.
Wynn desperately wanted to follow and listen, though she knew such action would not be considered appropriate. She was about to go help Magiere and Leesil with the baggage when she noticed that Chap was gone. She spun about, searching the deck.
He stood poised upon a crate near the rail-wall, gazing toward the shore. Wynn came up behind him and stroked his back. She knew what he had been doing all the early mornings and evenings when he had disappeared into the forest.
Out beyond the city, Chap had spent his last days with Lily, the white majay-hi.
He had said his good-bye to her the day they had arrived in Ghoivne Ajhajhe, but the unexpected delay had weakened his resolve. Lily's entire pack had gone home, but she stayed behind to be with Chap. The white majay-hi feared the populated city, and so he slipped out into the forest whenever possible.
"I am sorry you have to leave her," Wynn said.
She would not come.
"I know."
All around Wynn, the crew bustled with activity as they prepared to leave harbor. All except for one young woman. Wynn caught the girl watching her and Chap. Dressed in too large boots, with a heavy braid hanging forward over one shoulder, she turned quickly away and up the forecastle out of sight.
As the sails caught the wind, the ship turned slowly toward the open sea, and Wynn thought she felt a strange, rhythmic thrum through the deck beneath her feet. Chap whined softly, his gaze still on the coastline, and Wynn felt overwhelmed by loss.
There were so many reasons that they had to leave, but they left so much behind.
Hkuan'duv stood on his vessel's deck and watched the ship carrying the humans as it sailed out of harbor. He waited until darkness came.
Of all the orders Most Aged Father had ever given, this one troubled Hkuan'duv the most. Sgailsheilleache and Osha, two of Hkuan'duv's own caste, were on the vessel he would track, and they knew nothing of his presence. Such a thing had never happened in his memory.
As he stared toward the open sea beyond the harbor, a slender hand gripped the rail-wall beside him, and a soft voice spoke.
"Your thoughts run in circles tonight."
Danvarfij-Fated Music-looked him directly in the eyes. Her nose was too long and her cheekbones were a touch wide, but her skin was clean and creamy, like tea stirred with goat's milk. She had been his last student, studying under him for five years, and there was always a quiet honesty in her eyes.
When her skill with a bow clearly exceeded his, it was the final sign that their time together as teacher and student was over. He had spoken for her before Most Aged Father, and she had been given a word-wood in recognition. When she left on her first solo purpose, Hkuan'duv chose to take no more students.
He did not respond to her comment. She knew him too well.
"Have you seen our quarters?" he asked.
"Yes, two small rooms below," she answered. "A'harhk'nis and Kurhkage can share one, you and I the other."
He nodded, turning from the rail-w
all to find the other two members of his team sitting on the cargo hold's grate.
A'harhk'nis-Most Changeable-was unusually silent, even for a member of their caste. He was a skilled tracker, with wild eyes and unruly hair. Though he carried anmaglahk stilettos, his preferred weapons were more brutal. In his belt at the small of his back he carried a pair of bone knives as large as sickles, their curved blades as wide as a human's sword. He preferred his clothing loose and wore oversized breeches. Even with his cloak corners tied about his waist, it billowed around him.
Hkuan'duv turned his eyes upon the last of his chosen.
Kurhkage-Sandpiper-was unremarkable but for his missing left eye and his stature. Lack of depth perception did not appear to affect him, and he came from the same clan as Brot'an'duive, sharing his oversized build. He had spent years in the human region south of the eastern coast, known as the Ylladon States. Kurhkage was calculating and tactical, but his experiences among those loosely allied city-states of marauders had left him bitter.
Ylladon ships sometimes grew daring and raided the lower reaches of the an'Croan coastline. Shortly after Kurhkage completed his tutelage, he headed south with two others on his first purpose. As the trio stopped over in the most southern an'Croan coastal community, the village was raided. Kurhkage lost his eye in that fight, but not one Ylladon marauder escaped.
Hkuan'duv was certain of his choices. Only Danvarfij troubled him a little. She was the most well-rounded in skills and training, but during their years together, he had grown… content in her company.
After they parted, a year passed before Hkuan'duv felt at peace. He had no wish to go through such an adjustment again.
Kurhkage stalked over. He refused to wear an eye patch, and his left eye socket had healed into rough lumps of flesh.
"The hkomas asks when we will leave," he said. "He seems anxious over the growing distance between our ship and theirs."
Hkuan'duv nodded. He sympathized with the hkomas, who now followed the "requests" of the Anmaglahk.
"Soon," he answered. "I wish to give our quarry some distance."
Earlier, the crew had prepared the ship. With little to do but wait, several of them cast curious glances at Hkuan'duv and his companions. Another twinge of discomfort passed through him.