by Colin Taber
“Yes.”
“I know he carries guilt, but is that what’s driving him?”
“Yes. Look at you, also a victim of the cults, yet leading the alternative to their rule. He feels powerless beside you, but out there on a battlefield he can take back control of his destiny.”
“But he’ll die!”
“It’s true to say he may.”
“I can’t let him!”
“Juvela, you’re a god now. Protect him and those that go with him by bestowing a blessing upon their souls. You can keep them safe, well, from arrows and such, but weapons like diabolical magic may still be able to overwhelm such defences.”
“He’s my husband!”
“And you his wife; a god who can bless him to be the safest on the battlefield. If you can’t dissuade him, your love will protect him.”
I nodded, but my heart ached. Sef was right – in theory – but I wouldn’t admit, not even to him, how afraid I was of using the celestial, fearing that it’d stir my hunger.
Maybe it wouldn’t come to that.
Perhaps, I could convince him to change his mind.
I hadn’t given up on that.
Perhaps, he’d never take to the battlefield.
Sef looked back out to the sound and began to smile, something that caught my eye, seeing me also turn to the west. Out there arose the beginnings of a fog, a great and thick mist gathering to roll in. It was something that’d aid him as we prepared for the real parting of the night; the parting of Sef.
“Sef, I know this is short notice; will you be ready to collect Anton and then journey all the way to the heart of Kalraith?”
“Yes.”
“What of maps and equipment and anything else you need?”
“I need very little. We’ll equip ourselves in Fletland, before crossing it for Kalraith’s heart. The hardest part will be getting Anton.”
I nodded, but remained wary of his confidence.
He turned to face me. “What’s wrong?”
“How can you get him, I mean, to manage it alone?”
“I’m not going to do it alone.”
“Oh, well, who’ll be helping you?”
He looked past me and smiled, as a familiar voice broke the quiet of the night, “Are you ready to talk details?” It was Felmaradis.
I looked at them both as the Lae Velsanan came to sit with us, a grin on his face. He must have seen the surprise in my eyes, because he asked, “Haven’t you told her?”
Sef grinned. “I was just getting to it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
The big Flet chuckled. “It’s alright.”
I asked, “You’re going, too?”
Fel answered, “Yes.”
“Isn’t that a big risk?”
“We’ll be fine, and it leads on to something else; it’s also time for me to leave. I’ll be taking the ship out perhaps as early as tomorrow, depending on what the Sidian does after a certain incident unfolds tonight.”
“Will it just be the two of you?”
Fel smiled. “I’ll take some help, but we’ll be fine.”
Sef agreed. “It’ll be enough.”
“And then what?”
“Fel and I’ve already made a rough plan, one that’ll see us slip aboard the Sidian during this dark and misty night. I’ve been aboard before, so I know the layout. The two of us will then get Anton and free him, before stealing him away.”
“Where to, back here?”
“No, that’d be too obvious. We’re going to camp nearby. When the Sidian has played out its reaction, Fel will set sail to continue his mission and collect us as he leaves the sound. From there, we’ll cross the Northern Sea and Fel will drop us off the coast of Fletland so we can start our journey proper.”
I looked to Fel. “It seems a good plan, but you don’t have to get involved. I can’t imagine this is part of your mission’s letter?”
“A good plan and one surprisingly almost within my mission’s brief. I’ll be disguised as a Flet so that our actions won’t directly see the Inquisition look to Lae Wair-Rae for blame. It will just seem as if some friends have come to break out their turncoat brother, something they’ll be surprised at by the brashness, but in the end believe.”
“I don’t understand; what’s in it for you?”
“It’ll give me days to talk to Anton about the Inquisition as we cross the Northern Sea, and time aboard one of their ships. I need that kind of information before returning to Quor. His insights will be invaluable.”
“I understand.” I could see that there would be some benefit, but it still seemed a terrible risk.
Sef said, “If you’re worried about the Sidian making trouble for you at the ruins, which is possible, Fel can stay moored for a while, until he feels it safe to move?”
“I’m not worried about them, our walls are detterent enough.”
“True.”
Fel smiled. “So, it’s settled?”
We all nodded, and suddenly it was. By dawn Anton would be free.
-
Pedro and I gathered with Maria, Angela, my parents, and Baruna and Kurt on the terrace in the cool of the night. Sef stood before us with a few bags of gear by his feet, ready to set out.
I couldn’t believe that after being so upset at having him taken from me as the city fell, that I was now sending him away. It seemed a terrible thing to ask of him, for I knew that somewhere along Fletland’s backroads his own horrid past would come to haunt him. What right did I have to do such a thing? Why send him when I should go?
Because I was too scared to travel, too scared to leave my comforts, and in the end, too scared to do anything.
Even without feeding it, I was enslaved by my addiction!
My dark misery rose and my head began to spin.
Sef was suddenly there, taking me into his arms. If he hadn’t done so, I think I would have collapsed.
I had to do better; not just for me and my people, but for Sef. He was going to risk everything for me, so the least I could do was put on a brave face.
He checked my footing, making sure that I was ready to stand again on my own. It was an awkward moment that saw Kurt, Pedro and my father all there reaching out to support me. They needn’t have bothered, Sef never would’ve let me fall, yet it made me realise how fragile I’d become.
The Prince may’ve stifled my deep hunger’s pain, but it still wasted me.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
I tried to stifle an embarrassed giggle, the incident reminding me more of a drunken stumble than my near collapse. “Yes, I’m sorry, I was just a little lost in thought about you going. I was just worrying.”
But it was worry that sat on the faces around me.
“Don’t fret, I’ll be back – with Anton and Dorloth.”
I smiled. “You take care of yourselves. If you need to rest up when you get to Fletland, for him to recover, do and take no guilt. You’ll both need to be fit to make this journey. You’ve got my letter?”
He looked to a leather pack by his feet that held my dictated message, sealed and written by Angela’s hand. “Yes, I’ve got it – and now, with your blessing, I’ll be off.”
They weren’t just words, but an important request. He wanted me to slip into the celestial to share some of my grace, like I had as we’d fled Ossard, something that had helped him and Anton survive their imprisonment.
It was a fair thing to ask...
Yet, I’d not been into the celestial for such a long time.
So very long...
I was scared, fearful of what my senses would taste, worried that it’d disturb the fragile balance that kept my deep hunger at bay.
Sef stood waiting for my gift, a blessing I’d given before and would never have failed to offer to such an important and deserving friend.
Everyone around me was watching, also waiting for me to bestow the hope that was my accursed duty to bear.
His eyes focussed on me, searching, he kn
ew something was wrong.
I swallowed.
Doubt crept upon his face.
I stepped forward and put my arms around him. “Find a safe road, something I’ll watch over again.” I slipped my perception into the celestial and renewed our bond. While I did, I tried to ignore the black and blue void, but it was impossible: About me currents of power flowed, and even worse, all about me spread a multitude of souls revolving around mine like I was the centre of a massive whirlpool.
As soon as I was done, my perception fled that tempting realm.
But it was too late!
I didn’t remember fainting, I just knew that I’d been overwhelmed by the void, though I had been strong enough in my resolve not to feed. Deep down I cursed my weakness, not for passing out, but for missing my parting with Sef.
Chapter 22
-
Passing in the Night
-
Sef met with Fel outside the walls of Marco’s Ruin as agreed, the two of them wearing dark clothing, which they hoped would help them approach the Sidian through the fog unseen. Neither of them seemed particularly anxious as they quietly greeted each other amidst the damp kiss of the night’s embrace. Many such fogs had rolled into the sound over the past season, but few as thick as this.
Sef thought of it as the world’s own blessing.
The meagre light was as poor as the visibility, yet Sef could see that Felmaradis was wearing a cap. The top half of his ears were tucked under its tight fit, hiding their points, making his heritage seem that of a Flet. Even in the gloom, Sef couldn’t help but be amazed at how muscular, short and stocky Fel was for a Lae Velsanan. That he looked like a Flet was undeniable, perhaps even one on the squat side. He asked, “And the help you were bringing?”
Fel patted a small leather pack on his hip. “It’s all here.”
Sef raised an eyebrow, but said, “Alright. Follow me.”
They walked alongside the base of the wall and down to the beach. Beside them, the ancient stonework continued into the sound’s cool waters, but ahead of them lay a small boat on the gravel, one of the few the ruin claimed. It wasn’t likely to be returned, and even though it had seen better days, it’d still be missed.
Sef pushed the beached boat until it was back in the water. He then gestured for Fel to get in, before he gave it one last shove. With just a few steps into the water, he then jumped in as they drifted out and into the smothering fog.
Sef sat and put his pack down next to one he stowed for Anton while Fel began pulling on the oars. The big Flet was pleased at the strength of his fellow’s strokes, but more so at their quietness.
Settling into a rhythm, Fel took the boat along the ruin’s wall, and then around to the north to pass by his own grand ship. Before long, he began to follow the shore of the northern ridge westwards. He stuck to the shallows and moved along swiftly, keeping the shore in sight through the fog, as they made their way seeking the Sidian.
Sef whispered, his voice the only sound aside from the gentle movement of water and the occasional cut of the oars, “I’m still surprised that you’ve offered to help?”
Fel’s smile almost cut through the gloom. “As I said, this is part of my own work in many ways, but it’s also something I wish to do. You’re close to Anton, I can see that, and such a friendship is in defiance of your own commonsense. Strangely, I find it comforting – perhaps even familiar.”
“You’re a strange one, Fel. There’s no doubt about that.”
“In such a hateful world, I’ll take being different as a compliment.”
Sef smiled, but such a thing was barely visible in their dark realm of damp and cloying mists. Aside from their silhouettes, the boat, its oars and the water, there was little in the world that could be confirmed. All was lost to the veil of fog that had also stolen away not just the stars and moon, but also the few lamps that marked the walls of Marco’s Ruin, and even the naskae studded masts of Fel’s own ship.
After a long silence, Sef said, “It’s hard to know how far we’ve come through this murk.”
“Yes, but not impossible. I’m counting my oar strokes.”
“Counting?”
“Yes, I’ve done one hundred and fifty. I think we need to look for the Sidian when we reach three hundred.”
“A good idea.”
“You’d be surprised what they teach us during our military training, not that all take notice.”
“I think I know what you mean: There are always some who only take heed of the bloodier bits of the warrior’s trade.”
“Yes, typically most young recruits join the military to escape poverty, debts or unwanted fates, but there are also those amongst the ranks of newcomers who are barely sane: Those who take too much pleasure in the lunacy of fighting.”
“Yes,” Sef said glumly, thinking of his own time dealing with Kave’s recruits upon the plains of Fletland.
“One hundred and seventy.”
“What?” Sef asked.
“One hundred and seventy oar strokes.”
“Oh.” Sef chuckled. “There are also the angry who come looking for blades to work their fury out with.”
“Yes – or in the Fifth and Final Dominion, the Fiquene.”
“The Fiquene?”
“They’re a rival house, the enemies of House Jenn.”
“Ah, politics.”
“Indeed.”
“Is it a new rivalry or something generations old?”
“Generations? It’s something much more than that, going back to the Third Dominion of Jhae Dalin Cor. In truth our families have been clashing for ages, but the rivalry bloomed to become the poles about which that dominion was built and fell around.”
“Remarkable.”
“As you say; it’s politics. Back then, two great kingdoms were united by marriage when Grae Jenn, the greatest of our house, became high king after wedding a Fiquene princess. The marriage saw the founding of the Third Dominion and the beginning of its golden age. Grae Jenn was said to be a great man, and one who built his kingdom not just through battle, but also wisdom. Still, in time, he was betrayed and lost everything to House Fiquene.”
“Two dominions ago must be a couple of thousand years?”
“Yes.”
“That’s quite a feud.”
“They have long been our rivals. Through all of our noble houses’ long histories the Fiquene and Jenn rivalry is the most lasting. It has become a constant.”
Sef could only shake his head in wonder.
“Two hundred and twenty.”
Sef looked into the fog, the thick coolness embracing their steady progress and blessing them with stealth. He whispered, “I hope they’ve a lamp out or two.”
“As do I – and that they’ve remained.”
“Yes.” That was Sef’s greatest fear, that the Sidian may’ve already set sail in an effort to get Anton to his former superiors.
Fel asked, his voice hushed, “Are we sticking with the plan?”
“Yes, I think. Though we may need to be flexible.”
“Of course. Two hundred and fifty.”
“I’ve brought along my sword, but more importantly a couple of knives. It’s smaller blades we’ll need.”
“I’ve brought knives, too. We need to avoid getting into a fight. We must be quick and quiet, perhaps silencing one or two guards while the rest of the ship sleeps. The last thing we need is to be fighting our way through the crew and a plump inquisitor who could marshall divine magic.”
“Agreed, though I don’t think Louis has much skill or power.”
“Two hundred and eighty.”
They rowed on in silence for a while.
Sef’s voice fell into a dry whisper, something made brittle by his nerves. “Well, here we go.”
Fel nodded and began to steer the boat out into the nothingness of the fog-bound sound. As they left the shore behind, along with the rhythmic sounds of breaking waves, they headed into a gloom so thick that they could barel
y see each other.
Fel whispered, “We’ll take our time in this. We can afford to, and the quieter our approach, the more chance of success.”
Sef agreed.
They rowed on, now in a gentler rhythm that barely made a sound. Fel looked out to the sides and listened carefully, while Sef watched for any hint of lamplight. Both of them had their ears pricked to catch the murmur of the ship’s rigging as it shifted on the small but steady swell.
“Nothing,” Sef whispered.
Fel answered, “Not yet.”
After a while, Fel began to turn the boat by favouring one of the oars, so that they could cross back towards the northern shore. Not long after starting on their new course, he whispered, “What was that?”
Both of them peered into the thick fog, watching to the sides and ahead. Out of the night came the creak of timbers, the sound seemingly distant and soft, but unmistakeable.
Fel whispered, “The fog will make the sound’s source hard to find. We’ll keep following our path until we see a glimmer of light or the ship itself.”
They continued on as the groan of timbers repeated. The sound was soft and after a while began to fade, but without any visual hint of its location they stuck to the line of their search and plan to zigzag tightly across the sound’s waters. They turned again as they found the northern shore and headed back, the night now silent, but they were confident it wouldn’t remain so.
Fel took strong strokes, but kept them quiet, as he pulled the oars through the dark. After a while, the creak and groan of the Sidian rolling on the swell again came to haunt them. Without a word, the two of them stilled, listening as the call of the ship grew louder.
Fel began to turn the boat again.
Sef was sure he was doing it early, before they’d reached the full length of their line. The ship’s noise seemed to be fading, but he couldn’t be certain, and knew from experience what Fel meant about fog distorting sounds.
Both continued to watch for a sign of where the ship might be, as Fel began to send the boat back towards the north shore.
They grew tense, as Fel whispered, “Not long now.”
Sef wasn’t certain, until he began to hear new and softer sounds. Then his eyes joined the discovery, for at once the fog above carried an array of golden beams; a lamp’s light being filtered by the ship’s hull and railing.