The Cycle of Arawn: The Complete Epic Fantasy Trilogy

by Edward W. Robertson

  Blays stepped forward and to the man's right, draping his left hand over the man's incoming wrist and guiding it past his body. In the same movement, he slammed a right hook into the side of the captain's head. The man sprawled to the ground. Still holding his wrist, Blays stomped Kessel's shoulder and twisted his arm until the compass dropped from his slackening grasp.

  "Despite all evidence to the contrary, I respect you," Blays said, breathing hard. "Now respect that I can break your arm with a twitch."

  The pressure of Blays' weight on his shoulder smushed Kessel's face to the boards of the floor. "Bones heal. When my crew gets to you, your spine won't."

  "The woman I want is a kidnapper. If she doesn't get what she wants, I expect to discover she's a murderer as well. I doubt that means much to you. Because you've got your own code. Following that to the end—that's what you value."

  He laughed. "Are you about to tell me how we're both the same?"

  "I don't need to tell you that, do I?"

  Kessel's shoulder relaxed beneath his foot. "Get to the point or let me up so I can finish what I started."

  It was Blays' turn to laugh. "Staying silent doesn't protect your code. All it protects is someone who deserves my wrath."

  "Buy me a beer."

  "A beer?"

  "Buy me a beer," Kessel repeated slowly. "And I'll drop you right on her doorstep."

  Blays let go of his wrist and stepped back. "It was the bit about the wrath, wasn't it?"

  The captain sat, rubbing his wrist while he rotated his shoulder. "I figured you were about to hit me with a sob story."

  "Sob story? You thought I'd torture you like that? Maybe we aren't as alike as I thought."

  Blays wasn't entirely sure Kessel wasn't pulling his leg to buy an opportune moment to knife him in the back, but the man seemed relaxed, unruffled. He finished up his business on the Blind Eye, then jogged down the gangplank and walked shoulder to shoulder with Blays to the pier.

  All told, it wound up being well more than a beer, and as they talked and joked, Blays kept in mind the idea that Kessel was lulling him into drunken complacency. But his body language remained right. Blays got the impression he just wanted to get off the water for a couple hours. Or to kill time until his preferred hour to act.

  This turned out to be nearly ten o'clock. Blays would have liked a way to get word to Minn, but figured it was better for her to worry about him than to endanger his chances of locating Cal. Anyway, that was a bit presumptuous. She might not worry in the slightest. This was what he did, after all.

  Kessel ambled back to his ship. With minimal orders, his crew shoved off and turned the boat around, steering north across the lake. In Blays' experience with captains, many of them preferred to embed themselves in their cabins while the ship went about the tedious business of getting from one port to the next, but Kessel stood up front watching the water.

  "On the lookout for pirates?" Blays said.

  "They know better than that," Kessel said. "It's the night. I like to watch it."

  "That's all well and good until the night looks back."

  Like all three lakes in Gallador, this one stretched north to south, and the Blind Eye sailed up its long eastern shore, keeping itself a few hundred feet from land. Wending was by far the largest city on the lake, but lanterns gleamed from numerous fishing villages content to live at their own pace.

  Halfway up the lake, a mitten-shaped bay protruded to the east, leaving a sharp peninsula wrapped around its northern edge. Steep hills surrounded the peninsula, swooping up to Gallador's short but craggy mountains, protecting it from overland approach. What little land was usable overlooked a sheltered bay. Blays wasn't surprised to see the peninsula had been claimed by sprawling estates with high roofs and tended grounds. The Blind Eye drifted to a stop within bowshot of its point.

  Kessel pointed to the home on the tip of the peninsula. "See that? Count two to the right. That's where we brought the woman."

  Blays leaned over the railing, as if getting a foot closer would reveal her waiting in the darkness. The grounds were bordered with twenty-foot stands of bamboo. A dock extended from the shore. Behind it, the land jumped thirty feet to a plateau housing an L-shaped manor with towers rising from each of its three corners. Lights burned in its central tower.

  "You're positive?" Blays said.

  Kessel smirked. "Imagine you've made a business transporting people who don't want their movements known. Sometimes these people think your word, your reputation, it isn't enough. They think maybe they should go back and make sure their tracks are covered."

  "Thus, if they try anything foolish, you like to know where to hit back."

  The captain nodded. "Seen enough?"

  "Thanks for your trouble. I can't say more, but I'm sure you'll be rewarded. Handsomely."

  "Just keep my ship and my crew out of it."

  Blays stuck out his hand. "My lips are sealed."

  Kessel brought about the ship and hove toward Wending. At the city docks, Blays jogged to his rowboat and returned to Dennie's. It was after one in the morning, but the others were awake, waiting for him. They convened in the business-den.

  "I think I've found him," Blays said.

  Minn pressed her fist to her mouth, eyes bright. Dennie cried out and crushed Blays in a hug.

  "You know the peninsula up north?" Blays said once he'd extricated himself. "Tallivand's operating from a home there."

  "How do you know this?" Dennie said.

  "I promised my source I wouldn't say. But I consider him highly reliable." Blays lowered himself to a chair. "Do you know anyone who lives there?"

  "Sure. Many of the city's wealthy consider themselves too great to live in the city and prefer to isolate themselves on Unber Peninsula. Should I pay it a call?"

  "In the morning, go take a look at the place, get an idea of what we're up against. We can move that same night."

  Dennie held his glass to his stomach. "You're talking about an attack."

  "Do you have a problem with that?" Blays said.

  "None."

  They talked out a few more details, then Dennie retired to catch what sleep he could before morning. Once he was gone, Minn said, "Do you know what it's supposed to feel like?"

  "What's that?" Blays said. "Bloodhunting?"

  "If that's what you call it."

  "Dante described it as a pressure in his head. It got stronger when he was pointed in the right direction, and the closer he got to his mark." Blays smiled. "Feel something?"

  "I'm not sure." She laughed a little. "I guess that means yes. But I don't know what to do with it yet."

  "Keep trying. We don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. If things get nuts and they escape with him, that skill would come in quite handy."

  The next day was a busy one for everyone but Blays. By the time he arrived downstairs for tea, Dennie was already gone. Minn was holed up in her room with the finger, plying the nether. Servants came and went. Jinsen the bodyguard returned with five men, three of whom Blays didn't recognize. They stood in the yard, pointing here and there, maneuvering themselves through formations and arrangements. None bore arms, but earlier, Blays had seen a servant lug three long cloth bundles up from the cellar, along with a chest that almost certainly contained armor.

  Dennie had taken his favorite sloop, but his docks remained busy in his absence, with sailors adjusting and mending the rigging of a sleek cutter whose railings alternated between open gaps and closed planks, like the crenels and merlons atop a castle.

  Blays had half a mind to check in with Lolligan, but the tea baron-turned-rebel would have sent over a letter if anything new had come up. In the interest of not mucking anything up on the day of the assault, he procured a second sword from one of the servants. It had been months since he'd used two and he was happy to burn the hours with practice.

  Early that afternoon, Dennie returned on his sloop and summoned Blays, Jinsen, and Minn to the tower overlooking the lake.


  "I took a stroll around the peninsula," he said. "It appears that Tallivand's home is patrolled. In the middle of the day."

  Jinsen laughed wryly. "Why would you need daylight patrols at peaceful ol' Unber Peninsula?"

  "We don't have to assault them. We could offer to swap the Almanack for Cal. That's what they want, isn't it?"

  "If we let them know we know how to get to them, they're apt to get spooked."

  "I have no intention of letting them escape unpunished," Dennie said. "Not after what they've done to Cal. But I thought I would suggest it in case you thought I was crazy."

  Blays bit his lip. "Either way, we should act today."

  "We attack tonight." Dennie turned to Jinsen. "Have you worked out a plan?"

  With the help of a quill and paper, Jinsen sketched it out for them. They would land their main force down the peninsula, then move to the ridge above Tallivand's manor. Meanwhile, the cutter would position itself off the house's dock, sealing off escape by water. Once the troops were assembled on the ridge, Jinsen would lead a team into the manor and clear it room by room, concentrating any captives they took into one room while they searched for Cal and extracted him. Then they could take one of Tallivand's own vessels out to the cutter and sail home.

  As Jinsen laid this out, Minn and Blays exchanged glances. At last, she could stand no more.

  "All you have to do is get me inside," Minn said. "I can find Cal and get him out without spilling a single drop of blood."

  It was Dennie and Jinsen's turn to frown at each other. Dennie lowered his eyes to the map. "This involves your sorcery?"

  "They'll never know I'm there."

  Dennie rubbed his beard. "Minn, I can't let you put your life on the line for me."

  "Because I'm a woman?"

  "Because you're my niece."

  A few seconds of silence ensued. Blays leaned over the table. "She's been training me. I can assure you that if you want to get your son home, she's the most powerful weapon we've got."

  At least three emotions fought for control of Dennie's face. At last, love of his son—or respect for his niece?—won out. "Tell us what you can do."

  She did so. The two men listened, stunned. As soon as she finished, Jinsen recovered, amending his plan and leaving the old one as backup. He then left to drill the men in accordance with the revised strategy. Dennie went to consult with the sailors of his cutter.

  "I won't insult you by asking if you're ready," Blays said.

  Minn gazed out on the shining lakes. "Do you do this sort of thing a lot?"

  "Enough that my parents' ghosts must have died all over again from worry."

  "Then I'm glad you came with me."

  Though their exact strategy had been drawn up on the spur of the moment, Dennie had been planning for potential hostilities before Blays and Minn had arrived in Gallador. By nightfall, all his assets sat ready. At midnight, Blays boarded the sloop along with Dennie, Minn, Jinsen, and five other men-at-arms. Four bowmen boarded the larger cutter. The two boats launched at the same time, but the sloop outpaced the other vessel, making port in the underarm of the peninsula while the cutter was still ten minutes from its final position. Exactly as planned.

  The soldiers debarked and headed up a path that ran the length of the peninsula's ridge. A rooster crowed in the hills. As they passed a darkened home, a dog barked, chain rattling. Otherwise, it was quiet, and as the cutter came to rest a few houses down from Tallivand's, Blays and the troops hunkered down in a ditch overlooking her home.

  Jinsen murmured to the men, making last-minute reminders of their next move. Before he had the chance to finish, Minn stood bolt upright, slapping her hand to her forehead.

  "Stop everything," she said. "We're at the wrong house."

  23

  After searching so long for any knowledge about the object of his quest, Dante climbed the stairs in a daze. Horace took them to a cozy room with thick rugs, a few low tables, and sunken nooks. Two narrow floor-to-ceiling windows looked out on the cavern. Horace closed the glassless windows' shutters. Given that they were already in a giant cave, this did little to diminish the light, but it would keep their voices from carrying. He settled his lantern into a sconce beside the door and sat in the middle of the room. The others settled down on the rugs.

  "I will begin with an apology," Horace said. "I expect I know less than you would like. As compensation, I can explore two paths for you. The first is the story of the Black Star as it has always been told. And the second is our understanding of how it manifests itself in the world." He looked up from his hands. "How much do you know? Are you familiar with The Cycle of Jeren?"

  "Not all of my friends are," Dante said. "Best to start from the beginning."

  "Do you know the story of Arawn's Mill?"

  "At first Arawn's mill ground the ether that bound the world. There was harmony in the heavens and on earth. No hunger, no death. Then mankind grew too many. The ground broke under our weight. Arawn's mill fell and cracked. He returned it to the sky, but couldn't fix it; it no longer ground ether, but nether. And nether brought death."

  "Yet it also returns men and women to the heavens. Turned a broken line into a circle." Horace waited for an argument, then went on. "But when Arawn restored his mill, it had a wobble. With each year that passed, the wobble worsened, until all who looked up could see it—and feared that it would fall again. If the fall repeated, the floods would, too. And perhaps this time the mill would shatter beyond repair. No more nether, no more life.

  "They prayed. Begged. But Arawn did nothing. Some said he was still angered that his mill had been broken to begin with. Others thought he had decided to bring this cycle to a close. The rains began. Crops and men were washed out to sea. Still the people prayed, and still Arawn did nothing.

  "Then his mortal daughter Jeren thought that if he refused to listen to the living, perhaps he'd listen to the dead. She put a knife into her heart. When the nether came, she followed it to him. And demanded he set his mill to true before all was lost. For the first time in centuries, he spoke. He said: 'How do you find a black star in the night sky?'

  "Jeren went to look. But the sky is vast. The world would be long drowned before she found it. She tried looking in the shadows of stars, thinking it might be there, but found nothing. Thinking this 'black star' might be a hole, she scattered sand across the sky and waited for it to fall, but it rolled away forever. The seas crept from their shores, swallowing the cities.

  "'How do you find a black star in the night sky?', her father had said, and then she knew: you bring light to the dark. Arawn gave the measures, so she snuck into his tower and pulled half the weights from the scales. The sun leapt forward, catching the stars before they'd slid behind the world. But a single one remained visible, like a hole in the sky.

  "She showed it to Arawn. He took it up and she saw that it was nether that had been lost to him. He sent one third of it to restore the inundated lands. One third to prop up his mill. And one third to return Jeren from death to life. The mill turned on; humans rebuilt and thrived."

  Horace cleared his throat. "That is the story from the Cycle of Jeren. At Dirisen, we end the story a little differently: 'But Jeren was afraid: for if the Black Star ever came back, she knew it wouldn't allow itself to be caught like that again.'"

  "The norren have a story like that," Dante said.

  "Norren?"

  "Another people I've met. But you said you had more than a story—that you know how it manifests to the world?"

  "It's a strange thing," Horace said. "Search hard enough, and you'll see it mentioned many times. Always indirectly, by people commenting on the records of others. You're left with dark reflections in a broken mirror. Many years ago, my people found a tablet that had survived where all the other records had not. It said, 'The star is not the mill; the mill wobbles; the star always returns to its place.'"

  He gave Dante a significant look, placing Dante in that unique situation where
he knew he was expected to follow the path set before him, yet had no idea where to plant his feet.

  "That's it?" Dante said.

  "You see? Black Star is discovered where it was last used."

  "But any records of its last usage are long lost."

  "So it would seem." Horace stood and bowed his head. "I hope I have been of help."

  Aware the others would want to talk amongst themselves, he left them, closing the door behind him.

  Lew just shook his head. "I'm starting to think this whole quest is nothing but people chasing their own shadows."

  "When you find a shard of pottery by the river, you can't know the shape of the object it belongs to," Dante said. "But if you keep gathering pieces, bit by bit, you build your jug."

  "In this case, the 'river' appears to be the entire known world. Probably some unknown parts, too."

  Somburr folded his arms. "When words fail, check the mouth that spoke them. Why would Kasee give us what we want when she doesn't have any reason to think we'll keep helping her?"

  Dante shrugged. "Because she had no leverage."

  "She knows more. She's withholding. She'll offer to tell us in exchange for ongoing assistance."

  "Why don't we head back to the Woduns?" Cee said. "That's where the lights were, right? Don't you think that's a pretty obvious sign where Cellen's going to come back?"

  "The norren saw lights in their lands, too," Dante said. "Anyway, we can't leave Weslee yet. We've only begun the search."

  She laughed loudly. "Tell that to the blisters on my feet."

  "We're not out of options. Somburr might be right about Kasee. I'll do some reading and check in with the priest at the stoll. In the meantime, we keep stealing Julen's letters—and make copies for ourselves."

  Somburr smiled thinly. "I see."

  "See what?" Lew said. "That we're getting dragged into a fight we've got no business with?"

  "This man is an agent of the Minister. The Minister seeks Cellen. Their correspondence might contain intelligence regarding it."

  "Which we can take a peek at while staying two hundred miles outside Spiren," Dante said. "Even if there's no mention of Cellen, the letters might help us figure out where in Corl that information might be kept."