by Dave Higgins
Captain Aubrey considered for a moment. “Perhaps. That moment has flown, though, Princess. There’s only one option left now.”
Rauger grabbed a boathook from a pile of netting nearby and wrapped his other hand around the charm at his neck. The hook grew as long as his forearm. “Take us to Clua Thines, or I’ll gut everyone on this boat and sail it myself.”
The captain didn’t even blink. “You’re not a sailor, or you’d know you’ve no chance of sailing this ship with less than three men. Even if you had two capable sailors at your side, crossing the straits takes someone with experience. First patch of bad weather, you’d drown.”
“If we’re going to die anyway, why wouldn’t we take you with us?” Rauger said. “Take our chances on handling the boat alone?”
Peony put her hand on Rauger’s arm. “We’re not going to kill the man for protecting his children.”
“I’d die if it meant keeping my bairns safe,” Captain Aubrey said.
Peony looked around for any way out of their situation. Her gaze caught on a rickety skiff roped to the back of the boat. It was barely big enough for two, but it might do. “Captain. We could escape on that boat there.”
Captain Aubrey raised his eyebrows. “You could, but you’d never last on the open sea.”
“It won’t get us to Clua Thines,” she said. “But it could get us to shore, if we waited until we were near Myrefall. Do you trust your crew?”
“With my life.”
“How about with the lives of your children?” she asked. “Because I think if you had the option, you wouldn’t condemn two innocent people to certain death.”
“My crew have been with me since we were barely more than children ourselves. What’s your point?”
“On the way to Myrefall, draw close to the coast and look the other way. We’ll row ashore and run for it. You can tell them we got away and where to look. They can’t blame you for that.”
“You’re only raising your chances from none to slim,” Captain Aubrey said. “But I’ll do it. Any way I can get back at Imperatis without risking our village, I’ll take; and my crew’ll say the same. We’ve no love for him.”
“Good. Then Rauger and I will be back there, waiting. Let us know when to go.” Peony led the way to the back of the boat, Rauger trailing behind her. She couldn’t help shooting him a satisfied smile as they went.
“All right,” Rauger said. “You might not be useless. Now, where are these stats you’re so proud of?”
* * *
Captain Aubrey was true to his word. When the moon rose, Peony spotted land on their right. As it grew closer, she realised it was jungle. She’d only ever seen it in illustrations before; pictures accompanied by warnings of vicious creatures that stalked between the boughs. She shivered and hoped they wouldn’t have to make their way through it.
Fortunately, the jungle fell behind before Captain Aubrey waved at them to set off. Rauger lowered the tiny skiff to the surface of the sea, where it bumped against the stern of the boat. Peony allowed him to help her down and then lent him a hand to help in return.
Casting off, they pushed away, then watched the ship sail off into the night. They were committed.
Rauger set the oars and pulled, driving them toward the shore. The boat rocked as he rowed, and she huddled down in the rear. Tiredness pulled at her eyes. She realised it had been a full day of constant exercise since she’d woken on the raft. And her sleep before that hadn’t been proper rest either.
The boat ground up onto the sand of the beach and Rauger hopped out, pulling it higher. “We can’t stay here. We have to keep moving west.”
She nodded and clambered out. “Anything to get away from the sea for a while.”
“You might regret those words soon. Further inland there’s giants.”
Chapter 12
The Sea
Edmond wrapped an arm around Daffodil. Their daughter was lost forever across the ocean. There was no way of tracking her.
“Have a little more faith,” Grew said. “I am the greatest magician in the world, after all. Clear me a space.”
Pulling free of Edmond, Daffodil shoved aside crates and barrels until Grew had an empty circle in the middle of the busy dock. Between her glare and a spreading whisper of recognition, the stevedores and sailors drew back, all eyes on Grew.
Edmond expected Grew’s dance to be similar to the one before. Instead, Grew flowed into motion. Raising his left leg behind him he rose onto the toes of his right foot. Then, without seeming to launch himself, whirled around and around. After spinning on the spot for an endless moment, he spiralled out, the circle growing wider and leg higher until he was leaping through the air.
As his movements slowed again, a line of water rose from the sea, creating a giant arrow that pointed toward the horizon.
“Nice work, Grew,” Daffodil said.
“Now we just need a ship,” Edmond said.
“A ship is easy.” Daffodil held a bulging purse above her head and shook it.
Captains, their speed and height nearly rivalling Grew’s, leapt the ring of cargo and clustered around her.
* * *
The churning of the boat as it lurched over the waves made Edmond’s stomach roil. Even after spending hours at the rail until he was empty hadn’t eased his discomfort. And Grew seemed in even worse trouble.
The tracking spell drew enormous amounts of mana and mental effort, which made it impossible to sustain for long. Grew had to let it dissipate and cast it anew hours later. After half a day of repeating complicated dance steps on the rolling deck of a boat, he was exhausted. Crumpled and sweaty, he slumped between two barrels to stay out of the way of the crew.
Edmond took a seat beside him and shut his eyes. Not being able to see the pitching of the deck helped.
“Where did the time go?” Grew asked. “It seems like only yesterday we were fighting skeletons and dragons in a dungeon. Now you have an adult child.”
“And you’re the greatest magician in the world.”
Grew flapped one arm. “Stop that. I can hear the disbelief in your voice.”
Edmond opened his eyes and saw Grew grinning.
“We’re not dead yet,” Edmond said. “You could start a family of your own.”
Grew shook his head. “ I’m an uncle many times over. None of my brothers can devote themselves to magic like I can.”
“It is a choice. Children have a way of becoming more important…” Edmond looked toward the bow where Daffodil stared out at the dark sea ahead.
“Your wife’s incredible,” Grew said. “You know, way back in that dungeon, if she’d asked me to go with her instead of you, I would.”
Edmond chuckled. “You’d have torn each other apart in days.”
“A fun few days, though.”
“I don’t know what’s happening between us. When we first married, our love was like a roaring inferno. Now, I doubt there’s enough spark to warm a spider.”
“If there’s still a spark, there’s hope,” Grew said. “You have to work out how to fan it. An ember can become an inferno, given the right circumstances and time. Of course, it helps if you’re the world’s greatest fire mage.”
Edmond smiled absently, thoughts already back with his shelves of books and the kingdom that had paid for them.
“If you’ll excuse me.” Grew pulled himself up on a barrel. “I need to cast another spell. The captain said once the stars were up, he could use an arrow to get a fix; then, I can sleep. You should as well; we don’t know what we’ll face when we reach land.”
Edmond watched Grew for a moment, then went below decks to the hammock put aside for him.
* * *
Next morning, Edmond kept down a breakfast of hard tack and oranges.
Daffodil was already at the bow. He had a vague recollection of her clambering into the hammock beside his, so she must have woken before him. He walked over and sat beside her, his hand reaching out to squeeze her arm. She d
idn’t react, her gaze on the endless horizon ahead of them.
“You think I wouldn’t give up a kingdom for you?” Edmond asked.
If it weren’t for her breathing, Daffodil could have been mistaken for a very detailed figurehead.
“I would, in a heartbeat,” Edmond said. “You and Peony are what’s most important. My books, my studies, have always been second to that.”
From the stiffening of Daffodil’s shoulders, he realised that had been the wrong thing to say. Even he could hear the false note in the words. “I accept that’s not true. But it should have been. I’ve been studying magic for years, instead of paying attention to how unhappy you were. I even ignored how unhappy it was making Peony. I love my studies, but they shouldn’t be more important than your happiness. Sorry.”
Finally she turned, but there were no tears in her eyes. Instead, she nodded. “Thank you for apologising. Do you know what I’ve been thinking about, sitting up here?”
“Our daughter?”
“No, us. I was going to ask for a divorce. I was going to give you the kingdom and leave.”
“And you’re not going to now?”
“I appreciate you saying sorry, but I don’t know if there’s anything left any more.”
“If there’s a spark, it’s enough… if you work at it. A wise man told me that.”
“We’ll see. Let’s get our daughter back first.”
Edmond put his arms around Daffodil. After a moment, she hugged him back.
* * *
Next day, they spotted Oteon. The southern continent seemed so foreign, with vibrant green trees hugging the pale rock of its shores. Although, the scholars Edmond knew who’d been there all spoke of how strange it was; so maybe it was more than the effect of crossing an ocean.
The captain followed Grew’s arrows along the coast and into the mouth of a wide river. Edmond knew there had to be a town or even a city nearby. Humans always built their towns near the mouths of rivers; deep enough for ships to approach for trade, far enough upstream to defend them. Judging from the smoke he saw drifting up, the settlement was sizeable.
Sure enough, when they rounded a bend in the river, he saw a town ahead of them. But a town in flames, the smoke he’d see spiralling was from the collapsing remains of buildings.
He sprinted to the bow, mind filled with images of Peony in trouble, under attack, or dead in the street.
“Get to shore,” Daffodil ordered, bouncing on her toes. “We’ll go in on foot.”
The crackle of flames and scent of char filled the air as the captain and crew turned the boat hard into the shore. Daffodil leapt down the gangplank the moment it touched the bank, Edmond only a step behind.
The bank rose to a narrow pasture, a well-worn road marking the far side. Despite being close enough to feel the heat, Edmond couldn’t see or hear any townspeople. They might have already fled, but the lack of fallen possessions along the road suggested not.
Daffodil led the way, pulling out her battle axe. He drew his own sword, surprised with how comfortable it felt. It had been years since he’d last drawn it in anything more than reminiscence. Grew, meanwhile, shuffled from side-to-side as they walked, preparing a spell.
Edmond glanced in the windows of the first houses. Each was tidy inside. Nothing had been ransacked: as if whoever set them alight hadn’t cared about money or possessions; had only cared about destroying the town. The picture that painted of the attackers wasn’t encouraging, but he kept it to himself. Daffodil didn’t need to hear about the shrinking chance their daughter was alive.
The road ended in a large square. The piles of bodies clustered around the centre revealed why there hadn’t been any people fleeing. From the way the bodies lay, whoever had done it had cut off every exit in a methodical manner.
“Holy hand-baskets,” Grew said. “There are hundreds of bodies. It must be the whole town.”
Edmond’s eyes flicked over each terror-stricken, lifeless face. All the heads were darker, their hair closer to black than blonde; none of them had his daughter’s light locks.
“She’s not here,” Daffodil said, her voice awash with relief.
“That’s probably why they’re all dead,” Edmond said. “She was the sacrifice, and they failed to make it.”
“Sacrifice?” Daffodil asked.
“She escaped, somehow. Otherwise, the rest of them would still be alive.”
“Then they should be happy,” Daffodil said. “They wouldn’t have died as easily at my hands, if they’d sacrificed my daughter.”
“It’s never the whole town,” Edmond said. “Someone always escapes. We have to find them.”
She nodded. “Where?”
“This was systematic,” Edmond said. “They won’t have let anyone slip past them. We need to go wherever the houses aren’t burning.”
They turned on the spot, eyes straining. However, burning houses and rising smoke blocked all sight of the rest of the town.
“Give me a moment.” Grew moved to the edge of the square and danced. This time, his dance was almost like the water dance he’d done before, only with reaching for objects that weren’t there and greater emotion on his face.
A scholar to the core, Edmond assessed it as less artistic than the water dance, and less energetic than earth dance; and altogether too flappy for his taste.
As Grew completed the dance, he rose into the air. Edmond blinked and stared as his friend hovered as high as the rooftops. Grew turned, then pointed to the south. “On the other side of the river.”
Daffodil took off, with Edmond close behind. The smoke and sparks thinned as they reached the river. Lungs heaving from the cloying air, the sprinted along the embankment toward a wide bridge. The flames were lower, and the damage less. Edmond realised some of the houses here had only recently been set alight.
Pounding off the far side of the bridge, he heard voices raised in anger nearby. He tried to grab Daffodil, but he was too slow. Around the next corner, twenty warriors dressed in rough, peasant clothes dyed purple clustered in a square. Each had a sword in their hand. In the centre, a man wearing a long coat and holding a musical pipe in his hand, harangued the men for not finding the prize.
Their surprise at seeing Edmond and Daffodil was only momentary. With a roar, they turned and charged.
Daffodil answered their cry with a shriek of battle. Half the warrior’s faces turned from anger to shock. Beasts fifty times their size had trembled at Daffodil’s shriek.
Just good enough at massed combat to have her back, Edmond followed her forward. With that many opponents, they’d try to work their way around her—those that survived long enough to make the attempt, at least.
Daffodil cut men down like tall grass, sending long streams of blood flying in all directions. Fear dawned on the faces of the men that survived the first onslaught. The couple that had made it around her, fell to swift cuts from Edmond’s sword. When he looked to Daffodil again, the other men were sprawled across the cobbles.
The only figure still standing was the man in the long coat. Drawing a deep breath, he raised his pipe to his lips.
Then reeled in surprise as it caught fire in his hands. Edmond glanced back to see Grew completing a simple dance behind him.
Edmond stepped forward before Daffodil could cut the man down. “Who are you?”
“I’m Orped the Piper. You may kill me, but I am many. My master has copied me into a dozen bodies, allowing me to become eternal.”
“This particular body isn’t eternal, though,” Edmond said. “Is it?”
Orped drew himself up and raised his chin, but one eye twitched. “No.”
“Then tell us what we want to know,” Edmond said.
“And you’ll let me live?”
“No. But I’ll finish you quickly. Refuse, and my wife will find out how much of that body isn’t eternal.”
Orped glanced at Daffodil, her axe still rigid despite the effort of battle. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“What happened here?” Edmond asked. “Why did you kill all these people?”
“They were supposed to fetch King Edmond of Green Moss for my master and failed. They fetched a young woman instead and couldn’t even hang on to her.”
“Who’s your master?” Edmond asked. “What does he want with King Edmond?”
“Imperatis Erud is my master.” Orped squared his shoulders. “The greatest mind mage in the world. He wanted me to gather the knowledge in King Edmond’s mind and deliver it to him.”
“Imperatis Erud?” Grew said. “Never heard of him.”
“The whole continent of Oteon trembles before him,” Orped said.
“Well, we’re not from Oteon,” Edmond said. “Where can we find him?”
“Far to the south. The Gaping Maw Mountains.” Orped’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because our daughter has fled,” Edmond said. “We want to find her; but if we can’t, we’ll eliminate the threat to her life.”
“But if the sacrifice was your daughter…?” Orped said.
“Then I’m King Edmond. Daffodil, I think we’ve gotten everything we’re going to out of this man.”
She stepped forward, cleaving Orped’s head off before the message to scream even reached his lungs. Wiping her axe on the fallen man’s cloak, she turned to Edmond. “We’re not going after Peony?”
“We are. But I can only think of two alternatives: either she escaped and went home, in which case we’re free to kill Imperatis; or she’s being pursued or been recaptured, in which case we have to kill Imperatis.”
“We can track her,” Grew said.
“We can.” Edmond said. “But she’s smart, she won’t run in a straight line, so tracking would take time. The threats to her are easier to find. We wipe out every piece of Imperatis’ forces from here to the Gaping Maw mountains.”
Daffodil considered for a moment. “Peony could be in trouble right now.”
“I know. But it’ll take us days to find her. I’m terrified of losing her, but this has the greatest chance of success. After all, we haven’t had to bail her out of trouble in years.”