by B. A. Scott
“Marineans have three hearts, Dareic,” Vega informed him. “One, just as yours,” he said, placing a taloned hand on his chest. “And one behind each set of their gills.” He scraped a finger across either side of his abdomen.
Dareic looked curiously to Xado’s ribcage, at the gill slits between his ribs, then noticed the Captain still appeared outraged over the issue of Vexen’s passage.
“You could just toss her overboard and be done with her,” Dareic suggested.
The Marinean eyed him, as though he’d already been pondering the idea. But then, he shook his head. “Her fare’s been paid,” he spoke resolutely. “Bloody mainlanders. Never again.” He looked to Vexen, then noticed Treäbu emerging from the cabin below deck.
Treäbu located the others, gave them a nod, then turned to Vexen, who stood at the bow, gazing out over the water. As though he’d been mustering the courage to approach her for some time, he took a deep breath, and made his way to where she stood.
“Well now, take a look at your Skaelar friend, there,” Xado said. “What’s in his head, I wonder?”
Before advancing on Vexen any further, Treäbu looked back over his shoulder at the others, acknowledging their careful stares.
“What the blazes?” Dareic uttered. “Fancy a conversation, does he?”
“There’s no harm in it, Dareic,” said Vega.
Treäbu forced a cough, alerting Vexen to his presence. She turned her head only slightly at the sound of it, but kept her eyes to the sea.
“I’ve noticed you prefer to keep to yourself out here,” Treäbu said. “I’ve been wondering—”
“Why are you talking to me?” Vexen interrupted before he could finish.
“Well, you—you haven’t really spoken to anyone since we set sail,” Treäbu answered. “And I’d take the chance you’re more pleasant to talk to than our Marinean Captain.”
Vexen looked to the Skaelar, and studied him. “Well, it seems wise, doesn’t it?” she said. “To just keep my distance from everyone? I wouldn’t want to provoke another murderous outburst from your Human friend over there.” She nodded to Dareic.
“Yeah, about Dareic. Look, I know he hasn’t been too friendly toward you. But he’s really not that bad—”
“Not that bad?” Vexen asked, nearly choking on the words. “He almost killed me!”
“I know,” said Treäbu, somberly. “But you have to understand. What happened at Caleton really, really rattled his cage. He hasn’t been the same since.”
Vexen rolled her eyes, and shook her head. “Excuses,” she said. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? Defending him? I understand he’s in pain. But he directs it unfairly toward me.”
“Once he’s convinced you’re not a threat to us, things will be better with him, you’ll see.”
“And what about you?” Vexen asked. “Are you convinced I’m not a threat?”
At the wheel, Dareic leaned forward, as if a few extra inches would put him in earshot of the conversation.
“What do you suppose they’re talking about over there?” he asked Vega and Xado. “Vega, can you hear what they’re saying?”
“It’s not polite to eavesdrop, Dareic,” said the Aerolus.
“But you can hear them, can’t you?”
“I want to believe it,” Treäbu answered Vexen. The dark creature’s eyes narrowed as she looked upon Treäbu with uncertainty.
“Well, you’re much kinder than he is, I can tell,” Vexen said. “And I feel as though I owe you a good deal of gratitude, Treäbu, is it?”
“Yeah,” said the Skaelar. “Why’s that?”
“You saved my life, didn’t you—on the way to port? It was your words that stilled his bow from shooting an arrow straight between my eyes.”
Treäbu remembered the ambush all too well. He remembered the darkness in Dareic’s eyes, and the tension in the air.
“He spared you of his own accord that day,” Treäbu assured her.
“Did he?” questioned Vexen. “If you say so. But I’m still afraid he’s determined to gut me in my sleep out here. I’m honestly afraid to be near him. Or even close my eyes at night.”
“Dareic wouldn’t hurt you without reason.”
“Without reason?” Vexen couldn’t believe her ears. “He’s likely to conjure a reason to kill me, than wait for one!”
“He’s not an evil person, Vexen,” Treäbu defended Dareic once again.
Vexen looked him square in the eye, and spoke, “Neither am I.”
“What the bloody hell are they talking about?” Dareic fumed.
“Calm down, Dareic,” said Vega. “You know, you could just go over and ask them yourself.”
“Oh, that’s rich,” Dareic dismissed the notion. “Excuse me, Vexen Alakai,” he demonstrated the proposed interaction. “Might I join you? Have a cup of tea and talk of pleasant things and all other sorts of lovely whatnot?”
“You’re being an idiot,” said the Aerolus.
“I want to tell you something,” Treäbu proceeded cautiously with his words. “Something I feel is fair for you to know.”
“Go on?” Vexen said.
“The reason Ralian wanted you to come with us—besides helping us convince the Incinian King to unite.”
“He hopes I’ll divulge information about my father,” Vexen spoke, surprising Treäbu.
“Well—well, yes.”
“I suspected as much. He was kind, but his motivations were obvious.” She looked curiously to Treäbu. “What sparked all this? Why are you telling me?”
Treäbu paused. “The last thing I want is for you to think our efforts are some form of manipulation. Ralian’s compassion is genuine. But that’s the truth of it. He hopes you’ll prove beneficial. Reveal a weakness of Daro’s. A way to exploit some flaw in his defenses.”
“If that’s the case,” Vexen said, “I’m afraid I’ll be nothing more than a disappointment. My father is entirely untouchable. There is no secret chink in his armor. No spell that could disarm his guard. I wish there was. I truly do. But there is not. He’s taken every precaution. Tell me, when your Sage learns I have nothing to offer in return for his hospitality, will all his promises of good will turn sour?”
Treäbu smiled. “That’s not his way,” he said. “He knew it was long shot. Even the Goddesses said there’s only one thing that can stop your father.”
“Careful, friend,” Vega uttered. “We do not yet know her truly.”
“What are you talking about?” Vexen asked. Treäbu realized he might have spoken too freely.
“You don’t—you don’t know?” he asked. “Ralian didn’t tell you before we left?”
“Tell me what?”
“Not yet,” Vega urged from afar.
“I see,” Vexen said, noticing Treäbu struggling to hold his tongue. “It seems his trust falls greatly short of his courtesy. I don’t blame him. Look at me. A demon, I’ve been named. A demon, evil and devious. You and your kind will never see past my darkened form. How I left a life of privilege and adulation. I was born a Princess, Daughter of the Savior and Deliverer. I was royalty, Treäbu Skael’adar. I still am. But I gave up everything, because I refused to endorse my father’s depravity. Yet that means nothing to you. Nothing to your companions, up there, watching us so closely. Not even to your Sage, whose kindness was nothing more than a front.”
“The Blade of Origin,” Treäbu said. “It can kill him.” Vexen froze.
“Oh, hell,” Vega groaned.
“What?” Dareic asked. “What’d he say?”
“We don’t have it,” Treäbu continued. “But we’re looking for it. Vexen, this information, in the wrong hands, could prove disastrous. If Daro knew we could overcome every furentus he holds—every spell upon his flesh—this is the most priceless information we have. And now, you know.”
Their gazes locked in a shared moment of agonizing contemplation. Treäbu wondered whether or not he’d just offered a talented spy crucial, crippling details. Vexen couldn’t
begin to comprehend Treabu’s enormous gesture of good faith.
“It’s ultimately a useless question,” Treabu broke their silence, “asking someone if you can trust them. The honest will speak truly. The deceitful will lie. So that, I will not ask. But there is something I must ask anyway. And it probably won’t be the last time you hear it.”
“What is it?” asked Vexen.
“I need to know,” said the Skaelar, “how do you feel about what we’re doing—about what you’re a part of now? Organizing an alliance against your own father. To undo everything he’s done. To kill every last one of his demons, and ultimately, destroy Daro himself.”
Vexen’s head lowered, and she looked away from Treäbu in shame. She didn’t immediately answer, and Treäbu thought he might have overstepped his bounds with such a personal question. But then, Vexen looked out upon the water, and spoke.
“I don’t know why I feel the way I do, Treäbu,” she said. “Why I see the things my father does as evil, when all his other children—even my own blood brothers—worship him completely, and revel in his wickedness. But he is evil. I’ve known this truly, for as long as I’ve bared witness to his crimes. How do I feel about what we’re doing, you asked? About bringing death upon my entire family? The only reservation I have is that simple fact—that we are family. But only by blood. Not by any emotional attachment or bond of love. It is merely a detail, and nothing more. They are less a family to me than you are. Though, I admit I do pity them—for all they’ve been through. Still, it must be done. My father cannot be allowed to succeed, for his triumph would disrupt the natural order of things in ways even I can’t imagine. And so I support your cause, Treäbu—your undertakings to bring about his downfall—as treasonous as that may seem for me to say.”
Treäbu stood as still as stone, utterly dumbfounded by Vexen’s response.
“If what you say is true,” the Skaelar spoke, his voice thick and deep behind layers of consideration, “then you’re more extraordinary a creature than you appear, Vexen Alakai.”
“A creature?” Vexen asked, curious why Treäbu had chosen such a word to describe her. Was she no more than an animal or beast in his eyes, she wondered.
“Yes,” said Treäbu. He hadn’t meant any offense by the word, but saw he needed to clarify his meaning. “A thing of this world, whose heart beats no less genuinely than mine.”
Vexen’s suspicious brow vanished, as an unfamiliar pang struck her stomach. Shocked by Treäbu’s response, every worrisome thought that had been racing through her mind over the recent weeks was instantly drowned by the Skaelar’s benevolence. For the first time in a great long while, she managed a smile.
“I’ve never had kinder words spoken to me,” said the Dark Princess. “Never.”
Dareic watched Vexen’s every move. Her every gesture. What had Treäbu said to cause her to smile, he wondered? Or was it some tactic of hers to charm him into befriending her? Dareic then looked to Vega, and noticed the Aerolus taking the very same interest in Vexen.
“What do you think of her, Vega?” Dareic asked. “Tell me the truth.”
Vega took a deep sniff in through his beak. “I have not yet decided,” he said. Then, his head twitched toward the distant horizon, as though he’d seen something rather peculiar on the open sea. “Well, that does not bode well,” he said.
“What?” Dareic asked.
“The port of Kallenshar is closed,” said Vega.
“Come again!?” asked Dareic. “What do you mean, it’s closed? How can you tell?”
“The fire beacons are red,” answered the Aerolus. “See there?” He pointed straight ahead, but all Dareic could distinguish on the watery horizon was a dark, hazy, thimble-sized shape.
“No?” said Dareic. “What fire beacons? I can’t see anything.”
“Have you a keensight, Captain?” Vega asked Xado. But the Captain was already raising the device to his own eye. Like a small telescope, but forged by the Aeroli, the keensight intrigued Dareic greatly. Ancient, yet aerodynamic in essence, even its composition—dark metal, accented by once-lustrous silvery steel, gave visual cues to how precious a thing it was. Xado peered through the device in the direction Vega pointed.
“Well this certainly puts a damper on things, doesn’t it?” he said.
“Captain, might I have a look?” Dareic asked. Xado battled with lending the keensight to Dareic, but eventually consented.
“Break this, and you owe me another fortune,” he said, handing it over.
Dareic put the telescopic tool to his eye, and nearly lost his balance, for the realm of Kallenshar looked no further than a mile away. To his surprise, the hazy, thimble-sized shape he’d seen from a distance was actually what appeared to be a giant, dormant volcano, jutting out into the sea as a great peninsula. Dareic fumbled with the keensight, twisting its components, which caused its focus to zoom further in. Upon the volcano rested a great city that expanded inland, down foothills that sloped to plains of black, barren earth, then thick forestry. Dark and daunting, even though Dareic knew it was still many miles away, Kallenshar unnerved him to his core.
Dareic zoomed out far enough to view the realm’s surrounding water. He caught sight of countless ships in port, each boasting black sails. Several more were anchored off shore, or patrolled the nearby islands, which were nothing more than dark, seemingly uninhabitable rocky peaks.
Then, the fire beacons caught Dareic’s eye. A few miles out from the port, he noticed a ring of what looked like tall, thick torches of black stone surrounding the entire realm, each crowned with a bright red flame. “Red fire beacons mean the port is closed?” he asked.
“All of Kallenshar,” Phynn specified. “They’re not permitting visitors, even by way of land or air.”
“What’s all the raucous?” Treäbu said, joined by Vexen.
“It seems Kallenshar’s closed for business,” said Dareic, as he handed the keensight back to Xado.
“But this is a merchant vessel,” said Treäbu. “And you’re Marineans,” he told Xado and Phynn. “Aren’t the Incinians on well enough terms with your folk? And surely, they’ll let us dock for trading purposes.”
“You don’t know half as much as you think you do,” Xado quickly scolded Treäbu. “When the beacons are red, no one is allowed into port. No one.”
“Not even ambassadors?” asked Dareic.
“Not even Kings,” Xado said.
“So, what do we do?”
Xado heaved a heavy sigh. “We turn around.”
“The hell, you say!” Dareic blurted. “We didn’t come all this way to just turn back the second we get here.”
“We don’t have a choice,” said the Captain.
“Look,” said Dareic. “We have to speak with the Incinians. They don’t know that there are ambassadors aboard your ship. Maybe if we told them who we are, they’d let us dock.”
“You don’t understand—” Xado tried to re-emphasize his point, but Dareic cut him short.
“Please,” begged Dareic. “Just get us close enough to talk. That’s all I ask. Let me try to convince them to let us through.”
Xado hesitated, agitated that he was actually considering the Human’s request.
“Alright,” he said. “Your ice diamond bought you that much. I’ll get you close enough to talk, but no further. And if they tell us to depart these waters immediately, I’ll hear no more of it from you. Is that understood?”
Dareic nodded, then spoke, “Aye.”
They sailed in tense silence toward the realm of Kallenshar, fearing their journey had been in vain. Dareic never had much faith in the success of his mission, but he thought he’d at least be able to speak with the Incinian King before dealing with the prospect of failure.
As the fire beacons neared, the sun crept toward the horizon, and the burning crimson sky cast an ominous glow over the sea. Ahead, the giant bonfires of red flame blazed atop countless towers of black stone that stood fifty feet above the water, and t
wo hundred feet apart. The moment the Avenger passed between two of them, the bonfires on either side of the ship tripled in size, and a low horn sounded on the air.
“Here we go,” Treäbu uttered, noticing the nearest Incinian vessel heading their way.
“We’re trespassing on dangerous waters now,” Xado said. “They have every right to blast us to bits. Best you speak respectfully, Human. They’ll detest the very sight of you.”
“Understood,” Dareic said shortly.
The Incinian ship pulled alongside Xado’s vessel, and dwarfed it considerably. It was twice as long, and its deck rose a good deal higher than the Avenger’s.
The Incinian crew made way for their Captain, who came to the ship’s railing. Dareic took in his appearance quickly, finding particular interest in the man’s skin. At first, it appeared as orange as fire, but then, Dareic noticed its color shifting with reds, yellows and hot whites, just as the colors of a burning ember flow and change. The man’s frame was tall, bulky, and broad shouldered. His pitch-black hair was oily and slicked backwards, and an equally shiny patch of hair pointed out from his chin. Eyes as black as night contained irises boasting all the colors of a hellish explosion of flame. The high-collared coat he wore was long and black, and dark boots came up to his knees.
“What is your name, Captain?” said the Incinian, his accent strange to Dareic’s ears.
“Xado Anthrabar,” said Xado.
“Are you blind to our beacons, Captain Anthrabar? Leave these waters at once!”
Xado looked to Dareic, then spoke, “I have some rather interesting cargo, as you might’ve noticed,” he gestured to Dareic, Treäbu and Vega. “Ambassadors. They have a message for Lord Embros.”
“Speak it to me now then,” said the Incinian. “I’ll see to its delivery.”
“Actually, we need to speak with your King in person,” said Dareic. “And the Sage as well, while we’re at it. The fate of our world depends on it.”
“The fate of our world depends on it?” the Incinian asked. He chuckled, then looked to his crew, who joined in the laughter.