Hadespera

The 2nd of Skirophorion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

“The problem, Enyalius, is that we have spotted your mountain and marked the river valley, but there is no settlement there,” Ryan said.

Arche and Ryan stood on the main deck of the Oikoumene. They were close to Myriatos, but Ryan had called Arche out of his room to discuss a ‘navigational issue.’

“I’m telling you, you’ve got to be wrong. Lyssa wouldn’t let it go without a fight and I would know if she were dead.”

“Perhaps she moved it, then?”

“Then she’ll have left us a clue. Let me go to your crow’s nest and I’ll help guide the spot.”

Ryan cocked an eyebrow.

“Have you ever climbed at this height? To a karkhesion, no less? We’re five hundred meters in the air, and the mast is another thirty. The wind bites at your fingers and every step is perilous.”

“Then get me a pair of gloves.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and tossed two gloves at Arche, who caught one and fumbled the other.

“I’ll go first,” the captain said. “If you fall and die, I’m going to tell everyone I killed you. That way you’ll have died with some dignity and I’ll be the first to kill a god in three ages.”

Arche shook his head. “Whatever, man. Just don’t step on my fingers.”

Ryan took hold of the wooden pegs extending from the ship’s main mast and hauled himself up. Meanwhile, Arche struggled to get the gloves down past his palms. Ryan’s hands were smaller than his and the leather was tight. He was along in short order, chasing after the captain.

About halfway up, he realized why Ryan had tried to dissuade him. The wind was stronger, though he struggled to understand why. It whipped at him, catching especially in his cloak, and tried to drag him off the mast. Refusing to admit defeat and climb back down, he soldiered on. Part of him wished for a harness or a rope, or even a parachute, but another part of him was glad for the freedom, the risk. Sails surrounded him, fore and aft, and to either side he saw rigging with blue sky above and green trees below.

The world was simple.

As he neared the top, the wind grew less intense. He took Ryan’s prosthetic hand helping him into the crow’s nest and rubbed his own together. They were not alone at the top. Instead, a red-skinned man stood bare-chested before them, moving his hands in slow, rhythmic patterns. He paid no attention to Arche or Ryan, instead continuing his strange, almost dance-like routine. Arche held a hand over his eyes and squinted at the landscape. They were close, and fast approaching, but the whole valley was barely the size of his thumb held sideways. Next to him, Ryan produced a spyglass and held it out. Arche took it and held it to his eye.

He found the river easily enough and swept along its bank. For several seconds, he saw nothing but grassland. Then he saw a rise of timber formed into a palisade. The sight birthed a knot of worry to gnaw away in his gut. He’d argued for a wall before he’d left, but had been told it was too resource-intensive and not yet worth the effort. That Myriatos now had a full wall meant either that they had soared through their building projects or that the priority of a wall had changed.

“It’s there,” he said, pointing. “There’s a palisade that extends to the river.”

Ryan took the spyglass from him and looked.

“There’s no palisade.”

“What? It’s right there, nestled between the hills and east of the river. They’ve even got a lookout.”

“Zeph, take a look.” Ryan handed the spyglass to the red-skinned man, who stopped what he was doing.

Arche realized the red-skinned man wasn’t a man at all, with a brutish face that looked more like a goblin or something of the like. Though, in fairness, he supposed he shouldn’t be the first to cast stones. Around them, the wind grew weak and their progress slowed to a crawl.

“Does he summon the wind to push the ship?”

Neither Ryan nor Zeph answered him. Instead, the red-skinned man closed the spyglass and handed it back to the captain.

“Nothing seen, Cap’n.” He began his motions anew and the wind picked back up.

“I don’t know what to tell you guys. I can see it.”

Ryan squinted at him for a moment, the solid purple eye seeming to pierce into his very soul, then shrugged.

“We’ve come this far off your word, Enyalius. We may as well go a little farther. Zeph, have the wind take us toward that point.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

Ryan took hold of a rope fastened to the crow’s nest and slid down, leaving Arche and Zeph alone. Arche watched him descend for several moments, then cast his eyes toward the rope. He rubbed his hands together and, after several seconds of hyping himself up, clambered down the mast pegs.

“Wise choice,” Zeph called after him.

Arche chose not to respond. When he’d made it down to the deck, he found most of the other passengers had made their way up from their rooms. The air was thick with anticipation as everyone knew they were nearing their destination. Helwan caught up to him as Arche got the solid floor of the deck beneath him.

“There you are,” the satyr said. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Ryan needed me. What’s up?”

“I need to speak to you.” Helwan glanced about. “Privately.”

Helwan took Arche’s hand and led him over to a less crowded area, near the railing toward the back of the ship. Arche searched his friend’s face for clues to his concern but found no answers.

“I have reason to believe that Efterpi is more than she appears to be,” Helwan whispered.

Arche breathed a sigh of relief but Helwan pushed forward, clearly misinterpreting.

“I know, it sounds crazy. Satyrs have a very strong sense of smell, you know, and I caught the scent of something foul outside her door. It was blood, Arche, and a lot of it. When I knocked on her door, she shouted at me to leave.”

“Helwan—”

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“No, Arche, I need you to listen to me. I know we’ve been traveling together for months at this point, but I think she’s been lying to us. To all of us.”

“Helwan, I know.”

“The heavy clothing, the tendency to go off by herself, I never really paid attention to it before, but it all came together for me this morning. I…wait, you know?”

“Yes. You’re right. You’re absolutely right about everything. But I need you to remain calm, friend. It’s all under control.”

The color drained from Helwan’s face. He searched Arche’s eyes.

“I’m right…” he whispered. “But then, she’s a…she’s…”

“A lot happened in the treasury and you haven’t heard all of it yet. I bound her to me through an Oath. She won’t hurt anyone.”

Helwan took a step away.

“She’s made a thrall of you.”

“I assure you, she hasn’t. She knows full well that if harm comes to anyone on her account, I will kill her myself. She’s aware I can do it, too.”

Helwan’s face contorted as emotions ran wild. When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want word to get out. I trust you, but I didn’t want to alarm you.”

“Alarm me?” Helwan snorted but his eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “That’s not your choice to make. We’re friends, Arche. I had a right to know.”

Arche considered that for a moment. He hadn’t told Helwan, Basil, or Cora because he didn’t want to have to defend his decision, but that was selfish. What he’d said was true, but it didn’t mean Aima was harmless. He hadn’t even thought about how they would react to him not telling them.

“I’m sorry, Helwan. You’re right. I shouldn’t have kept it from you.”

“But you did. Now you’ve brought a vampire to our home. Our home, Arche. What were you thinking?”

“That I’ve had enough of killing things for what they are.” Arche shook his head. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but I won’t apologize for sparing a life.”

“She attacked us before. What makes you think you can trust her?”

“An Oath and good faith. I’ve given her the opportunity for something better. If she betrays that, I’ll kill her.”

“It’s a dangerous play, Arche. You’re putting far more than yourself at risk, here.”

“I’m aware of that. The decision of what will be done with her ultimately lies with Lyssa, not me. I’ll respect whatever choice she makes.”

“As will I,” Helwan said, “but I cannot recommend this. She is a sanguimancer and a necromancer. A creature of darkness. Myriatos has become aligned with the leyline of Light, don’t you recall? There won’t be a place for her here.”

“Then I’ll help her find a new home.”

Helwan rubbed his temples.

“Why are you so committed to helping her? She could turn on us in a heartbeat, as soon as her hunger overcomes her sense.”

Arche frowned.

“I would have thought a satyr, of all people, would understand not judging someone based on what they are.”

Helwan took a step back, reeling as though struck. Arche grimaced, wondering if he’d gone too far.

“A little more time, that’s all I ask for.”

Helwan gave a slow nod.

“Fine. I just hope that next time you make a decision for everyone, you’ll at least trust me enough to be aware of it.”

Arche opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. Helwan turned and melded into the crowd.

“Fuck.”

The ship lurched and began its descent. Arche grabbed hold of the railing to steady himself. An excited titter ran through the crowd. Over the side, the ground rose up to meet them. The hull pressed into the river, splashing water over the banks. Whatever runic magic enabled the ship to fly was clearly still at work, as the ship was large enough to completely dam the river, elsewise.

Myriatos was mustering a response. Hunters climbed the hills to have height advantage against them while the guards formed up behind the walls. From his vantage, Arche noticed a lot more wood elves than he recalled there being before. That was strange, but he could get answers later.

“A powerful cloaking spell,” Ryan said, appearing next to him. “But it would seem you led us well.”

“You can see it, now?”

“Aye.”

“Then you can tell that the first face they see should be a friendly one.”

Ryan smirked and took out a length of rope. In a single, deft movement, he tied the rope to a ring affixed to the side of the ship.

“The gangplanks won’t be down for another ten minutes, so this will be the fastest way off.”

Arche took hold of the rope and stepped up onto the banister. He tossed the Tridory ahead of him, letting it sink into the wet ground far below.

“Thanks, Ryan.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I still need to be paid.”

Arche clambered his way down the side of the ship. It wasn’t the most graceful thing he’d ever done, but he was soon on solid ground once more. Arche rubbed his hands, then picked up the Tridory and walked toward the palisade. An arrow hit the ground next to his feet and he stopped.

“Identify yourself!” someone shouted.

“I am Arche of Myriatos, returned at long last from my voyage to Ship’s Shape. I come bearing friends.”

A moment later, a figure appeared over the wall, looking as if they were running on nothing but air. It took Arche a moment to realize it was Lyssa. She touched the ground in front of him and practically tackled him into a hug.

“Whoa, hey, hi!”

She squeezed him, stronger than he remembered. He wrapped his arms around her in return, chuckling at her intensity. When, at last, she pulled away, he could see her eyes were brimming with tears. Eyes that were very different from what he remembered.

“What happened to your eyes?”

“What happened to yours?” Lyssa smiled and shook her head. “Later. I’m so glad you’re back, Arche. So much has happened.”

“On that, we agree. Is everything all right, here?”

Lyssa took a shaky breath, then shook her head again.

“We were attacked a couple weeks ago. Almost half died.”

Arche felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach.

“What? How?”

“Goblins. They dug their way up from below. It’s been taken care of. There is more to the story but it can wait. You should know, my father is here with a delegation from Dawnwood.”

“Should we be prepared for a fight?”

“I don’t think so. They came to negotiate the release of Figoritolos, who I had imprisoned.”

Arche frowned.

“Isn’t that the asshole who threatened my team outside the Necropolis of Pygmaia?”

“The same. He came looking for a vampire and overstepped his bounds by a large degree.”

“Aw, fuck.”

“What is it?”

“That vampire? She’s onboard the ship. She and I have an accord.”

Lyssa’s eyes grew sharp and discerning as they stared into Arche’s own.

“I’m not a thrall!” he protested.

“No, you are not,” she agreed with a sigh. “Unfortunately, I fully believe you found it in yourself to take pity on an undead horror and take it home.”

“That seems a little reductionist.”

“What promise did you make her?”

“Actually, she’s the one who’s sworn an Oath to me. She will not hunt people so long as I provide her with a wineskin of blood per week.”

Lyssa sighed.

“Very well. Keep that news private. If word gets out while the Dawnwood elves are still here, it could cause problems. Especially with Fig, who is already in poor graces.”

“My lips are sealed,” he said. “But we definitely need to talk later. A lot more has happened. Too much.”

“Tonight.”

Behind Arche, the gangplanks scraped the side of the ship as they descended toward the ground.

“Oh, by the way, we recruited a few more people who wanted a new home.”

Lyssa watched the crowds of people making their way down the planks and nodded, more to herself than to him.

“I’ll get Theodorous. This is going to take a while.”