-Forgotten Refuge-
Winsom was quickly greeted by a man who looked like his twin. He was brawnier than the captain, but they had the same piercing eyes and facial features, although the innkeeper sported a thick black beard with gold beads woven into it.
“Eithan, it’s been too long.” The captain wrapped his arms around Eithan, slapping him on the back good-naturedly.
“I’m surprised you can still walk on land, living on that black ship of yours most of the year,” Eithan laughed, pulling Winsom in for a hug that would have easily broken Jordan’s ribs.
“The sea calls to me. Maybe next time I won’t come back,” he joked. “You already know my crew, but allow me to introduce Miss…”
“I’m sorry,” Winsom said, abashed, “I never asked your name. Bad habit from growing up here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Unless you’re married, it’s inappropriate to call any woman by anything other than ‘miss.’”
“That’s—”
“Blasted, lightstruck nonsense,” the redheaded warrior said unexpectedly. “That’s what I said too the first time Cap’ told me about the backward customs of the Trucesans. He’s a good captain though, can’t complain. I’m Red by the way.”
She extended a large hand in Jordan’s direction and Jordan took it, shaking it twice before bringing her hand back to her chest and beating her palm lightly against it twice in the customary greeting of Forlorn warriors.
“Knew you were one of us. Glad to meet you,” Red said.
“And what is your name?” Eithan asked kindly, guiding the group over to a large circular table by huge windows overlooking the sea. The inn was packed, but it was clear the innkeeper had been expecting Winsom and his crew and had saved the table for their party. As the large man pulled over an extra chair for Jordan, she said, “Jordan Guildedsun.”
“Guildedsun. Unique last name. Feel like I’ve heard it somewhere. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jordan.” Eithan took her hand briefly and bowed his head.
“Now, let me get you and your crew something to eat,” the innkeeper said, his voice booming over the din of the Forgotten Refuge’s other visitors. He vanished as quickly as he’d appeared, disappearing behind swinging double doors painted a vibrant orange reminiscent of the Wanderlust’s sails, his deep voice already calling out orders and instructions to the kitchen staff.
As soon as Jordan was settled Winsom said, “Well, now you’ve met my brother. He’s a bit of a lug, but his heart’s made of pure Orenda. Just don’t tell him I said that.
“I should introduce you to me and the rest of my crew. The name’s Jarred Winsom, captain of the Wanderlust for the past eleven years. Like I said, grew up in Trucesa. My mother wanted something better for me, and even though I was born two minutes before Eithan, he inherited the Forgotten Refuge.
“Now, I don’t mind.” Winsom grinned. “The innkeeper lifestyle has never been my passion. When Father ran the inn I spent all my time looking out the windows, not at the inner workings of the establishment. My brother, on the hand, was born for it. Good with people. Better than me. Mother lied about our birth order after Father passed so Eithan could take the inn and I could pursue the sea.
“I take on whatever jobs I can find, and we get hired for just about everything because of how fast and silent the Wanderlust is and how capable the crew is, even if most of them don’t look like much.” He eyed the three crew members watching the muscular man flex. “Anyway, that’s me. I’ll let the crew introduce themselves.”
Winsom sat back in his chair and busied himself with a tall glass of something hot that smelled like chocolate.
“I’ll introduce myself—” the first of the four men began, only to be cut off by the second man with bulging muscles.
“Yinc. Raised by my grandmother. She taught me to appreciate details, like your shiny hair. Grew up here in Trucesa but wasn’t very good at the family business. Grandma’s a weaver, and my build wasn’t conducive to detail work… I mostly broke everything in the shop. One day she kindly told me she couldn’t afford to feed me or replace her broken equipment anymore and sent me to work for Eithan.
“I wasn’t very good at inn work either, but Eithan recommended me to the captain, and since I couldn’t break the ship or the sea he put me to work.”
“Ok, now can I—”
“And my name’s Sage, but everyone calls me…”
“Let me guess,” Jordan interjected, “Smiley?”
“How do they always know?” Smiley said, grinning from ear to ear like it was his birthday.
“And my name’s Darr!” the first man said so quickly Jordan almost missed it. “If you knuckleheads would ever give me a chance to finish a sentence….”
“You finished one! Congratulations,” Smiley said congenially.
“You know, I don’t think that counts as being positive,” Yinc said thoughtfully.
“It’s the thought that counts,” Smiley said.
“And I believe one of these geniuses has already introduced me,” Berren said stoically, readjusting his spectacles.
“Trust me,” Yinc confided, “you aren’t missing anything.”
“If you boys have finished making a fool of yourselves, give us girls some time to chat,” Red boomed, setting her drink down on the table with enough enthusiasm that half of it splashed out.
Just as Red was about to continue, several Trucesan men came to their table, dressed in sapphire, ruby, and emerald tunics with loose, silky pants.
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“For the captain, a savory red meat with whitecrisp sauce and cooked goldroot slices.”
The serving man in ruby served Winsom, laying a prodigious plate in front of him. The other two servers rushed around the table, dishing out various meats, vegetables, and sauces to Berren, Smiley, Yinc, Darr, Red, and the woman with dark hair.
Soon, everyone was eating but Jordan.
Winsom took a break from his plate to say, “Don’t worry, I’m sure my brother is preparing something special for you. We’re all regulars here, so he knew our preferences ahead of time.”
“It’s not a problem,” she assured him, more interested in being introduced to Red and her companion than eating at the moment.
As soon as the three servers melted away to serve other tables, Red cleared her throat and asked abruptly, “Specialty? Mine’s battle ax.”
Just what I thought, Jordan inwardly smirked.
“Sword.”
“Orenda?”
“What about it?”
“What shade is your Orenda? Mine is garnet. Ironic right? Matches my hair,” she said, pointing to her braided tresses.
Jordan thought fast, saying the first color that came to mind. “Emerald.”
“Wow.” Red’s eyes widened. “That’s a powerful form of Orenda.”
“I guess…” Jordan hedged, eager to change topics. “And who’s your friend? I think I’ve met the entire crew but her now.”
The woman in question was painstakingly cutting her meat into thin slices with the knife Jordan had seen earlier before delicately eating them.
“Sareth. I was raised in Ananth and deserted over to Trucesa a couple years ago.”
Her icy blue eyes looked haunted at the memory of her old home. “There wasn’t much worth staying for… Winsom took me in, said if I earned my keep I could stay.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sareth. I understand running away from ‘home,’” Jordan said, doing her best to keep the bitterness from seeping into her tone.
“I know,” Sareth said, her unnerving eyes meeting Jordan’s. A silent understanding passed between them, and Jordan knew she’d found a kindred spirit in the woman.
Honestly, she felt at home with the entire crew, even though she’d just met them.
“Miss Guildedsun, so sorry to keep you waiting!” Eithan exclaimed, almost startling Jordan out of her seat. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I took the liberty of selecting many samples for you to try.”
He held a large tray with small portions of various dishes on it. With a flourish, he placed the heavy wooden tray in front of her and bowed his head differentially before gliding off to another table.
“Not fair, she has more food than me,” Darr groaned, although one look in his direction made it clear he was teasing her.
Yinc was busy shoveling food into his mouth as fast as possible, and Smiley seemed to be competing, the two of them practically inhaling the contents of the platters in front of them. Shockingly, it looked like the short, slender man was going to give burly Yinc real competition, although Jordan wasn’t sure where Smiley was housing the vast quantity of food.
“I can’t take them anywhere,” Winsom grumbled, but his eyes betrayed his amusement.
“Mind if I join you?” a familiar voice asked, and Jordan felt her heart stutter.
***
Callan had secretly enjoyed docking The Heightened. Almost as much as he’d enjoyed seeing the look on everyone’s face when the majestic white ship appeared on the horizon approaching Trucesa’s harbor.
He was sure no one had ever seen her equal, and Callan was confident they would never would. The ship was almost as divine as her supposed first captain.
After leaving Jordan with Winsom, who he’d met briefly before, Callan had sailed The Heightened far enough away from the Trucesan docks and in between the two small islands that proceeded Trucesa proper.
As soon as the ship was between the two islands and Callan assured that no one else—ship or spectator—was in sight, he closed his eyes and greeted the gift. It answered his call eagerly, ready to be of use after many days of lying dormant.
With Flage’s gift, it was a simple matter to churn up ship-eating waves and dive below the surface like a liff or sulfin. The gift kept Callan dry, even as The Heightened sunk into the depths like a massive white stone, settling to the sea floor. As soon as the ship rested on the soft sandy bottom, Callan released the usual anchor, as well as a hidden, additional anchor used for docking the great ship underwater.
The special anchor would ensure that the ship remained hidden deep under the Glacian Sea until Callan returned for it. Unfortunately, that seemed like a longer and longer stretch of time whenever he considered his new role as lineal.
I’ll miss you, old ship. Enjoy the sea for me.
From there, it had been a simple matter of swimming back up to the surface, crossing the second island, finding a fisherman, and paying him for passage to the Trucesan docks. If the old man was confused that someone was on the vacant island without a ship or vessel, the string of coin Callan pressed into the old man’s leathery hand dissuaded him from voicing his concerns.
Now Callan was in the Forgotten Refuge, taking a seat next to Jordan, who had looked happy to see him but was clearly distracted.
Examining Winsom’s crew briefly as the innkeeper brought Callan a meal, it soon became clear—Jordan felt comfortable around this group, even though she’d just met them.
He was surprised, but kept it to himself.
“Do you know Captain Winsom?” Jordan asked, her beautiful golden hair hidden under a bright orange hood and cloak that could only belong to the captain.
“We met briefly. I mostly know Red. We crossed paths at the academy while learning the art of the battle ax.”
“That’s right,” Red said enthusiastically. She was working on a particularly large slab of meat with gusto but stopped to add, “Did you know Jordan has the same form of Orenda as you, Callan? Emerald. She must be quite gifted.”
Emerald?
Callan looked over at Jordan, his eyebrows raised.
Her eyes made it clear she didn’t want to broach her lack of Orenda with current company, and if Red had been too absorbed in her weaponry lessons to know who Jordan Guildedsun was, Callan didn’t feel inclined to tell her.
Jordan had her reasons for keeping quiet about her lack of Orenda. After all, it was technically impossible. No one went through the academy without some form of Orenda, even if that form was weak or hard to control.
Everyone except Jordan. Never so much as a spark.
“What brings you to Trucesa, Shadows?” Winsom asked, sipping his steaming chocolatey drink. “I doubt it’s the weather.”
“Actually, I’ve always loved the tropical heat and humidity of Trucesa,” Callan admitted. “But no, I’m just stopping through. I have to return to Deporta.”
“Are you in trouble with the Forlorn?” Berren asked dourly. Jordan had briefly introduced Callan to the different crew members when he’d joined them at the table.
“I thought he was Forlorn…” Darr said hesitantly.
“Kind of looks forlorn,” Yinc said, causing the whole table to laugh at the play on words.
“I’m shocked. I didn’t know you had it in you,” Berren admitted, readjusting his spectacles for the hundredth time. Callan was tempted to reach over and ensure that the man’s glasses stayed put.
“Boys, boys, won’t you ever let any of my guests speak?” Winsom scolded. “At least let me enjoy my drink in peace.”
“Well…” Callan looked at Jordan. She didn’t say anything, but her expression invited him to come clean. Shrugging, he said, “Well, I am the Forlorn lineal.”