Aurnia sipped at her tea, the unexpectedly cold brew twisting her lips in a reflexive scowl of disgust. She closed her eyes and focused the tiniest sliver of Ignolis into the heart of the metal cup, and an aromatic puff of steam instantly rose from the dark liquid's surface.
Though she was grateful to have made off with a small container of tea from Donald's collection, Aurnia's stomach regretted not picking a mixture heavy in either ginger or chamomile. Their rapid escape from Comelbough had found them plying choppy waters within minutes of setting foot on Captain William's ship, and the Misanthrope's constant ups and downs hadn't much improved until the vessel had neared the edge of the Calorthian Void the night before. While her supernaturally bolstered constitution protected her from seasickness, she wasn't entirely immune, and the faint stirrings of nausea were slowly rising up from the base of her belly.
The wooden slat stairs creaked overhead, and she groaned along with them, bringing a hand to her lips to mask a soft belch. Relief was brief, but she was grateful nonetheless. She would have thought her stomach accustomed to the roiling motion of the sea by now, especially considering the relative calmness of the waters inside the Void.
Old crates and burlap sacks formed impromptu rooms and corridors in the hold just below the Misanthrope's deck, and at the captain's behest, Aurnia had staked her claim on one of the larger empty sections just beneath the stairs. Globe lanterns protected by iron husks hung as if affixed permanently in place, undisturbed by the unwavering wind and still waters. Night had fallen with little fanfare, though tucked below deck as she was, Aurnia likely wouldn't have noticed its arrival anyway.
In the center of the 'room', a trio of rickety stools crowded against a low, long crate. Gouges, deep and narrow, marred the make-shift table’s surface like someone had used it for knife-throwing practice. In her frilled yellow dress, a woman of Aurnia's effortless beauty appeared completely out-of-place in such crude surroundings.
Her honey brown eyes turned to the table's centerpiece, a cube-cut yellow gemstone shining with a serene golden effulgence that appeared to waver as if disturbed by a gentle breeze. At the direction of her soul, the Orlicite had been glowing uninterrupted since their flight from Comelbough, but a brief flicker in its shine stole her attention and made her forget about the growing discomfort in her gut.
“Careful, Theis,” she said, certain the man was lurking somewhere just beyond the wall of crates.
His boots gliding silently over the waxy floor, Theis' inky form emerged out of the weak light, cautiously skirting the outermost edge of the glimmering gemstone's aura. “Easier said than done, woman. Not much room for me to maneuver down here as it is.”
Aurnia sighed in reluctant agreement and stood, taking the tiny gemstone in hand as she rose. The stone was warm against her already flushed skin, and it vibrated ever so slightly. She repositioned herself against the wall of the ship and leaned back, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “You've been scarce.”
“I'd sit, but I'd hate to interrupt your little spell.” His skull-like mask failed to disguise the sneer evident in his voice. “You complaining?”
“Not really,” she answered, an edge of boredom to her voice. “Makes my job easier, to be honest. I'm concerned the Orlicite may not last the trip. It has a fairly substantial flaw cleaving directly through its heart, and my inelegant application of its power back in Comelbough did little but exacerbate that problem.”
“Inelegant?” The man in black rested one foot atop a small handkeg. His shining eyes were burning brighter than usual, leaving the meager space awash with crawling bands of living jade.
A sour look crossed her face. “Such straightforward spell casting is the domain of spellswords and initiates. Manifests, they're called. It's a class of spell resulting in a flashy, direct outcome of spiritual intent. Throwing fire, directing wind, moving earth...They lack subtly, efficiency. The magical equivalent of bashing a problem's head in until it stops moving.”
Theis gestured to the glowing gemstone nestled in her fingertips. “Is that not what you're doing now?”
She had to give him that one. “In essence, yes. I'll admit, manifests do have their place in every caster's toolbox, as sometimes a two-handed club turns out to be the proper tool for the job at hand. Still, the energy investment for such quick and powerful effects scale poorly against the desired outcome, requiring more and more input for less and less output.”
“Diminishing returns.”
“Indeed.”
He thumbed toward the ceiling. “So how's the constant breeze you've summoned any different?”
“In the case of its effect on the Orlicite, it's an issue of magnitude. Imagine the stone is a wool blanket. Picture yourself reaching out to tug at an errant thread. As you pull, the blanket slowly unravels, one stitch, one knot, one bit at a time. If you keep a slow, steady pace, you might eventually find yourself with one long, unbroken pile of thread, but during the process, the blanket itself holds its shape. The damage you are doing constrains itself to the area connected directly to that single thread. That's the spell keeping the ship moving through the Void.”
“And the ones back on the dock?”
She thrust her empty hand forward. “Akin to shoving a knife straight through the center of the blanket and out the other side. Do it enough and the whole thing falls apart, the remnants both tattered and useless. I'm just hoping I didn't shove the knife through the Orlicite more times than it could handle.”
There was a cough from somewhere deeper in the ship, and Aurnia turned to look despite being unable to see beyond the line of stacked crates. “I thought I heard voices before you showed up. Did Nevin wake?”
Theis nodded. “He doesn't remember the fight, but he's none the worse for wear.”
Aurnia bumped the inner wall of the ship with the back of her head and sighed again, this time in relief. “Thank goodness. I was beginning to worry. The cat alone draws enough unwanted attention without also having to explain the transport of an unconscious boy across national boundaries, not to mention the scrutiny of the port authority.”
With a snort of derision, Theis jerked his cloak closed. The woman in yellow cocked an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “Something on your mind?”
“Just glad his unconsciousness isn't going to hinder your little plan. Be a shame if the health of some kid got in the way of whatever it is you hope to get out of him.”
“Well,” she said, clicking her tongue. She hadn't expected such a passionate response from him. “You're in a mood. For someone who abandoned the boy mere hours before the Lancowl constabulary nearly ended his life, you seem awfully protective of him.”
“Didn't abandon him. Was there when I was needed,” Theis paused, turning away. Without the contribution from his glowing eyes, the space was once again awash with the Orlicite's golden light. “No sense remaining somewhere I wasn't wanted.”
“Spare me your false indignation.” Aurnia brushed off his retort with a wave of her hand. “I doubt the mighty Theis Bane has ever knelt before the wants or desires of anyone but himself. I've heard the stories. No allegiance but to the promise of mortal combat. Public duels, but only to the death, enticing victims to their demise with an offer of gold. Whispers even of regicide. If but half of those rumors are true, you might just be one of the most selfish people I've ever met.”
“Noble by contrast,” said Theis under his breath. He straightened, nonchalantly pacing just beyond the rim of the Orlicite's glow. “Interesting tactic.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means I see through your shit, woman. We both know you're only in it for the sword. You'd bet the kid in a game of Pauper's Pledge if you thought it a good chance to get some answers. Skin the cat for a rug if you were short a single shil for passage. Can call me selfish all you want, but from where I stand, you wrote the book on it.”
Aurnia opened her mouth to speak, but the groan of flexing wood overhead cut her short. Leather soles rasped against worn slats as someone made their way topside. She pinched the bridge of her nose and reclined her head back on the inner wall of the ship, feeling the rhythmic slosh of water gently beating against the hull as the ship cut across the ocean's surface.
There was little sense arguing with him. The man had made of life of winning, at any cost. Besides, he wasn't exactly wrong. Her main focus was on that of the sword, not on the boy inadvertently attached to it. She had little desire to protect someone incapable of protecting themselves, little desire to play mother to some helpless, hapless child. Not again.
She closed her eyes instead, pressing a palm against her gurgling belly. A wry smile tilted the corners of his lips. “The cat would make for a magnificent rug, would he not?”
************
A cool, steady breeze greeted Nevin’s damp face as he emerged from the stairs and stepped out onto the Misanthrope’s expansive deck. Shimmering blue stars pierced holes the night sky in every direction, obscured only by the ship’s three towering masts and taut sails. In the northeast, the outer ring of Atro encircled the pale azure moon in a silver-blue halo, while the faster-spinning inner ring had faded from sight yet again. The ocean's motionless, mirrored surface perfectly reflected its heavenly voyeurs, allowing the stars a rare moment to appreciate their nightly contributions.
The baldric fit perfectly, and the sword had slid into place on the first try. The lay of it on his back felt good, felt right. It wouldn’t take long before he’d stop noticing the tightness of the leather belt across his chest or the odd weight on his back. He'd have to thank Theis again when next they spoke.
Two deckhands, bare-chested and shoeless, conversed in low voices at the back of the ship. One rested his lean forearms onto the wheel, holding a compass in one hand and wooden mug in the other. The second man lounged on a bed of tangled nets. They laughed softly together as he looked the deck over.
Nevin hardly noticed. All he cared about was finding Aidux.
The golden-haired cat watched him approach from the bow of the ship, his silver eyes shimmering in the pale light and his lips pulled back in his characteristic snarl-smile. A rush of unexpected emotion flooded Nevin’s mind, and he was surprised to find that happiness wasn’t the most prominent. Tears welled and trickled down his cheeks as the memory of Aidux being dashed against the warehouse wall played over and over in his mind’s eye. His lower lip trembled as he remembered seeing that thin line of blood leaking from his best friend’s ear.
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Sobbing, Nevin dropped to a knee and caught the surprised lynx in a spine-crushing hug.
“Uh…Nevin?” Aidux strained to speak, craning his neck away from the onslaught. “Can’t…um…breathe so good…”
Nevin pulled back and grabbed the cat by his shaggy mane with both hands, pulling their faces together. “Are you okay? That bastard didn’t do any permanent damage, did he?”
“Nope. I had a headache yesterday, and my shoulder feels bruised, but nothing I can’t handle. What about you? What happened?”
He shook his head. “One minute I was about to make Vincht pay for what he did to you, and the next…” He hugged Aidux again. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah, I’m fine, Nevin. Really. Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve never seen you so…emotional.”
He pulled back and wiped the tears from his eyes and cheeks. As happy as he was to see his friend alive and healthy, he couldn’t help but feel depressed. So much had changed. His homeland was gone. Ishen was missing, and likely dead. His life was no longer his to control. He and his best friend had almost been killed. Nothing was okay.
“I don’t know, Aidux. Despite all we've survived, everything feel hopeless. Like it’s all just going to end badly.”
Aidux placed a comforting paw on his shoulder. “Why would you think that? Vincht is gone. Ships don’t leave footprints on the water. We’re free. All we have to do is drop the sword off and people will stop chasing us.”
Fresh tears burst forth from his reddening eyes. He could hardly breathe. Why was he feeling like this? Why was he feeling so sad, so depressed? “It won’t. They’ll find us again. They keep finding us, no matter what we do. They’ll find us, and they’ll kill us. All of us.
“And there's nothing you or I or Theis or Aurnia can do about it.”
************
Theis folded his arms across his chest. He hated being below deck, in a cave of wood and pale light and still air. He much preferred the open, limitless skies of the world above. Beneath the sun and stars, there was nowhere he couldn’t go, nowhere he couldn’t be alone.
Not like here. With her.
He glared at Aurnia through the faint blue haze encroaching on the edges of his vision. Easing back a step didn't improve his sight, and he could already feel the rough texture of unfinished wood grinding against his heel, leaving him no more room to retreat in the maze of crates and barrels. He'd handled the ever-present haze for the last few days with zero problems. Why was it suddenly bothering him now?
“This is all your fault, you know,” she said, pressing both hands over her stomach as if trying to hold her insides from spilling out. “If you had just done as I'd asked-”
The man in black buried her tired complaint beneath a drawn out groan. He paced the edge of the space, each step deliberately placed as if traversing an invisible line, one foot in front of the other. “Gods, you're unbearable.. And be careful where you swing the pendulum of blame, old woman. Your Fate gods might not appreciate shouldering fault they haven’t earned.”
She rubbed her eyes and sighed. “Fate is not a god, Theis Bane. It’s an indiscriminate force, so I’m sure it doesn’t care one way or the other upon whom the fault lies.”
“Like blaming the clouds for the rain?”
“Precisely. The clouds don’t care what we think, and blaming them won’t change the fact we’re wet.”
Theis rubbed the chin of his mask and nodded. “Then, if Fate doesn’t care, I guess that means your conscience is clear.”
Her head jerked up. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t play the fool. You dealt Nevin the Fate card the first night you met him. 'Fate’s heavy hand' and all that crap. And he ate it up, because he’s too scared to understand what’s really going on.”
“Tell me, then.” Ice coated her focused gaze. “Tell me what you think is really going on.”
He stopped, facing down the hall of crates toward Nevin's room. “You blame me, you blame Fate, you blame the Breathers...but it isn’t their fault we're headed half-way across the world. That blame belongs to you. You manipulated the boy’s need for safety in order to satisfy your own curiosity.”
“I seek answers, ones that can’t be found in the Lancowl province.”
He scoffed. “Those answers are less pertinent to Nevin than being free from the sword and the danger surrounding it. He isn’t a tool to be paraded around in order to fulfill your own personal agenda.”
Aurnia’s icy glare was replaced with surprise. “You’re actually defending him. Do you…do you care about him, Theis?”
The man in black shot her a hard look over his shoulder. “He’s young, foolish, and painfully naïve. The only feelings I have for him are annoyance.”
“Really. Then tell me, why are you still here? Why follow us to Vadderstrix? What's in it for you?”
Theis folded his arms and returned his gaze to the corridor of crates. She couldn’t understand his reasons, not without having lived his life. And it wasn’t any of her business anyway.
The blue haze coating his vision hadn’t abated. He supposed it could just be the presence of the charged Orlicite, but something told him it wasn’t. And it was getting worse. What had begun as a faint hue of color lining his view like a picture frame now covered everything he saw. The world presented itself through a thickening pane of stained glass.
Something tickled the back of Theis’ mind, teasing his awareness with feelings of discomfort, of alarm.
Then, everything went completely blue, and Theis couldn’t see.
“Khek.”
“Theis, what did I tell you about invoking-”
“I just went blind.”
A moment of silence. “You don’t…A Pool? Here? Impossible. In the middle of the ocean?”
Her voice broke, her words brimming with rising fear. “Nevin! Who knows what that sword will do in the midst of a Pool!”
Wind tugged at the hem of his leather cloak as the woman rushed past. He heard her shuffle quickly across through the maze of crates, followed by the groan of wood as she ascended the stairs to the Misanthrope's upper deck.
Theis crept along step by cautious step, blindly aiming for the stairs. The itching clawed at his thoughts, screaming warnings that he could put no words to. All he knew was that he had to reach the boy.
Cursing the existence of magic, Theis stumbled after the woman in yellow.
************
Aidux growled in disapproval. “Don’t talk like that, Nevin! I won’t let that happen. I’ll protect you!”
Nevin violently shook his head. “Just like you protected me back in the alley? Vincht nearly killed both of us. There’s nothing we can do. We’re all going to die.”
“What’s gotten into you? This isn’t like you!”
Nevin shoved his fingers into his disheveled hair and squeezed, yanking and pulling at the strands like he was trying to tear the images from his mind. This wasn’t right. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t stop the painful images from playing over and over again, magnifying his depression and feeding the growing queasiness in the pit of his stomach.
The barn catching fire.
The bloody canteen, slapping his thigh as he ran.
The mercenary's corpse, bleeding out in the overgrowth beneath Ishen's window.
The fire stretching across the horizon.
The bodies of soldiers scattered across Ivvilger's clearing.
The crumbling tree.
The Breather pushing through Donald's front door.
Vincht cornering him in the alley.
Watching as Aidux slammed into the warehouse, a line of blood flowing from his ear.
Not being able to tell if Aidux was breathing.
Not knowing if Aidux was dead.
His mouth parted in a silent wail, anguish driving his heart into a pounding gallop. His lungs burned from lack of air. He was drowning, choking on the deluge of emotion, emotion with no source, no end, no relief in sight.
The sword hummed in his mind, radiating an odd warmth that drew him back to the present.
When he opened his eyes, a fine blue mist had settled in over the deck, flickering with luminescent spots that reminded him of Theis’ eyes. Aidux had backed away, his eyes saucers of uncertainty, his hackles raised in alarm. The two deckhands had disappeared, though he could hear their frantic shouts calling out to the other sleeping sailors.
A silent hum rolled over his skin in waves. The finer hairs of his neck and arms danced with each pulse, and the queasiness flared and subsided to its beat.
The warmth at his back grew hotter with each humming pulse, the sword reacting to this disturbing and unknowable phenomena.
As he reached back to grab it, Aurnia dashed up the stairs. “NEVIN!” she screamed, stopping short when her eyes found him.
He started to respond, but the images flooded back into his mind, destroying all sense of time and reality and consciousness. He dropped to his knees and wailed uncontrollably at the overwhelming sadness that filled him to the point of bursting. His nails bit painfully into the skin of his palms. Blood dripped from his hands.
Terror clouded Aurnia’s normally perfectly composed face. He fought to keep his eyes open. He knew if he closed them, he’d drown under the weight of the images.
“BREATHE, NEVIN! IT’S THE POOL! IT ISN’T YOU!” Nothing she said made any sense. Only the sadness held meaning.
The mist crackled with gathering energy, swelling and thickening and threatening to consume the entire ship. The hum pounded with every beat of his racing heart, sending ripples out through the shining mist.
A dark figure stumbled up the stairs. He didn’t know who it was, but two bright spots of blue shone like the sun from its head. The mists circled and swirled around the figure, funneling towards it like water down a drain. The strange woman turned to look at it, screaming words that never reached his ears. A strange animal shoved him with its furry head, but he couldn’t move. The sadness was a lodestone, and he was crushed beneath its fatal weight.
The ground vanished beneath his feet, and Nevin fell into blackness.
****************
More than twenty miles away, lounging on the prismatic sand of the White Crystal Shores, a young woman with strawberry-blond hair enjoyed the last bits of a perfectly cooked sole and a handful of wild blueberries. She’d squelched her fire as soon as her meal was done cooking, preferring the faint light of Atro and her million sisters to the harsh glow of firelight. Staring out across the ocean, she smiled warmly, pleased with life’s little simplicities.
A high-pitched screech shattered the calm and brought the woman to her feet in a rush.
Far out to sea, a vivid blue sun was rising, erasing the colors from the landscape and replacing them with varied shades of sharp, harsh azure. Swirls of fog gathered around the light, vaulting into the black sky in a pillar of shimmering motes. It had to be miles high, and climbed as though reaching out to the stars themselves. Streamers of energy circled the pillar in alternating orbits.
With an influx of wind, the pillar and azure sun collapsed in upon themselves in a blinding flash. The woman shielded her eyes with the back of one hand. When she removed it, the horizon was gone, hidden behind an omnipresent bank of impenetrable fog that somehow spread out and enveloped the shore.
A peal of angry thunder rolled over her, resounding in her chest, but soon the only sound she could hear came from the gentle waves lapping against the shoreline.
Retrieving her fishing spear from the sand, the strawberry-blond woman turned down the beach, carefully picking her way through the soupy fog and back to her little fishing village. She wondered what people were already saying about the event. She had no idea what it could be, other than it had to have something to do with magic.
And where there was magic, there were people.
And out on the open ocean, where there were people, there was a boat.