by Jena Rey
He wanted her to stay. He tried to consider what that feeling meant, but was shaken from his thoughts as Tabor slapped him on the back. “It nears. We should all step back.”
The steamer grew in size as it cut a swath through the water, leaving a trail of rich grey smoke that floated over the wake behind it. As it drew closer, a sharp whistle cut through the air, a piercing warning call from the deck that warned folks to stay away from the edges of the docks where they might be in danger.
A chorus of voices rang out from the waiting docks. “Steamer incoming! Ahoy! Ready dockhands! Ropes ahoy! Prepare yourselves!” The call quickly raced through those waiting, echoed over and over.
At a set distance, a pair of whistles sounded, and a second sound cut through the air. A deep gurgling rumbled from the depths of the steamer and the ship lurched and bobbed as the water stopped traveling through the pipes. A trio of sails emblazoned with the skull and crossed hammers of Osephetin’s followers unfurled from the ship’s masts, catching the wind and giving the ship the momentum it needed to dock, but slowing it enough so it didn’t do any damage.
Darian always forgot how big the steamers were until he saw them close up. The sleek ship towered above them, the modified berth the only way it could get so close to the docks proper while making way for the deep bottom. Steamers only came fully to dock in a few ports where the sea floor fell off quickly and deeply. The sunlight glittered on the ship’s sealant, painting the steamer a dark, rich, red the color of drying blood. His father had told him the wood cured naturally to that coloration and the sealant oils were actually clear, but Darian suspected the wood was specifically chosen for the color. The sails snapped in the morning breeze and, for a moment, Darian was a child again, waiting for his mother to ride home on the stately steamers.
As the ship settled into place, the men aboard tossed down lines as thick as Darian’s wrists to the men waiting on the dock. The moment the ship was secured, openings in the rail were rotated to the side and large planks lowered, allowing for the offload of cargo and passengers. Above it all the grey smoke continued to billow, drifting off into the pale blue autumn sky.
Darian watched as the dock workers bent to their work and sighed. “It will be a few hours until they allow passengers to come aboard. We won’t be able to get near it while they’re unloading cargo.”
Ephema raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, watching as the cargo was moved from the ship. Some of the boxes were placed on planks and slid into the waiting arms of the men below. Other huge loads were lifted from the interior of the ship using an array of pulleys and ropes drifting through the air like oddly shaped birds. Sea birds would drop to the rails for a moment, pecking at the shining finish before flying away.
She tilted her head as a figure came to the top of the passenger way, though they didn’t disembark. The figure was armored and stood to one side, watching the same proceedings that they were. Ephema motioned at the person. “Is that a Knight?”
Tabor followed her finger to where she was pointing. “I think so, yes, though I cannot say who from this distance. It is not a surprise. It would be odd if we were the only ones going to the High Temple. Come, you two. Let’s go confirm our passage.”
“Welcome to the Waveskimmer.” The man, who had introduced himself as Captain Aham, bowed low, his deep brown eyes sweeping over the four people in front of him with a practiced eye. His skin was a heavy bronze color, pockmarked with many years of life on the sea, but he carried himself with the air of one who was in love with his work. “Two Knights for certain. I daresay you’re a Journeyman if I don’t miss my guess, and you, m’dear, are a mystery to me.” His eyes twinkled. “And I love me a good mystery. You have all booked proper passage south, I presume?”
“We have, indeed.” Tabor presented the writ he’d purchased from the harbor stall the day prior. Knights traveled cheaply on the steamers as a way to compensate the faith for the use of their priests, but they still had to pay for rations and their mounts. “Passage for the four of us and three war horses.”
“Ah, those are your lot in the loading stable, then. Right solid, those. They should weather the trip well.” He glanced at the writ. “A single cabin? I suppose if you insist, but we’ve space to spare this trip. The lass could probably stay with one of the other ladies aboard. We have two female Knights traveling with us and there are empty beds in their quarters.”
Ephema heard Darian suck in a quick breath, and she raised her eyebrows, not sure what was bothering him. “I have not been away from my friends much. I do not know what is right on a ship.” She glanced up at the large vessel, which they hadn’t boarded yet, fighting down the fluttering in her stomach. It would be okay.
“Journeyman Darian!” A loud voice interrupted her thoughts as a Knight shouted down at them from the top of the gangplank. She wore armor, though it was lighter than what Tabor and Ianel bore. Instead of thick plates of metal and bone it was created of overlapping scales of bone over leather with steel grommets. She carried a large staff that was a fusion of bone and metal. At either tip, a skull gracefully capped off the ends, and Ephema saw a faint blue essence wrapped down the length of the staff.
The woman wasn’t wearing a helmet, though one bounced at her hip. Her features were sharp, her greying blonde hair bound in a straight plait down her back. As she descended the gangplank, her attention was fully on Darian. “Journeyman Darian! I do believe I told you that I was not to see you again until you were prepared to take your oaths as a full Knight, was this not correct? Where is your Training Master?”
Darian dropped immediately to one knee with his head bowed and did not answer.
Tabor shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Hello, Knight Proctor Lauret. It’s nice to see you as well. To answer your question, something happened to the Journeyman’s caravan and, of course, we’d be happy to tell you about it, when the time is right, and we’re not standing on a dock waiting to board.”
Her head swiveled to the large Knight, and she snorted, looking between the Captain and the small party. “Fine. We will talk more later then. Captain, they are with me. I would appreciate it if you assigned them to my area. How many are in your party?”
Ianel cleared his throat, though he had a pinched look, and Ephema thought he was trying not to laugh. “Ah, four of us, ma’am.”
“Four. Good. Very good. Two Knights, a Journeyman and…you.” Her gaze came to rest on Ephema, and her features softened as she caught sight of Ephema’s concerned expression. “Goodness. You’re not a Knight at all. Oh dear, I’m sorry, I do apologize for my behavior! I did not expect to see these three here.”
Ephema glanced at Darian and the Knights, trying to urge someone else to speak before her gaze went back to the sharp woman. She wasn’t afraid of the Knight, but she didn’t know what to think of her either. “I…no.” She cleared her throat. “I am not a Knight. I am traveling with them though. They are my friends and have…” Her mind spun as she considered the right phrases, echoes of words she’d heard the Knights say. “Offered me protection in my travels.”
“Well of course they have.” She offered her hand to Ephema, palm upward. “We are Knights of Osephetin, after all. You travel with some fine company. Knights Tabor and Ianel are well known for being capable defenders, and my son is likely learning much from them, though last I heard he had been assigned to another trainer. These two do not train journeymen.”
Ephema looked at Lauret’s offered hand for a moment before extending her own. Her palm touched the Knight’s and a white spark jumped between them, sending a quick flash of heat up Ephema’s arm. “I have seen them fight the undead and the Sisters. They are very effective.” Her voice died off as she took in the rest of what the Knight had said. “You are his mother? But, I thought his family was in the city?”
“His sister and brother are.” The woman released Ephema’s hand. If she’d noticed the spark of power, she said nothing. “I find it very difficult to
stay in one spot for very long, not when there is work to be done in bringing peace to this world.” She smiled, and it took some of the harshness from her features. “I actually haven’t seen any of my family in over a year, so running into this knucklehead on the way home, though a complete surprise, is a pleasant one.”
“Does that mean I can stand up now?” Darian’s voice was quiet and respectful, but with a bemused undertone.
“I didn’t say that. I still don’t have answers to my questions surrounding your presence here.”
“Please?” Ephema shifted, her feet rubbing against the warming planks of the docks. If Lauret was upset with her son, it made sense to draw her attention to someone else. “I think we’re supposed to be getting on the ship.” She tried for a little smile, trying to figure out this woman before her. “I do not think Knight Tabor would be happy to carry him.”
Lauret snorted again and shook her head. “Perhaps not. Given you asked so nicely on his behalf, I can be patient.” Lauret looked down at her son. “Journeyman Darian, please stand and resume your duties guarding this lovely,” she paused for emphasis, “daughter, on her journey. Once we are away from dock, I would like to see all four of you in my quarters.”
Tabor nodded, nudging Darian who scrambled to his feet. “We will do that, Knight Proctor.”
The Captain, who had remained silent through most of the conversation, tucked the writ into his belt and gestured toward the long passenger plank. “After you.” He gave Ephema and the Knight Proctor a half bow.
Ephema’s stomach tightened, hearing the emphasis on the word daughter. The woman knew. She had to, or she wouldn’t have said that. But why would she know? And how?
She was a Knight. She was Darian’s mother. Why shouldn’t she know? Keeping the secret of her powers was so second nature to Ephema, the thought of someone guessing filled her with misgivings. She swallowed and nodded, deciding she wouldn’t know where to run even if she tried. It seemed that, again, the only way to go was forward. She stepped onto the wooden plank and made her way up into the ship.
Darian remained on deck for as long as he could, not because he was worried about what his mother would say to him, but because this was his favorite part of the journey. He loved the push away from land, watching it retreat in the distance as divine magic hummed through the ship, and the Eternal Flame replaced the wind in driving the ship over and through the waves.
Sea birds cried as the waves crashed behind them, and Eoth fell into the distance.
Once they were far enough away, a second burst of power flushed through the system, pushing more energy into the engine, and the steamer gained full speed. Darian faced into the wind with his eyes closed and smiled. This. This is what he’d missed. The wind from the ocean on his face, the smell of the sea, the brine. It brought back so many memories of his family and his father in particular, in a different time, and in a much smaller boat.
He felt more than heard a person come up behind him, though he did not turn around. Gently, a hand touched his shoulder. Knight Proctor Lauret’s voice was soft. “I figured I’d find you out here, Darian.”
“Yes.” He didn’t turn around, not yet. For a time, they stood side by side, until Darian spoke again. “I know we’ll see him again, but I can’t help but miss him.”
“I know.” Lauret moved beside Darian and leaned over the railing, looking down at the water. “Every time I go out on the water, I think about him. He’s out there, waiting patiently I’m sure, and will be there beside Osephetin once we’ve finished our journeys.”
After another few minutes of silence, Darian sighed. “Indeed. Enough of this. I’m sure you want to know what’s going on.”
“Of course, I do. I need your report.” She stood fully and turned away from the rail. “But I also wanted to make sure that my son was all right. I am allowed to worry, you know.” She frowned, her gaze darting over him. “And one question you’re going to have to answer now is where in the seven hells you’ve misplaced your armor. Here you are, wandering around with a Daughter of Lianna – yes, I know what she is, though I don’t know how it’s possible – and you don’t even have your Journeyman armor to protect yourself with!”
Darian made a face, chagrinned. “Those two things are connected. My armor was destroyed during the journey. It was weakened when my convoy was lost and ripped apart when we had a run in with the Sisters. Ephema was able to return my hide to one piece in both instances, but she can’t do anything for steel and leather.”
Lauret’s gaze sharpened. She looked him over again as though she could look through his clothing and spot any wounds he wasn’t telling her about. “I think I need to hear this story in order.” She gestured toward the interior of the ship and the berths they had all been assigned. “This way.”
Ephema did her best to stay out of the way, perching on a chair in the Knight Proctor’s quarters. The story of the fallen convoy, Darian’s arrival at her cave and the subsequent travel, first to Aserian, then Tallet, and Eoth, passed between the men almost seamlessly. She answered questions that were directly asked of her, but didn’t add much to the narrative otherwise. The Knight Proctor was intent in her questioning, and Ephema was just as happy not to be the subject of sharp questions, not to mention her head and stomach were spinning in time with the swaying ship. She hadn’t realized just how much the deck would rock beneath her feet.
The conversation fell quiet, and Ephema felt the weight of four pairs of eyes on her. It was obvious someone had asked a question, but she’d missed it. She blinked and rubbed a crease from her forehead. “What?”
Lauret sighed. “I said, you’re looking a bit green, my dear. Are you feeling alright?” She paused, glancing between Ephema and the men. “This is your first time on a ship, isn’t it?” It was a statement, not a question, realization spreading across her face.
Ephema nodded, but slowly. She was afraid to move her head too fast. “I think I do not like sailing.” She rolled her shoulders to try to loosen the tension in her muscles. “There is always an earthquake beneath my feet.”
“I suppose neither the Knights nor my son warned you that it takes time for your body to adjust to being on the sea. In a day or two, you’ll hardly notice the movement anymore.” She glared at the men and rose, crossing the room to dig through a chest which was chained to the floor.
She pulled a small bag out of the chest and brought it to Ephema. “Here. This is ginger root. It has a very unique taste. If you chew on small pieces of it, it will help with your seasickness. Keep it on hand. It’ll help.”
Ephema tilted her head, regretting the movement immediately. “It’s not their fault.” She muttered before looking at the root Lauret offered. She knew a lot about roots and herbs, but this one looked different from the ones she was familiar with. She took it and rubbed her fingers against the papery skin. It came away at her touch, and she smelled the root underneath cautiously. Even the smell was soothing, and she nodded her thanks before nibbling on the end of the ginger. It was an odd flavor, burning inside of her mouth, but it made her stomach hold still.
Tabor ran his fingers along the head of his maul, then cleared his throat. “There is one thing we’ve not spoken of, and I think now is the time. Ephema, when we were at the inn you had a dream, or a vision, of some kind. I think you should tell us whatever you can.”
Ephema frowned, and Tabor held up a hand before she could voice her protest. “I know you said it was hard to remember, but that was when it was new and when it was just us. Knight Proctor Lauret has experience with visions, and she may be able to help draw the memory to the surface of your mind. You would not have been sent a vision if it was not important that we know about it.”
Lauret sat down beside Ephema, taking one of Ephema’s hands into both of hers. “All you need to do is let your mind drift. Then just say whatever comes to mind, whatever you remember, even the smallest of details. Don’t try to force it into an order or make sense of it. Just talk it through.”
Ephema’s frown eased as she focused on Lauret and her instructions. For all that the woman was sharp and intimidating, there was another, softer, side to her that reminded Ephema of her mother. There was confidence in Lauret’s gaze that said everything would be all right and that helped Ephema relax. She was beginning to understand where Darian’s empathy came from. With a sigh, Ephema closed her eyes and cast her memory back to the night at the inn. She forced herself to explore the feeling of lying on the bed and thought about the bright glow of the moon on her skin. She shuddered.
Her lips moved, and she whispered. “I saw my parents. When they died. How they died. Black ships coming across the water. Men in black armor, twisted armor that bled. Broken towns, burning. Death. Bishop Lisse hanging from the spire of the Temple. Sisters in the ruins of Eoth eating the fallen.” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. The thump of her heartbeat was loud and too fast in her ears, fear flooding through her body and making her tremble. “A flag. Black with red swords beneath a strange crown. The doors to the Temple are closed. The Knights are fallen.” Tears touched her cheeks, and she jerked her hand away from Lauret as she leaned away from the Knight. “I…I can’t. I don’t want to remember anymore.”
The room was silent as the Knights watched Lauret’s reaction to the vision, but she simply studied Ephema’s face, her expression neutral. Tabor frowned, crossing to stand at Ephema’s side as though he thought she needed protection from the Knight Proctor. “Lauret, is everything all right?”
Lauret did not look at Tabor as she said, “That, good Knight, depends on quite a lot of things.” She patted Ephema’s knee and stood with a determined look. “Give me a moment.” She spun on her heel and strode out of the room.
Darian brought a small mug of water to Ephema, holding it until she stopped shaking enough to take it from his hands. “I don’t know where she went, but she’s always this way. She’ll be back and explain, umm, something. I’m sure.”