Legends of Gravenstone: The Secret Voyage

by Alex Aguilar

  “I was a girl of fourteen,” she said. “I was living with a clan of witches up north. They practically raised me since I was a child, after a hunter killed my mum and my father sold me into slavery. They were… kind to me, for the most part. They weren’t the friendliest, but they had killed the slave traders that transported me and I was thankful for that. Anyhow, after nearly a decade with them, our differences got in the way. We didn’t see eye to eye on many things, and so I ran away to live on my own.”

  She paused for a moment and closed her eyes. Her hands began to shiver. And soon after, they began to ooze a trail of smoke, as if by instinct. It may have been the rage in her heart disturbing her hands the same way they were causing that sting in her chest. Or it may have been the fear of opening up to someone. Whatever it was, it vanished suddenly after something rather unexpected happened.

  Hudson placed his hand against hers, despite the intensity of the heat that radiated from them. His hand must have been blistering, and yet he showed not the slightest sign of pain, only interest. He moved closer towards her, slowly and cautiously.

  “Tell me more,” he whispered.

  Her bright eyes stared at him with a hint of skepticism. The smoke oozing from her hands began to diminish, as if the thief’s rough callused hands had somehow cooled them down. The shivering, however, was still there, along with her nervous breathing.

  “No one’s ever been this interested before,” she said.

  “Try me, love…”

  She became lost in his gaze. She hadn’t told her story to anybody in ten years, much less a human. What came more as a shock, however, was realizing that no one had ever touched her hands before. It was something that hadn’t quite crossed her mind until that particular moment. Even the one man she had laid with had been skeptical about touching her hands.

  And yet there she was… Hudson was not only holding them, but he was caressing them gently with his thumbs. Her heart was racing, but she didn’t mind it at all. In fact, she wanted very much for his touch to last forever.

  “It was the worst winter I’ve ever lived through,” she went on. “Even with my gift, I couldn’t keep myself warm… There were so many nights when I thought I wouldn’t live to see the sunrise.”

  She paused. And then he leaned in even closer.

  “Tell me more,” he said.

  “I decided to return to them,” she said. “To the witches… I must’ve walked a hundred miles ‘til I reached their cabin… Only…”

  “Yes…?”

  “It… wasn’t there anymore. It had been burned down. To this day, I still remember that awful smell. The smell of death… Unfortunately for me, the raiders that had killed them were still nearby. They found me and put me in chains…”

  They were already a mere foot away from each other and yet Hudson leaned in closer, slowly and carefully. And Syrena did the same. Their eyes were locked on one another as if caught in a spell.

  “Tell me more,” Hudson whispered again.

  “They thought I was a peasant girl that happened to be lost. They… teased me. They said such horrible things… But they didn’t know I was also a witch… So when they tied me down, they didn’t bind my hands in leather.”

  She paused. Her eyes began to shine brighter than was usual and her lower lip began to quiver as the first tear ran down her cheek. The thief’s hand was still on her warm humid hands. He used the other to gently wipe the moisture from her face. And then with a faint whisper he said, “Tell me more…”

  “I…” she suddenly felt weak and feeble. The only thing that gave her strength in that moment was the look he was giving her. And it was all she needed. “I killed them all,” she said. “They begged me… they pleaded for their lives and I just… killed them. I was only thirteen… Those witches were all I had left in the world and they took ‘em from me. And I wasn’t there to help… I felt such rage inside of me, I could no longer hold it back, and I… I killed them all. Mercilessly, I turned them into ashes and walked away as if it meant nothing.”

  Her voice had grown drier by then. For the first time in ten years, she had told someone what she did on that dreary winter’s dawn. And yet there was no regret. The thief only held her hands tighter.

  “Good,” he whispered. “You saved more lives than you took, love. You do know that, right?”

  She looked into his eyes and saw the sincerity in them.

  “You are a ruthless wild beast, darling,” he said. “And you should never apologize for it... It's what makes you bloody magnificent.”

  The silence lingered for several moments. Their faces were no more than three inches apart by then. She could nearly feel the warmth of his lips against hers, nearly taste them. But then her gaze lowered nervously and she chuckled softly.

  “What is this, then?” she asked. “The famous Hudson Blackwood… flattering a witch?”

  “Flattering a woman, my dear,” he said, and then her gaze rose up to meet his once again. “An extraordinary woman with an impeccable gift… People hate you because they're bloody terrified of what you're capable of… It is not I, Hudson Blackwood, that will make history one day. It is you, my dear. Think of it… Syrena of Morganna, Queen of the Woodlands… Queen of all of Gravenstone, for that matter… How grand would it be?”

  “How charming,” she chuckled. “But who would ever follow a witch?”

  “I would,” he said. “I’d be honored to…”

  The aura surrounding them seemed brighter than ever before. Little did they know the pixies in the trees were watching and listening with awe. But to the thief and the witch, there wasn’t a single presence that could have mattered to them.

  “I thought you didn't serve anyone,” she whispered.

  “I don't,” he said. “But you're not just anyone.”

  Then, it happened. Hudson leaned in, and she couldn’t help but do the same.

  Their lips touched for the first time.

  But then the witch’s skepticism and intuition got the best of her. Her hands released a sudden roar of flames and the thief removed his hand and backed away from her with one swift pull. When he looked at her, Syrena’s eyes were vulnerable and threatening all at once.

  “If this is just another one of Hudson Blackwood's trickeries to get into my knickers,” she said, “I will tie you down and burn you alive…”

  Much to her surprise, the thief was smirking at her.

  “I’m appalled you would think that of me,” he said.

  His response loosened the sudden tension in her shoulders.

  “Are you, now?” she asked doubtfully. “Need I remind you that I had to bribe you with sapphires to convince you to stay?”

  Hudson placed a hand back on the witch’s sizzling palms and used the other to graze her cheek. “Oh darling,” he said, conveying his desire for her with a single gaze. “Do you honestly believe I agreed to stay for some measly sapphires?”

  Despite his rough, callused hands, his touch was warm and gentle.

  Never before had another person touched her with such delicacy. Her breathing began to pick up its pace, keeping up with the robust beating in her chest. Her hands trembled, and when the thief felt it he tightened his grip. It was then that the witch leaned in and their lips met once again, this time for good. She laid him down gently on the bed of leaves and sat on top of him. They may have been laying somewhere amid the Woodlands, but to them there was no one else alive in the world.

  No one, but the thief and the witch…

  Two lost souls that somehow found one another in a world full of treachery.

  Two lost souls that were complete at last.

  XV

  Altercations

  The Woodlands were known to be rather quiet at dawn. It was the only time of day when raiders, travelers, and woodland folk alike were all peacefully resting somewhere, whether in a tent, an inn, or somewhere high above a cypress tree.

  Such was the case when a company of about fifty men was traveling west thro
ugh a muddy path. Their muttering and the sound of their horses’ hooves interrupted the peaceful silence, and the abundance of red leather they all wore made them stand out against the greenery like a bloodstain. There was a shred of light rising from the horizon, yet it had been nearly twelve hours since the company had stopped to rest.

  Captain Malekai Pahrvus came to a halt and leaped off his horse, or rather the horse he’d managed to steal during the raid. A majestic white steed, it was, stronger and faster than any horse the Rogue Brotherhood ever had at their disposal. Malekai caressed the soft fur on its cheek as he stepped away towards the grass. He appeared distracted, and his raiders were starting to notice. As they all brought their horses to a halt, they took a gander ahead at their captain, some of them cursing his name while others kept silent from the intimidation.

  “Somethin’ the matter, cap’n?” Borrys Belvaine asked from afar.

  But Malekai was far too preoccupied to pay him any mind. He bent down on one knee on the grass when he saw the torn rag, brown and red amidst a patch of green. He would have recognized the red leather anywhere, even from a half-mile away. He picked it up and examined it. The brown cloth was rough and wrinkled, and it dimmed in contrast to the red leather, about three or four inches in length before the tear.

  The captain lifted the rag up to his nose and took a whiff.

  “Wha’ in all hells is he doin’?” one of the rogue mercenaries hissed angrily from afar. “I thought we was headin’ to Grymsbi.”

  “Settle yourself, Clive,” Borrys gave him a cold stare. “Just give ‘im a minute.”

  “He’s losin’ it,” Clive grunted, spitting on the dirt. “Obsessed with that littl’ twerp, he is.”

  “For the last time, we ain’t after the twerp!” Borrys said, defending his captain’s honor. “We’re off to Grymsbi to recruit more blades. And if any of you see the twerp…”

  “There it is,” Clive grunted. “He’s gonna get us all killed, is what’s gonna happen.”

  “Just shut your arse. He’s coming.”

  As Malekai walked back towards Borrys’s horse, Clive and the rest of the mercenaries stopped whispering among themselves, their attentions grasped once again by their captain.

  “Recognize this?” Malekai threw the torn cloth at his right-hand man.

  Borrys examined it confusedly. “It’s ours, alright.”

  “Aye,” Malekai grinned. “And it reeks of greenskin.”

  Borrys raised a brow. It wasn’t until he noticed the trail of footprints in the mud that he realized what was happening. Some of the traces were large, like an orc’s, and the rest were small like those of a young woman. “Y-You don’t think…” Borrys stammered.

  Malekai was grinning, chuckling, and nodding his head in a way only he could do. “They travel together,” he said, staring into the distance and catching a deep whiff of the air like a hound hot on a trail. “They were here.”

  Some of the mercenaries were unsure how to feel. They hadn’t eaten properly for days and they weren’t sure when they’d have a chance to. They trotted along the path for another half-hour or so, until their noses caught a warm scent like that of roasting meat, along with a distant chatter and commotion, not the dangerous kind of commotion but more like the drunken brute kind.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Malekai said, dismounting his horse a second time. “Never thought I’d see this place again.”

  It was the infamous tavern, built into a tree, run by a fearless woman and her two sons, a raider and an ogre. It was early morning, and already raiders and travelers were stumbling in and out of the tavern doors.

  “Just what we needed,” said the mercenary named Clive, already lifting his leg up to hop off his horse.

  “No,” Malekai stopped him. “You lot wait here. I’ve some business to take care of.”

  Clive did not seem happy, nor did the rest of the rogue mercenaries. The only one that appeared slightly nervous about confronting his captain was Borrys Belvaine. “C-Cap’n,” he stammered. “We ain’t had a good meal fo-”

  “I said you’re to wait here,” Malekai glared at them all. “You don’t know these people. They don’t take kindly to the Brotherhood. I’ll have to handle this on my own.”

  Several frowns were thrown his way, but not a single man had the guts to stand up to him. And so, with a grin, Captain Malekai Pahrvus shook the dirt from his red coat and walked towards the tavern, leaving his band of mercenaries to wait within the trees.

  Edmund, the ogre, was sitting by the tavern doors, drooling and snoring loudly as ever. A few drunken elves and orcs were lying just outside, also snoring their lungs out, and a goblin or two had climbed to sleep on the nearest branch.

  Marvelous, Malekai thought as he walked carefully around the ogre and snuck into the tavern as subtly as he could. Just bloody marvelous.

  Many times, he wondered how such a tavern had come to exist. Built into a tree, it was, and yet it was astonishingly warm and cozy and attracted several from near and far. The tavern was nearly empty, save for a few drunken brutes here and there. And the bard was playing a soft relaxing tune that was most proper for a light morning meal.

  With a deep breath, Malekai walked up to the counter and took a seat, looking about as confident as a knight. “Give us an ale, will you love?” he asked, calmly and chivalrously.

  An elf girl with silver hair served him, but her eyes were distracted as she wiped the counters clean. Malekai cleared his throat and popped the collar of his red captain’s coat, as if trying to grasp her attention. He took a good sip of the ale and looked up.

  “Fuckin’ hells, that is good,” he lied, giving her a look that was somewhere between friendly and creepy. “Is it made here? The ale?”

  The elf girl said nothing, only shot him a forced smile and kept wiping the counters. Malekai felt a sudden surge of anger. He had never been particularly fond of being ignored. But he kept his ease as best as he could and continued with his act.

  “Tell me, love,” he leaned in closer to her. “How does a beauty like you end up working in a piss pot like this?”

  Kiira looked up at him at last. She’d paid him so little mind that she hadn’t even noticed the man was missing an eye. “Miss Rayna’s been very kind to me,” she said, shrugging his rudeness away as nothing more than drunken banter.

  “Well, she better be if she wants to keep a gorgeous thing like you around,” he said as he took another sip of the ale. “What’s your name, love?”

  At first, she didn’t respond, focusing instead on rubbing the crusty stains off the counter. Malekai tried to force her to look at him by leaning in a bit more and craning his neck up so as to meet her gaze. “You there?” he asked.

  Still, Kiira said nothing. And it was starting to aggravate him.

  “It’s rather rude to ignore a paying customer, y’know.”

  Then she stopped wiping, so abruptly that it caught him by surprise.

  “Listen… We don’t want any trouble here,” she looked right at him with a poise of self-assurance. “I’m warning you now. One shout and our Edmund will throw you out.”

  Almost as if he’d heard his name in his sleep, the ogre sitting outside the doors gave a jolting snore and scratched his nose, on the verge of waking up at any minute.

  “Whoa,” Malekai held both his hands in the air as if conveying his vulnerability. “Ease up there, love… I only asked for your name.”

  Kiira squinted her eyes suspiciously. An orc suddenly walked up to the counter and grunted something along the lines of “Mead”. As she served him, Malekai tried his best to appear calm and upright.

  “All right,” the captain said to her, once the orc was out of earshot. “I can see that you’re quite busy, so I won’t waste any more of your precious time. I’m not looking for any trouble… Truth is, I’m here looking for someone. An orc… A very dangerous fellow, not to be messed with. Been searching for days, so I thought I’d stop here for a drink and a conversation.”
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br />   He paused there, looking the girl up and down with a suppressed hunger in his eye.

  “You haven’t seen him anywhere, have you love?”

  “My name’s Kiira,” she said sternly. “And I’m sorry, but ‘dangerous orc’ isn’t really a good description ‘round these parts.”

  “Ahh, my apologies. He’s a raging beast with a sharp axe made of steel.”

  “Haven’t seen ‘im.”

  “And he’s got three red scars across his chest…”

  Kiira became suddenly startled. And Malekai was far too clever a man not to notice it.

  “Ahh… there it is,” he said with a slight grin. “Any idea where he’s run off to?”

  Kiira hesitated, but Malekai tried his best not to scare her away.

  “I’m only trying to help here, love…”

  “Kiira.”

  “Right… Kiira,” he paused to take another sip of the ale.

  Kiira began wiping the counters again, somewhat nervous at the thought of having served a meal to that very orc just the night before.

  “This orc,” she said tensely. “How dangerous is he, exactly?”

  Malekai fought the urge to grin; he had her hooked and he knew it.

  “Oh, he’d kill just about anyone,” he said, quite convincingly. “He’s a lone beast, that one. If he’s keeping you alive, it’s only for his own good. The moment he doesn’t need you anymore, he’ll gut you and leave you for dead.”

  Kiira was starting to believe him, it was clear. She began looking around nervously for Miss Rayna, who was nowhere to be found.

  “Have you any idea where I can find him, love?” Malekai asked, and then cleared his throat in a stammer. “Pardon me… Kiira.”

  Kiira’s lower lip trembled; her mind was fixed on the farmgirl that was traveling with the orc, the girl she had fed just a night prior, the girl she’d given clean towels to so that she wouldn’t be troubled while on the road. The thought of that girl lying dead in a ditch somewhere frightened Kiira half to death.

  “W-Why are you after him?” she decided to ask.