by Aaron Hodges
Captain Loris scowled at the doctor. “None of your business.”
Caelin raised an eyebrow. “None of his business? I think the good doctor would be just as upset as the rest of us were you to abandon us on some deserted beach.”
“What do you expect me to do?” the captain snapped. “The crew are an inch from mutiny. God or no, that thing almost sank us. And he was clearly not fond of the bunch of you. The men are scared.”
“I don’t think he’s coming back,” Michael put in. “He was looking for his sister, Antonia, and I can assure you we don’t have the Goddess of the Earth tucked up our sleeves,” he waved at the wide sleeves of his coat with a smile.
“That’s all well and good, but the crew don’t know what’s going on. And from what I’ve heard, the less we tell them about the whole affair, the better,” he shook his head. “They won’t stand for this. This is your fight. I cannot risk the lives of my crew for your affairs. We are only simple fishermen.”
Michael spread his hands. “And I am only a priest. Caelin is only a soldier. We are all only something, but this fight goes beyond who and what we are. It doesn’t matter to Archon; to him we are just souls waiting to be enslaved.”
Caelin glanced at the resolve on the doctor’s face. Michael’s words warmed his heart, gave him hope.
But the captain wasn’t having any of it. His brow drew down into a scowl as he glared at them. “Archon or no, it’s you who are a threat to our lives just now. Won’t matter a jot whether Archon comes or not if we’re at the bottom of the ocean.”
Anger swamped Caelin. He swore. “If you abandon us in the middle of nowhere, you risk the lives of everyone in the Three Nations,” he took a breath. “This is your chance to be more than just fisherman, to make a difference in this world.”
“And what about our world? Who will pay our wages if we lose our cargo? Who will feed our wives and family if the ship sinks?”
Caelin wanted to shake the man. Michael interrupted before he got the chance. “We understand your concern, Loris, and the concerns of your men. I assure you, you will be safe. Jurrien will not return, nor any other vengeful spirit. And if it’s money that concerns you, then perhaps we could come to an arrangement?”
“What?” Caelin and Loris asked in unison.
The captain glanced at Caelin and then continued. “What sort of payment? A priest’s blessing is all well and good, but it doesn’t pay the bills.”
Michael smiled. “The temples of the God’s are not rich, but I am sure they have a few spare funds to reward the ship that provided us safe passage to Lon.”
Caelin swallowed, wondering whether Michael was bluffing. If so, this was one man he did not want to play poker with.
The captain grunted. “And what about our safe passage? It would have to be a hefty sum to convince my men to continue with this business.”
Michael grinned. “Gold is a strong motivator, I believe.”
Straightening his shoulders, Michael began to negotiate with the captain what they considered a ‘reasonable’ price for their passage. Caelin could only shake his head in wonder. He had not seen this side of Michael before. Until now the doctor had been withdrawn, and Caelin had assumed him to be a fearful and timid man.
Now he found his first assessment to be changing quickly. With his priestly upbringing, Michael might never be a fighter, but there was clearly more to the man than the green robe of his order.
Ten minutes later Caelin joined Michael at the railing, their passage to Lon assured. At least for now. They stood in silence for a while, staring out at the jagged coastline sweeping past them. A gull skimmed the waves, its high pitched caw carrying across the water.
Caelin glanced at Michael. “That was well done,” he hesitated. “Is it true though, will the temple in Lon really pay?”
Michael smiled, running a hand through his greying hair. “I think so.”
Caelin laughed, but Michael continued. “It’s at least standard practice for the Earth Temples to have a stock of gold available to aid those doing Antonia’s work. I can only assume the Sky Temples would be the same,” he laughed himself. “Perhaps they even have a store to cover damages when the Storm God loses his temper.”
Caelin chuckled. “I hope that was not a common occurrence.”
Michael’s face darkened. “I doubt it. Whatever is happening with Antonia, it must be serious. For Jurrien to lose control like that… I mean, his temper does have a reputation, but even so...”
Caelin glanced at the burnt timber at the bow of the ship. “Agreed.”
Silence fell again. A sadness came over Michael’s face. “I’ve been thinking; it might be best if I were to stay in Lon.”
“What?” Caelin glanced at the doctor. “Why?”
“I don’t know what part I can play in the coming battle. I am not a fighter,” Michael echoed Caelin’s earlier thoughts. “I do not want to hold you back. Elynbrigge asked me to join you, but I don’t know–”
“The choice is up to you, Michael,” Caelin interrupted. “But I believe we all have a place in this company. You may not have magic, but you are a doctor, and a diplomat, apparently. There is no telling when we might need your skills. We need more than fighters on this quest.”
Michael drew in a breath and nodded. “I will think on it.”
They both looked up as the door to the cabin opened. Inken appeared, smiling in the afternoon sunshine. She moved across to join them.
“They’ll take us as far as Lon, but it’s going to cost the Sky temple an eye and a leg.”
“That’s good news,” Inken’s smile widened. “I have some news of my own. Enala is hungry.”
They gaped at her. Inken laughed at their shock. “Do you think these sailors could be convinced to part with some supplies?”
Caelin grinned, feeling a little of the weight shift from his soul. Finally, some good news. With Alastair’s death and Antonia’s disappearance, it had begun to feel as though things were spinning out of control. If Enala recovered, they would at least have one thread of hope to cling too.
“For the amount of gold we’ve promised, she can have a feast if she wants,” Caelin spun and marched towards the captain.
A cry from the rigging stopped him in his tracks.
“Man overboard!”
*************
The tree branch rose beneath him as the wave swept past, carrying him high into the air. He looked around, desperate for a glimpse of land, but the ocean stretched out in all directions. Swells rolled across the dark blue water, white wash breaking at their tips. Sea spray misted the air, cutting off sight of the horizon.
The soft lapping of water against his log rocked him towards sleep. He struggled to hang on, just a little bit longer, but his strength had long since faded. Only minutes separated him from the dark depths of the ocean now. Soon he would slip beneath the waves, never to be seen again.
Gabriel swallowed, his mouth paper dry from the long hours in the salty water. He prayed his sacrifice had distracted the dragon long enough for Enala to escape. Otherwise his death would mean nothing.
A shiver racked his body as he remembered the beast; the gaping jaws, the teeth and crackling of flames as the dragon hurtled towards him. The deafening snap of its wings, the roar that sent prickles of terror running down his spine.
Knowing he had no chance on the surface, Gabriel had released his rotten branch and dived deep into the river. The current whirled him around, dragging his helpless body deeper as the dragon’s bulk smashed into the water. A talon tore at his coat, ripping the skin beneath, and then the river had carried him from reach.
Lungs exploding, Gabriel clawed his way to the surface. In the muddy waters he struggled to tell the difference between up and down, and panic threatened to overwhelm him. Then his head burst into the sunlight.
He drew in one ragged breath before the current pulled him back under. The power of the river sent him tumbling head over heels. A rock struck his thigh, then
knee and shoulders. Gabriel screamed, air gushing in bubbles from his mouth. He kicked out, desperate to reclaim the surface.
The next time he broke free he grasped at the water, struggling to stay afloat. He glanced around, searching the sky for sign of the red scaled dragon. A roar came from the distance, but he could see nothing through the canopy of tree branches overhanging the water.
The trees on either side of the river rushed past as the current grew faster. He struggled against its pull, fighting to reach the far shore, but there was no making headway against the river’s might. At last, gasping for breath, he rolled onto his back and let the current take him.
Branches flashed past overhead, sunlight glinting between them. Golden leaves hung from the trees, breaking lose and tumbling down with each gust of the wind. The freezing water spoke of winter’s fast approach. With it would come the freeze, and months of hardship for the people of the land. At least it rarely snowed in Oaksville.
Oaksville, the name rang in his mind, carrying with it the image of a man standing before a raging forge, hammer in hand.
My father, he realised with crystal certainty.
He saw himself then, standing at his father’s side, arms up to their elbows in thick leather gloves. Heat washed over him, bringing with it the ring of a hammer on iron bars, the roar of the bellows as they worked the forge.
As he drifted down the river, one by one his memories returned to him. His proposal to his fiancée, the day the old soldier had given his father a sword. The horror of the storm, of finding all he had loved destroyed, his family dead. His fiancée’s last painful breaths. The agony washed over him anew, pulling him down into the darkness.
The demon.
He remembered the demon and its wolf, his slow decent into madness. His heart twisted with a brand new pain as he saw his murder of the guardsman at the gates of Chole. Guilt swept through him. He was no better than the two he had hunted.
Then he stood outside Enala’s house, and he knew what came there. The discovery of her murdered parents, and the girl herself hiding in the basement. The fight with the terrified Enala, then their battle with the demon wolf. The flight from Chole, the days of trekking through the wilderness, all the way to the Onyx River.
And there, the red dragon.
By the time he returned from his memories the trees had vanished. Cliffs rose on either side of the river, funnelling the waters through a narrow gorge. The current picked up speed, leaving him battling to keep his head above the water. A heavy object knocked into him. He fumbled at the log, gasping as he pulled himself atop it.
Collapsing onto the sodden wood, he clung to its broken branches, overcome by the cold and exhaustion. The water turned white as it raced over hidden rocks. The log rocked as it bounced off unseen objects. Gabriel lay shivering, the cool wind providing little relief from the icy waters. He battled to stay conscious.
He could not remember when the log had finally left the river and drifted out to sea. The cliffs had continued all the way to the coast, hemming in the raging river. Eventually Gabriel had fallen into a kind of half-sleep, his arms still clutching at the log while his mind drifted.
Then the sky had widened as the rocky cliffs gave way to… nothing. When Gabriel raised his head to look around, he found himself drifting on the ocean, the cliffs of the shoreline already growing smaller.
Cold and exhausted, there was little he could do but watch as the current carried him farther out to sea.
How long he had drifted, Gabriel could not say. More than a day, for night had come at least once. But whether it was one or two or three, his memory could not recall. His mind was awash, his head throbbing. He ground his knuckles into his temples, willing the pain of the migraine away. His tongue rasped across his parched mouth, every sense screaming out for water.
Shivering, he held on.
His mind drifted and his grasp on the log loosened. Tears formed in his eyes, but he would not give in. This was not his time to die – not yet.
No, it is not, a chill voice sent fear through his soul. There are still things for you to do.
Gabriel cracked open his eyes, dread seeping into his heart.
A dark figure hovered over the water, staring down at him. Cold seeped from the ethereal body, a ghostly wind that spoke of death. Black spirits raced about the spectre, covering it in a deathly cloak. It towered over his helpless body.
Gabriel closed his eyes. There was no mistaking it; this was the same entity which had come to him in the forests near Oaksville.
“What do you want, demon?” he croaked the words.
To help you, the spectre whispered, as I once did before.
“Go to hell, foul demon,” Gabriel spat. “I will die before I take your help again.”
And die you will, a chill ran down Gabriel’s spine as its voice echoed in his head. Soon you will slip beneath the dark waters.
“So be it,” Gabriel grated.
I can save you, Gabriel. You know I ask nothing in return.
Gabriel would have laughed if he’d had the strength. He knew now the demon lied, that its aid would cost his soul and more. He had sworn to Enala he would never allow himself be drawn in by evil again. If that meant his death…
You do not wish to die, honey laced the demon’s voice. Take my hand, Gabriel, and live.
Gabriel looked up and saw the demon’s outstretched hand. Purple veins lined the pale skin, and long white nails grew from its fingertips. He shuddered as it reached for him, his only lifeline in this grim ocean.
Temptation rose within Gabriel, temptation for the warm lure of life. If he took the offered hand, he would survive this nightmare. He could begin a new life, a better life. All he had to do was say yes.
He stared at the demon, watching the spirits roaming over its spectral form. A chill determination filled him, the temptation turning to dust. Death itself clothed this being; how could life come from such a creature?
Gabriel summoned the last of his strength. “No!” he shouted.
And the demon vanished.
A splash came from nearby. Gabriel looked up, his mind still reeling from the encounter. His vision blurred in and out of focus, but through the cloud he saw a ship surging towards him. Its prow cut through the waves and overhead men swung through the rigging like spiders. Its sails billowed out, filled by the ocean breeze.
Gabriel opened his mouth and tried to shout. The call came out as a croak, the wind catching it and whisking it away. He groaned and struggled to pull himself farther out of the water. Raising one hand he began to wave, praying they would see him. In desperation, he called again.
The ship drew level with him. Gabriel gritted his teeth in frustration, despair rising to swamp the fickle hope.
“Man overboard!” the cry carried across the water.
Three
Eric paced across the empty hall. His footsteps echoed from the stone walls as he wove between marble pillars. The massive columns stretched high above him to where the ceiling should have been; but here there was no roof to protect against the elements. The stars glittered overhead, staring down into the silent hall.
Midnight approached, and Eric doubted anyone else would be visiting the Sky temple at this time of night. Reaching the far wall he spun on his heel and began his third lap. It had taken two days and a night to reach Lon, during which time he had barely slept an hour.
Gabriel remained unconscious, but Eric knew it could not last. Michael said he was exhausted, dehydrated from his time in the ocean. But soon he would wake, and Eric would have to face the man who had hunted him halfway across the Three Nations. There would be a reckoning.
Questions spun through Eric’s mind, each more difficult than the last. How had Gabriel survived the attack by the Baronians? How had he followed them across Plorsea, all the way to Dragon Country? And how had he found Enala, and rescued her from Chole?
Eric swung a fist at a column as he passed. He immediately regretted the reflex as pain shot up
his arm.
Closing his eyes, Eric shrieked into the night. “Alastair, where are you? I need you!”
The wind caught Eric’s words and swept them into the night sky. He was alone now; Alastair was gone and there would be no bringing him back.
He had told the old man of his fear; that Gabriel was the one person he could not face. How could he, when Gabriel embodied the very crimes for which he sought redemption. How could Eric defend himself against a man from whom he had taken everything?
Eric’s magic had destroyed Oaksville, had robbed Gabriel of his life and his family. Now the man had returned from the grave to haunt him, to remind Eric there was nothing he could do to balance out the evil he’d brought to Oaksville.
Eric sank to his knees, guilt weighing on his soul. What could he say to the man? That it had been an accident? That every action he had taken since was to make up for the horror he had wrought?
It would not matter, could not. Eric had seen the hatred in his eyes when they’d last met; only revenge could quench that rage.
Inken had tried to reassure him on the ship, but there was nothing she or anyone else could say to make this right. When they arrived at the temple, he had held her tight, giving his silent thanks for her support. But he knew in his heart he would have to face this alone, that this was his battle to fight.
He excused himself after dinner and wandered out into the night. The ship had dropped them on the temple’s private wharf, ensuring Lon’s citizens did not notice their arrival. The sailors had been happy to see the backs of them, some even cheering as the company carried Gabriel ashore. The captain accompanied them for as long as it took to claim his payment.
Fortunately the Sky priests had been happy with the price Michael negotiated. Jurrien had apparently called on them before their arrival, and warned of their approach. A group of priests met them as they disembarked and led them to an empty dormitory usually reserved for apprentices.
The temple grounds consisted of the massive hall and a collection of smaller buildings and living quarters. After leaving the others, Eric had picked his way through the adjoining buildings until he reached the great hall.