Inkspice (The Mapweaver Chronicles Book 2)

by Kaitlin Bellamy

  “Aye,” said the couple in unison.

  “Do you promise to look after each other, in body and heart, while you walk this mortal realm?”

  “Aye,” they said.

  Those two promises were traditional to Fox. He’d grown up hearing them asked time and time again. While each one may have been phrased a bit differently, depending on who was performing the ceremony, the intention was always the same. Now, however, Fox added one more as inspiration struck him.

  “Though you may grow, learn, and change together, do you promise to remember who you were when you first fell in love, no matter where the road takes you?

  “Aye,” they answered solemnly.

  Fox tied the final piece, and proclaimed loudly, “May their tale live on in legend and song!”

  “Legend and song!” echoed the whole crowd. And, as Neil and Gully kissed lovingly over their bound hands, Wanderlust erupted all around them as song broke out from every corner. Lights flared as the wind raced through the valley and made the flames sputter in their lanterns. Dancing broke out at once, and Neil and Gully were immediately swept into the crowd. Food and drink were enthusiastically thrust upon them, though tradition dictated that they leave their hands tied as they feasted. Fox watched them laugh at every spill and mishap until they were completely hidden by Shavid wishing them well.

  He mingled on his own for awhile, enjoying the atmosphere, though he felt discomforted in a way he couldn’t quite place. But it didn’t take him long to realize: he missed Lai. He missed home. This wedding, while beautiful, wasn’t the same as the springtime marriages in Thicca Valley. For the first time since leaving so many months ago, Fox wished he was back in the Highborn Mountains.

  “You know,” said a familiar voice behind him, “I never did get to apologize. For taking her away from you.”

  Fox shook his head, smirking as he turned to greet the newcomer. Farran had returned.

  ∞∞∞

  The pirate god was dressed simply. He wore a clean white shirt with billowing sleeves, and his hair hung loose to his shoulders, cascading in dark waves that seemed almost damp. His breeches were plain black to match his boots, and the only accent of color was a wide purple sash tied around his waist.

  They had adjourned to an abandoned stage at the far end of Wanderlust, but even here the echoes of the wedding celebration still reached them. The two sat on the edge of a wooden platform, listening to the sounds of distant music and laughter.

  “So, where have you been, then?” teased Fox. “I could have been dying for all you knew.”

  “Oh don’t be dramatic,” said Farran. “You stopped dying over a week ago. Besides, I had loose ends to tie up.”

  “Regarding Lai?”

  “In a way,” said Farran, shifting uncomfortably. “I meant what I said. I am sorry for what I did. Taking her from your memories ... it was all I could do at the time.”

  “I understand,” said Fox. When the god raised a disbelieving eyebrow, Fox insisted, “No, really I do. I was angry at first, when I woke up and remembered everything. But you were right, and I wasn’t ...” He cleared his throat. He hadn’t spoken to anyone directly about his newly realized feelings. “I didn’t know how I felt. Before. And now that I do, I’m sure you were right that I could have hurt her. You were just trying to protect her, like any father should have done.”

  “Well, it was a temporary fix, in any case,” said Farran. “My power has returned, thanks to you.”

  “To me?”

  “When my amulet broke,” said Farran, nodding at the new scars forming on Fox’s hand, “it released all the stored up power directly into me. It was never my intention for you to shatter it, I simply thought once you took it off —”

  “You knew that was all it would take to get you back to power?” said Fox incredulously.

  To his surprise, Farran was uncommonly serious when he responded. “You needed every bit of protection that amulet offered you. I would never have taken it away by force, nor asked you to remove it. When you were finished, and safe again, then I would take my fill of the stored magic.”

  Fox suddenly remembered the moment when Farran had given him the fox-shaped trinket. “Like a sieve,” he said, echoing Farran’s own words. “You said we’d figure out how to empty it when the time came. But you always knew, didn’t you?”

  The pirate god’s roguish attitude returned at once, and he winked. “The pains of being a clever god,” he said. “I often know quite a lot of things.”

  “Charming,” said Fox, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to put up with you, now that you’re back to normal.”

  “Well,” said Farran carefully, “as normal as you’ve ever known me to be. Not quite where I once was, however.” He seemed to be building to something, and Fox crossed his arms expectantly. “When I first came to you, I told you I had my reasons. I allied myself with you for a specific purpose. After what we’ve been though lately, I believe it’s time to pay your end of the bargain. You’re ready.”

  “Mind telling me what I’m ready for?” asked Fox. He found he wasn’t angry with the god. Instead, the familiar thrill of excitement and potential adventure was humming in his bones again, and he sat forward, waiting eagerly to hear what task Farran had in store for him next.

  “I told you once that I lost parts of myself when I fell in love with Lai’s mother, Adella,” said Farran. He sounded bitter and sad as he spoke, but with a tinge of something behind it. Hope, Fox realized. “Well, I was not being symbolic. There are parts of my very being that have gone missing. Along with hers. Tucked away in vaults I cannot reach alone. But you can.” He grew more and more eager as he continued. “There are places in the many realms that gods cannot see. They can be found on no map. Hidden places, built to be impossible to find, unless you know exactly where they are. Or,” he said, looking pointedly at Fox, “if you have just the right skills.”

  “You think my cartomancy is the secret to finding whatever it is you’ve lost?” asked Fox.

  “I would bet every jewel I have ever plundered that you are the only person who can.” Farran had never looked so certain of anything in all the time that Fox had known him. “To restore myself, and to recover Adella’s lost memories, I need someone like you. A mapweaver. A wayfinder.”

  There was almost pleading in Farran’s eyes now, and Fox met his gaze evenly. “If we find this place, Adella will remember that she has a daughter? She’ll remember Lai?”

  “It is one of my greatest hopes,” said Farran.

  The two looked at each other for a long moment. And then, Fox threw up his hand in salute. “Consider me on board. When do we start?”

  ∞∞∞

  Within a week, Radda’s company was packed and ready to leave Wanderlust behind. Most of the Shavid were already on their way, or about to be. Several of them adopted the Calibas refugees into their groups, either as Dervishes or just to escort them safely to a nearby city, where they could start fresh. Radda’s company took not only Gully, but her sister Wendy, their handmaid Norda, and Iness and Articus. They were bound for Sovesta at Farran and Fox’s request, and Radda promised they would stay in Thicca Valley as long as the wind would allow.

  What none of the Shavid knew, what Fox couldn’t bring himself to tell them, was that he would not be returning to the road with them. Not for now, at least. The wind was calling him elsewhere, urging him to go along with Farran. Whispering to him that it was right. Each time Fox tried to tell even one of them, his throat tightened, and his chest began to hurt. Other than his parents and the Blackroot family, Fox had never felt so close to any group of people before. They had become his closest friends, and his surrogate siblings and cousins. The thought of leaving them behind ached him in a way that kept him up at night.

  And so, Fox spent every moment of the journey collecting their stories. He learned new songs, and helped weave spectacular tales about all the adventures they’d just experienced. He spent time with each member o
f the party, and danced with Mindi whenever she asked. He held Aubrey’s new baby, a tiny and constantly squirming boy named Erran. He shared, in private, the notes about the World Seed with Neil, who eagerly read through them every opportunity he got. The two pored over the pages together every night at camp, and trained together each morning before dawn. And, more important than anything, Fox drew the maps of his travels with the company in excruciating detail. Hoping that, one day, he would find the Shavid along this path again, and be able to watch them from afar.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Thicca Valley

  With each day that they traveled closer to Sovesta, the weather grew colder. It started snowing almost every night, though the thin powder melted each day by noon. Fox directed the Shavid wagons through the safest routes, taking one of the horses up ahead on his own, acting as a scout. The animal seemed to pick up on his eagerness to be home, and snorted excitedly every time Fox took him out on the road.

  Soon, foothills stretched into mountains, and the Highborns rose up to greet them, ancient and imposing like a massive barricade, with Sovesta just on the other side. Home. Every part of Fox urged him to return, to sit by his parent’s fireplace, and listen to stories at the Five Sides. He longed to watch the Courter’s Contests, and take to the familiar hunting paths with Father. The desire for normal life in Thicca Valley grew so strong, in fact, that Fox began to worry. Surely other Shavid didn’t feel this way.

  “But we do,” said Darby when Fox finally confided in him one evening. The pair sat beside the company bonfire, wrapped in thick furs and hides as they ate their way through bowls of deliciously warm venison stew. “Especially those like you and I. Not all Shavid were born on the road. We have ties, and roots that are difficult to forget. Families that hear different calls, and even some who manage to settle down. And, for the Windkissed, it can be exceptionally difficult to truly leave your home behind.”

  “Does it get easier?” asked Fox, cupping his hands tighter around his bowl to warm them. “Feeling torn between your wandering spirit and your homesick heart?”

  “If it ever does,” said Darby earnestly, “I’ll let you know.”

  Fox hunkered down deeper into his warm furs, somewhat disappointed by Darby’s answer. It hadn’t been the one he wanted to hear. There was no comfort in the dwarf’s words, no promise of a simpler future where Fox wouldn’t want both lives – one at home with his family and Lai, and one roaming freely with the wind.

  They were now only four days from Thicca Valley, and Fox could feel his whole body humming with anxiety. Each breath brought him old familiar sensations, and when he closed his eyes, he could see the valley square. Hear the music in the Five Sides. He could feel the shadows of distant pine branches brushing against his cheek, as they often did when he was tracking prey through the woods. He found himself drawing detailed maps of the valley streets without thinking about it, and tracing the paths to the mines over and over in his books. Each time he did, any nearby Shavid said they could hear echoes of what Fox was sensing. They heard the miners’ songs reverberating through the mountains, punctuated and driven along by the rhythmic hammering of ore and stone. They could hear the goats on the foothills, and the messenger birds fluttering to and fro.

  Finally, on the eve of their arrival, Radda suggested something as they all sat around the fire. “Perhaps our young Cartomancer would like to tell us all a story,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  “You know that’s not really my area,” said Fox, but the other Shavid quickly began to agree with their leader.

  “You’re painting a picture with those maps every night anyway!” proclaimed Merrick eagerly. “Don’t just fiddle around, bring something to life!”

  “We know you can do it,” said Mindi with a smirk. “Darby told us all about how your maps leant him your power.”

  “Trust me,” grunted Darby, “you wouldn’t want the headache.”

  Radda chuckled, and leaned forward with his arms on his knees. “I think Fox can find a way around that. I’ve a funny feeling there’s more to his Blessing that he simply hasn’t tried yet.”

  Fox chewed his lip, wondering if it could work. He’d been thinking about his own magic quite a bit since Calibas. The things the wind had whispered to him ... he’d been in such a panicked rush in the moment that he’d only done what he could. Now, surrounded by people who believe in him and feeling perfectly safe, Fox’s own curiosity swelled, and he grinned back at Radda. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, standing and retrieving a bottle of ink from his things.

  The Shavid eagerly spread out at his instructions, forming a circle around a nearby patch of clean snow. As Fox stood at its center, the wind obediently brushed away any traces of footsteps, creating a crisp, natural canvas. Glancing up at Darby, who nodded his approval, Fox uncorked the bottle, and let three drops of ink fall to the snow. At once, they spread like a spider web, tracing a giant map with Fox at its heart.

  “This,” said Fox, spreading out his arms as the ink flowed and drew itself into every shape he silently commanded, “is Thicca Valley.” He pointed as the silhouettes of different buildings took shape in the snow around him. “The Five Sides Inn and Tavern. Lillywhite’s grain mill. The firestone jeweler’s.” The map expanded, snaking its way through people’s feet as they gasped and jumped out of the way, careful not to step on any of the lines. “The mines,” he said, pointing to a shape building behind where Neil and Gully stood. “Can you hear them singing?”

  The men’s voices filled the air in haunting perfection, and the Shavid audience gasped and applauded. “The forests where I hunted with my father, and the Desolata came for me and Neil.” Another patch of ink began to form, shaped in tree-like blobs that smelled of pine sap and ice. “Forests where wolves are our allies, and I learned the trade I always thought would follow me to my grave.” The howling chorus of a wolf pack answered as Fox spoke, mingling in eerie harmony with the mining song. And then, a reckless excitement filling Fox, he raised his hands, and the ink began to spread once more. Not out, across the snow, but upward. Creating small replicas of each building and landmark, filled with shadowed illusions of things happening in Thicca Valley right at this moment. “Welcome,” he said proudly, “to my home.”

  It was with faces painted in awe and wonder that the Shavid began to explore the small living map. Even Radda looked shaken as he watched a tiny smudge of color running through the fake valley streets, lighting the lamps. Fox was starting to shiver more now, trying hard to keep himself from being overwhelmed. Darby seemed to notice, and was immediately at his side.

  “Don’t let it get away from you,” the dwarf murmured low, so only Fox could hear. “You’re stronger than this magic. You control it, not the other way around.”

  Fox nodded, jaw set. “I’ve got it,” he promised. And then, putting every moment of focus he’d ever learned from Bartrum, Darby, and training with Neil to good use, Fox began to tell every story. He pointed out the people walking through the valley map, telling the Shavid all about their jobs, their courtships. The beautiful mundane of their everyday lives. His vision started to blur for a moment as all of the borrowed sensations and emotions tried to crowd in on him at once, but he forced it back, taking control of his own Blessing with sheer stubborn force.

  “That’s Picck,” said Fox, and the young man took clearer shape before James.

  “I remember him!” said James excitedly. “He was there during the battle with the Desolata.” And James began to tell his own story about Picck. About his heroism, and the memory of the baker’s valiant efforts to protect Radda and the other Shavid who had taken up arms in the Five Sides.

  “And my parents,” said Fox, watching with joy as they sat by the cabin fire, and silently calling to them that he would be home soon. And then, catching an all-too-familiar scent on the air, he whirled around and pointed once more. “And my best friend, Lai,” he said, grinning as her form solidified near the back door of the Five
Sides. He focused all his attentions on making her illusion even clearer, desperate to see what she was doing just at this moment. She was just arriving back at the tavern, and there was snow powdering her black hair. Her face was flushed, and her nose bright pink from the cold. Fox took a step closer, suddenly flooded with absolute warmth at the sight of her.

  “Her father, Borric, owns the Five Sides,” said Fox, watching as Lai laughed and spoke to someone he couldn’t see. “She was always my partner in childhood adventures, and she’s the best storyteller I’ve ever met. And that includes you sorry lot!”

  A series of mocking cheers and hoots rippled through the Shavid now, and Merrick shouted, “Well now we know why you’re so eager to get back home!”

  “Of course he is,” said Radda, laughing good-naturedly, “he’s got a fine lass waiting for him! How come you never told us?”

  “He obviously couldn’t handle the teasing,” said James, rushing to examine Lai’s ghostly form closer, and he whistled appreciatively. “Better act fast, Foxglove, or I’ll beat you to it! Or, if you’d prefer, we can duel for her affections!”

  But as Fox opened his mouth to retort, the image of Lai shifted. The person she’d been talking to came into clearer view as he swept her up in his arms and kissed her passionately. The smile fell from James’s face, and the watchers fell silent, all looking uncomfortably at Fox. He cleared his throat and tried laugh it off.

  “Looks like you’ll have to duel that one, I’m afraid,” he said with a half-hearted chuckle. He could feel his own magical hold slipping away quickly, and his body was starting to shiver uncontrollably. The map’s illusions were flickering like dying candles, and beginning to fade into ink once more. “In any case,” said Fox with a failed attempt at sounding jovial, “I told you I wasn’t a storyteller.”