by Kel Kade
“What’s going on?” Tam asked. “I thought we were going to Serret.”
“Serret is less than a day from our current position, but we are taking a short respite,” Rezkin answered.
“A respite? Where and why?” Tieran asked. “Have we not spent enough time aboard this miserable ship?”
Tieran had been highly vocal about his disdain for the traveling conditions. While the voyage from Kaibain to Skutton had not been pleasant by any of the nobles’ standards, traveling on a ship crammed full of angry, resentful, and mournful refugees had been far worse.
Rezkin said, “The ship does not possess a certified manifest, trading certificate, or port visa, all of which should have been acquired in Skutton per the trade agreements enforced by the Interkingdom Trading Authority.”
Tieran said, “Right. The ITA. I was not thinking of them. We are refugees.” He sniffed disdainfully. “Surely they will make an exception. Once they know who we are …”
Rezkin shook his head. “This ship is carrying more than a hundred undocumented people. Most of these refugees have no proof of identity, and we all lack the necessary travelling papers. From Channería’s perspective, and pretty much everyone else’s, our port of origin is in a hostile kingdom. We made our escape from what could rightfully be called a warzone. While Channería may be willing to assist other foreigners in returning to their own lands, I doubt they will look kindly on a swarm of refugees invading their largest port. They will see many of us as enemies and potential spies.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Tam asked. “How do we get what we need?”
Rezkin did not say it, but he had already made the documents. Without access to a mage relay, though, he could not file the record with the ITA office in Serret.
“I will take care of that. In the meantime, I need you all to perform a task.”
The others looked at Rezkin skeptically, but Tam seemed eager to do something useful.
“Right. What is it?” he said with a little too much enthusiasm.
“I need you to convince the other passengers and ship’s crew of the importance of concealing their identities—all of our identities. It would be best for no one to discover who we really are so long as the port authority and Channerían navy have the ability to capture us or prevent our escape. As far as the ITA is concerned, we are a passenger ship from Torrel. We were unable to resupply in Skutton due to the turmoil, so we were forced to make for Serret, arriving a week ahead of schedule.”
Malcius said, “But we were not scheduled to be there at all.”
“They will not know that. To prevent exposure, only the few I authorize will be permitted to disembark while we are at port. Anyone wishing to leave the ship will have to wait until we are ready to depart.”
“But there are over a hundred people on board! It will seem suspicious if a passenger ship arrives and no one gets off,” said Tieran.
“Not if we are under quarantine,” Rezkin said. At their confused expressions he explained, “Any ship carrying a communicable disease, no matter how minor, is placed under quarantine for a minimum of three days or until all on board are cleared as healthy by an ITA healer. The ship may, however, take on supplies and new passengers, assuming any desire to board a quarantined vessel. After examination by the healer, a maximum of two crewmen are permitted to leave the ship to organize such affairs. Kai and Roark will pose as the crewmen.”
“So you will be staying aboard,” Tam said, appearing both disappointed and relieved.
Rezkin smiled indulgently and replied, “No, I will not be aboard at all. I will rejoin you before the ship leaves port.”
“Where will you be?” Malcius asked.
“I go by land. I told you, I must to arrange the necessary documentation.”
Malcius huffed. “But if you are getting the documents, then how will we get them before we arrive in Serret?”
“Do not worry, Malcius. The captain already has them,” Rezkin answered.
“But—”
“The problem is not acquiring the documents,” Rezkin explained. “It is that they must be recorded with the ITA. Maritime trade is highly regulated and costly. If the officials cannot find a record of the vessel and its occupants, Stargazer will not be permitted to dock and will likely be seized.”
Frisha surprised Rezkin when, from where she sat sulking in the corner, she snapped, “You’ve been on the ship with us the whole time. How did you get the documents?”
Rezkin looked at the estranged young woman. Since leaving Skutton, she had generally been cool and distant, but her current tone could only be described as hostile.
“That is not important, Frisha. Suffice it to say that we have them.”
His tone lacked emotion, but an uncomfortable silence ensued as Frisha continued to glare at him. The others chose to stay out of what appeared to be a battle of wills between would-be lovers. At least, most of them possessed such tact.
“I do not want to stay on the ship,” Shiela whined. “It is filthy and smelly and full of undesirables. If we are not to stay in Serret, then where will we go? I want to go home.”
“I will not discuss future destinations, and, at present, you do not have a home.”
Shiela buried her face in her hands and released a mournful wail.
Frisha stood and placed her arms around her beloved cousin. “Rezkin, how can you be so insensitive?” she asked.
“What would be the point of lying, Frisha? It is simple fact—one that she must accept, and the sooner the better.” His gaze roved over the others. “It is one you will all have to accept for now.”
Without waiting for a reply, Rezkin turned and ducked through the doorway. It was time for Dark Tidings to make an appearance. While he had revealed that persona to those closest to him and to the strikers, everyone else aboard was oblivious. He strode about the ship in full costume once or twice a day. On occasion, one of the strikers donned the guise so that others would not become suspicious of him. He would make a show of reporting to the True King and receiving orders. The ruse might have been unnecessary, but the less information others had about him the better. Eventually the truth would get out, but he hoped it did not become common knowledge until after they left Channería. Besides that, it gave him something to do on what was otherwise a tedious journey.
Dark Tidings trod across the deck, and some people openly gawked, as they always did, while others avoided looking at him altogether. After about an hour, Kai returned with news that the cove was indeed unoccupied, and there were signs that a patrol had passed through recently. It had been a gamble, but this was good news. The cove was deep enough for a ship but was hidden from view by high banks and dense forest. According to the captain, it was used by a few of the more unscrupulous smugglers and slavers who felt it was their civic duty to prevent others from discovering the hideout. Estadd did not mention how it was that he knew about it. Far from any settlements and steeped in superstition, it was rare for an honest man to visit the cove. The Channerían army was aware of the haven’s existence, however, and patrols were sent to check for visitors every few weeks. The fact that a patrol had been there recently meant it was unlikely another would pass through in the short time Stargazer would be there.
Dark Tidings listened to the striker’s report, issued a few unnecessary orders, and then announced loud enough for those closest to hear that he would be sending Lord Rezkin on an errand. Then, Kai followed him to his berth. Rezkin knew the man had some protest on his tongue by the stubborn set of his jaw.
“You cannot go alone,” Kai huffed as soon as the door was shut.
Rezkin pulled the mask from his face and began unclipping braids from his hair. If he had known he would need to keep up the ruse for longer than the duration of the tournament, he might have come up with a simpler disguise.
“I am capable of conducting the mission without assistance. What is the problem?”
Kai slammed his fist on the stout table along one wall. “
You are the king! You cannot go gallivanting through hostile kingdoms without an escort. At the very least, you should take some strikers. It is our duty to protect you.”
“I need you here to make sure things go as planned,” Rezkin replied. “Do you think these refugees will stay in line without a strong leader? Many of them are not used to taking orders. They are nobles, accomplished swordsmen, warriors, and mages from nearly every kingdom, and we have barely avoided serious bloodshed from the cultural conflicts alone.”
“One striker”—Kai held up a finger—“could handle those issues, especially since they will believe Dark Tidings is still aboard. You have two more strikers to accompany you. There is no reason for you to go alone.”
Except that there were reasons. Rezkin just did not want Kai to know about them. He shook his head and said, “When the ship reaches Serret, we will need one striker to stay aboard and maintain order while the other two go into the city.”
“We need only one in the city,” Kai argued. “Anyone trustworthy can fill the other role. We can send Lord Tieran or Malcius. That would free one striker to go with you.”
“It will be easier for a single man to slip through the kingdom unseen,” Rezkin replied.
Kai grumbled something unintelligible and then said, “I know I was not at my best when we met, and I admit that age has slowed me a bit, but I am still more than capable of accomplishing what you propose. If that does not satisfy you, then take Shezar. He is younger and has mastered both day and night stealth skills.”
“We do not know how far we can trust him,” Rezkin said. It was hardly necessary to point that out, but it was a good an excuse.
“It is better for him to stay with you, then, so you can keep an eye on him. You are the True King. People who would otherwise decry rebellion will follow you. What if you are killed or captured?”
Rezkin rolled Dark Tiding’s cloak into a bundle and stuffed it into a trunk. He sat on a bunk to shuck his boots. “I will not be captured,” he said with resolve. “If I die, then you will go on without me. The people know that Dark Tidings is the True King. He is no more than a mask, a persona. Anyone with a decent amount of skill can play the role. You, Shezar, and Roark can trade off if necessary. No one but those in our confidence will know of the deception, and they likely will not care.”
“But you, Rezkin the Swordbearer, are the one with the claim to the throne. Without that, Dark Tidings is nothing but an illegitimate figurehead.”
When Rezkin finally turned on the man, his expression was one that insisted he would brook no further argument. “Kai, this is not up for debate. I go alone.”
By the time he emerged from the cabin, the ship was secure in the cove. He had already discussed the plan with the strikers and Jimson, so he had only one task left to do.
Frisha, Tam, and Wesson were at the deck rail eyeing the forest beyond the banks.
“They say it is haunted,” Wesson remarked as Rezkin approached from behind.
Tam laughed. “Who says?”
The mage shrugged. “Before I joined you, I spent some time in the villages of Fendendril. The people there are very poor and a bit odd, if you ask me. They are highly superstitious. It is common belief that the Fendendril Forest is haunted. The locals never go east of Banton. I had a mind to see for myself, but to the Fendens, returning is worse than going. They believe that anyone coming from the eastern woods must be possessed. Village law requires that they take preventative measures.”
“Like what?” Tam asked.
Wesson looked at him sideways. “Anyone who survives the eastern woods does not survive the return.” Turning his gaze back to the dark forest, he said, “According to the Fendens, the haunting does not stop at the break. The forest in Channería is supposed to be inhabited by the spirits as well. Even the sailors have said as much.”
“Do you believe it?” Tam asked.
Frisha elbowed Tam and said, “Don’t be silly. There’s no such thing as spirits.”
“How do you know? Mages can do all kinds of things,” Tam said with a nod toward Wesson. “How do you know that some of them haven’t figured out how to walk around without their bodies?”
Wesson turned toward Tam with wide eyes. “I have never heard of anything like that, but there are other things that remain unexplained. You have surely heard the tales of people being possessed by demons, and there are untold numbers of forest creatures, both magical and mundane. I am not ready to discount the idea of spirits.”
Rezkin cleared his throat and all three jumped. The railing beneath Wesson’s hand split with a resounding crack. Rezkin lifted a brow at the mage.
“Oops,” Wesson said as he rubbed his hand and looked at Rezkin with chagrin. “Perhaps you should not sneak up on a battle mage.”
“Perhaps the battle mage should pay more attention to his surroundings,” Rezkin said. He glanced at Tam and Frisha. “I must attend to an errand. I am leaving, but I will meet you in Serret.”
“Wait, you’re leaving us?” Frisha exclaimed. “You can’t leave us. What if something happens?”
“The strikers are capable of handling any problems that arise.” He glanced around to make sure no one else was within hearing range and said, “Everyone else will be under the impression that Dark Tidings is still aboard. It is doubtful they will cause many problems.”
Frisha’s expression sobered at the mention of the infamous dark warrior. Rezkin saw the change in Frisha’s eyes, but there was nothing he could say in that moment.
“The strikers aren’t going with you?” Tam asked. “But you’re the—”
“Tam,” Rezkin said.
Tam’s gaze darted around anxiously. “Right. You know what I’m saying. You can’t go alone.”
“I should go with you,” Wesson interjected.
“Why is that, Journeyman?” Rezkin asked.
Wesson nodded over his shoulder. “The forest is not safe. Who knows what kind of trouble you might encounter. I could help you. Besides, I have a feeling it is going to be difficult for Ashaiians in Channería right now. You should not be traveling alone.”
Rezkin frowned. Everyone was so concerned about keeping him safe. Did they not recognize that he was a trained warrior? He had already proven himself to them at the tournament. Did they think he could not fend for himself in the wild? No, they knew he was capable. He looked into Tam and Frisha’s anxious eyes and realized they were not so concerned for him as they were for themselves. They worried about what might happen to them if he perished.
“I am capable of performing this task on my own. I must make arrangements so that you will all be safe upon arrival,” Rezkin said.
“So you’re going to find us a place to stay?” Tam asked.
“Yes. Some of the foreigners will be able to return to their homes, but many more of us have no place to go.”
Tam shook his head. “That’s considerate of you, but I really don’t think that’s your responsibility, Rez. Besides, there’s no reason you have to do it alone.”
Rezkin was tired of discussing the subject. Perhaps next time he would skip the courtesy of a farewell and leave a note.
“I will see you all in Serret. If you have any problems, talk to one of the strikers. Frisha, please remember to stay near Malcius. He is your escort, and with the selection of international nobility on board, it would be best for you to observe an acceptable level of propriety.”
Frisha huffed and crossed her arms, her anxious thoughts overshadowed by anger. How dare he lecture her about propriety. Did he think she would make him look the fool? Was he worried that others would think her a disgrace? She opened her mouth to respond, but Rezkin staved her retort with a raised hand.
“I know you have misgivings about me, and it is obvious you have reconsidered the prospect of betrothal. No matter what your future holds—whoever—I only desire your safety and happiness. A perceived misstep now could render that difficult or impossible, no matter your innocence.”
F
risha flushed. She was resentful of so many things, and she knew she had been acting petulant, but she had not realized how obvious her feelings were. Rezkin took it in stride, though, appearing unfazed. Before, she might have thought him putting on a brave face, reserving his emotions both for her sake and for appearances. Now she wondered if he had any feelings. She shrugged and looked away.
Rezkin said farewell to Tam and then turned to the mage. Wesson was distracted again. He stared into the forest, his gaze distant. Rezkin thought perhaps the journeyman wanted to avoid the discomfort of a farewell, so he left it at that.
After collecting his travel gear, one of the crewmen rowed him the short distance across the water. He tossed the pack onto the high bank and then clung to thick tree roots to pull himself up the slick mud. It would have been nice to have Pride for the journey, but it was not practical. This would be a long run. He estimated it would take at least two days to run the distance to Serret if he stopped for only a few hours rest. He had to get there in time to take care of his business before the ship arrived. Otherwise, the trip would be pointless and his friends would be in greater danger.
After a short distance into the forest, it grew dark. The trees were straight and tall, and the canopy blocked most of the sunlight. Very little grew on the forest floor, but his passage was hardly eased. The terrain was rough, marred by thick tangles of roots and crumbling outcrops relieved only by steep, briar-filled crevices through which icy streams swept across slick, moss-covered detritus. He briefly wondered if he might make better time leaping through the canopy, but after peering into the darkness above, he realized the branches were much too thin to hold his weight.
While he saw no sign that anyone had been in the vicinity, he was careful to step lightly and leave little evidence of his own passing. His pants, hooded tunic, and armor were of varying shades of green and brown, and his pack lay over his swords, which were strapped across his back. The hilts were pointed down where he could still access them if necessary, but they would not be obvious to anyone with whom he might cross paths.