by J. K. Barber
"You really thought I wouldn't find my Shadow Drakes?" Salamasca continued. "I can feel them because they are mine. No matter how far away you take them, I can sense them. All I had to do was to travel in their direction, a distance easily closed in flight." She smiled sweetly and patted Walron's snout at her side. "You were a fool to keep them with the rest of the young ones. You led me right to them all," she said, gazing enthusiastically at the congregation of juvenile dragons. "I do love new pets."
Tomas growled deep in his throat, the death of more of his charges at the hands of his former student causing him to almost lose control entirely, and then bellowed, "They are not yours to have, you demented hag! You were the fool to come here alone." The purple dragon took a few steps toward the sorceress, his intent clear to do her harm.
The sorceress raised a hand, and the former Administrator hesitated, tensing as he awaited some new hex to torment him. Instead, Salamasca gestured to someone further up shore. Tomas followed her gaze. From the long shadows created by the afternoon sun, a dozen Shadow Walkers stepped out into the light, dressed in their usual Easterner head wraps and long loose-fitting tunics over full breaches. They were each wielding a pair of familiar, skull-pommeled daggers made of ebony and dark metal.
"Am I alone?" Salamasca said, her tone smug and her face bemused.
Tomas' response was unexpected, in that there was none. He merely turned his head to his flight. All of the dragons in the area, including Sirus, who woke immediately, faced the elder dragon, their necks raised as if hearing something unspoken. To Salamasca's surprise, the thirty-odd dragons launched abruptly into the air. The wind that Tomas' enormous wings kicked up a created a miniature sandstorm aimed directly at his former student. She shielded her eyes with her arms and crouched by Walron's side for protection against the gale. By the time she felt it safe to open them again, the dragons were a distant myriad of colors against the coral clouds, tinted by the setting sun. The beach had been emptied in a matter of seconds.
The sorceress was startled by Walron's snout, nudging at her palm. She relaxed and ran her pallid hand down his neck.
"Good boy," she purred but looked back to the sky above. The other Shadow Drakes had flown away. "I seem to have missed something. Do you know what just happened?" she asked of her mount.
"Tomas encouraged us to take to the sky," he replied, leaning into her tender touch. "I felt an overwhelming urge to fly away, but I did not, my Queen. My loyalty is to you."
Salamasca took a moment to think before she nodded and then left him, signaling to the Shadow Walkers as she sauntered up the beach. They obeyed, moving smoothly to her side. She came to a stop before the three dragonling corpses, two brown and one green.
“The girls did well," she said. Motioning to the Shadow Walkers to drag the bodies, she continued, "Bring them. I'll have them as my own." Looking to her steed she added, “Help them."
Walron paused before moving to obey her command and asked, "Are we not to follow the rest, my Queen?"
“No, my pet," she replied. "We got what we came for." Walron only was half-surprised as the true purpose of their attack was revealed. "We can always track them down again if we need more,” Salamasca added.
The dragon and sorceress grinned at each other, their thoughts now aligned towards the sinister plan ahead.
Chapter 4
Tammat was a trading port. This fact was plain to anyone who looked at the merchants’ haven for more than a few moments. The bustle of activity around the large warehouses and frenetic marketplace next to the docks gave the port town a look and feel that was unmistakable, regardless of its location. Jared was reminded of Valshet in Illyander, and although there were subtle differences, the spirit of both towns was almost identical. The surrounding desert put a dusty haze over the town, which was still bustling even though the sun was well on its way to the horizon. The wind carried a myriad of scents to the hunter’s sensitive nose. Jared smelled wood smoke, pine tar, cooking meat, stewing vegetables, the unmistakable odor of eastern spices, and the pungent aroma of hundreds of bodies that had been working all day in the sun. Underneath it all was the tang of the ocean on the sea breeze.
Jared stood at the rail of The Isabella, anxious to be on land. Although he had become somewhat used to the tilting decks of the ocean vessel, he was still not entirely comfortable on the ship, nor was his stomach. The smell of meat in the air made his gut rumble as he tried to will the lingering taste of fish, the only thing he had been able to keep down over the last few weeks, out of his mouth.
Damon came to stand beside him at the rail, slapping a friendly hand on the hunter’s shoulder. “Glad to see dry land again, Jared?” the captain asked. Damon knew of the woodsman’s discomfort aboard The Isabella and never missed a chance to gently prod Jared about it.
The hunter looked at the Easterner and replied, “To be honest Captain, I’ll be happier once I’m on it, though I have appreciated your hospitality.” Jared noticed that Damon was not looking at him and followed his gaze to a figure standing on the dock, waiting at The Isabella’s intended berth. The individual was dressed in the usual loose fitting, black clothing of the Eastern Kingdoms, complete with head wrap and veil drawn across the face. Even as close as they were to the dock, Jared could not tell if the person was female or just a slender male. The hunter’s eyes would have passed over the individual as just another denizen of Tammat, had it not been for the weapons he or she wore. Hanging from a wide leather belt were a long slender blade with an ornate, swept basket hilt and a long dagger with quillons shaped like a crescent moon, bending towards the blade. The weapons were of Illyander design and Jared would wager of Illyander make as well. Damon waved to the figure, who nodded in return.
As The Isabella’s crew threw her lines to the men waiting on the dock, Damon signaled for the gangplank to be brought to the railing. The long wooden bridge was lowered to the deck before the last mooring line was secured. “Permission to come aboard!” the captain yelled to the black-clad figure, even though no request was made. Making her brisk way up the gangplank, Jared was able to see that the person was indeed female by the way she moved; her motions were fluid but not excessive and in no way seemed to be hindered by the slight rolling of the ship. Jared fought down a feeling of jealousy. She looked the hunter over quickly, taking him in from head to toe, before turning towards Damon. Because the woman’s face was covered by an opaque black veil, sturdy and unadorned for travel in the desert the hunter guessed, Jared had no idea what the woman’s appraisal of him might be.
“Welcome aboard, friend,” the Captain said to the woman, bowing deeply from the waist and holding his palms together in front of him. The woman returned the gesture and then extended her hand. As the Easterner bent to kiss the woman’s slender hand, Jared noticed its appearance. The skin was weathered as though belonging to a woman in her middle years; however there seemed to be no weakness or tremor evident. Given the well-worn hilt on the woman’s weapons, Jared could guess why. She had moved like Sasha, or how Sasha would in another two score years or so.
Jared quickly looked away. Sasha, even if they succeeded in destroying the Ice Queen, would not live to see middle age, especially if they succeeded. She would not see Gabriel grow to become a man. Jared’s thoughts wandered back to the fight he had had with Sasha. Jared had said he did not forgive her for sneaking their son aboard, but a part of him had considered doing the same thing. That she had deceived him to do it was what hurt him the most.
Jared shook his head, doing his best to clear such thoughts; instead he returned his attention to Damon and his guest. They had stepped away from the hunter, speaking quietly to each other. The captain had his hand on the woman’s upper arm in a familiar way. This was someone well known to Damon, Jared guessed. An old friend or a…, he thought. Jared looked again at the Easterner. The captain’s age was difficult to tell, but most of the Illyanders guessed him to be middle-aged, a few years younger than Branden perhaps. Jared continued along
his line of thought, looking again to the woman in black. Though almost completely covered, the woodsman had seen her hands and the skin around her vibrant brown eyes. She could easily be about the same age as the captain. Perhaps they were lovers at one point, Jared thought to himself.
The hunter was shaken from his musings as the woman walked away from Damon and proceeded below decks. The captain gestured for Jared to walk beside him, placing a friendly arm around his shoulders. “Come with me, boy,” Damon said, mirth evident in his voice. “You’re not going to want to miss this.”
Jared walked down the narrow ladder that led to the galley. The hunter felt the old twinge of anxiety that such confined spaces always elicited in him but pushed them aside, knowing that the eating area of The Isabella would be open enough to put his instinct to flee aside, at least for a while. Jared was born for the open spaces of the wild, but he could abide being below decks for short periods.
Damon, on the other hand, seemed disconcerted by neither the tight spaces in his ship nor the constant listing and swaying of the floor beneath his feet. As Jared was a child of the Mother’s forests, Damon was just as much born for a life at sea. In fact, Jared could not recall ever seeing the man not aboard a ship. Even so, there seemed to be an extra bounce to the captain’s normally jaunty step. It reminded Jared of a child on his way to see the new toy he had been promised by one of his parents.
In contrast, the woman who walked in front of Damon had a stride that spoke only of business and determination. Her steps were even, measured, and without an ounce of wasted motion. Again, Jared was struck by the similarity between this older woman and Sasha. The hunter’s mind wandered back to the arguments they had had on the ship during their journey and especially the last, which was the most vicious to date. Were things really over between them? he wondered. Jared was pulled from his thoughts as the familiar voices of his companions brought him back to the matters at hand.
“How are we going to be able to find our way to the Ice Queen, even if we do manage to track her down?” Katya asked, irritated. It was a question the now Master Sorceress had asked many times on the trip to Tammat. However, no one had been able to give her a satisfactory answer yet, at least not to her mind.
“That’s where I come in,” the woman in black said as she stepped into the room.
As she, Damon, and Jared made their way into the large galley, the captain motioned to Jon, who was cutting vegetables for the evening meal. The brown-haired man in the thin leather apron flashed a look of annoyance at his captain but complied, putting his large knife away and going down the hall to his personal quarters.
Jared looked around the room. His friends occupied the end of one of the five long tables that stretched the length of The Isabella’s enormous galley. Katya sat on the far side of the table, her back against the wall and her staff resting in the crook of her arm. Sasha sat on the end, facing the door and holding Gabriel. The swordswoman did not look up as the trio entered the room, instead devoting all her interest to her and Jared’s child, kissing his forehead softly three times. Jugger, in contrast wagged his tail, thumping it against the galley’s floorboards as the hunter walked in. The dog heaved his massive frame to his feet and padded over to the woodsman. Jared knelt, scratching the canine behind his massive ears, eliciting a more vigorous tail wagging. The hunter looked into Jugger’s eyes, the two sharing a quick mental greeting, and then Jared gestured towards Sasha and Gabriel with his head. The mastiff gave an almost imperceptible nod and then walked back over to his usual post next to the swordswoman. Jugger turned around several times and then settled down, resting his large head on his great paws and watching the rest of the room from beneath his furry brows. To Katya’s right was Iluak, the young therianthrope looking at the door that Damon had closed behind Jared, a look of curiosity on his face. As usual, Iluak was bare-chested. Does the man not own a shirt? the hunter wondered ruefully. Jared could see Talas’ shaved head in the kitchen as the priest snuck a bowl of stew from the now unattended simmering pot. It was late in the day and dinner would be served as soon as The Isabella was securely moored and registered with the Tammat port authorities.
The ship could easily house a hundred men, though on this particular journey, there was only the normal crew and the Illyanders. Talas, and a bag full of the King’s gold, had convinced Damon to ferry Jared, Sasha, Katya, Iluak and himself across the Sea of Twylight on one of his regular shipping runs. The ship’s hold was full of large wooden boxes, the contents of which Damon had not shared with his passengers and about which they had not inquired. Despite his good manners and stylish dress, the older Easterner was generously described as a smuggler by his friends. Captain Veldrun, Master Lucian and other less forgiving people had simply referred to the man as a pirate and left it at that. Regardless, if the gold was right, Damon could be counted on to be discreet and dependable.
As Damon slid the latch on the door that led to the personal quarters, all eyes in the room turned towards the woman who spoke. She reached up to her wrapped headdress and removed the veil from her face. Jared had indeed been right about the woman’s age. She looked to be just this side of middle age, though with her hair still covered, it was impossible to be completely certain. The woman had brown eyes, bright and alert as they peered over an aquiline nose, which scanned the room warily. She hooked her thumbs into her wide leather belt, doing her best to look nonchalant in a room full of strangers. Jared had seen Damon adopt the same pose. It was designed to look relaxed while keeping his hands close to his blades. The captain simply leaned against the door, his arms crossed over this chest, still wearing a slightly anxious and bemused expression. What was the man up to? Jared wondered.
“And who might you be?” Katya asked, a hard look on her face. The Master Sorceress had been forced to take on a leadership role in her time spent as head of the Snowhaven Sorcerer School over the past year, and it was apparently a mantle she was planning to continue wearing. By their silence, the others were fine to let the raven-haired woman speak for them.
“This is the scout I hired to guide you,” Damon said. “She is an old friend and comes very highly recommended. She knows the Eastern Kingdom as I know the Sea of Twylight.” The captain smirked. “That is to say, very well.”
The woman smiled at Damon and reached up to unwrap her headdress. Short black hair spilled out from underneath, stopping just above her shoulders. As she combed her fingers through her hair, Jared noted a shock of gray hair over the woman’s left temple.
As Katya opened her mouth to speak, there was the clatter of metal and the wet sound of stew as it spattered across the floorboards of the galley. All heads turned towards the noise and the strange woman’s hand went to the hilt of her rapier, before falling away from the weapon as though she had been struck dumb.
Talas wore an identical expression of astonishment on his face. The priest stood hands empty, as his abandoned bowl skittered across the floor and rolled beneath one of the benches. The wobbling noise as it finally came to rest sounded loudly in the silent galley. The priest looked as though he was gasping for air, his mouth moving and his eyes wide. However, no sound was coming forth.
Jared was the first to react, moving quickly to his friend’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Talas?” he asked. “What is it? What’s wrong?” The fear in Jared’s voice was plain. Is this some new attack from the Ice Queen, he wondered. How did she find us? How does she even know we’re here? Jared took a deep breath. He was overreacting. There was no need to panic or jump to conclusions. He shook Talas’ shoulder, trying to get the older man to react.
Talas sputtered several times before he finally got an intelligible word to come across his lips. “Olivia?” he choked. Jared heard a mixture of emotion that was too complex and convoluted to completely take in, but the hunter definitely heard varying degrees of sorrow, surprise and longing in the single uttered word.
The woman turned to Damon, her eyes ablaze with anger. “How dare you?!”
she screamed at the captain, grabbing the man by the front of his vest and slamming him against the wall. She was several inches shorter and many pounds lighter than the Easterner but had no trouble maneuvering the larger man, pinning him. “You didn’t tell me he was going to be here,” she hissed. The anger was clear in her voice, but her furtive glance at Talas told Jared that perhaps her anger wasn’t wholly directed at the captain.
“How… what… you’re…,” Talas seemed unable to string together two words, such was the state of his distress. The man, who was never at a loss for words, had been rendered incoherent by the female’s appearance. Who is this woman? Jared wondered. The hunter’s gaze bounced back and forth between Talas, the woman who was apparently named Olivia, and Damon. The Eastern captain looked entertained by the turn of events, which enraged the mysterious scout all the more.
“What is the matter with you?” she yelled at the smirking Easterner. “Does this amuse you?”
“It really does,” he replied laughing, before he was cut off by Olivia once again.
“No,” she said definitively to the captain before turning to the others. Like Jared, the twins and Iluak wore expressions of wary confusion. Talas and Olivia obviously knew each other, and the woman in the loose black clothes was clearly just as upset as the priest, though she did not seem as surprised by his presence. Neither was providing any information to the others in the room, although Damon obviously knew something. “I’m sorry,” the woman said to the Illyanders. “I can’t help you. You’ll have to find someone else.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Damon asked, his voice flavored with amusement.