“I’ve heard of things returned to life within a few days, but that was an enchantment which drew the souls of a hundred weavers and aged them as many years. If you step into the darkness searching like that, something unnatural to our world will seek you out. If returning a life was easy to accomplish, death would be nothing but a hindrance to mortal man. I know what you ask. You seek my predecessor, Bereziel? Nothing good will come of this. Bereziel is a deluded fool obsessed with finding eternal youth.”
“Perhaps he found other things,” Iaculous muttered.
“We don’t even know where in Venistra he is. Leave the dead as they are. Let us finish his last mission and be done with it,” Eralorien said, but his words were empty. If it had been a vote, it would have been all to one.
As it was, Cherrie’s voice was loudest. “I know I could find him. Wherever Bereziel is in Venistra, I will find him.” She was assured, and it settled the matter.
“Heygar would do exactly the same for us,” Arielle said and climbed up on her horse.
Eralorien spat into the scorched ground. “If that is your belief, then you never knew the man.”
Denan, ever the quiet and reserved one, led them out and nobody argued. Cherrie rode behind him, as far from the body of her lover as she could. Arielle rode between master and apprentice, lest their growing irritation rises to the surface in the form of nasty words. They followed in a single, cheerless file, with Silvious the last to ride out. Trotting behind him and led by a rope was Heygar’s horse with her heavy load.
Silvious didn’t mind his place in this line. He said nothing. The humans just wouldn’t understand. No man or beast had a sense of smell like a rodenerack, and the aroma emanating from the body was tantalising. It was only a little cooking by the young weaver, but the skin had charred perfectly. Silvious licked his lips and twitched his nose as the flavour of cooked legend permeated around him. No, Silvious didn’t mind being in this line at all.
Once they emerged from the Ailedroc Forest, the road opened, and they brought their horses into a swifter charge. The pace wore them down, but they continued until nightfall, wherein they came upon the first taste of salt in the air. They did not set down at the first town they came upon, for the fear of another attack was fresh in their minds. Like wisps in the night, they passed by without notice until they reached a little fishing village called Delfina.
Denan and Cherrie left the exhausted Hounds to rest while they sought passage to Venistra. Blessed with better vision than humans, Silvious watched the two figures make their way down through the darkness towards the harbour. Cherrie took Denan’s hand in hers as they walked, and Denan kissed her hand in reply.
“Humans,” he whispered to the wind and returned to camp.
11
Sailing To Venistra
Arielle speared a few slabs of meat with a charred cooking rod and held it out over the heat of the little campfire. Iaculous stared into the little flames with a vacant look upon his tired face. Silvious heard him whisper a few words to himself but not their meaning. The young healer’s injuries were long-healed, but there were bright grey strands shooting through his dark hair.
Arielle ran her fingers through Iaculous’s hair, and he smiled. “I like this new look,” she said, moving to his chin, where a few bristles caught her finger. He said nothing and rested his head on her shoulder.
Their courting was a strange thing, thought Silvious. They said rodeneracks weren’t as intelligent as humans were, but in some ways, he thought his own kind far ahead when bedding a lover. You see, you desire, and you enjoy. He understood love, and he had always believed the young showed the most reckless daring, yet both young humans were afraid to even kiss. Was Iaculous not an excitable youth with bounds of juice? Was Arielle not a fine piece of fruit, ripe for plucking?
Perhaps someday. Perhaps tomorrow? Perhaps never at all, and that would be a shame. He imagined Iaculous would make Arielle incredibly happy. Happier than Heygar and Cherrie at least.
Silvious touched the ring as though it held source energy. It didn’t. It was a feeble declaration between unsuitable mates, and he thought of the grand price it would fetch in the next town. Better this way, he reminded himself.
“You look like the source has torn you limb from limb, child,” Eralorien said.
“Yes, Master.”
“You should never have allowed yourself to lose control like that,” the master said.
“I could feel his desperate soul… I still can,” Iaculous said and fell silent. Arielle spun the cooking meats, and fat dripped down into the flame and sizzled loudly. “I wish you hadn’t knocked me from the flames,” he said to her, though he said it without anger.
“She saved you,” Silvious said, and Iaculous’s eyes narrowed. He knew the look all too well. He was about to be called a rat. Silvious waited, and Iaculous merely shrugged.
“There is something dark in the source, and the farther you stray, the stronger its lure,” Eralorien said.
“Yes, I felt something else. I can’t explain what it was, but it knew of my presence.”
Eralorien sat down beside the young man and patted his shoulder. “We know little of that word, but we know something ferocious awaits those who weave carelessly. Do not present yourself in such a way. Leave it to fools like Bereziel.”
“Is that why you never stray within?” Iaculous asked.
His master shrugged and ran his finger through his hair absently. “I have my reasons, but more than that, I have my senses. You will be an accomplished healer. Be satisfied with that.” Eralorien took Iaculous’s shoulder in a vice-like grip before squeezing sharply. Such strength from one so old was unexpected, and the young man recoiled but did not argue the assault.
“Yes, Master.”
Silvious wondered if the younger man would have progressed further had he received even a delicate touch of support these last few years. Still, Silvious had little knowledge in these things. Perhaps that was a master’s way with instruction. Bully the young until they are strong enough to bully right back.
“Now away with you, and go fetch water,” Eralorien said. Iaculous fled into the darkness.
“Why settle with the young man when you could have any man you want?” Eralorien asked of Arielle when the sounds of Iaculous had faded.
“I’ll settle with whoever I choose, be it Iaculous, the king, or Mallum himself,” she said and tasted the meat before throwing a piece to Eralorien.
“You are just like your sister.” Eralorien laughed and gratefully accepted the meat. Though Iaculous was bent to his will, Arielle would never be.
“I’m exactly like my sister only prettier,” Arielle sniggered. Then she caught sight of Heygar, and her smile faded. Eralorien must have noticed it too.
“The man was great, but the man has fallen. He’s already rotting. No legend deserves this.”
“Iaculous thinks differently.”
“We will spend the next few weeks dragging a decaying corpse around Venistra, searching for a madman who might not even be there. Eventually, the smell will steal our appetites, fighting off the buzzards will ruin us, and we will bury what’s left of him in unfamiliar lands.”
“We are the Hounds. We will find a way. All we need to do is find Mallum, and the trip will be worth it,” she countered.
Silvious found himself excluded from the conversation yet still nodding in agreement.
“Venistra is already a dangerous enough place without this added load weighing us down. Part of me believes we should just dismiss this entire endeavour as a bad bit of business, turn our tails to home, and … and …”
The weaver’s face changed as though awoken from a trance by a click of a mischief-maker’s fingers. Silvious had seen the entertaining trick many a time as proud men fell under the spell of a heavy whisper and acted as moronic beasts or delicate damsels, all for a crowd’s entertainment.
“No … we will finish this mission. That is what we will do,” Eralorien said, and a st
range comfort struck Silvious. Once more, the thought of travelling to Venistra and completing their mission seemed like the ideal plan.
Cherrie and Denan finally returned a few hours later with word of travel. Cherrie’s eyes had a taste of red, and Denan appeared miserable, if not a little relaxed. They led the group down into the sleeping village of Delfina. Their horses’ hooves echoed loudly in the night as they made their way through the small village, and all around them, a thin mist formed. With around a dozen neatly bricked buildings with thatched roofs clustered together, it was almost surprising to see a long quay leading out into the deep sea.
Silvious sniffed the air, and he found nothing but the aroma of bitter salt and freshly gutted fish. He licked his lips, and his nerves settled. If there was an ambush waiting, their killers emitted little scent. Such a thing was improbable. Denan had thought on the matter and chosen a fine place to cast off. Using the head was how a leader became a solid leader, according to Heygar. Perhaps Denan was capable.
They walked along the stone quay and passed many vessels docked for the night. Each worn vessel bobbed gently in the calm water. These were no colossal galleons, but any decent barge would be swift and sturdy enough to face the journey.
They said the waters between here and there held challenging tides. They also suggested horrid sea creatures roamed their depths, but Silvious had never believed the tales of barges falling to the charge of a grand cantus, or entwined and sunk in the scaled body of a colubra. They existed, but most nasty little fish monsters fled under the appearance of a sea vessel—even in mating season.
At the far end, where the sea broke against the dock, a sturdy sea barge was waiting. Sitting by the edge of the water was its old barge captain. He was as old as Eralorien and twice as intimidating. He extinguished his pipe with a worn thumb and waved them aboard.
The vessel creaked gently in the waves. The smell of mould was weak, the wooden body was polished, and the worn deck had little warping. It looked seaworthy, which was enough for any passenger.
“I had hoped you would keep that room for the night,” the old man said upon seeing Denan and Cherrie. He placed old, gnarled hands on sturdy hips and shook his head.
“Better to leave in darkness,” Denan said and led his black horse aboard.
“I’ve been thinking. It’s a long sail to Venistra in this season at night,” the captain said and looked at the sky. “There’s rain in the air, and the last thing I want to do is sail in any type of rain at night.”
The old man made no effort to stop Arielle or Iaculous from loading their horses aboard the large barge. Silvious knew this play all too well. Would it be storm season? A colubra’s mating time? Something equally precarious to push up the price?
“The weather looks like it’ll hold just fine.” Cherrie knew this play too.
“You don’t know the sea like an old serpent like me.” This time, the captain stopped Eralorien as he led his horse aboard. He eyed the man warily until his eyes caught sight of Heygar’s wrapped-up body. Silvious stepped in front of the body, but the captain stepped forward. “What is this?” he cried.
“Cargo,” Denan said, but the captain tore at the sheets before Silvious could stop him.
“Are you thurken mad?” he cried out upon discovering the body. “How long is it dead?”
“He’s not lost yet,” Iaculous muttered.
“You want to bring a body out into the sea at night? I hope it’s for feeding a grand cantus because if they catch a smell of a carcass, the Celeste won’t survive a frenzy.”
Silvious thought the argument convincing. Most bartered, but this old man was convincing enough that for the briefest of moments, the thought of embarking at dawn seemed a safer bet.
“We agreed a fair price.”
“It’s no longer about money.”
Denan produced a few coins and put them in the barge captain’s shaking hand. Apparently, it was about money when the fare would cover a month’s expenses. With a curse, the old man pocketed the coins and looked to the sky above.
“Better to leave at dawn,” he muttered and allowed them passage.
They climbed aboard the barge and, after securing the horses for the unstable dozen hours, set down for the journey. The captain took his place at the wheel as they cast off. A few deckhands manned the tall sails, and Silvious watched curiously as a little wind caught in the massive sheets and the vessel surged forward through the waves. In a few breaths, they were clear of the quay, and they quickly lost the lights from the village in the waves, sea mist, and spray.
Silvious felt oddly comfortable in the tide's hold and spent quite an unknown amount of time with his hood over his head, walking the length of the barge, watching the waves crash and break. Eventually, he found himself at the rear. Beneath the dancing flame of a long wooden torch, he sat down and allowed his feet to hang over the edge.
His body moved with the wonderful sway, and the rushing water below him felt familiar. He had always loved the water. His people were natural seafarers if nothing else, and most of the larger galleons patrolling the Four Seas carried a handful of rodeneracks. Their agility and balance were essential when facing the more precarious of tasks. His people said they often gave respect out among the waves when none was found on land, and Silvious had wondered on this many a time.
He removed the pledging ring from his pocket and eyed it in the light. It was a fine enough ring, and for only a moment did Silvious think about gifting it to its rightful owner. It was better Cherrie never know the entirety of her betrayal.
“This is a bad night to sail,” the barge captain’s voice muttered from behind him and roused him from his thoughts.
Suddenly, a hand flicked the hood from Silvious’s head, revealing his heritage. If the barge captain was disgusted with what he discovered, he concealed it well. Silvious hissed at the invasion of privacy. He had been happy alone with his thoughts, the waves, and regretful shiny things.
“And here I was thinking you were just a little boy playing with the adults,” the barge captain mocked. Silvious bit back a reply as the old man left the barge wheel and propped himself against the waist-high safety rope, which ran the length and breadth of the boat. He must have trusted that rope something fierce as he hung out over the raging water like a child swinging against the trunk of a mighty weeping oak. His feet were all that kept him anchored at the edge.
“You are a long way from home, rodenerack, and where you are going is farther still.”
“I go wherever I need to, waterman.” He had long discovered that on first meeting with any human, it was best to show teeth.
“Please, call me Dirion,” Dirion said, feigning pleasantness.
“If you like.” Silvious pocketed the ring carefully.
“That is a fine piece of jewellery. Does it have a price?” Dirion asked and swayed against the edge. He produced a pipe and stuffed tobacco into it. As he did, Silvious realised his eyes never left the ship’s wheel for more than a breath. There was a thin strap of leather holding it in place. Whichever way the wind blew, the captain intended to go straight.
“Everything has a price in this world. It can convince even a captain to sell his own ship’s safety with the right amount of silver in his pocket.”
Dirion snorted at his wit. He even chuckled for a few moments before lighting the pipe with a match. His eyes fell on the bundle in the deck centre. “Let me guess, you travel to Venistra to seek a creepy shaman to steal illicit life back into that broken form?” he asked.
Silvious shrugged. It wasn’t the worst cover. It was even partly true.
“That ring won’t even cover the costs of a soul bandoleer,” Dirion said and puffed smoke into the night.
Silvious didn’t know what a soul bandoleer was. It didn’t matter either.
“That may be so, but it’s no business o’ yours, old man,” Silvious said. The captain shrugged and watched the wheel.
The barge creaked loudly, and both fell silent
, listening to the rise and fall of the vessel in the ocean. Silvious didn’t know how long the sea captain rocked back and forth over the water or how long he stood in mute silence, countering the balance of the waves, but when the barge captain spoke again, it felt as though they had sailed a thousand miles. It may have been only a hundred feet.
“Tell me, little rodenerack, do you truly know how precarious Venistra is for a mercenary like you? They would slaughter, eat you, and think of it as nothing more than feasting upon a swine. You would make quite the delicacy for the Venistrian tastes.”
Silvious suspected the old sea captain was playing a fine teasing game with him. Despite his better senses, he warmed to the man. The wind took the smoke and dragged it as soon as it exhaled, and the captain purred in contentment. He offered the pipe, and Silvious took the piece and inhaled shallowly. He held for a moment, exhaled, and watched the smoke dissipate in the sea breeze. A storm was likely brewing. Far away, in the distant dark, a shrill cry floated in the night and was lost in the wind’s reply.
“I’m more bone ’n’ ligament. Chewy like. I’d cause choking,” Silvious mocked and offered the pipe back.
Dirion did not accept the piece. Instead, he stepped back to sturdier ground and eyed the darkness where the cry had come from.
“Cantus.”
Dirion removed the leather holding from the wheel. With barely any effort, he spun the wheel and the vessel immediately swayed to the right.
“We’ll be fine. It’s just not a good time to be sailing these ocean waves. It’ll be better if the rain holds off, for those vile creatures frenzy when there’s rain in the air.” He watched the dark sky above.
Silvious pulled himself up from the edge of the barge and took hold of the safety rope. The sudden uneasiness of the barge captain set him on edge. After a few breaths, another cry erupted. This one, however, was much farther away and on the far side of the Celeste. Its tone was deeper and melancholic, and the sea barge captain cursed quietly.
The Seven Page 8