by C B Samet
“Mother Moon! How’d you do that?” Corky marveled.
I worked to subdue the fish. “I have an imaginary friend.”
“I prefer the title Prince of Darkness. I’d also accept Man of Your Dreams.” Mal leaned against the mast.
Corky held the fish as I ended its suffering. “Mal’s the one who healed you on Porter’s ship?”
“Yes.”
“Is he always with you?”
“Mostly. Aside from his brother and a few others, I’m the only one who can see and hear him.”
“And what crime did he commit that his existence is confined to you?”
“Very funny.”
“I like this young man.” Mal’s eyes sparkled.
“I’ll tell you the story of Malos.” I handed Corky the knife. “But first, you filet dinner while Baird and I row.”
I took the oar and set to smooth, methodical motions.
In a deep baritone, Baird sang a ballad as he rowed.
My lady of the sea,
My lady of the shore.
Between the two is me,
But which is my savior?
One lady calls b’neath the moons,
One lady calls by the fire.
I love the sea that croons,
I love the flesh in the shire.
I’m torn ‘tween the urge to roam
And the desperate call of home,
My life adrift is incomplete,
My life confined is bittersweet.
After we ate the fish Corky had skinned and deboned, Baird managed the sails. Corky pulled out the schematics of the castle I’d drawn for him while we were on the island.
“I think I’ve got it memorized. And you said the vault is opened with a single key?” he asked.
“Yes. And it’s seven centimeters of thick stone.”
“Why don’t you just walk through it like you did your cage on the boat?”
“It took ten minutes of meditation to turn transparent. At that time I was only walking through centimeter bars. When Porter Stout discovered me in his chambers, my concentration was immediately shattered—and with it, my invisibility. I can’t take the chance that I lose focus and become one with the vault doors. Besides, if I can’t see through it, I don’t know that I can even cross the threshold.”
“Okay. Okay. I understand.” He scrubbed a hand through his curly blond locks. “Why do you need this artifact again?”
“It has the power of seven Che stones, but only Mal can control it.”
“So, why doesn’t he steal it?”
“He can’t touch anything,” I said.
“So how can he control it?”
“Through me. The same way he merged with me to heal me, Mal will merge with me and we can use the scepter.”
“Okay. Help me understand. If he didn’t need the power of the scepter in your hands to heal you, why does he need it now?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “We need to harness much more power than Mal harnessed to heal me. Enough to fight a war. We think if I have the scepter and he merges with me, he’ll have full use of all the stones.”
“We think? And we trust this spirit with all that power?” Corky rubbed his temples.
I leveled my gaze at Corky. “I trust Mal implicitly. And, yes, we think. This is an educated guess, but I believe it’ll work.”
“In that case, once you get your hands on the scepter, why not kill the King then? You and Baird talk as though you’re planning some epic battle, united with Kovians and giants. Seems you could skip that part if you’re already in the castle with the weapon.”
I tried to appreciate Corky’s questioning as constructive criticism and not excessive negativism, but I grew frustrated. “I can’t start experimenting with the thing in the middle of a fight. I think it will work, but I’ve never tried it. If I start throwing around power, as soon as it’s in my hands without practicing first I could do more harm than good.” I pointed to the vault on the map. “We go in. We steal the scepter. We get out and fight another day.”
He picked his teeth with a fishbone. “I’ll get you inside. Getting out may be more difficult.”
“Get me in. I’ll get us out.”
We arrived in Waterton to the gaping stares of a fisherman and sailors—locals who probably wondered where we’d come from and how far that journey had been. We were dehydrated, and sunburned, and happy to have arrived safely.
The dirty docks and smell of three day-old fish on the pier gave me a wonderfully warm welcome. We’d arrived at Crithos. We were home.
Bellosian soldiers, with their maroon tunics, patrolled far down the docks where King Artemis had parked his massive ships. The soldiers walked patrol. The city was under guard. I wondered if they knew to look out for blue-eyed Crithians, or if the Bellosian King would take precautions that we may have survived the storm and taken Porter’s ship hostage. If that were the case, we would have arrived in a much larger boat, rather than a custom-built ocean canoe. Nevertheless, we needed to employ caution.
We found an unoccupied dock near some weather-beaten fishing boats, where we tied off the ocean canoe. When my feet hit the solid immobile dock, I felt unsteady.
We sold our ocean canoe to a fisherman who seemed intrigued by its design. I think he bought it more for the novelty than the practicality, as it wouldn’t make a great commercial fishing boat.
We immediately walked to the market where we purchased hooded cloaks for Baird and I and a tunic for Corky to cover our weather-worn clothes. I overpaid for the apparel, but we needed to blend in and not look as though we’d just sailed across the ocean. The cloaks had hoods, which would be vital because our blue eyes were the most important thing to keep hidden. After dressing, I cinched my belt and tucked the dagger at my waist. The dagger had saved my life, and I vowed to never travel without it.
At our next stop, we purchased food and fresh water. We traded a few pearls my mother had given me in exchange for perishables.
“We’ve just traveled up from Ntajid and noticed the fine new ships at dock and oddly dressed soldiers. Has Crithos new visitors?” Baird asked the shopkeeper.
The merchant glanced around warily. “Invaders.” His tone was hushed and his eyes wide. “The Bellosians invaded. They take whatever they want. Half the city has fled, but some of us need to try to make a livin’. Best get out while you can.”
“Can we take the train to leave?” Baird slid the flasks of water and wrapped sandwiches to Corky and I as he talked.
The man shook his head emphatically. “They’ve seized the trains. They’re usin’ ’em to take soldiers to Marrington. No one’s heard what’s happened there, but it can’t be good. There’s more soldiers than bait fits in a giant tin can.”
“Thank you. Perhaps we’ll try to flee south on horseback.”
We weren’t going south. We would travel east to Marrington, but Baird wouldn’t want the merchant knowing any valuable information about us.
“If you do, stay off the main roads. They’re robbin’ everybody.”
“Noted. Thank you.”
We ate on the boardwalk as we walked to a clothing vendor. We continued to walk through town, passing vendors and soldiers. We kept our heads down, which is apparently what the soldiers thought Crithians ought to do toward them. I wondered what propaganda King Artemis Stout had brainwashed them with to convince them that invading another country was necessary.
We made a few last stops—a blacksmith, where Corky purchased small tools for lock picking, and an apothecary whose secretive black-market business involved selling venom of the Black Marsh Adder.
The storefront was dark and didn’t look open, but the door was unlocked. The shelves had been ransacked.
“Abigail?” The old man startled when he saw me.
“Sig.” I clasped his hand. I grimaced at the sight of his swollen joints. His arthritis had progressed without Joshua to heal him intermittently. My late husband often visited this store to get supplies for hi
s clinic in Oxville. I visited for the paralytic venom that helped me chemically restrain people who needed to be kept from harming others.
“How are the children?”
“Well—and in hiding.”
He nodded. “As they should be.”
“Are you injured?”
He shook his head as he leaned his kyphotic torso on a thick, oak cane. “As you can see, they took most of my supplies.” He motioned to his disheveled store.
“I wish I could have stopped them.”
“Even you can’t take on an army. They’ve these weapons.” He shook his fist in the air.
“Pistols. Yes, I know. Is Penelope okay?”
“Yes, yes. She’s fine. Good of you to ask.” He turned his head from me to Baird to Corky. “What’s it you’re planning?”
“Nothing I can share with you. In fact, I wasn’t here.”
“Understood. What do you need?”
“The usual.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure nonlethal paralysis is the right attack platform against these Mugliks?”
“I assure you, Sig. The nonlethal is for stealth purposes. There’ll be no resolving the invasion without lethal methods.”
He gave me a crooked tooth smile before ambling to the back of his store for his hidden stash.
When we had all of our supplies, we made our way discretely through alleys to the outskirts of Waterton—where we found rooms in an inn. The next day, we’d need to buy supplies and horses, but for now we needed rest out of the windblown sea and beating sun.
We needed to stay off the main trade routes and take the back roads to Marrington. We still had three days travel to the castle, if we could secure horses.
I reached my room and delighted in my own space, my own soft bed, and my own pillow all to myself for one glorious night. I bathed in cool, clear, unsalinated water. I dressed in newly-purchased cotton clothing and lay down in bed to sleep. I stared at the ceiling, still feeling the rocking ocean and hearing the roll of waves in my ears. I knew those sensations would subside over the next few days, the longer we spent on solid ground.
Mal materialized beside me, quietly resting on his back with his hands folded over his abdomen, staring up at the ceiling with me. I found his presence calming and not at all intrusive. "We made it."
"So you did.”
“I couldn't have done any of this without you.”
“That's what friends are for.”
I wanted to tell him how much more than a friend he was to me. I wanted to reciprocate the feelings he’d expressed for me, but I didn't know the words, or the larger implication of making my feelings known. Instead, I slipped into a deep sleep.
33
MALAKAI
During Abigail’s long days of ocean faring, I’d taken time to intermittently check on the status of everyone’s travel.
Paul enjoyed the time of his life. He rode Phobus during the day and slept with the family wolf, Fury, at night. Cook Mo kept him fed, and Raven scouted their route to keep him out of danger. Paul assured me there were no further signs of the dark wizard, but whispers of this creature traveling the continent and leaving bodies in his wake were in every town where they stopped.
Rebekah spent her days gardening, swimming, and playing—without pining for the return of her mother. She may start to miss her in the passing days, but for now she remained content in the home of her loving grandparents.
I checked on Orrick at the castle, where Bellosian forces were invading. Soldiers had swiftly overtaken the peaceful trade port of Waterton and advanced by horse and rail to Marrington.
Goran Foal and his one hundred soldiers from Kovia had crossed their continent and reached Meredith, on the Crithian eastern border.
Lastly, I checked on the progress of Arturo and the Hunju. From a floating aerial view, I could see that the giants had passed through the Optato desert and continued north to Marrington.
“They’re so big,” Snake Eyes gasped.
“Yes, they are. You should’ve seen the civil war. Giants fighting giants—and among them, tiny, mighty Abigail vanishing and reappearing as she struck them down. She turned the tide of the war.”
“Think she’ll turn the tide of this war?”
“Oh, yes. If we can activate the scepter together, we can win this battle. Not alone, mind you. Bellosian weapons are advanced. But with the teams Abigail has assembled, we can win.”
“What if you can’t activate the scepter?”
“Then we’ll all be praying to the Unideit for help.”
The night at the inn, I had a few tranquil moments alone with Abigail. It reminded me of our time together on the beach—right up until the moment she crashed into an exhausted sleep. And she would be tired after days of ocean travel. My visions of kissing her again would probably have to wait until after the fight. After all, if we couldn’t have fleeting moments of bliss—holding hands with Abigail, or making rainbows for Rebekah, and anticipating many more—what was the point of fighting for freedom?
The next day Abigail and her crew found no horses for sale. They’d all been confiscated by King Artemis’ men. There were no wagon-pulling oxen to be had either. They were on foot, but perhaps that made traveling off-road faster.
Abigail rolled all of her supplies in her cloak and secured it to her back. The only thing easily accessible was her water and her dagger. Baird did the same.
“What’s the plan?” Corky asked. He followed suit while securing his supplies.
“We run,” Abigail said.
“Run?”
“One foot in front of the other at a fast pace.”
He glared at her.
“You’re the youngest,” she added. “Are you afraid we might outrun you?”
He snugged his pack tighter. “Of course not.”
They jogged through forest, and meadow, and field during the day, and slept restlessly at night. Abigail let me merge with her as she slept to keep her from shivering through the night. One evening, they fortuned upon an abandoned farmhouse and enjoyed a night out of the cold, but the other three nights were difficult for them.
At last, they arrived at the shullby field south of Marrington castle at midday. I could tell by Abigail’s forlorn expression that the ball field reminded her of her late husband, who’d played the sport in college.
Coco emerged from behind one of the supply buildings.
“Coco!” Abigail rushed to her and wrapped her arms around the woman.
Coco’s face registered shock. I didn’t think they’d ever hugged in the many years they’d been friends. After a moment, Coco relaxed into the embrace and may have even enjoyed it.
Abigail pulled away but grasped the captain’s shoulders. “I thought you weren’t going to leave.”
“My soldiers wouldn’t leave without me. It was the only way to save them. Minister Tarik will probably claim we deserted them, but maybe he’ll change his tune after he’s rescued.”
“Why didn’t he leave with you?”
“He claimed his established relationship with the King would result in favorable negotiations.”
Abigail grunted.
Baird interrupted and stepped in to hug Coco. Their embrace was longer, more intimate, and followed by a long kiss.
I looked at Abigail. Would that I could give her a kiss like that. She glanced at me and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. I had a suspicion her thoughts mimicked my own.
Corky stared at the ground.
When Baird and Coco finally broke apart, she asked, “What’s the plan?”
Baird first introduced her to Corky.
“The plan is: Tomorrow, we steal the scepter. Then, rest. Then, attack,” Abigail said.
Coco cocked her head to one side. “I’m going to need more details than that.”
“Who’s arrived so far?”
“I’ve three hundred men. Goran brought a little over a hundred. We haven’t seen the giants, yet.”
“They’ll be h
ere,” I assured Abigail.
“Give us an hour of rest and food and then we’ll convene—you, me, Baird, and Goran.”
Corky crossed his arms. “I don’t get to be part of this conversation?”
“Are you planning to put on amour and fight the war?”
Corky took a step back and shook his head.
“No, you’re not. You’re here to help me steal the scepter, probably confiscate a little silver for yourself, and be on your way. You don’t need to hear battle strategy.”
His ears turned red at Abigail’s words, but he didn’t refute them.
Coco took Baird’s hand and led him toward the field. “Let’s get you all some rest.”
When they reached the shullby field, tents spread out from one end to the other. Goran rushed from amongst his soldiers and embraced Abigail. “Thank Mother Moon you’re safe.”
She made the hug brief and turned to introduce him to Corky. Goran shook his hand. He then shook Baird’s hand in a greeting that suggested they knew one another. I wondered if that had happened while I was gone.
“We’ll get you food and water,” the broad-shouldered Kovian said.
“We need recuperation, and we need to talk battle strategy.”
Goran motioned some of his men over to him. “Abigail Cross and her company need separate lodging. They need food and water.”
His men nodded and divided the tasks.
Goran turned back to Abigail and placed a hand on her shoulder. “The monks have arrived here as well. You’ve been busy visiting many people and planning.” He lowered his voice. “Two weeks passed and you never returned to visit me. I thought you were dead. We arrived to find the castle under siege. Not until we encountered Coco and her men did I have some news of you.”
“I’m sorry. I should have visited. There was so much planning that I lost track.”
He hugged her again—a thing he seemed entirely too entitled to do.
I walked away, thinking perhaps checking on the status of things in the castle would be a better use of my time.