The Great River Andon and its many Forks are the very veins in which courses the lifeblood of Gannon. Only the far-flung Southern Realm does not touch one of its banks. Aravath the Navigator claimed the river and its entire basin for the People of Gan when he brought them back after their four century Exile ended.
— “Second History of Gannon, Vol. II” by Elyn Bravano
A dull, throbbing pain drug Tallen from oblivion. It sharpened as his senses woke, searing into his brain with every thump of his heart. He blinked, one eye crusted over and barely opening. The glare of sun sparkling off water honed the pain lancing through his skull. Tallen smacked his lips and moaned around his numb, cottony tongue.
“I found a waterskin, if you need it.”
Maddi’s voice worked like a balm to his pain. Tallen rolled over on one side, shifting to find comfort on the bottom of the boat bouncing along the Andon.
“Please,” he croaked, reaching blindly toward her voice.
His fingers met cool leather. Tallen squinted his good eye open a crack, just enough to see the wooden stopper. He shifted onto his back and pulled the cork free. The cool water washed over his dry tongue, softening his cracked lips. It eased down into his stomach like the front edge of a returned river washing down its old, parched bed.
“You’ll want to go easy on that at first, or you’ll just—”
Tallen heaved over the gunwale, losing most of what had reached his stomach.
“Never mind.” Maddi’s suppressed giggle rang in Tallen’s numbed ears.
“Sor…sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough and broken. He stretched out his hand, cupping a bit of the river water and splashing it onto his face. Opening his crusted eye, he shifted back into the boat and leaned against its curved wall. Tallen tried another small sip of the water. This time, it stayed down.
“I also found another bag with some jerky in it,” Maddi said, her voice filled with doubt. She held out a cloth pouch at arm’s length. “It was in the back of the boat.”
“The stern.” Tallen’s voice regained some of its strength, but the pain in his head remained.
Maddi titled her head to one side. “What?”
“The back of the boat – it’s called the stern.” He sipped from the waterskin, his stomach happily accepting the liquid.
Maddi snorted. “Whatever, Admiral.” She shook the bag again. “I haven’t had the nerve to try it. Who knows what an orc might eat.”
Tallen took the offered bag and stuck his nose in it. “Smells like goat.” He pulled out a piece and sniffed it closely. “Thyme, garlic, and smoke – I don’t recognize the wood offhand.” Tallen pulled a tentative bite and chewed. “Yep. Goat. I’ve made similar.”
He took a second piece before handing the bag back to Maddi. She sniffed and set it down. Tallen shrugged and tore off a much larger bite, washing it down with a gulp of water.
Maddi nibbled at her lip, staring first at the bag, then at Tallen devouring his second piece. He heard her stomach rumble and reached to grab yet another strip.
“Hold on.” Maddi snatched the bag away, her blue eyes catching the morning sunlight even though her scowl shaded them. “I’ll try it.”
Tallen watched her pull out a deep maroon piece. A few salt crystals reflected the sun back at the river, along with a golden flake of dried garlic. Maddi’s nose wrinkled as she sniffed the jerky. A sudden wave bumped the boat and the piece almost went up her nostril. Her frown deepened, but her stomach growled again. Tallen smiled seeing her bite down on it, trying not to touch the meat with her lips. The grimace disappeared, though, while she chewed.
Tallen handed her the waterskin. “This helps.”
She took a sip, chewed a little more, and then swallowed, her grimace returning.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you find it edible?”
“Barely.”
Maddi shifted her cloak about her. He realized for the first time that was all she wore over thin nightclothes, and all he had on were his under breeches. He shivered when the breeze came off the water, suddenly far colder.
“Um, did they happen to leave any spare cloaks back there too?”
Maddi’s chewing grimace became a roguish grin. “Sorry. I know better than to storm out into a nighttime battle without grabbing my cloak first.”
Frowning made Tallen’s head throb again, though it had eased since he first opened his eyes. “I didn’t have much choice.”
They sat in silence for a time, eating while they bobbed along near the northern shore of the Andon. When a tall pleasure boat sped by, sails full under the spring westerlies, Tallen waved for help. The group of young people, obviously from well to do noble and merchant families, waved back at the two of them, giggling behind sparkling glasses of white wine, while a string quartet played from the rear deck. Tallen caught a whiff of bacon, sausage, and other tasty morning foods floating out from the galley.
Maddi wrapped her cloak tighter about her body. “Rich kids on a pleasure cruise. Just what I needed this morning.”
The boat sailed on ahead, the music drifting behind it. Tallen let his thoughts float on the wind with the melody. The pain in his head eased while he sipped on the waterskin, occasionally passing it back to Maddi.
He frowned with concern when he noticed the little fleck of dried blood along her hairline. “How’s your head, by the way?”
Maddi’s hand fluttered up to the wound, gingerly pressing at it. She winced. “It’ll be fine. It’s healing.”
Tallen offered her a smile, despite the aching inside his skull. “Soon you’ll be able to heal with a touch.”
Curling her lip in doubt, Maddi shook her head. “I have a feeling it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
The smile faded from his lips. “No doubt.”
“Speaking of complicated – what exactly happened after I…after I fell last night?” Maddi knit her dark eyebrows together. “That thing…that troll, I thought it would rip us apart.” She wrung her hands. “I woke here and found us floating in the open river. At first, I thought you were dead. I had to search for your pulse before I moved you.”
Tallen shook his head, the ache reminding him to remain still. I remember what happened, but I don’t want to. Even orcs scream in fear when they die.
Dread crept up his spine when he remembered the faces of those he had killed. He blinked his eyes and stared out over the water, watching the shore pass by. Forcing his emotions down, he cleared his throat.
“I killed them, Maddi. Killed them all.”
She frowned and leaned forward, resting her hand on his bare knee before speaking. “I’ve seen enough of your magic in the last few days to know that anything might be possible from you.” She leaned back and folded her hands in her lap. “You saved my life. Thank you.”
Maddi’s touch and soft words woke more than just his heart, sitting here alone on the river, the scent of her hair in his nostrils. He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “You saved me first…and my brother.”
Her smile warmed him more than the early summer sun, now well above the bow of the boat. Tallen smiled back, before quickly turning his face sternward to hide the flush of color he felt rising on his cheeks.
A low prow bore down upon them, splitting the water before it. Three masts full of sail bulged forward, pulling the ship faster than the current.
Maddi’s voice lowered and she wrapped herself deep in her cloak. “That’s not the Shasta.”
Tallen’s stomach dropped. The dark-stained prow took on a menacing cast, slicing toward them. He reached for his power, but found his numbed senses fumbling. Only a bare hint of the Aspects hovered out of his reach. His headache flared anew, until he noticed the blue pennant snapping at the prow of the boat, a rampant silver dragon dancing in the wind.
“It’s a Bluecloak craft,” he whispered, squinting agains
t the breeze to scan her deck.
Maddi leaned in behind him. “That doesn’t comfort me as much as it does you.”
A man stretched out from the prow with a looking glass. His sandy blond hair whipping about above a green tunic caught Tallen’s eye. Blue cloaks fluttered behind him, and a large wolfhound leaned into the wind, his paws upon the gunwale and his tongue lolling out. The men waved and pointed at their little watercraft.
“That’s Jaerd!” Tallen waved back, the boat wobbling as he stood.
“Easy!” Maddi grabbed her seat. “Don’t drown us just before we get rescued.”
The chasing boat swept up beside them, the faces of Magus Britt and Boris coming into focus, their expressions nearly as concerned as Jaerd’s. Brawny bounced around, barking with glee. The crew reefed the sails, and the pilot brought the ship alongside the orc boat. Sailors tossed a rope to Tallen’s outstretched hands.
Just as his feet touched the deck, and before even Jaerd could close the distance between, Magus Britt took Tallen in his grip. The Battlemage grabbed his temples, and drew him downward, staring deep into his eyes. He felt a wisp of Magus Britt’s power, but had no sense of which Aspect he used, so clouded still were his senses.
“Young fool!” The mage found a way to look down his nose at Tallen, even though he stood almost half a yard shorter. “You could burn yourself out by doing things like that before you’ve been any damn use to anyone. I saw the damage you dealt. You could have killed that troll and those orcs with a fraction of the power you drew upon.” His frown softened and Tallen felt the Battlemage’s power switch off. “You haven’t ruined yourself though, luck be upon us. I would bet your headache is one for the ages, however.” He released Tallen and shook his head. “It should teach you the lesson about control that I have failed to.”
Tallen nodded. He sensed Maddi hiding behind him, but she remained silent.
“I’m just glad to find you alive!” Jaerd pushed his way past the Bluecloak mage and threw his arms around his brother. “Damn it, boy. I thought I’d lost you.” Jaerd stepped backward, still clasping Tallen’s shoulders at arm’s length. “Mother would have killed me. Glynn would have had to tell her, because I might have fled the kingdom.” Jaerd’s smile of relief shifted to a frown. “When I pushed you out of the room, I did not intend for you to flee the entire inn. What fool notion made you run to the docks? You should have stayed where we could protect you.”
Tallen bowed his head. “I…I don’t know. I just grabbed Maddi and ran, pulling her along.” He felt her hand brush his back.
Magus Britt grumbled. “Again with the impulse reactions. You must learn to think before you act, boy. That is the first lesson of a true wizard, and I don’t know that you’ll ever learn it.”
“Oh, come now, Joz,” Boris said, putting a hand on the mage’s shoulder. “The lad took out a troll and an entire orc platoon the first time he used magic in battle. That deserves some credit.”
Magus Britt’s scowl deepened. “Perhaps. Likely he will get enough of that in his life, if he survives.” The Battlemage juggled a smooth, glassy stone in his hand, identical to the one they had found on the orcs in Gavanor. “However, he almost burned himself out in the process. Controlling your power – controlling yourself – will be your greatest trial in life.”
With one hand still reluctant to leave Tallen’s shoulder, Jaerd placed the other fist on his hip. “That is any man’s greatest trial. My brother will be up to it.” He turned back to Tallen. “You’ve learned a lesson here, right? Several, if I’m not mistaken.”
Bowing his head meekly, Tallen folded his hands in front of him. “I have. And my head feels as if Sergeant Hall’s axe split it.”
Boris reached out with a folded bundle of brown wool. “Good! Now put a shirt on.”
Tallen hurried to comply.
Tilli Broadoak stepped up from behind the humans with another rucksack Tallen recognized. She handed it to Maddi, who whispered thanks.
“Rule one for a new recruit – don’t ever leave your squad.” Jaerd nodded at him with a furrowed brow. “That’s one you might find applicable here.”
“I promise.” Tallen fought to keep the red from his cheeks. He pulled on the cotton shirt, fumbling with the ties to hide his blush.
“Excellent.” With a last pat on Tallen’s shoulder Jaerd stepped toward the rear cabin. “Come on. I’ll show you to the rest of your stuff. The River Spike is a much more impressive craft than the Shasta.”
Tallen pulled the apprentice’s tunic over his head before following Jaerd. He turned back to look at Maddi. “Are you coming?”
Hugging her rucksack to her chest, Maddi nodded. “I will not change out here for the crew to enjoy, that’s for sure.”
Tilli scowled at the men hovering nearby. “There is a small room for us to share next to theirs. I have the rest of your things there.”
With a smile of thanks, Maddi started after her. Only then did Tallen turn to follow Jaerd. His older brother gave him a knowing look and a shake of his head before they ducked into the shade of the cabin.
“Get some rest,” Magus Britt called after him. “We will train together after the evening meal, even if you still cannot touch your power.”
It strained his mind close to the breaking point that evening, but with the Battlemage’s guidance, Tallen eventually touched the source of his magic. Afterward, he collapsed onto the bunk next to Jaerd, asleep before his head touched the pillow.
His heart lightened by the speed of the ship, Tallen spent the next several days enjoying the last leg of their voyage. With a steady breeze pulling them along, the well-manicured fields, manors, and towns of the Eastern Realm flew by. Murky swamps eventually passed along the southern banks when the River Spike neared the confluence with the fast, deep waters of the Graybourne Fork.
He stood on deck and watched a large flotilla of commercial ships gathered where the rivers met, some switching channels, while others sought the harbors of Forksmeet. They moved about like little toys engaged in an intricate dance. Each knew the steps by heart, as did the captain of the River Spike.
The three green trees on gold of House Bahalan fluttered from the tall towers rambling along the southern bank of the Andon and the eastern bank of the Graybourne. When they neared the city, Boris ordered a boat let over the side. A Bluecloak sailor hopped on board, and the earl handed him a leather tube, one that Tallen knew carried a message for Baron Dandric.
“The attack in Bridgedale could not be kept quiet, like the one in Gavanor,” Jaerd said, watching the sailor heave against the oars of his dinghy. “Earl Boris issued a similar message to Baron Wilis before we left Bridgedale. What I wouldn’t give to hear what he had to say to them. I just hope he didn’t mention you.”
Tallen shifted, uneasy. “Why would he?”
Jaerd kept his eyes on the messenger, and his voice remained level. “You’re the one the orcs are hunting.”
Looking down to see his whitened knuckles gripping the rail, Tallen forced himself to take deep breaths. Gradually, his hands released their death grip.
The Andon River slowed to a lazy pace and spread over two miles wide once it took on the waters of Graybourne Fork. The sailors spread all their canvas before the wind, and the River Spike shot past slower, heavier ships. Tallen watched the northern shore roll away in the distance, sloping uphill toward centuries-old, manicured farms that checkered the land. In a few places, the clustered buildings of a town broke the checkerboard. The southern shore crowded less, with only a few villages to break up the stretches of wild, swampy forests. In some places, aspen, cypress, and cottonwood spread their branches over the water wherever they could find refuge from human expansion.
As with every morning on the boat, Magus Britt called upon him early and dragged him out to meditate near the prow before they ate their breakfast. Tallen could not touch his power, only sen
se it, let it roil in the back of his mind. It tempted him, but the pain and fear of his mistake at Bridgedale remained a sturdy bulwark against his power’s temptation. I must learn control.
When the evening sun sank toward the river, Magus Britt summoned him again. This time the mage let him touch his power, teaching him different uses for each Aspect. Tallen froze and boiled parts of the river with Fire and Water, careful to keep the two Aspects separate in his mind. Magus Britt helped him refine his use of lightning, too. A bolt flashed across the water, skipping across its surface like a well-cast stone.
Magus Britt raised an eyebrow. “Few mages with enough strength in Fire can also call upon the Water needed to set off lightning. I can barely do it myself. You, my boy, do not have that problem.”
Tallen rubbed his hand. It still tingled from the bolt. “What can I do with the Psoul Aspect?”
The Bluecloak mage grimaced. “I knew you would ask that in time. I have very few answers for you.” Magus Britt left the railing and waved for Tallen to follow him. He took a seat on a water barrel. “While I did once visit the Dreamrealm, it was not through my power. However, dreaming is not the only power tied to the Psoul Aspect. It may also be used to create illusions, or to…enter the minds of others. Some say it is the most powerful Aspect.” The mage sounded reticent, as if uncertain how much he should tell Tallen. “There are others on the Isle far better versed in this than I. Though the only Dreamer I know still alive would likely never set foot there of his own free will.”
Something about the mage’s tone made Tallen lean closer. “Who is that?”
Magus Britt’s bushy eyebrows closed together. “He is commonly known as the Ravenhawke.”
A tingle of excitement shot up Tallen’s spine, not so unlike the bolt of lightning. “Dorias Ravenhawke? The man who wrote The Tarmorian Bestiary? That book is in the library at the Gryphon.”
The Battlemage barked a harsh laugh. “That thing is still in print?” The laugh faded while Magus Britt stared at the passing river. “It’s probably the only one of his writings to survive the breaking of the Wizard’s Circle. Everything else was destroyed when he and his fellows were declared rogue.”
A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga) Page 20