The first time Maeve heard the squawk of seagulls, she felt inexplicable excitement and a sense of freedom. Now, having spent the second day on deck, the cries of the birds had remained unchallenging throughout the voyage, and thus their noise met with Maeve’s indifference.
‘One would think we are near the islets,’ wondered Maeve, staring at the flock of birds floating across the pink-orange twilight sky. ‘Where do they nest? We have not come upon land.’
‘Sea-cliffs, shores, inaccessible locations,’ shrugged Reynard. The man leaned onto the banister, unbothered by the slight shifting of the deck back and forth as their ship graciously drifted along the gentle waves of the ocean. ‘Don’t rely on these bastards. We are close, but seeing the birds doesn’t necessarily mean there’s land.’
‘We have been travelling for two days now. Surely there must be land close by. How could they eat otherwise?’
‘Fish. Also, don’t let them too close to your lunch.’ Reynard straightened. ‘Is this your first time on water?’
‘I believe you fail to see that Amrith is an island.’ Maeve felt warmth creeping up her face. ‘I just … did not really pay attention to the details on the voyage here. It was more than a year ago.’
‘How silly am I,’ smiled the weathered man. ‘Come, my Lady, we shan’t be late from the meeting.’
Reynard trod in the direction of the main cabin, Maeve followed. Only a few people were on deck, the first mate, the helmsman, some mariners. The girl watched as Reynard rested one hand on the banister while walking. He appeared to be very different on this voyage than what Maeve had seen from him inland. Did it have to do with Bethlorn?
She decided to take a risk.
‘You seem less … stern now that the Crownprince is not around,’ Maeve whispered to the hunter captain’s back. He snorted.
‘Everyone does.’ He glanced about, then continued in a low voice. ‘The boy is unfit to rule, and there is no treason in seeing what is right under your nose. As long as Bryne is around, I’m content. I do fear the day Bethlorn is anointed as king unless someone beat some reason and discipline into him. Luckily, the laws of Amrith exclude inheritance through blood.’
‘Had you known Bryne before you came to Amrith?’ asked Maeve.
‘I had, in fact. He had a tiny spot of land in Andoriel, a hill and perhaps its valleys. We first met when an expedition was sent out to the North. Later he became marquis but never let the court’s venomous intrigues touch him much. He asked me to accompany him here, and well, I have.’
‘And he became king.’
‘He was chosen. It was unprecedented. That people would choose their own leader. All the ramblings about how the Gods have touched the bloodlines of royal families were noisy then. It still is. But Amrith has nothing to do with the other kingdoms.’
Reynard stopped before the doors of the large cabin.
‘We have our own ordeals. Not to push this land into a civil war, for one.’ He opened the door and entered. Maeve lingered a moment longer. Dusk was about to give its place to the night; the pinkish colours of the firmament were about to yield as shades of grey crept across the sky. A sudden feeling of anxiety washed over Maeve as she contemplated Reynard’s words.
‘I’m afraid it’s too late,’ she whispered to the horizon, then turned to step into the room.
The spacious cabin was that of the captain at peace time and served as command room during war. The wall opposite the doors was made entirely of glass, forming an enormous window through which Maeve could see the wake of the ship, and further away, two of their vessels of the fleet of six, the rest being ahead of them or around.
‘It seems that we are about to reach Boar Isle.’ Nehlia stood by a large round table situated in the centre of the room, arms crossed, one hand now rubbing her chin. The whole room looked dark and deep red though chandeliers provided light enough to make out the writings on the maps, spread on the table. Maeve walked up to it and examined the matter at hand. Boar Isle was the nearest island to Amrith, and though not the largest, it possessed considerable size.
Reynard dropped himself in one of the ornate cushioned armchairs and started rubbing his temple with both hands. ‘I’m not exactly sure in the plan.’
‘Do we have a plan?’ the words escaped from Maeve’s mouth.
‘Apart from disembarking and rushing down the islanders, no, not really.’
‘That wouldn’t work anyway,’ murmured Nehlia. ‘The Boar tribe has fierce warriors among their ranks. I do not know their numbers, but our manpower is not quite stunning either.’
‘That’s on our beloved Crownprince. What do we hope to achieve here? Try and ambush them, and then? Kill all of them in their sleep? Children and women? Fathers who want to provide to their families? I’m a Hunter, but I do have my limits.
Heavy silence followed the hunter captain’s words. Maeve felt more helpless than ever.
‘How am I to do anything here? It is simply not possible to heal soldiers in the heat of a battle.’
The army commander leant on the table with both hands.
‘Our primary aim needs to be focused on causing a hindrance to our enemies, deaden their newly borne vigour and impair them in every possible way. Steering away from killing, if possible. We do not want to slay our kin, traitors or otherwise.’
‘Capturing their officers could also be of use.’ Reynard shifted, struggling to find a comfortable position. ‘My people may be able to execute the command, fast and efficient.’
‘We will consider how we can deploy your hunters the best way possible. But … I want us to prepare for the worst-case scenario.’ Nehlia glanced at Reynard. The man avoided eye contact, and Maeve suddenly realised she is the one in the centre of the next question.
‘Please, do not do it,’ she sighed. ‘I hate surprises. Just tell me. What is going on?’
‘Should fights break out,’ started Nehlia slowly, ‘we can’t guarantee your safety, Lady Maeve. I presume … you are able to use gemstones, aren’t you? Since you are Reborn …’
‘Theoretically, I may be, yes,’ Maeve nodded, reluctant, quiet. ‘Why does it matter? As far as I am concerned, there are no gemstones in our possession currently.’
‘In fact,’ Reynard stood and stepped to a compact drawer in front of the window-wall. He pulled a small pouch. ‘Lady Dairin gave it to us before we set sail. We were told we can only use them if need be, but …’
He handed the pouch to Maeve. The girl pried it open with two fingers and saw an amethyst and an emerald inside.
Maeve’s eyes widened. These gems were not rare, but they held immense power. And the fact that the Arcanist had two spare gemstones did pique Maeve’s interest in the woman’s dealings.
‘We do not ask you to kill people nor to harm anyone,’ Nehlia reassured Maeve. ‘It’s best if you could defend yourself.’
‘I will … hold onto these gems. For now. I do not intend to use them at all.’
‘That’s settled, then.’ Reynard stretched his arms. ‘I say we prepare as I said, the hunters take care of their officers while we make our stand on the shore.’
‘They still need to evade the thick of the battle. I know not whether the Boars’ chieftains fight along with their soldiers or not.’
‘We’re about to find out. A couple of years ago, I took part in a prolonged andorieli campaign in the north. We needed to capture hills that were under Velardhar’s control. It’s quite similar. What we did was …’
Maeve soon realised that her limited knowledge on battle strategies and tactics would not prove to be enough for following the conversation, let alone contributing to it. She waited a few minutes in silence, then excused herself and left the command room. Reynard and Nehlia seemed to forget her presence there.
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Night fell upon the ocean. They kept sailing, albeit with a slower pace, and no light were lit in case of stumbling upon rebel vessels and scouts. Maeve would have liked to spend some time under the stars, except her body craved rest. She had a terrible time sleeping on the ship.
She headed below, descended a staircase, and sought out her cabin. His Majesty’s Ship the Magnate was nothing like Maeve had encountered before. It was from Andoriel, being one of the first ships with which the settlers arrived at Amrith. The tremendous vessel had whole halls built inside, her ‘cabin’ was more like a room in the royal palace, with glass windows on the wall. She would never admit it, not even to herself, but she did enjoy the sumptuosity that surrounded her.
Locking the door, she went straight for her bed. She watched the bathtub by the folding screen with increasing gloom as she carelessly threw herself onto the sheets in full attire. It felt like a storm raging through her mind with all the thoughts she had; yet, at the same time, it buzzed into a tranquilizing silence, weirdly comforting the girl.
She turned to her back, one finger toying with a ring she wore. Had been, for long years. She closed her eyes and thought about her family. Her father, ever so strict and resilient, his sad smiles at the fireplace as he taught Maeve to read; her little brothers, their cheerful and untroubled laughter and cheeky tricks. Her mother’s smile, waning from her memory with defiant certainty. Maeve imagined they would be quite proud of her if they knew how her fate turned out.
She snorted in resignation. Who did she want to deceive? She could be glad if her family was still thinking about her at all. I hate you all and I hope I will never see your faces again or you are the source of all my misery are things one should probably not tell people whose faces are engraved in their mind so much so that it is all they can see in their quiet and lonely time spent in darkness. Maeve was proud of some of her decisions; but most of them, she regretted. One, in particular, above all.
She curled up, ring in hand. The fragility she had been feeling threatened with breaking something inside her. She pressed her lips together and drifted away into a slumber while tears were trickling down her face.
----------------------------------------
The clinking sound of metallic bells woke Maeve. She immediately sat up, blinking away the last bit of confusion of waking. It must not have been long since she fell asleep.
Footsteps thudded frantically above the girl. Nervously, she sprang up from her bed, was grateful that she had her robes on, then went straight to the deck above.
She knew something was off—there was too much light for nighttime.
The Magnate slowly drifted past the shores of an isle lit by flickering flames. It seemed as if fire had swept across the land, a furious firestorm, engulfing and eating up every bit of life. The land was black, the trees dead, smother prevailed above the ground. The ships were not in the proximity of the island, but the stench of smoke, of burnt life was carried by the wings of the night breeze.
Maeve looked for Nehlia and Reynard; they stood at the bow. Apparently, the entire crew and all the officers came to the deck to witness the destruction of Boar Isle. Maeve quickly made way to the commanders.
‘What happened?’
‘We truly have no idea,’ replied Nehlia. She spoke fairly quietly. ‘We are considering sending a scouting group ashore to discover the extent of the desolation.’
‘Whatever it was,’ added Reynard morosely.
‘I would like to join the scouts,’ said Maeve without hesitation.
‘Terrible idea,’ Reynard shook his head. ‘Whoever caused this fire could still be roaming about. You would be endangered down there.’
‘So are the survivors, provided there are some. I can save a life that is on the verge of death, your scouts cannot.’
‘Your life is too valu—’
‘A group of Crownguard will escort you,’ said Nehlia. ‘We are not going to get any closer to the shore, though. The moment we discover what has happened here, we leave.’
‘And leave these people to their demise?’ Maeve did remember these words leaving Dairin’s mouth.
Nehlia pressed her lips together, pausing for a moment.
‘If need be, yes. We need to report this. Come on, we must organise the scouting group.’
‘I’m heading down with my hunters as well,’ said Reynard. Nehlia nodded in silence.
They lowered boats and sent word to the rest of the fleet. Soon, a group of twenty people, including the scouts, several Crownguard, and Maeve along with Reynard and a dozen of his hunters, set foot on the shore.
They did bring torches with themselves, but none of them were lit. Spots of flickering flames offered guidance throughout the land.
‘Keep track of time.’ Reynard now wore his hunter attire, blacker than the night, cloak and hood hiding his features. ‘I want everyone back here in an hour. By the time dawn breaks, at worst.’
With that, he and his group sprang towards a dead forest, keeping to the shadows and darkness, soon disappearing into the night.
Maeve suddenly felt anxious. That left her the person in command. She should give orders to these people, and that made her feel awkward.
‘We ought to make haste, ma’am,’ said one of the scouts.
‘Yes, indeed.’ She was oddly glad someone else spoke first. ‘I believe you could be more efficient alone. It is enough if one of you stays with us.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Any particular clues we are looking for?’
‘Survivors. Anything, really.’
The scout nodded, gestured his companions, and all of them went to different directions, some remained on the shore, others left towards the heart of the island. The one scout left with Maeve and the Crownguard stepped closer.
‘Where shall we search?’
‘I’m …‘ not sure, thought Maeve, but did not speak the words. ‘Have you been here before?’
‘Once, in Stormharbour.’ The man pointed down the coastline. ‘It’s there if I’m not mistaken, a couple of miles ahead. The others are already on their way there.’
‘No point in heading there as well, then. We will advance through the wild. Mayhap we find … something.’
The scout bowed his head and went ahead of the group, Maeve and the Crownguard followed him from a distance.
Ash and dust puffed wherever the girl stepped. Burnt grass and brittle wood, branches and vines lay around the vicinity. She looked at the mountains in the distance which seemed to be untouched by the chaos. Their green and the lowland’s alloy of grey and black displayed a painful contrast between life and death.
The silence made Maeve shiver. This deafening silence reigned over Boar Isle; no noise came from games, no cricket sang serenades accompanied by the colourful notes of the forests. The only melody playing was the grieving, quiet tune of the whispering wind.
Signs of life eluded them, if there were any. About half an hour later, the scout stopped and waved to the group.
Maeve was instinctively going to ask him what he had found, but no words were necessary. She stopped by the scout and snorted in disbelief.
Beneath, a couple hundred yards ahead, a tremendous crater scarred the valley. It looked as if it was the bed of a lake, only it was filled with ash instead of water. In the centre, she could see ruins, huge chunks of what looked from this distance like some kind of stonework.
‘I need to get down there,’ whispered Maeve. The scout also kept a low voice.
‘The terrain seems difficult. I think I can find a path, but please, watch your steps, milady. I’ll be hanged if anything happens with you.’
Maeve nodded in silence and told the Crownguard to stand and watch for potential enemies. Surprisingly, none of them argued.
The terrain was indeed difficult. The scout led her across the slope by the help of rocks and gnarled trunks of previously burnt down trees and bushes. Ash covered the ground so thick Maeve sometimes sank up to her ankle. After stumbling many times, they reached the ruins in the centre. Maeve knew it was of importance; echoes of the faelin were still pulsing throughout the jagged chunks of stones.
She walked around it, carefully investigating every angle of the ruins. Some kind of carvings were etched onto the surface, but she did not recognise the runes. Very tentatively, she tried to open her Well of Source and let the drops of faelin from the strange stone flow through herself to see what kind of nature it had. She immediately ascertained that the ruins, whatever it had been, statue, obelisk, altar, or otherwise, functioned as a kind of vessel for the faelin. She was stunned by the sheer power it had had before—its echoes were still loud. As for how it was possible to store faelin inside an object, she had not the slightest of ideas.
‘Lady Maeve,’ the scout called out to her. She turned and blinked after the sudden disconnection from the faelin.
‘Yes?’
‘Something’s happening.’ The scout pointed over the group of Crownguard, standing at the brim of the crater. They were waddling about, soon they starting to wave and shout.
‘Let us get up immediately,’ said Maeve, taking one last glance at the ruins. She followed the scout back on the same route, with increasing agitation in her chest. She wanted to hear good news so, so terribly much.
The moment she got up, all colours left her cheeks.
Dawn was still a long way ahead, but the dark of the night was pierced through by not only the scattered spots of fires but by the newly ignited Royal Fleet as well. The ships were burning like bonfires, their image mirrored on the surface of the water painted a terrifying image in the night. The fleet were a few of miles away from Maeve and the Crownguard, but she believed she could make out the Magnate tilted shape, engulfed in flames.
People were on board. Nehlia was on board. Army officers, soldiers, mariners. Surely, they managed to …?
Only then did Maeve spot the hundreds of people crawling on the shore. She sighed in relief but froze soon after. There were far too many people there, torches and campfires lit. Her eyes drifted to the ocean again, and her tears almost broke out in desperation. Several newly appeared vessels anchored among the burning Royal Fleet.
‘Ma’am …’ One of the Crownguard pointed ahead. A group of soldiers, clad in red scale armour, were heading towards them a mile or so away, not more than a handful of people. They carried a huge crimson flag, one the emblem of which, a huge reptilian eye, was unknown to Maeve.
One of them shouted something on a language Maeve did not know. That moment prompted Maeve to act; she whispered the only one reasonable word that came to her mind:
‘Run!’