Ambassador (Conqueror of Isles Book 1)

by Stephen L. Hadley

  “Don’t worry,” she teased. Lifting empty hands, she tucked her hair back to uncover her ears. “I’m no elf. See?”

  “You startled me.”

  “So I noticed.” Leaning to stare past him, she eyed Luka until the man rounded a corner. “Who was that?”

  “Luka, er, Sheriff Vaalen,” he said. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he remembered Luka’s warning and felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. “He came to wish me a safe journey.”

  “Did he now?” Though he had only a bit of moonlight by which to observe her, Elias saw the corner of Kyra’s mouth curl. “Well, it won’t be much of a journey if David leaves without us. He sent me to get you. They’re about to weigh anchor.”

  “Ah.”

  It wasn’t the most articulate reply he’d ever made, but Kyra didn’t seem to notice. Taking him by the elbow, she steered him down the pier and toward the Dark Dawn.

  In sharp contrast to the previous day, their path was entirely unobstructed. Only a handful of men remained below, tying the knots required to haul Elias’ trunk aboard. They glanced at him as he neared, far longer and more purposefully at Kyra, and then one nodded to a column of small, difficult-to-see rungs laid into the bowed hull of the vessel.

  Elias eyed them warily. Kyra, however, displayed none of his reticence. Laughing under her breath—at him, probably—she leapt toward the gently rocking hull, effortlessly caught ahold, and scrambled up the makeshift ladder as though she’d been doing it all her life.

  Shaking his head, Elias followed suit. Though he couldn’t claim to share her nimbleness, he at least managed to avoid any lubberly gaffes.

  Finding his feet on deck, he spotted Avans at once. The captain strolled toward them with the smooth, comfortable gait of a man cognizant of his own authority, accompanied by an equally certain man bearing an enclosed oil lamp. Noticing his gaze, Avans grinned and offered a playful salute.

  “Ambassador,” he rumbled in greeting. Glancing over as the men steered Elias’ trunk, he nodded in satisfaction. “Ah, good. I take it that’s everything then?”

  “It should be,” Elias said. He eyed Kyra, who nodded as well.

  “My things are already in the cabin,” she explained.

  Avans didn’t even acknowledge her. Instead, he gestured to the man with the lantern. “This is Raltson, my lieutenant. If you need anything, he’ll see to it.”

  Raltson nodded to Elias and, unlike his captain, to Kyra as well. Shifting his lantern, he squinted up at the sky.

  “It’s about time, sir,” he said. There was an odd hoarseness to his voice that made Elias’ eyes begin to water. “Shall I give the order?”

  “Aye, go ahead,” Avans said.

  Raltson turned slightly, but the gesture did little to soften his roar. “Weigh anchor!” he bellowed. “All hands, let’s get this beautiful bitch under way!”

  Smiling indulgently, Avans waited until the lieutenant had stalked away to shrug.

  “He’s an odd one, I’ll grant you,” he said. “But I’ve never met another man better suited to a life at sea. I dare say he could outswim Lanin, itself.”

  Even without looking at her, Elias could sense the retort on Kyra’s lips and so preempted her with a chuckle. “I don’t doubt it,” he said. “Not that we’d dare second-guess any of your crew.”

  “Glad to hear it. They’re fine men, one and all,” Avans said, loud enough to be easily overheard. “Especially Old Cook. Have you eaten? It’s not quite four bells yet, but I’m sure the galley will have something left over.”

  Elias was about to decline, but this time it was Kyra who answered for him. “We’re starving,” she answered.

  Even without the light of Raltson’s lantern, it was easy to spot Avans’ grimace. Fortunately, as the Dark Dawn’s anchor began to retract with a terrible shriek of rusted iron chains and the deck shifted noticeably underfoot, the man’s hospitality won out.

  “Very well,” he said. “Follow me.”

  ***

  Old Cook, as it turned out, was nowhere near as aged as Elias expected. The name had called to mind images of a grizzled old seadog with weathered skin and dubious qualifications. Instead, the aproned man who politely welcomed them into the cramped mess could not have been a day over thirty.

  Taken aback, he glanced at Avans and found the man’s eyes brimming with laughter. And since he knew it was expected of him, he quirked a brow and asked mildly, “Old Cook? Really?”

  “As opposed to Young Cook,” Avans explained. Taking a seat at the unnaturally narrow table that still managed to fill nearly two thirds of the room, he watched Old Cook until the man disappeared into the adjoining galley. “Robert here joined up same day as his brother, Jonn. This one’s not even a year older, but we needed some way of telling them apart.”

  “And I assume calling them by their given names was out of the question?” Kyra asked. Grimacing distastefully, she picked at a palm-sized spot of crusted food on the table before her. Then, when her nail failed to do the job, she rose and moved to a new seat on Elias’ other side.

  “Quite,” Avans said humorlessly, once she’d rejoined them. Folding his hands in front of him, he turned to Elias. “So, Eli. About this mission of yours. I’m not certain it’s a good idea.”

  “So you’ve said,” he replied. “Though, if you’re having second thoughts, you probably should have mentioned them before we set sail.”

  “Technically, we still haven’t—the tide is doing all the work. But you misunderstand. I’m not talking about your destination—you and I both know that’s a fool’s errand. I mean this whole sailing into elven territory business. The way I see it, setting you adrift in a cutter is the worst possible thing I could do.”

  “I thought you weren’t willing to risk your ship?”

  Avans was silent for a moment. A sudden clatter startled him and he glanced at the galley but Old Cook did not reappear. After a moment, he sighed and turned back to study his hands.

  “I’m not,” he said. “But I’m not willing to risk a friend, either. If you arrive, rowing yourself to shore in a dingy cutter, there’s not an elf in the Isles that would take you seriously as an ambassador. You’d be lucky if they killed you outright.”

  “Then what are you proposing?”

  Once again, Avans was quiet for a long time before answering.

  “I suggest we put ashore at one of the smaller elven settlements along the south shore. They aren’t keen on our kind—not after the war. But maybe we can use that to our advantage. Nobody hates the prospect of war more than those who’ve already suffered through it. And, assuming you can convince them to take you seriously, we might be able to pick up an escort or two to guarantee us safe passage to their capital.”

  “And if I can’t convince them?” Elias asked. “Or if they attack before we even land?”

  “Then we won’t have to run quite so far,” Avans said, shrugging. “It’s not a perfect plan, but at least I’ll be able to sleep at night.”

  Nodding thoughtfully, Elias turned to Kyra. Her silence thus far was rather unexpected and he was doubly surprised to find her staring blankly ahead.

  “Kyra?” he prompted. “What do you think?”

  She started at the mention of her name and chewed her lip for a moment before replying.

  “It’s not a bad plan,” she admitted. “Well, no, it’s a terrible plan. But it’s probably the least terrible option available to us.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Elias said. “Did either of you two have a spot in mind?”

  Unfortunately, they did.

  Chapter Four

  The town in question was more than a fortnight’s sailing away and just far enough outside their planned course that it promised to add several days to the journey, even if Elias was successful. Ordinarily, the delay would have made him tense and irritable. But as the days passed and the prospect of improving his mission’s long odds grew m
ore tangible, he found himself increasingly excited at what lay ahead.

  His good mood, however, did not make it any easier to pronounce the destination.

  “Ekavi?” he guessed. The wince that flashed across Kyra’s face was all the answer that he needed and he grimaced appropriately.

  “Eh’kaavi,” she corrected. Her lips pulled tight across her teeth as she sidled closer to gesture at the illuminated page he held. “You’re speaking through your nose too much. And there’s a slight pause in the middle. Bial no Elias Ansiri, Sha’nijur lo Eh’kaavi. See?”

  “Not really,” he admitted. Swallowing a sigh, he tried to hand the page back to her. “And, honestly, there’s no point in trying to teach me now. It’d take more than a few weeks to learn anything useful.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do,” he continued. “Besides, wasn’t the whole point in bringing you along to save me the trouble of learning this?”

  Kyra bristled at that, taking the proffered page and pressing it hard against his chest. For a moment, Elias expected her to swear at him. Instead, she sighed through her teeth and climbed to her feet.

  “You didn’t bring me anywhere,” she reminded him. “Keep practicing.”

  And with that, she turned on her heel and left him sitting, along, on the quarterdeck steps. He stared after her until she’d vanished through the door into their shared cabin then turned his gaze back onto the page. Some part of him hoped that the combination of Kyra’s absence and his own mounting frustration might render it decipherable. But, no, if anything, he felt as though the little knowledge he’d acquired had fled with his tutor.

  “Didn’t expect to spend the whole trip studying, did you?” Avans asked. The captain had spent most of the past two hours roaming the quarterdeck at a safe distance. Evidently, noting Kyra’s departure, he’d neared as far as the rail at Elias’ back.

  “Not exactly,” Elias muttered. Folding his lessons several times over, he tucked the page inside his belt to protect it from the odd spray. “It’s not her fault though. I’m sure she’s just as bored as the rest of us.”

  “Well, it’s her own damn fault if she’s bored. Gods know half the crew would help her pass the time.”

  Elias’ eyes narrowed and he was on his feet before he knew what he was doing. “Not another fucking word,” he snapped.

  Avans blanched then scowled. From the way he grasped the rail, he looked ready to storm off. Then, with a guilty laugh, his grip loosened.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t realize you two were so close. Suppose you’ve already got your eye on her?”

  Elias shook his head and ascended the last few steps to join the man on the quarterdeck. It wasn’t that he was worried about being overheard—with the exception of Raltson and one other man, most of the crew labored toward the bow. Rather, the quarterdeck afforded him a better view of the cabin door. He could just imagine Kyra reemerging in time to hear him.

  “No,” he said softly. “It’s not like that. She’s like a sister.”

  “Oh? And does she know that?” Avans asked with a conspiratorial grin. “I can’t imagine many sisters following their brothers into a warzone.”

  “Kyra has her own reasons for coming,” he insisted, but the words felt hollow and unconvincing to his own ears. “And even if she didn’t, I couldn’t. I was… she’s Catherine’s cousin.”

  From the corner of his eye, Elias could see Avans weighing his words. The man was clearly worried about offering further offense. And yet, rather than hold his tongue, Avans merely adopted a gently playful tone.

  “And? At least you’d know your in-laws.”

  Elias snorted despite himself and shook his head. “You’re a right bastard, you know that?” he muttered.

  Avans laughed again, louder and richer.

  “Aye, that I am,” he agreed. “But at least I know how to handle my oar, rich boy.”

  “I’m sure you do. There isn’t enough coin in the Isles to convince a woman to touch it.”

  Avans shoved him roughly but the man was grinning in a way Elias hadn’t seen in years. He was about to return the favor when the captain remembered himself, straightened, and glanced over his shoulder at Raltson. To the lieutenant’s credit, he feigned obliviousness.

  “Sorry, Eli,” Avans said. “Can’t let the lads see me kick your ass. Wouldn’t be proper enough. But if you’re looking to practice with that steel pecker of yours, I’ve got a few men who’ve done their share of soldiering. There are some sparring sabers in my cabin.”

  Elias nearly took him up on the offer. It had been years since he’d held a blade for more than a few seconds—much less practiced with one—but it was one of the few hobbies he’d maintained throughout his teenage years. Unfortunately, if Avans’ maps had been correct, they might reach the town of Eh’kaavi within a matter of days. It was hard to make a strong first impression while covered in bruises.

  His thoughts must have been obvious since Avans didn’t even wait for him to reply.

  “Another time then,” Avans said. “In the meantime, why don’t you go look in on your girl? If you aren’t going to kiss her, you might as well keep her company.”

  As much as Elias wanted to reject the suggestion, he knew instinctively that the man was correct. Shared history made Avans pleasant to be around, but keeping Kyra engaged and optimistic was far more critical if he was to survive the next month. And so, awkwardly taking his leave, he made his way to the cabin.

  It felt odd to knock and wait for permission to enter, especially since the crowded room was nominally his, but he’d learned the necessity of it the second morning after leaving Islesmark when he’d walked in on Kyra wearing nothing but a hastily grabbed blanket. Fortunately, there hadn’t been a repeat. Nor would there be; Kyra opened the door for him barely a second after his knuckles touched the wood.

  “Lonely already?” she teased as he entered. Shutting the door behind him, she returned to her papers-strewn bed and nimbly climbed into the empty spot at the center of the makeshift nest.

  Elias watched her for a moment then lowered himself to the floor and nudged the small corner desk with his boot.

  “Why aren’t you using this?” he asked.

  Kyra did not even glance up. “Too small,” she replied instantly. “And things keep falling when the ship rocks. It’s easier to work here.”

  “Oh.”

  After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, she looked up and offered a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, I know tonight is your turn to use the bed. I’ll have it all tidied up by supper.”

  He smiled back but was unable to keep Avans’ words from his mind. There was something undeniably intimate about sharing a room with someone. Kyra especially had proven a thoroughly accommodating roommate. He’d tried to offer her the bed, certain that she’d prefer it to the lumpy pallet Avans’ men had procured, but she had insisted that they alternate nightly. Given that the last person with whom he’d shared a room was Catherine—

  “What is all that?” he asked, desperate for a distraction. “Another lexicon for me to learn?”

  “Not quite,” Kyra said. Chuckling, she gathered up a handful of pages and tossed them his way. They scattered immediately, but the cabin was small enough that he did not even have to move to collect them all. “They’re summaries of the various elven factions we might encounter. Admittedly, a few might be out of date—it’s been almost a decade since the last of the prisoners died—but I figured it might be helpful to review them.”

  Elias grunted noncommittally and flipped through the pages she’d tossed his way. Most of the information they contained was known to him, even if he no longer recognized most of the foreign-sounding names listed at the bottom. The fourth page, however, made him pause.

  “Tereus,” he murmured. It wasn’t a question, but Kyra responded as if it had been.

  “One of the elven war-marshals,” she said. “Most of the elves we i
nterrogated believe he died of his wounds after Arnhelm but his body wasn’t—”

  “I know who he is,” he interrupted. He tried to keep his voice flat, but there must have been something off about the way he spoke since Kyra looked up abruptly. Spotting his expression, she faltered.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Of course you do. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “You didn’t,” he pointed out. Forcing a smile, he shuffled the papers and tossed them back toward the bed. This time, they did not scatter. “And why shouldn’t you talk about it? It’s been years and years. Like you said, he’s probably dead.”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  “And besides, even if he didn’t, it’s not as though we’ll find him hiding out in some backwater town like Eh’kaavi.”

  The delight in Kyra’s eyes and the relief in her smile were so pronounced that Elias could almost forget the one they’d been speaking of.

  “Yes,” she said. “Exactly.”

  ***

  Elias’ first impression of Eh’kaavi came shortly after sunrise on his sixteenth day aboard the Dark Dawn. And, accordingly, he was not impressed. Unlike Islesmark, with its flanking hills, broad avenues, orderly skyline, and amber halo of farmland, the elven town was little more than a grey-brown smudge amidst the grey and rocky shore. Only a single structure rose more than one story. And, in keeping with Kyra’s estimates, the scattered hovels and cottages were spare enough that he would have been astonished to discover more than five hundred souls. The scant acres of tilled farmland visible to the east of the town confirmed his suspicions. Even if the elven diet consisted almost entirely of fish, a larger population would undoubtedly have starved within months.

  The sole advantage to be found was the lack of any significant vessels waiting to intercept them. There were a few, of course, mastless fishing boats by the size of them and urgently fleeing to shore by the ceaseless motion of their oars. But even the largest ship to be found was not even a fifth of the Dark Dawn’s size.