A loud splash sounded off the starboard bow.

“What’s that?” Raleph said, sitting up suddenly and peering over the side of the ship. “Sea serpents? Pirates?”

“The sea anchor.” One of the younger sailors, Alec, grinned. “When we cross the Sunset Sea, we go west during the day and anchor at night. Otherwise, we end up going some other direction than toward the Isle of the Sun.”

“Of course,” Raleph said, sounding annoyed with himself. He relax and sat back down.

“How does that work?” Galaric asked from where he sat sharpening his sword. He brought the hilt toward his eye and checked the straightness of the edge. “Surely we could make better time sailing during the night as well as the day.”

The sailor shrugged. “I don’t know how it works, just that it does. Maybe the wizard boy could tell you.”

Galaric turned to Raleph. “Well? I’ve been landlocked my whole life. I never had to learn this stuff.”

“And never read a book on travel to Talagai? What sort of education did you have?” Raleph raised his eyebrows. “For that matter, Valin seemed to think your sword skills were below par. Just how did you manage to get an acceptance letter to Talagai?”

Galaric shrugged. “Perhaps I slept through ‘Magical Seafaring Level One.’ If you don’t know the answer to my question, just say so.”

Raleph frowned. “That’s not what I said. The reason we’re headed to the Isle of the Sun is because that’s the shortest path, magically speaking, between the eastern and western continents. We could take the long way, but that would take weeks or months.” He stood up, beginning to get animated. “This, on the other hand, will take us a few days to get to the Isle, and then a few days after that to arrive at the bay of Talagai. Time works differently in the path of the sun, at least when the ship is piloted by and Elder-blood of the Solari tribes, and we’re taking advantage of that.” Raleph leaned against the railing, content in displaying his knowledge.

“Huh.” Galaric sheathed his sword. “So there’s no point in continuing at night.”

“No,” Raleph said. “In fact, all other ships will pause at night. If we’re lucky, we may even see some. Come up to the crows nest, and you’ll see. I’ve got a telescope.”

The two began to clamber up the rigging. But when they reached the crow’s nest, it was already occupied by Ernst, who hastily shut a leather-bound volume and tucked it into his vest as they climbed in next to him. “What brings you two here?”

“Looking for other ships, sire,” Raleph said. “And you?”

“I was looking for some quiet and privacy,” Ernst said. “But I suppose that may be a little much to ask for on a ship this size.”

“You’re the younger of the Torinsons, right?” Galaric said, settling in next to the young prince. “I’ve heard news about your father. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you,” Ernst said. “And yes, I am the younger one, which is why I’m going to Talagai.” He smiled a little. “We wouldn’t want the Crown Prince killed and eaten by the Draki, now would we?”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Galaric asked. “Not to pry, I mean.”

“No,” Ernst said, his voice growing serious. “I’m concerned for my older brother. He’s always been more ambitious than me, but also more impulsive. I worry that without me there he won’t have anyone to check him. But I suppose there is nothing I can do now.” He sighed and looked out at the ocean. Silence fell for a few moments. Then Raleph pointed at the horizon. “Look there, a light.” He produced a telescope and peered through it, and then passed it to Ernst. “It’s another boat, about the same size as us. I wonder where it is from. Valonde, perhaps?”

He passed the telescope to the others, who took turns looking through it.

“There’s another ship,” Raleph said. “Much smaller, and it’s not anchored.” He passed the telescope back to Ernst. “I think the second one is a sloop from Botester.”

“Pirates?” Galaric asked.

Ernst shook his head. “Maybe. But we have an agreement with the privateers of that city, so they should steer clear of the fleet, and looks like they’re keeping their distance. Perhaps they are also going to the Isle of the Sun.”

“Botester pirates going on a pilgrimage?” Raleph snorted. “I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

“Is it possible they would violate your agreement?” Galaric wondered.

“Perhaps,” Ernst shrugged. “If so, they’re in for a rude awakening. This ship is packed with paladin trainees, soldiers, and folk like Valin Kyor. I’ll rest easy tonight.” With that, Ernst started down from the crowsnest. He paused for a moment and glanced back up at them. “Look to the northeast. You’ll see the light from a lighthouse on the last island out from the continent.”

Galaric raised the telescope and peered back toward Mitbury, and sure enough, there it was: a faint, flickering yellow light. The last glimpse of home.

***

“Wake up, your highness,” came a whisper.

Aitus sat up with a start, one hand gripping a dagger under his pillow. “What is it?”

His steward stood there, holding a lamp. “It’s the king, sire. He…just passed.”

Aitus let go of the weapon and threw his feet over the side of the bed, rubbing his face. “Give me a moment.”

The steward set the lamp on the nightstand and left the room silently. Aitus bowed his head and took a deep breath, and then stood, put on a shirt, and took up the lamp. He padded down the hall barefoot and approached the group of servants clad in black stood outside the doorway of his fathers chambers. As they noticed him, they bowed their heads. Aitus pushed past them and opened the ornate door to the late king’s chambers. Inside, Eamon and the team of doctors turned to face Aitus. His apprentice, Caliria was there too, her eyes downcast.

“It happened much more quickly than we thought,” Eamon murmured. “I would have summoned you, but his sleep was nigh indistinguishable from death.”

Aitus approached the bed. “He seems at peace. Did the priest come?”

“I am here, sire,” one man said. “The rituals are complete. His soul is freed.”

“Very good,” Aitus said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Let the funeral preparations commence. Eamon, let him be buried according to the old ways. Call the commander, and arrange for a parade once the king’s body is prepared.”

“You are the king now, my lord,” Eamon said, placing a hand on Aitus’ shoulder. Silently, one of the black-cloaked doctors moved toward Aitus until he was behind him. Slowly, he reached into the sleeve of his cloak and produced a double-edged dagger. With a silent snarl, he drove it forward, toward Aitus’ back.

“Nosthitha!”

It stopped an inch short of its target.

Aitus turned around, eyes wide.

With a grunt, the would-be assassin attempted to push, but he could not move. Behind him, Caliria’s eyes glowed as she extended her hand toward him. A moment later, his wrist popped, and he dropped the knife with a scream of pain. Then he was tackled to the ground by the Royal Guard stationed in the room.

“Don’t kill him,” Aitus said, voice steady. “Take him to the dungeons for questioning.”

The assassin thrashed in the guard’s grip, and two more guards entered to restrain him. The assassin fixed Aitus with a glare. “Baram and Brapton shall be no slaves of yours!” With a horrifying twist, jaw and neck made a snap and he went limp. The guard checked his pulse and shook his head. “Dead, sire.”

Aitus clenched his jaw. “Take him out of here.” He flicked his eyes to Eamon and the lead doctor, Sola. “I want a full examination of his body. I want to know who did this.” He turned back to the bed. “Now leave me, all of you.”

***

Mitbury was in mourning, and it seemed as if the weather itself knew of the passing of the king. The skies were gray, though not yet rainy, and the wind keened through the streets. Hanging from the gallows in front of the palace were the remains of the attempted assassin.

Aitus examined himself in the mirror. He wore full armor for this occasion, inlaid with gold and gems. A red cape trimmed in gold, secured with gold brooches was slung over his shoulder. He looked every part the young king, ready to take his place in a long line of warrior-kings. His eyes looked to the circlet on his head, soon to be replaced with a full crown. He looked around the chamber where he had lived for his whole life. There on the wall was a portrait of the whole family. Aitus touched the face of his father and mother, each so vibrant. Sitting on the dresser under it was the wooden shortsword he had grown up carrying around.

“The parade awaits your command, sire,” Eamon said.

Aitus cleared his throat. “I shall be out presently.”

He took one more look around, and then turned about and left the room, head held high.

The two ships continued to follow the Elder Dancer. The sloop continued to hang back, but the other ship drew near, along with several other frigates of similar size. Their flags indicated that they were Valondean ships, bound for the Isle of the Sun, just as the Elder Dancer was. Eventually, there was a fleet of seven ships sailing together. Then the news of the king’s death came to Raleph. He hurried first to Ernst, and then gathered Valin Kyor and the captain of the ship to share the news.

Valin Kyor’s expression was grave, as was the captain’s. “Lower the flag to half-mast,” the captain told the first-mate. “And make prayers for the new king.”

The mood on the Elder Dancer was somber. Word quickly spread about the death of the king, and each person on the ship wore black if they had it, and a red handkerchief or ribbon as support to the royal family. Valin and some of the prospective paladin trainees set up a constant prayer vigil. That evening, Ernst emerged from his cabin in royal attire and climbed the stairs onto the poop deck. There, flanked by his four Royal Guards, he addressed the crew gathered on the deck below.

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“My fellow Marusians,” he began, “I thank you for your support and prayers in this time of loss. I am told there was foul play involved.” Ernst’s brow furrowed. “Already, one member of the conspiracy has been killed. Rest assured, any other perpetrators will be found, and their leader brought to justice.” Ernst’s eyes raked over those gathered. “My father’s dream was that the many nations and races of the world would unite under one banner, and push back the heretical Tsuian menace. As we approach the Isle of the Sun, and later, Talagai, we must each do our part in the fulfillment of that dream. Elder-blood, human, and centaur alike, all who follow the gods have their part in this great work.” His brow furrowed. “We cannot fail.”

The crew dispersed and Ernst returned to his cabin.

As the sun began to set, Alec, the lookout, called out that he saw another sloop on the horizon. The captain, navigator, Valin, and Alec gathered.

“Do you suppose both sloops are pirates?” Valin asked.

“More than likely,” the captain said. “But they won’t make a move while the fleet stays together.

“But we fly the Marusian royal colors,” he replied. “If they are Wanhaian privateers, they must respect the treaty.”

“Unless they are not Wanhaian,” the captain countered. “Then, all they see in this fleet, and especially on this vessel, are ransoms.” He turned to Alec. “Set a double-watch tonight. I want both ships tracked constantly through the night. Set down the sea anchors so we stay close to the fleet.”

“Aye, captain,” Alec saluted.

That night, Galaric found it impossible to fall asleep. Every time he got close to falling asleep, some noise or jolt would wake him up again. Finally, just as he was drifting off, the ship’s bell began to sound. He scrambled out of his hammock and snatched his sword and made his way toward the top decker, dodging the other trainees who were in a similar state.

Once on the main deck, he saw that most of the fleet of Valondean ships were far away. close to the horizon to the west. There was one headed in their direction, however. At the same time, the two sloops were bearing down on their position from the east. Sailors ran to and fro on the deck, yelling directions and orders while hurriedly equipping weapons and armor.

Raleph stumbled up next to Galaric, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. He saw Alec making his way to the rigging and grabbed his arm. “What’s happening?”

“Our sea anchors were cut, and our rudder disabled,” he replied tersely. “We must have drifted during the night, and only one of the other ships noticed. Now the pirates are swooping in for the spoils.” Alec began backing away. “Go to the prince. If the pirates wish for a ransom, he’s their first target.”

At this Raleph’s eyes widened. Together, he and Galaric made their way to Ernst’s cabin, which was next to the captain’s cabin. Galaric knocked, but there was no reply. He rapped again, this time longer, and still there was no response. He glanced at Raleph and drew his sword.

“Move aside,” Raleph said. He muttered a few words and placed his hand on the handle of the door. It gave a quiet click and the door swung open. Galaric stepped into the room, sword at the ready. Ernst’s four guards were scattered across the floor, dead. Several other bodies lay next to them. The door that went to the balcony at the stern of the boat was hanging open. One of the guards coughed wetly. Galaric stooped next to him and put his hand on the wound on the man’s chest. The guard pushed at him weakly.

“Go,” he said, gesturing at the window. “They took him.”

Raleph rushed to the balcony. “Galaric, come quickly,” he said, grasping the railing

Galaric peered over Raleph’s shoulder. Something was moving in the water, slithering away from the Elder Dancer and toward the sloops.

“What is that?” Galaric asked, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

“How should I know?” Raleph snapped. “But they have Ernst, and we need to go after them!”

“Are you mad?” Galaric said. “We haven’t even got a rowboat to send after them.”

“Jump after them, and I’ll catch you,” Raleph said.

Galaric turned to Raleph with a furrowed brow. “What?”

“Trust me,” Raleph said. “If we wait any longer, they’ll be too far away.”

Galaric took a deep breath. “If I drown, I promise to haunt you.”

Raleph did not respond. He closed his eyes and began muttering. When he opened them, they were glowing green. “Go, now.”

Galaric backed up a few paces and took a running leap over the edge of the balcony. As he flew through the air, Raleph thrust his hands forward. “Aeritha Korthanthra.”

Galaric’s arc through the air extended, and he felt as if a powerful wind was at his back. He began to gain on the slithering ripple, and more details became clear. It was an incredibly long, narrow animal of some kind, and half a dozen people were seated on it. Four of them were clearly sailors, pirates, and the last wore a robe similar to Raleph’s. There, in the middle, was Ernst, bound and gagged. They did not seem to notice him quite yet. Galaric drew his sword. At the same time, the wind slackened and he began to descend. Raleph had him right on target. With a cry, he slashed downward just as the last of the wind gave out, and the first of the pirates fell off of the creature. The others turned around, startled. Galaric shoved the pirate aside and moved forward, but had to move slowly. Whatever the creature was, its hide was slippery. The next pirate drew his blade and balanced on the beast with practiced ease. He grimaced at Galaric.

“You’re a brave one, I’ll give you that,” he snarled. Galaric slashed at him, but he blocked, countering with a quick stab. Galaric stumbled backward and lost his footing. He tumbled down, his feet falling into the ocean. He managed to grab hold of a fin or some such thing emanating from the creature. The pirate bounded forward and sliced at him, but Galaric was able to roll out of the way. He swung his sword, and it bit into the ankle of the pirate, and he tumbled into the sea. With effort, Galaric scrambled back up onto the spine of the creature, and the next pirate bounded toward him.

“Phindel!” He called over his shoulder. “Stop the serpent, Elen fell overboard.”

“We continue on,” the robed man responded. “Elen knew the risks.”

The pirate shook his head and moved toward Galaric, sword raised. By this time, Galaric had gained more of a feel for the undulating movement of the creature.

Phindel glanced over his shoulder and murmured a word. Then, just as Galaric made a stab at the pirate, the beast beneath him bucked, throwing him into the ice-cold water. It was all he could do to hold on to his sword and tread water at the same time as the sea serpent slithered away. The waves around him threatened to overcome him, and he was forced to sheathe his weapon as he looked around for a destination to swim to. His fingers were numb now, and he had lost his boot. His legs began to slow their treading, and he knew he hadn’t much energy left. Then, suddenly, a rope dropped into the water next to him.

“Care for a lift?” A voice called from above.

Galaric stuck his arm in the loop and tugged weakly, too tired to even look up. He was drawn up out of the water and dragged onto the deck of a ship. When he opened his eyes, he saw a tall, broad-shouldered blond man about his own age with a short beard and shoulder-length hair. He pressed flask to Galaric’s lips, and a warming drink revived him. He began to sit up, and the blond man supported him.

“Easy there,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Galaric,” he gasped in reply. “We must get after that serpent. Those pirates took the prince.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll catch them. There isn’t a ship south of Mitbury faster than us.” the man replied. “I’m Varren, by the way. As for your pirate friends, it seems they’re already running into some trouble.” He gestured, and sure enough, the sloop ahead of them was on a collision course with the frigate from the fleet.

Galaric’s eyes glanced over the deck of the ship, and looked at the masthead, where no flag flew. “Are you pirates, too?”

“Sometimes,” Varren grinned. “But not today.” He helped Galaric to his feet. “Warm up there by the brazier until you’re fit to fight. It’ll be a few minutes before we board them.”

Galaric shivered and rubbed his hands together of the flames. Blood was returning to his limbs. In the distance, he heard shouts carried on the wind as the Elder Dancer chased the first sloop behind them. He drew his sword and dried it off. As he watched, the sloop ahead of them turned hard to port, attempting to skirt around the frigate. Flaming arrows issued from both sides, but caused little damage. All the while, Varren’s vessel gained on the pirate sloop, passing the frigate and the Elder Dancer. Before long, they were mere yards from the pirate ship’s stern. Varren aimed a ballistae with a massive harpoon and rope at the vessel ahead. It was attached to a great wheel with several spokes.

“Brace yourselves,” he yelled, and fired. The great missile arced and smashed into the thick panels of the sloop just above the waterline, and expanded upon impact so it could not be dislodged. The rope snapped taut, and Varren’s vessel shook. A pair of sailors went to each spoke on the wheel and began to reel in the other vessel. Before long, they were nearly touching. They had so slowed the sloop that the frigate and the Elder Dancer were beginning to catch up.

A line of pirates wielding spears and pikes faced them on the stern of the sloop. Meanwhile, several dozen men had assembled on the deck of Varren’s ship, readying their own weapons. An unarmed man stood in front of them, chanting in the magical tongue.

“Prepare to board,” Varren ordered, drawing his sword. He grabbed a rope and grappling hook from the ground and tossed it to Galaric. “Use that on the way down.”

“Way down?”

“Cedric, launch us.”

Varren grinned, sword in one hand, a grappling hook of his own in the other. “Cedric, launch us.”

“With pleasure,” the unarmed man said. With a deep breath, he thrust his hands forward. “Aeritha Veloranthalan!”

As with Raleph’s spell, what felt like a powerful wind was at Galaric’s back, whisking him up and forward at an immense speed above the heads of the line of pirates. They whooped and hollered, the sounds echoing through the night. All around him, Varren’s men wielded grappling hooks and cast them into the rigging of the sloop, cushioning their landing. Quickly, Galaric followed their example. His hook tangled onto a rope, and a moment later, he swung in an arc. Below him, torches and places the flaming arrows had caught illuminated a deck full of activity. Then he saw Ernst being dragged toward the prow of the vessel, still bound and gagged. There, Ernst was thrown to the ground. The magician Phindel was there along with a half-dozen well-armed men. Galaric slid down the rope, ignoring the burning in his hands and dropped near the stern of the ship. One of the pirates turned to him and attacked with a yell, but he ducked his blow and cut him down. Varren landed next to him and dispatched another pirate with practiced ease.

“Not bad for your first leap,” he called over the gathering din of battle.

Galaric pointed toward the prow. “That’s where the prince is.”

“Then let’s go retrieve him, shall we?” Varren said, a mischievous grin on his lips. Together, they advanced down the deck, dodging duels between Varren’s men and the pirates. Just as they reached the midsection of the ship, it shook as the Elder Dancer came up on one side, and the frigate on the other, the ships colliding with a crash. The pirate sloop was boxed in, yet the pirates did not surrender.

Galaric and Varren regained their balance and fought their way toward the stern. Three pirates came at them, one at Galaric and two at Varren. They were forced to back up as the pirates on this part of the ship were more organized, forming a fighting line. Then a woman from the frigate jumped aboard behind then line, flanked by several others, brandishing a sword etched with runes. She had long, curly dark hair drawn back and secured with a leather thong. She wore a breastplate emblazoned with the sigil of the Valondean Confederation. Without a yelled command from her, her group pincered the fighting line, cutting them down ruthlessly. She met Varren and Galaric. “Who is the target?”

Galaric pointed down the ship. “The captain is there, and so is the hostage.”

Together, the three of them pushed forward, Varren taking point. No movement of his was wasted, his easygoing demeanor disappearing in the heat of battle. For every pirate the dark-haird woman and Galaric took down, Varren dispatched two with what seemed to be inhuman ease. Before long, they were near the stern. Phindel and the captain turned to them.

“Halt, or the prince dies.” The captain said, a pair of swords glittering in the firelight. Phindel’s hand glowed a dangerous green color as he pointed at Ernst.

The three pulled up short.

“Don’t mind him,” a familiar voice came from behind Galaric. He turned, and Raleph stood there, arms crossed. He smirked at Phindel. “You’re an animal specialist. One that clearly lacks formal training, I might add.” He pointed at the other magician, saying “dissolthi verinthra.” The green glow disappeared.

Phindel turned to the young wizard with a sour look and replied “venarla, tolithas aranith.”

With a surge that rocked the sloop, the sea serpent shot out of the ocean on the port side of the sloop, rearing its silver head. Color drained from Raleph’s face and he stumbled back. Rows of sharp teeth glistened in its gaping maw. It darted forward and snatched one of Varren’s men in its jaws before anyone could react.

“Fools,” the Captain said, setting his blade on Ernst’s neck. “Advance another step and I’ll gut—” he was cut off as an arrow sprouted between his eyes, throwing him backward. On the deck of the Elder Dancer, Valin Kyor fitted another arrow to his bow. With a growl, Phindel threw himself over the edge of the ship, and the serpent followed him. Surrounded now, the last pirates gave in, throwing their weapons to the ground. Galaric rushed to Ernst’s side and cut his bonds. The prince took off his gagged and rubbed his wrists, looking up at his rescuers with gratefulness.

Varren introduced himself, and the dark-haired woman said she was called Avala of Tokbugh. She cast looks of disapproval at Varren once she heard he was from Botester, but stayed silent. Soon after, the captains of the three victorious vessels met and appointed an interim captain and crew of the captured sloop to take inventory and sail it with the fleet to the Isle of the Sun.