The port city of Noir Stone made Leland stop in his tracks. It was nighttime when they arrived, but he would never have guessed. The city, sat on the rocky coast, shimmered with lamp light and brazier flame. Even from a few hours walk away, the city looked on fire. Orange smokeless heat and flickering light made the city dance. Roofs were the only dark parts, the streets crisscrossing and fully lit.
Multiple layers of stone raised the city up then down like a mountain while cliffs abruptly ended the city’s footprint with sheer drops into the murky depths below. The surrounding water mixed with the dark sky, highlighting the city for what it was: a beacon. Beautiful harbor, a haven for sailors and merchants alike.
“Mask on,” Isobel whispered, the darkness obscuring something on the road ahead.
The road leading into the city left much to the imagination. No lights, no patrols, nothing but dirt, stone, and the occasional wagon resting for the night. Every step was dangerous, both for horse and man. Stones the size of apples littered around, each one a tripping hazard for even the most seasoned riders.
Why Leland and Isobel weren’t camping for the night, he did not know. Nor did he question it. There was a reason for her madness, most of which wasn’t just to instigate arguments with him. He’d learned about her tragic history and her lost daughter. He’d spent countless hours talking to her about battle strategy and technique. He’d even seen her willing to sacrifice herself to make sure he and Sybil got out alive.
There were reasons for every single thing she did. And Leland had come to realize that mostly she was right.
So when she told him to put Sybil’s mask on, he did not question it. The mask was bone white and strapless, whatever magic powered it also acted like glue. It stuck to his face and drained away some of the color from the world, which wasn’t much since it was nearly pitch black other than the city light source in the distance.
His senses heightened a bit, but overall Leland felt more focused. Like all distractions had come and gone, and whatever he set his sights on was his true goal.
Out of the black, two men walked. Fully armored with thick helmets and swords on their hips, both carried lit torches and moved with a tinge of arrogance. City guard for Noir Stone, obviously, but the question was why they were out this late.
Leland stepped off the road, trusting in the mask’s obscuring power to erase him from the guards’ sight. Then he glanced at Isobel. The former Inquisitor had quickly laid down, just off the side of the road in a clear patch of stone and grass. She had even set down a blanket and pillow to sell the illusion she was going for.
One of the guards screeched something in a language Leland and Isobel did not know, hoisting up his torch and draping Isobel in light.
She sold a scared flinch, jumping to her elbows before fully sitting up. “Wha— W-who are you!?” her words came out slurred and mumbled, one might expect from a lone woman out in the wilderness.
“State name, woman!” the other guard demanded, speaking in choppy Galform.
“C-Clair! W-who—”
“Quiet! Answer only us questions!”
From the side, Leland watched the scene play out. The guards questioned Isobel with increasingly irritated tones, denying her every time she tried to ask a question. Leland didn’t know why she was handling the encounter this way. She could have easily hidden from these men and continued down the road once they were far enough away.
She wanted something, and she decided fishing for it was the best way. And Leland was quite interested in knowing what information she was after.
At one point Isobel started inching away. The one guard who didn’t speak Galform put a stop to that instantly, grabbing her by her hair and holding her in place.
Leland went to move, but Isobel caught his eye, shaking her head “no.”
The second guard smacked his comrade in the arm, the denting of his metal armor echoing through the darkness. The guard then hissed something, causing the other guard to drop Isobel.
Isobel said, “Thank you,” and only got a glare in response.
“Do you have eyes?”
Leland paused, as did Isobel. She thawed faster, however, answering right away that yes, of course she had eyes. The miffed guard humped at that and started walking off. The other guard said a few more words, then departed as well, returning the road to darkness.
Waiting a few minutes, Leland then took off his mask. “’Do you have eyes?’ You don’t think—”
“The Sightless Cult is here. At least in some capacity,” Isobel answered. “I figured as much.”
They began to walk toward the city but Leland had more questions. “You figured as much?”
“The cult tried to infiltrate Shoutwell months ago. They arrived via smugglers.” She gestured to Noir Stone. “This is a smuggler’s dream city.”
“That makes sense, I guess… Though it seems like they have it under control.”
Isobel nodded. “They are making sure the cult can’t take root. Which is good. But more importantly, it makes it so you won’t want to stop and help them.”
Leland looked at her. “I would not—”
“Yes, yes you would.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“I want to get home just as much as you do.”
“But you also would stop and help a city in need if you could.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing, ‘cause it’s not.”
Isobel sighed. “It is when Inquisitors are looking for us. You don’t think the Inquisitors are working independently, do you? We had contacts in every city, especially the ports. Noir Stone is just as dangerous to us right now as it would be if it was filled with cultists.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes. “If the Inquisitors are looking in ports for us, does that mean they will also be searching ships on arrival?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Surely they wouldn’t be looking for us after that long, right? People would know that Sybil is safe and sound, right?”
Isobel gave him a look. “Until we know more, we have to be careful.” Then she sighed. “And who knows, Sybil may not be able to help a Harbinger and a rogue Inquisitor. Some things are above a princess’ power.”
Leland shook his head. “You’re wrong.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said after a moment.
----------------------------------------
“That is a lie!” the woman demanded. “He would never cheat on me!”
Madam Fortuna leaned back. “The heart does not listen to the mind, even when facts are bare.”
“No. I don’t believe you! Give me back my money! I want a refund!” The woman was standing at this point, her finger thrust out like an accuser.
All semblance of compassion left Madam Fortuna in that moment. Understanding drained away for anger at the mention of money. Everyone needed to be paid, some more than others. And she was one of them.
Her future teller business had run dry in this city, and capital was the only way to protect herself. She’d overstayed her welcome, the woman before her was not the first angry bachelorette this week.
Madam Fortuna, her real name Sasha, looked around her temporary home. It was little more than a barn, despite how many new layers of paint she could slather on. She glanced at the corner where water leaked in. Maybe she would choose a city where it rained less. That way she wouldn’t have to worry about roof fees as much.
“Do you have nothing to say!?” the bachelorette screamed.
Madam Fortuna suppressed a sigh. “I wish you fortune in your future, but sadly all sales are final.”
Then Madam Fortuna – Sasha rather – saw a glimpse into the future. It filled her sight for a few long seconds, a punch, a nosebleed, a robbery. The vision faded and she jerked her head to the side, dodging the bachelorette’s fist before reaching out and clenching her shirt. Sasha threw the woman to the side and onto the floor.
Her clothes got wet from the rainwater. She ran off crying.
Sasha didn’t waste a moment. She quickly gathered her things, packing as light as possible. Nothing mattered to her except a few pairs of clothes, a sack of coins, and a stack of letters from her brother. When was she going to see him? It had been six years since she last saw him, six years since her Dream Ceremony and the curse that came with her Legacy and Lord.
“In a rush?” a voice called, causing Sasha to stumble to a blade. She spun around, wildly swinging the butter knife in the air.
“Show yourself!” she demanded.
“Is that any way to treat an old friend?” the voice said again.
Sasha paused, noting a familiarity in the voice’s cadence. Something clicked, a memory from four years ago of communicating verbally with a mage cities away. “Inquisitor Spencer?” she asked, her heart sinking.
They had found her, Spencer wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t.
“Yes it’s me. Well, maybe not ‘Inquisitor’ now. Some stuff has happened,” he said. “Look, I don’t have much time—”
“Are the Calm Men coming? A-are you going to protect me!?” Sasha’s blood froze. They had taken so much from her. How did they find her!? It was her stupid Legacy’s fault. Who would have known the Legacy of the Diviner would have put a target on her head? Who would have thought being able to see the future increased the price of a slave exponentially?
“No. No, not that I know of,” Spencer quickly said. “I need a favor.”
Sasha lurched. “Y-you’ll have to pay.”
“Of course. What do you want?”
“Get me out of this city?”
Spencer paused for a brief second. “That’s easy enough. Any idea where?”
“Somewhere quiet,” Sasha said, a hint of hope warming her heart. “No rain!”
“Alright. But the favor first,” Spencer’s own voice was distant. Like he wasn’t ready to accept hope as something guaranteed. “My son, Leland. He’s missing. I need to know where to look.”
Just like that the future played in Sasha’s mind. Eyeless sockets, a port town, a blue flamed candle, wings of various kinds, a ship… a ship named… named… She focused, forcing the future sight to bend to her command. Blood trickled down her nose and dripped onto the ground. The Ship. The Ship. The Ship.
Raspy, like sandpaper, Sasha muttered, “A ship named The Wave Slicer, arriving in a city with a blue candle and sightless eyes… soon.”
Two new voices sounded with Spencer. They spoke over one another before Spencer shushed them. He cleared his throat and said, “Thank you, Sasha. Are you ready to travel?”
She looked over her few possessions and pulled her bag close. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Then walk through. You will be about a ten minute walk from a decent sized town called Humble Hearth.”
Then a hole in the world opened, one as tall as she. Daylight cut through the darkness of her home, as the song of birds eased her petrified legs. She took a step, then another, then a third. Soon she was walking, and soon she was on a forest trail leading up from a stream. It was beautiful. So beautiful.
She cried, this time it would be different. No more lousy attempts to make money. This time she would become part of the community like she was years ago with her brother before the Calm Men tried to take her.
“Thank you, Inquisitor Spencer,” she muttered. “Thank you for saving me, again.”
----------------------------------------
Spencer eyed the poor girl through a portal the size of a fingernail. “No problem,” he responded. “Good luck and stay safe.”
“I will, you too,” Sasha said, her voice coming through the portal like she was just a few steps away.
Spencer waited a moment, making sure the girl would be okay. Then he closed it and looked at the two young men with him.
“Well. It looks like we’ve got a direction,” he said.
“Shoutwell,” Jude said, his eyes blazing with readiness. “How long will it take to get there?”
Spencer smiled, opening a portal. “Just one step.”
Glenny frowned and rubbed his hands. “A lot of bad things happened in this city.”
Jude clapped him on his back. “We are much stronger now than back then.”
A crimson red floated silently in Glenny’s palm. He closed his hand, crushing it. “Yeah. We are, aren’t we.”