Tournak slid back to the side of the boat. The vapor passed.
“Hold Sorblade upright in front of you, point touching the deck. Keep the sword between you and the creature.”
The slithering energy vapor tapped its snout down the deck and stopped just in front of Saxthor. Jerking left and right, the vapor tasted for the scent source. No sooner had the sword tip touched the deck than the slithering vapor caught the blood trace. The assassin coiled then sprang at the blood.
POW! A flash consumed the evil force neutralized by the elfin magic in Sorblade’s runes.
Shaking, Saxthor stumbled back and leaned against the boat cabin. “Aunt Irkin sent her curse. The thing was coming straight for me. But for Sorblade, it would’ve bitten me.”
“I’m sure glad you were out here first, Tournak,” Bodrin said from beside Saxthor.
Tournak bent over where the creature had been. He picked up the braided hairs, which moments before had been the vile being’s frame. “These must be yours, Saxthor.” He tossed the hairs overboard.
“What was that?” Saxthor asked.
“That was an energy vapor. The witch shrouded the hairs with energy infused with a lethal poison. It would’ve killed had it touched you. Formed on your hair, my destroying the curse would’ve harmed you, as well. Only Sorblade’s elfin magic could counteract such evil, and only you could wield Sorblade to activate the magic. You’ve had a narrow escape, indeed.”
Tournak resumed his activities to get them underway fast. Bodrin came forward, and with his index finger, lifted Saxthor’s lower jaw to the upper. The kind act restored the prince’s dignity.
“Pull up the anchor, so we drift out into the current,” Tournak said. “We’ll eat and repack out on the river. We must move. The witch knows where we are again, must've been the turtle.”
“What turtle?” Saxthor asked.
“Never mind.”
A single crow watched their departure from a dead tree branch in the marsh beyond the river.
Now, Tournak was suspicious of everything. Even the crow made him uncomfortable. Crows travel in family groups, but this bird seemed unattached, focused on their boat – and on, them. A frustrated Tournak shot wizard-fire at the crow. He vaporized the perceived threat with his second shot as the startled bird took flight.
“The turtle may have eluded me and summoned the conjured spirit, but in the future, I won’t give such suspicious creatures the opportunity to inform on us.”
* * *
9: Passage to Tixos
Saxthor stood on the bow, where he observed the traffic in Olnak’s harbor. Rowers slipped small boats through breaks between commercial freighters and the great triremes that came and went from Fortresska’s naval shipyard.
“The harbor’s quite crowded.”
“We’ll sail into Olnak and melt into the harbor traffic,” Tournak said. “I’ll take you to the Crinkled Crab Inn overlooking the waterfront. I want you to stay put there. I’ll need to arrange for our passage to Tixumemnese, the Tixosian capital. You two must keep out of sight.”
“Crinkled Crab, that’s funny,” Bodrin said.
“Funny or not, stay in your room.”
Tournak tied up the boat at the wharf’s end and took the boys along the bustling waterfront. Twit flitted along just behind the trio on the shop front awnings where he safeguarded the travelers from a distance. Before they arrived at the upscale market, the travelers passed by enthusiastic fishmongers. The merchants hawked their fresh catches displayed for selection by servants, homemakers, and innkeepers. The exiles passed sweaty sailors and shirtless day laborers who shuffled rhythmically back and forth like ants between the cargo vessels and warehouses, loading and unloading the kingdom’s commerce.
In Olnak’s commercial center, wealthy travelers and merchants’ wives sashayed up and down the boardwalk in their elegant apparel. They inspected newly arrived merchandise and sought bargains in busy shops. One street over, inns provided accommodations for travelers and sailors between voyages; there Tournak located the Crinkled Crab. He settled the boys in their room and left.
Watching from their second-floor window, Saxthor noticed a scruffy, redheaded vagrant propped against the corner lamppost, cleaning his fingernails with a knife. He looked up toward Tournak and straggled off trailing behind him.
I’m imagining watchers everywhere, Saxthor thought. He turned away from the window to Bodrin, poking the feather pillow on his bed. “What’ll happen to the elfin boat?”
“I guess since it moves around on its own, Tournak will put that veil spell on it again. It’ll go back where it came from unseen.”
Saxthor sat down, but soon, his legs kicked back and forth under the chair. “Aren’t you bored?”
“We should stay in the room, as Tournak said.”
“We won’t get into trouble exploring if we stay inside the inn. No going outside, I promise.”
“We have to stay put, Saxthor.”
Bodrin’s so protective, Saxthor thought. If I go exploring, he won’t let me go alone. I’m going to have to play the food card, thought Saxthor.
“Grilled fish and wild fruits are good for a while, but after such a long trip, I want something different to eat. Come on; you know you’d like a nice slice of pie.”
“Tournak will return soon, Saxthor.”
“Can you smell what’s cooking downstairs? Let’s have a look at the kitchen, at least.”
Bodrin sat up. “Yeah, I can smell fresh-baked pies.”
“Food lures you like a moth to a lamp,” Saxthor hopped up and over to the door, opened it, bowed, and swept his hand in an arc that ended pointing to the hallway. “Shall we?”
The fragrance drifted up the stairs like a delicate ribbon, encircled the boys, and drew them toward the kitchen like reeling in a fishing line. They followed the lure down the stairs, through the inn, and along a short, covered walk to the kitchen. Saxthor led at first, but Bodrin’s position improved with the fragrance’s intensity. Bodrin pushed open the cracked door and peeked into the kitchen, cautious as cooks could be temperamental. A medley of smells washed over the boys.
“Look at that beef roast turning on the spit,” Bodrin said. The roast’s juices rippled under its browned, crisp coating. Occasional bits of juices dripped and sizzled in the coals, releasing a sweet smoke. Bodrin drooled.
“There’s a goose prepared and resting in the tray on the counter just beyond the door,” Saxthor said.
A corner cupboard held baskets heaped with fresh vegetables bought at the morning market, their sprinkled leaves crisp and glistening. A large maple table filled the room’s center covered with foods in various stages of cooking preparation.
“The apple stuffing for the goose makes my mouth water,” Saxthor said.
“Yeah, those loaves of bread cooling on racks in front of the window smell delicious, too. There’s nothing quite like fresh-baked bread.”
At the room’s far end was another enormous fireplace large enough for the boys to stand up in. Coals glowed under two large iron cauldrons suspended from swinging hooks that bubbled with simmering pudding and soup.
“This is killing me.”
“You’ll never make it to dinner, Bodrin.”
To the boys’ left, their eyes landed on a window, missed initially. Its curtains flapped outside with the breeze that carried the fragrance of pies through the inn and up the staircase. Nestled in front of the window rested eight fruit pies; their golden, toasted domes teased the eye with traces of the juicy contents at the steam-slit edges. Bodrin stared at the desserts until a hefty cook stood right in front of them, a large wooden spoon in hand.
“You boys hungry?”
They shot upright.
“I’m starving,” Bodrin said. He glanced at Saxthor, who wrapped his arms around his growling stomach.
The innkeeper’s wife was a jolly woman whose excellent cooking reflected in her girth. Knowing the boys to be lodgers, the lady beamed a great smile that made
her double chins quiver.
“Come in, boys; you’re just in time.” She looked over at the pies that were sucking Bodrin’s eyes out of his head. “Now you sit right down there at the table, and I’ll give you each a hearty slab of berry pie.”
“Warm berry pie,” Bodrin said, wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth.
The ever-hungry Bodrin tossed aside his caution to partake of the pie, and the boys were soon sated and ready for a nap.
“Thank you for the delicious treat, madam,” Saxthor said.
Bodrin was still stuffing in the last morsel. He nodded his appreciation, his pie-stuffed cheeks like those of a chipmunk.
“See, we didn’t get into trouble,” Saxthor said on the way back to the room.
“Don’t be so smug; we’re not back in the room yet.”
Halfway up the creaking stairs, they encountered a nervous, middle-aged man in a full-length, black, leather coat. A broad-rim black hat hid his face. He clutched something in his right pocket as he rushed down the stairs.
“Excuse me, sir,” Saxthor said when the rushing man bumped him.
Saxthor had tried to move out of his way, but the man stopped, glared at Saxthor then scanned the area. Saxthor pulled back. The man’s hand grabbed a dagger hilt in his belt as he spun round facing the boys.
“You Prince Saxthor?” the man asked. His unshaven face was dark, making his missing and one gold tooth more noticeable. His onion breath was noxious.
The sight and recognition sent a surge of fright through Saxthor. He stumbled backward as the man lurched toward him, but bumped into Bodrin who’d moved closer. He grabbed for Saxthor.
Another traveler’s boot struck the bottom stair tread. The dark man jerked back upright, glanced at the traveler, and glared again at the stunned boys.
“What’s happening there?” the traveler called out.
The dark hunched man shoved Saxthor aside and dashed down the stairs. A glance back from under his hat revealed flared nostrils and a snarl.
“Watch where you’re going.” The dark stranger rushed on and disappeared around the corner.
Everything all right?” the approaching traveler asked.
“Yes, sir,” Bodrin said. “Thank you.”
“Some folks is mean. Don’t pay him no mind.” With a smile and a nod, the traveler continued up the stairs.
“Did you see his blind eye with that ghostly white center?” Bodrin asked when they were alone again on the stairs.
“Did you notice a dull red glow in his good eye?” Saxthor no longer felt mischievous. The scene with the shape-shifter flashed again in his mind, and he shivered. “The man guarded something in his coat pocket.”
“I saw that too.”
Alarmed, they looked at each other and raced up the stairs back to their room. The door was slightly ajar. Inside, someone had searched their belongings.
“Nothing seems missing,” Saxthor said.
“Nothing but the pin knife I left in my bag.” Bodrin looked at Saxthor.
“The one your father gave you that had your name on the blade?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. Twit’s gone, too.” Saxthor’s stomach turned. “I hope nothing’s happened to him. If he doesn’t come back soon, that’s a bad sign.”
“We better wait in the room until Tournak comes back. I think we’re in big trouble.”
Tournak returned some minutes later with Twit chattering away on his shoulder. Bodrin told the story of the stranger on the stair. He and Tournak searched the room while Saxthor sat silently on the bed, his head hung down on slumped shoulders.
“It’s my fault,” Saxthor said. “I talked Bodrin into leaving the room when you told us to stay here. Earwig knows where we are again.”
“Maybe it was simple robbery,” Tournak said.
“You don’t believe that either,” Bodrin said. “The man stared at Saxthor and grabbed his dagger. He asked Saxthor if that was him. The other traveler scared him off.”
“If he was the witch’s agent, she’ll have guessed we were headed to Olnak after Hyemka and perhaps planned to sail for Tixos in any case. At least she can’t know for certain, or our destination on the island. They know we’re here. We may as well go down to the dining hall for dinner.”
“Somebody told the thief we were here,” Saxthor said. “He has proof that we’re in Olnak.”
“Somebody or something,” Bodrin said.
Feet dragging, Saxthor ambled behind Tournak and Bodrin to the dining hall.
The corpulent, smiling cook brought out a great platter from the kitchen to the long table before them, followed by a slender servant with a big tray of covered serving bowls. The inn’s patrons lined the long oak table, with plates, knives, and wooden spoons neatly laid out in front of them.
Anticipation was great, based on the bright eyes and guests’ smacking lips. Their eyes locked on the platter following its progress. A large sliced roast lay in thick brown gravy. Heaping bowls of steaming rice, parsnips, and greens dotted the table. Each patron stabbed a fat slice of roast and plopped it on the plate beside mounds of rice and roasted parsnips. Several baskets of hot, fresh bread, nestled in cloth napkins for warmth, added to the table’s bounty, as did small plates with water-cooled butter and tiny bowls of salt.
The light from tallow candles warmed the room still more, even as smoke from the candles twisted black streamers above. The cook returned to the kitchen with her platter empty. The low hum of conversation interspersed with the occasional slicing and chewing sounds as the assembled lodgers made merry at the evening meal. The boys gobbled down the feast with the same enthusiasm they displayed with the pie that afternoon. Tournak ate quietly with reserve.
The wizard’s preoccupation worried Saxthor. His fork moved a piece of roast on the plate like a skater on a pond. He looked at Bodrin to see if he noticed.
“What’s for dessert?” Bodrin asked.
“Dessert?” Saxthor asked.
“We’ll go to bed early tonight,” Tournak said. “I asked the innkeeper if we could change rooms with one less exposed to the harbor that would be quieter. We’ll stay in the one room rather than separate and sleep with our traveling clothes on. We’ll need to leave early.”
“In case we need to make a quick getaway,” Saxthor said.
*
Tournak slept on his bedroll by the door, his head close to the base crack. He kept watch through the night, ready to wake the boys should trouble arise before sunrise. The sound of a heavy footstep in the hall woke the guardian in the early hours before dawn. The sliding sound of a dragged foot followed each footstep down the hallway toward the boys’ old room. The person or thing hesitated at each door as he moved along. Whoever it was, he was searching for someone at an hour that suggested no good.
The man hesitated at the door of their prior room. Tournak pressed his ear to the crack and heard a door creak. He reached up and turned the door handle to make a noise. The watcher closed the far room’s door and moved on, but no further sound followed to suggest he left.
“What’s that noise?” Saxthor asked in Tournak’s ear. Tournak jerked and glared at Saxthor, who slipped back to his bed and poked Bodrin.
Bodrin mumbled and stretched with eyes still closed.
“Shush,” Tournak said dagger in hand.
Tournak made sounds opening a case and stirred his foot on the floor. The watcher made his way back down the hall, his alternating footsteps fading on the stairs. The guardian stood up and sheathed his dagger.
“Change clothes. We have to eat fast, settle our bill, and be gone.”
Judging from the big yawns, the boys had slept hard. Tournak couldn’t blame their reluctance to leave the warm feather bed after so long in the boat cabin. Having had the innkeeper stuff the bed of their former room with pillows to make it appear they were in, it may have gained them time. Tournak could only wonder what the watcher’s intent was in the night.
“You going to send word to
Memlatec where we are?” Saxthor asked.
“No. One of the witch’s agents could be watching us. If we communicated with anyone and he left for Konnotan, it would draw attention. A watcher would kill the messenger.”
“Go down to the harbor,” Tournak said as they left the inn. They rounded the corner a block up, and Tournak noticed Twit was very agitated on an awning. The wizard looked up and saw a crow as it took flight from the lamppost just ahead. It flew to a building off the main street, but the harbor shops blocked Tournak’s view further.
“Could either of you see where the bird landed?”
Shaking sleepy heads were the response.
“Work your way to the dock two shops up the street, we’ll board a small boat to ferry us to our ship in the harbor. Remember, I’m traveling on business; you two are my sons along to visit your cousin.”
“What good will that do now,” Saxthor asked. “They know where we are.”
At the wharf, the boys searched the harbor ships.
“It’s an ocean-going cargo vessel with two masts and large, lateen sails,” Tournak said. “She’s full of cargo and low in the water with a striped flag. They’re waiting for us.”
The travelers boarded a small skiff.
“The ship be swinging in the current testing her anchor chain’s metal,” the skiff’s owner said as he rowed his passengers to their vessel. “I’m bettin’ the captain be anxious to get underway while the tide’s with her. She be like most medium-sized Neuyokkasinian cargo ships what trades with Tixos and ports south of Neuyokkasin.”
“Her captain’s a big, robust man who’s spent years at sea,” Tournak said. “His black beard is as thick as his hair. One knows instinctively not to cross the man. That’s him there on the poop deck directing the crew.”
“From the annoyed looks, we’d better get on board fast,” Saxthor said.
“This way to your cabins in the stern, if you please,” the first mate said when they boarded. “This is a cargo ship. The accommodations are simple, but the food is as good as any you’ll find on the Tixosian Sea.”
“One thing that keeps a crew loyal to their ship is good food,” Tournak said.
The Neuyokkasinian Arc of Empire Series: Books 1-3 Box Set High, Epic Fantasy on a Grand Dragon Scale! Kindle Edition Page 11