by Robe
“Yes,” Rackus said. “Well, we couldn’t allow such a terror to continue destroying our valuable village. In addition, this gives us the opportunity to test out our new design. It will be able to sail as fast as a hawk flies, dividing the time merchant ships take to travel by three. Should it be as efficient as we predict, every ship that leaves Oluld will be replaced, and only Pelinums will be allowed to dock in our harbor.”
“I truly hope it is as fast as you make it sound,” Auric said. “Is it ready to sail?”
“Soon, soon,” Rackus replied. “There are several matters which need to be attended to. Firstly, who will be the captain during this voyage?”
Auric looked back at his friends as they huddled nearby, looking at the ship. Kandon had a firm grip on Joan’s arm for balance, and Dalk had to practically carry Veese to a bench to sit him down. With a sigh, Auric turned back to Rackus. “We do not have a captain.”
“Then you must name one,” Rackus said. “You are the leader of these people. Why would you not name yourself captain?”
“I know nothing of seafare,” Auric admitted. “My companions the same.”
“Just select a sailor, then, and do the decision-making yourself as governor of the vessel,” Rackus said, and then he waved his hand dismissively. “Official business. The Guild requires this information, or I would not be bothering you with it. We have included an additional term to those already in the standing deal. You will take with you a supervisor to ensure the ship is being treated properly. Heed his instruction. He will report back to us once the journey has finished.”
“Very well,” Auric said. “Where is he, so that I know his face?”
Rackus pointed toward a very thin man in fine clothing. He was not a Martin, and he had brown, slick hair and a close-shaven beard. “That is him, there. His name is Farseed.”
Auric nodded. “Anything else?”
“Just one matter,” Rackus said. “The ship will be returned to us before the end of the month, unscratched. It is important that we protect our investments.”
“I understand,” Auric replied. “You will not be disappointed.”
“I hope not,” Rackus said, and after a small bow, he left the heroes.
His legs aching and his thoughts muttled from exhaustion, Auric made his way to his companions. They looked up at the ship before them, some with interest, others with swallowing conviction. The Paragon Pelinum was not a particularly large vessel, yet it looked quite sturdy nonetheless. Its sails flew high and were much broader than other ships’, and the hull of the boat curved to a point much more drastically than that of others.
“So this is it,” a voice said behind them, and they turned to see Zanesh approaching from behind. “I never spent much time at the docks, but I know a good boat when I see one.”
“How is the village?” Dalk asked her as she stopped beside him to gaze at the Paragon.
“It will survive, due in no small part to your little group,” she replied. “I owe you. Oluld owes you. I misjudged you when you first arrived, but you have more than proven yourselves. How I wish I could join you on your journey, to punch the teeth out of the mouth that gave the orders to attack Oluld. I must stay with my people, though.”
“Will Oluld be alright if there is another attack?” Dalk asked.
Zanesh nodded. “Winteden’s forces will soon arrive to bolster our defense against any straggling raiders. Oluld will live on,” she looked at the heroes. “I will miss your presence though. Good luck on your voyage, Spiderhunters.”
“Thank you, Zanesh,” Auric said, and he grasped her hand. “It means a great deal to us.”
Zanesh nodded, and then she left. With nothing more to wait for, Auric was about to usher his friends onto the ship when a voice called from the deck of the Paragon.
“Hello!” one of the sailors shouted down to the party. “Why don’t you join us aboard this magnificent ship?”
The companions grabbed their gear and half walked, half struggled up the ramp onto the ship. The sailor who had called to them helped each of them with the final step before lifting the end of the board ramp from the deck and handing it down to the men below.
He turned to greet them. “I am Benard. I was on your previous journey, and I would glady serve as first mate to the one who calls him or herself captain.”
“A good point has risen from your offer, sailor.” Someone said from the front of the ship, and Farseed, the Docking Guild supervisor, approached. “Who will be the captain of the vessel?” He carried a piece of parchment and a quill, with a small pot of ink affixed to his chest.
Auric looked at Benard for a moment before saying. “How would you like to instead be the captain of this ship?”
Benard’s eye widened in surprise. “I would be honored, sir.”
“Then it is done,” Auric said, and Farseed nodded before turning and scribbling on his parchment. “I take it you know the destination of our voyage?”
“Balistary Port, Lon Gairdas,” Benard said. “I have sailed there many times.”
“Very good,” Auric said. “If you need anything, come to me or my allies. Now, if you don’t mind, we will head below deck and rest. It has been a trying night.”
The low ceiling seemed to close in on Reon as he lay in a bed strange to him. His head was pounding, and he didn’t even want to look at his chest. A Martin man had pulled him off the street and into safety before disappearing again. Once the sounds of battle had faded, the man returned. He gave Reon an herb to numb the pain and had Reon bite down on a cloth while the stranger stitched the wound. Even with the herb, the feeling of a needle piercing the tender skin of his chest was just short of unbearable. The man finished and left Reon to rest, and shortly after, Reon found rest was unavoidable.
A ray of bright sunlight shining in from the window told Reon it was late morning. Rubbing his head, he tried to sit up farther but found the pain of his wound too prominent to ignore. He lay back down and was still, watching the ceiling as it seemed to twist above him. Everything that had happened leading up to his current situation was difficult for him to recall, his memory a fog.
Reon was shaken from his own mind when a knock at the door told him he had a visitor. The Martin man strolled in, and for the first time, Reon got a look at him. He was older, and an eyepatch covered his right eye. In his hands was a tray on which a bowl of soup and a piece of bread sat.
“How are you?” the man asked him.
“I’m okay,” Reon muttered. “I’m alive. That’s good.”
The man smiled. “Yes, it is.” He set the tray down on Reon’s lap.
Without hesitation, Reon attacked the food, hungrier than he could remember ever being. The soup was not masterfully cooked, but to Reon, it was the most delicious stew he had ever tasted. As he ate, the Martin inspected his wound. Reon saw his gear sitting on a chair beside the bed, his tunic, boots and sword, slung in its sheath over the back.
“Why did you help me?” Reon asked him between bites. “I don’t mean to sound disrespectful. I’m quite grateful to you.”
“I saw how valiantly you were fighting to protect the people of Oluld,” the Martin answered. “Having never seen you before, I knew we were not your people by birth or by love, yet you fought with enough courage to make any Martin parents proud.” The man stood and began walking toward the door.
“Thank you,” Reon said. “You really saved me.” The man nodded and left the room.
Reon finished eating and set the tray on a table beside him. He knew his friends would be worried about him, but he put it from his mind seeing as there was nothing he could do in his current state. A cloud moved in front of the sun, darkening the room, and Reon found himself drifting back to sleep.
Suddenly, the door to his room opened, and a familiar face appeared above him, shaking him from his tiredness. It was Chey. Reon’s first thought was a warm one, but he quickly remembered the side she had chosen. Deteremined not to leave the New World without a fight, Re
on almost threw himself from the bed in an attempt to grab his gladius. The hands of Chey seized him and pulled him back to his bed, and he felt his wound burning from the trauma, the pain so intense it was as if his blade was slicing into him all over again.
“Reon, relax!” Chey commanded, but he continued to fight her grip. Finally, she let go of him. “I am not here to harm you!”
Reon nearly slid to the floor before realizing that he could not reach his sword no matter how hard he tried, and he lay idle, glaring at his former companion. Agony throbbed the breadth of his chest, and it was all he could do not to wince. Unarmed, Reon turned his right palm up on his lap, prepared to blast Chey with fire should she try anything.
“Please,” she spoke, eyeing his palm. “Just let me speak.”
“You betrayed me, my friends, your people, and the entirety of the New World,” Reon glowered. “Why should I listen to what you have to say?”
“You are in no state to stop me,” she responded.
“Why did you do it?” Reon demanded. “What could he possibly have said to you to make you forsake your world for him?”
“He created this world, Reon” Chey began. “Everything that happens is because of him. The sun rises because he made it so, we breathe air because he made it so. The only reason the two of us are talking right now is because he brought life and everything we know into being.”
“And now he wants to control it, to bend it to his evil will,” Reon retorted. “He wants to make us all his slaves.”
“Not everyone,” Chey said. “Not those who are strong, those who could be loyal to him. People like you and me. He sees us as fit to live.”
“And all others will be purged from existence,” Reon said. “I understand the ways of your master. He will stop at nothing to reclaim what he believes to be his.”
“I did not come to you to explain what I have done, but rather to ask your forgiveness. I never meant for you to get hurt. Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I wanted to know you, to be with you.”
“Which was when, back in Abelenst?” Reon asked. “Or have you been spying on us longer than that?”
“Reon, I love you,” Chey said. “We can still be together. Argain will win, and he will protect you if you swear allegiance to him.”
“Argain will not win,” Reon said. “We will stop him.”
“There is something between us!” Chey pleaded. “Were we not meant to be together? Will you not come away with me?”
“If I forsake my friends, then what am I?” Reon asked.
“Someone fighting for love,” Chey said. “Please, Reon, let me take you out of here.”
Reon looked at her eyes, shining, on the brink of tears, and he saw a face that had once brought butterflies to his stomach. “You will follow your path, Chey,” Reon said, “and I will follow mine.”
Chey brought her hand to her face and turned. She stood there for a moment, her shoulders quivering as she struggled to remain composed. “Farewell, Reon. I truly hope we meet again someday.” She strode toward the door before turning back to look at him one last time. “Truly.”
She left, and soon after, the Martin man returned. “She did not look pleased when she left. I assured her you would be alright, seemed to cheer her up a bit. You did know her, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Reon replied. “I did know her.”
“That’s all agreeable then,” he said. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be had.”
He took Reon’s tray from the side of the table and left Reon staring straight up at the ceiling.
-
“How long was I asleep?”
“The better part of the day. How is your leg?”
“Painful, but just barely. Are we in route?”
“According to Captain Benard. He says this ship is faster than any he’s been on before.”
Kandon nodded and continued to stare at Joan. She held his gaze before looking away and smiling. “What are you doing?”
Glancing down, Kandon began digging through his pocket and produced a chain, silver and beautiful. He handed it to Joan, and she accepted it, sprawling the masterful piece of craftsmanship out over her palms. “I bought it a few days ago and never got around to giving it to you.”
There were stony circles embedded after every short length of chain, and Joan ran her fingers over them, smooth surfaces to her touch. “Kandon, it’s beautiful.”
“The gems are azure bedrock,” he said, pointing to the rocks. “I wanted to give it to you when you could really see it glow, but things are a little uncertain now, and I feel it’s most important that you have it.”
Pushing her hair over her shoulders, Joan unclasped the fastener of the jewelry and brought either end around her neck. The accessory wasn’t meant to be worn in such a way, but Joan didn’t seem to mind. She stepped forward into Kandon’s arms, and the two embraced.
The sun was low in the sky, preparing to drop the last stretch and plunge the sky and the sea into darkness. Auric stood at the head of the ship, gazing into the empty horizon, hoping beyong hope that they were heading in the right direction. Dalk trained restlessly with his sword, running the drills his peace officer training had taught him while Ziem and Thraun watched. Veese remained in his quarters below deck.
The ship was not crowded, carrying not but the seven companions, the men necessary to operate the vessel, and Farseed. It was quite peaceful, with only the sounds of the waves and the rocking of the boat on the water.
Joan stepped up to the rail and looked out into the sea, serene and beautiful. “When this is over, I think I shall enjoy sea travel very much.”
“It can be quite rough,” Kandon said. “You never know when a storm will hit.”
“Precisely,” a voice said behind them, and the pair turned to see Farseed, the Docking Guild supervisor. “Your leader, Auric, is quite… lethargic. He has done nothing but stare to the horizon since his emergence from rest.”
“He is simply tired,” Joan said. “We have quite a battle ahead of us.”
“Of course,” Farseed said, “but you must be careful. This ship is priceless.”
“A priceless ship cannot be bought,” Kandon said. “Not for gold, not for favors.”
“This ship was not bought,” Farseed said, leering at Kandon. “See to it that your leader does not drive us into death, the ship with us.” He strolled away very importantly and descended below deck.
“Interesting sort,” Kandon muttered. “The type you don’t mind seeing fall from the rail of a warship, don’t you think?”
Joan shook her head, but she couldn’t suppress a smile. “Perhaps we should see Auric.”
The effects of the herb had worn off, and Reon collected his gear and pulled his cloak on. He once again thanked the kind, one-eyed man who had saved him before leaving for the Long House. The streets of Oluld were littered with the wounded who were too badly injured to be moved. Most of the dead had been removed from the streets, and the black armor of the raiders dragged outside the walls of the village.
It was quite calm; the sun was setting, and the people of Oluld did not seem nervous or afraid as they had before the attack. The healers hummed gently as they tended the injured, and the guards had mostly abandoned their posts to cradle loved ones. Reon wondered what could have eased them into such a sense of security, but he was glad for it, whatever the cause.
He reached the Long House and, expecting to find his friends gathered around the fireplace, was surprised it was empty. Growing concerned, he walked to the common room to find it also desolate. Unease setting in, he hastily checked the private rooms and discovered all of them void of his companions. He left the common room and sat before the fireplace, worrying about his allies.
“You are here,” a voice startled him, and he turned abruptly, his wound causing him agony. He gagged in pain and found a hand on his back. Looking up, he saw Ysseri, elderly as ever and with a kind smile on her face. “Your companions will be quite comforted to hear of your
safety, Reon.”
“They’re alright?” Reon asked. “Where have they gone?”
Ysseri’s face grew dutiful. “Argain stole a ship to attack Lon Gairdas with what is left of his forces. Your friends went after him.”
“What?” Reon asked. “They’re gone? They left without me?”
“Fear not,” Ysseri said, sitting beside him. “They left because the innocent are in danger, and your fate was not known. I assured them that, should you be found, I would look after you.”
Reon closed his eyes and took a breath. “Thank you, Ysseri. It’s good to know I can trust you.”
“You will always have friends in Oluld. We owe you a debt of our lives.”
Reon spent the night in the comfort of the Long House common room before setting off the next morning for the first merchant ship to Balistary Port. His wounds had been looked at by Healer Whencetos, and he had been given ample provision and payment for the trip. The reinforcements from Winteden arrived as Reon’s ship set sail, and he was glad to leave Oluld in safety.
-
The morning light had not yet appeared at the horizon as Veese climbed the stairs to the deck of the Paragon Pelinum. It was so early that the ship was vacant aside from the necessary ship hands and Auric. When Veese stepped up beside the leader, Auric jumped, surprised and shaken from his thoughts.
“Veese, how are you?” Auric asked.
Veese removed the bandages from his face to reveal a black eye and a swollen lip. His nose did not look as it used to, and a sour expression was upon his face. “Threadbare.”
“Are you alright?” Auric pressed, his heart sinking as he looked upon the full devastation of Veese’s once fairly-normal appearance.
“Our wounds do not hold us back unless we allow them to,” he spoke and turned to look up at the sails above them. “Are we on track?”
“According to Benard, our captain,” Auric replied.
“Do you trust him?” Veese asked.
“He seems honorable,” Auric said. “He was aboard the last boat we traveled on and fought with the citizens of Oluld against the raider threat.”