James rotated his hurting wrist, cursing to himself as he nursed his knuckles.
“Those were amazing movements!” Malik exclaimed. “The way you and that spirit switched and fought!” The necromancer pressed his ear against James’ back, causing the clan leader some discomfort.
“Is this really necessary?” James grimaced as Malik poked at him.
“What I saw was beyond what you showed me back in that city. Were you two holding back on me?”
“Not really.” James shook his head. “Depending on the situation, Faust and I usually make up the tactics as we go. An orc reacts differently than an unfeeling draugr.” James flexed his left hand, the bandages of which were wearing down a little.
‘I need these changed soon. Maybe when we get back home.’
The blond man groaned as he stood up. He could feel his tired body react to his exertion, his stomach growling for substance.
‘I really hope there’s enough food on that longship,’ Faust muttered.
“Let’s hope we don’t burn through rations,” James agreed underneath his breath.
As the clan leader debated food with the spirit, Silas was off to the distance, speaking with Horuk and the rest of the orcs. James’ flashy proposition was enough to make the poor bastards hesitant to look him in the eye.
“Was it too much?” he asked aloud.
“You know damn well it was!” Dahlia’s voice chastised. James cringed a little. He turned around to see the shaman in the shallows, her angry form wading through the waist high water.
“Ah shit…”
“Ah shit is right! What the hell were you thinking?!” Dahlia shouted. “Risking yourself like that, you idiot!”
“I had it covered.”
“Covered?” Dahlia stopped in the waters, her brow furrowing. “You nearly lost your head!”
“Well… I… Ah…” James tried to find a reason to tell her he expected it. Yet even he knew that was bullshit. “Point taken.”
“Dammit, James.” The shaman shook her head as she made it to shore. “How’s his wounds?” She asked Malik.
“Little to none,” Malik responded. “Other than drawbacks from his drain and that punch he threw, both him and Faust are alright.”
“Good.” Dahlia sighed in relief. “I will admit one thing, that duel of yours worked.” She gestured to Silas and Horuk. Both orcs were speaking, their voices unheard from a distance. Yet even James could see how Horuk nodded and gestured, the look on his face now that of excitement.
“Funny, I thought they’d be more pissed,” James said.
“Orcs have a hierarchy,” Dahlia explained. “Strongest of the strong will always remain on top.” She turned to James. “Clearly, they don’t take you for granted.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” James asked.
“Depends on what kind of leader you’ll be. What example you’ll set for them,” Dahlia warned. The clan leader could feel chills in his spine from her words. What kind of man would he be? When the time came, would his example be enough to influence the orc? It was best not to overthink things. After all, James only had three months left until Frost came around. The short notice was because of Valenfrost’s stunted years.
While Earth had twelve months, Valenfrost only had ten that were extended by a week. Currently, they were in Somme, one month before Midsommar and two before the Gale solstice. Gale only lasted for a month and a half before Frost came around. The information had come out left field for James, who had assumed there were twelve months instead of ten. As usual, he was left in the dark for the first half of the year, leaving him clueless to it all.
‘Speaking of being in the dark…’
James looked over at Dahlia. “I might know where Iendis’ worshippers are,” he muttered in a low voice, as to not be overheard by Malik.
“Really?” Dahlia perked up.
“Back when I grabbed Horuk, I saw his memories. Specifically, what he saw this last year.” James recalled the image of hooded figures and their island. “There’s an island not too far from here. Has a small village on it.”
“Do you know the exact location?”
James shook his head. “I only saw flashes of it, but I’m sure Horuk knows where it could be.” It was a longshot of a guess. Hell, James wasn’t even sure if the island was where Iendis’ worshipers lived on.
‘But if there’s even a slight chance of it being hers…’
That vision was replaying itself over and over in his mind. James was close to going insane over the memory of it all. The blood moons and runic slab, it all felt too personal to him. It all had to mean something. Iendis knew something about James. She had the answers.
“James.” Dahlia nudged the man, breaking him out of his thought process. He raised his head, wondering what got her attention. He got his answer in the form of a lively shout.
“Draugr!” It was Horuk. The orc’s boisterous voice was enough to make the blond man jump. Still, he kept his composure enough to straighten himself out and make sure he didn’t show weakness. The orc he had fought was across the beach from him, smiling with his crooked teeth and waving to him. Before James could question it, the orc shouted once more,
“First thing on the morrow, we shall make our way to your island as followers!” Horuk slammed a fist to his chest. “For the Draugr!” He shouted. The orcs behind him all gave their own salutes, their shouts accompanying him. James stared at the sight in awe. An inkling of pride blossomed in his chest, causing the otherworldly man to return the salute.
“For the White Raven,” he called back with a grin.
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Gwenyth watched the glow on the distant horizon, her gaze focusing on the buoys that floated passively. “Interesting,” she muttered. “Ley lines are too deep to be accessed normally, but with the help of these buoys, they can connect the city and its inhabitants.”
“That’s a poor design, leaving them out in the open for anyone to destroy.” William pointed out.
“I doubt they do all the work,” Gwenyth commented. “They looked to just be receivers to the real thing.” The elf and the herald were conversing about none other than the city of Vindis. In only a short time, they would pass through a checkpoint for longships. Once they got past that, they would dock at the northern harbor.
It was simple, but Gwenyth felt more than a little worried. If these people had this kind of advanced magic, they would surely have something to weed out threats?
“Magic or not, these savages are all the same,” Arthur called out. “Past all the magic marvels, this city is just as much of a shithole as the rest of Valenfrost.” He was fitting on his gear, which included the sword given to him by Delphine’s clergy.
“Are they going to allow you in with that?” Gwenyth pointed at the sword.
“With enough coin, they’ll turn a blind eye,” Arthur explained as he brought out two king pieces.
“Where’s your contact?” William asked.
“Near the slums of this forsaken place.” Arthur strapped on his belt, making sure that his satchel and potions were on the right. “She’ll be waiting for us there.”
“Who’s this contact of yours?” Gwenyth asked.
“Someone you’ll get to know later,” Arthur simply replied.
“That’s not an answer,” the elf argued.
“It’s the only one you’re going to get,” Arthur spat back.
“Keeping me in the dark will not make this any easier.”
The former apostle stopped at those words. He took a deep breath, his eyes closing. He looked like he was in thought. “Fine,” He muttered finally. Arthur turned to Gwenyth. “Our contact is a dark magic user, one versed in rituals and demonology. We need their help, not only to locate our target, but to figure out what this fracture really is.”
“Are they trustworthy?”
“They have no reason to lie to me,” Arthur said. “They know better than to do that.” His vague answer was enough to rub the elf the wrong way. Still, she didn’t prod further. Judging from the tone of his voice, Arthur was more than sure this magic user would help. To what extent, Gwenyth almost didn’t want to know.
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Gustus nervously stuck close to Eli, who simply walked without a care. “Is it safe to be here?” He asked in a low voice. Both marauders were currently in the depths of Vindis city, which was more than hostile to the Red Death’s cause.
“We’re fine,” the blind spellcaster called out. “If anyone tries something, we’ll just kill them.” He chuckled.
“Kill them. Right…” He had said that as if it was nothing but an inconvenience. Gustus felt more and more uncomfortable with Eli as time went on. This scouting mission did nothing to help that. Eli had been nonchalant about everything, his carefree attitude concerning the marauder. Still, he refused to talk back or even refuse orders. Eli was still his superior. “What are we looking for here?”
“Any remnants of that Draugr you witnessed,” Eli responded. “Tell me, where did he turn you in?”
“Around the docks. I was taken into the city center by him and some of the watch.”
“Center? Like that tower over there?” Eli pointed to the tall building that rested ahead.
“Yes, that tower. It’s the city center where the clan leaders meet up,” Gustus confirmed.
“Good, we’ll go check that out soon, then.” The spellcaster grinned. Gustus only stared, confused.
“What does Deimos plan to do here?” Gustus asked as he followed behind.
“He wants to meet that draugr of yours,” Eli answered. “To fight him.”
“To kill him?” Gustus asked.
“Those two aren’t necessarily the same but… yes.” Eli nodded. “To kill him. Deimos wants nothing more than an interesting fight with that man. One that could give him a run for his gold.”
“Why would he want to investigate the city, then?”
Eli stopped at the question. “If I’m being honest, I don’t think his interest here lies with the Draugr. It feels more like he’s after something more.”
“More?” Gustus questioned. As he tried to come up with something, Eli tapped his walking stick.
“Keep focused. I don’t want you to get your purse snatched in this part of town. Especially this part of town.”
The marauder quickly obeyed, his hands moving to check up on his belongings.
“So, what do you think Deimos is after?” His question caused the spellcaster to chuckle.
“Many things. He wants to take over Valenfrost, get rid of the damned clans, and make sure that no Lumen control befalls the islands.”
“Well, to do that, he’ll need a…” Gustus blinked. Realization slowly dawned on him. Eli grinned as the thought crossed his mind. It was as if he was reading his mind. “He won’t…”
“He can and he will,” the young man answered simply. “Now come on. Catch up before you fall behind. We have a city to scout.”
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“Are you sure it’s around here?” James asked.
“Aye,” Horuk answered. “I could never forget that place. Gave me the creeps.” The orc strained his neck to look ahead of the longship. Draugr’s Haunt was in motion, making it harder for him to get a good look of the front. James had Horuk join in on their journey to Iendis’ island, mainly because the orc knew exactly where it laid.
“Lemme see that map!” Horuk called out to Dimitri.
“Be my guest.” The shipmaster handed over the parchment of Valenfrost to the orc, who grabbed onto it gingerly. The orc handled the map like it was a fragile thing, his thumb and index holding the edges delicately.
‘Probably doesn’t want to rip it accidentally.’ James realized. ‘How thoughtful.’
“When did you come across this place?” James asked Horuk.
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“Back during the New Year transition,” the orc answered. “We were looking for a spot to set up our camp when we met those strangers.” Horuk shook his head. “Strange people. Only one of them spoke. The rest, well, they were dead silent. Not a single word the entire time.” The orc raised the map. He stared at it for a moment before he looked down at the compass Dimitri held.
“We’re on the right course. In fact, we should see it right about now,” Horuk stated.
“Really?” James asked sarcastically. The reason for that remark, laid all around them. There was mist everywhere, obscuring the sea and the horizon. The fog was enough that James could barely see the other side of the longship, let alone any islands in the distance.
“Right…” Horuk muttered. “Still, we should come across it. We just need to get through this damned fog.” The orc waved his arms around, almost as if he was trying to dispel the mist.
“I got this,” Dahlia called out. The shaman pulled her sleeves back, revealing her tattoos to the world. James stepped back, watching as the young woman raised her hands.
“Wind Wall.”
The shaman’s fingers formed correctly, summoning the ethereal rune that represented the spell. James watched with a smile as a gust of swirling wind shot out into the air, its force enough to swirl the surrounding mist. In just a second, the Wind Wall spell dissipated, sending gusts of wind and fog back in response.
The fog in front of the longship was cleared, even for a little. Still, that small window of time was enough for the crew to see what was ahead.
“There it is…” James murmured under his breath. As Horuk correctly predicted, there was an island ahead. It was small, but an improvement to the isle Horuk’s orcs were on.
There were signs of life in the form of trees and bushes, the sign of civilization coming from the visible buildings around its beach.
“Are they hostile?” James asked.
Horuk shook his head. “No. Far from it. They offered me to stay with them the last time I was here but I refused,” the orc admitted. “Too creepy for me…” That was a surprise. That these people were enough to ward off orcs was saying something.
“Well, let’s hope they have what I’m looking for.” James turned to the shipmaster. “Anchor around the shallows. This is the place.”
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Dahlia stuck behind James as they waded through the freezing waters. Despite it being Sommar, the water was shockingly cold. That was one of the many things the shaman felt was wrong with this place. The aura was something she couldn’t explain. It was as if she was in constant proximity to a cemetery, the spirits of beyond calling out to her. The air was thick with fog, which made breathing feel close to drowning.
Malik was right behind, followed by Elaine. They both wanted to see this for themselves, both for different reasons. The bard looked uncomfortable, her eyes darting around as she kept close. The necromancer had a grin on his face, like a child at the market. Opposite reactions, yet similar goals. They wanted to witness James as he approached an island inhabited by the worshipers of Iendis.
Dahlia turned to face the island, her legs pushing through the cold sea. By the time they’ve reached the shore, James was already moving to the buildings. She wanted to call out to him, to ask him if it was a good idea to be here. Yet she held it in. She knew better than to stop James. He was already set on his goal, on his needs. Dahlia knew that the blond man wanted nothing more than to find answers.
“Anyone here?” James called out. No response. He went to a building, knocking at the door. No response. James turned to Dahlia, who shrugged.
“Try the other buildings… We’re bound to find someone.” With that, the small group went around the shore, trying to find people. Yet, there was not a single response. Only the sound of wind and waves. At the final house, James was only halfway through knocking before a voice called out.
“Who are you people?”
The source of the voice came from the nearby treeline. Dahlia and James moved from the building, their eyes focusing on the man who spoke out. He was an elderly looking person, his clothes modest. He did not look like what Horuk described. James was the first to talk.
“We’re just looking for some people. I think we might have come to the wrong island,” He nervously admitted.
The old man raised an eyebrow. “Wrong island… We’re pretty far off from any known settlement. Are you looking for Yorktown? Farhorn?”
“No. Actually, we’re from Yorktown.”
That seemed to confuse the man even more. “Then why are you here? There’s nothing here for folks, nothing but these remnants.”
“Remnants?” Dahlia asked.
The man sighed. “While it might not look like it, this village is abandoned.” He gestured towards the rows of buildings that lined up around the shore and treeline. “All people are gone from here.”
“You don’t live here?” James questioned.
“Me? No. Gods no.” He chuckled. “I live on an isle north of here. Farhorn. Fishing village.” The old man looked off into the forest behind him. “I’m only here to leave off food and amenities for the people here.”
“People?” Dahlia raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. I’d advise you not to interact with them. They’re strange and really keep to themselves.” His response only confused Dahlia.
“Then why are you leaving food and supplies?” She prodded.
“It’s my job,” the old man revealed. “Has been for a long time now.” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost embarrassed at the words that he said.
“Can you explain why?” the shaman asked.
The old man seemed to hesitate, but complied. “I leave them supplies and they return the favor by keeping bandits away from Farhorn. The trade has been going for about… Thirty years now.”
“Thirty years,” Dahlia muttered to herself. “Have they ever spoken to you?”
“No. Like I said, they like to keep to themselves.”
“Can you show us where they are?” James asked.
“What? Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“I did, but…” The clan leader shook his head. “I need to see them. To speak with them.” His request made the older man visibly uncomfortable, his hands moving to rub at his faded stubble.
“Fine.” He finally gave in. “I can show you, but I’m leaving before they spot me. I’m not risking anything.” The old man gestured for the group to follow him into the forest, which they did. They all headed into the forest, pushing past bushes and branches. As they walked, Dahlia gently grabbed James’ hand. The blond man glanced at her, almost surprised.
The shaman only gave him a smile, as if to reassure him. In reality, she was feeling dread. These last months, the two barely had any time to spend together. Despite their goal of extending the bond between the spirit and James, Dahlia had a sinking feeling that it was all for naught. She wondered countless times if they should cut their losses and spend the final moments in bliss, like that night on Bloom. Dahlia would give anything to spend another night like that with James.
Yet there was barely time. There was only working and searching, studying and building. Dahlia had read through more books these past months than she had in her adolescent years. James had overworked himself to where he was developing dark bags underneath his eyes. Both of them were at their limit and this Iendis lead was their last shot. Dahlia wondered if it will lead them anywhere or do nothing but make James desperate.
Dahlia squeezed James’ hand, her mouth opening to say something. She wanted to tell him this, to tell him what she felt.
‘Can I do that? Can I just rip his hope out?’
Both of them wanted James to live. They wanted to fight this. Yet the shaman could only feel hopeless at the idea of it all. Before she could get the words out, her thoughts were interrupted.
“We’re here.” The old man’s voice put everything in her head to a stop. James broke his gaze from the shaman, his hand slipping away from hers.
“Where?” he asked.
“Just a little farther ahead. Huge clearing, no grass, all gravel. They have a few tents there. That is where they live.” The elder sighed. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, but be warned. They are… strange people.”
“No worries.” James nodded. “We’ll be fine.”
“I hope so. Good luck to you all.” With that, the old man walked off, leaving the group of four alone.
“Well, let’s move.”
James took the lead and walked in the direction the old man pointed out. Dahlia followed behind with Malik and Elaine, both of whom were visually curious to see what lay ahead. After stepping through some more brush and shrubbery, the group finally made it.
It was like what the man had told them. A large open clearing, with gravel instead of grass. Black tents were set up around the clearing, their flaps billowing in the wind. They had no banner, no symbol, but Dahlia could take a guess who they belonged to. James took a few cautious steps towards the center of the clearing. Once he reached the center, a bell rang out. Dahlia jumped at the sound of it and James visibly tensed up at it.
The bell rang for a second before it was silenced. For the brief silence there was, Dahlia felt eyes on her. There were no visible indicators, yet she felt as if she was being watched. Before she could call out, another sound filled the air. It was the sound of footsteps on gravel. The sound was muffled at first, but it grew by the second. Dahlia looked around the clearing, trying to see where they were coming from.
Finally, they appeared. Men and women in hooded robes, their faces obscured by black wrappings. Some walked out from the treeline, others from the tents. They all looked to be in sync, their steps all sounding out at the same time. They stopped soon, their gazes stuck in the group. Dahlia felt for her dagger, ready to fight off in case of an attack. None of the hooded figures moved, however.
“James Holter,” one of them suddenly called out. Dahlia felt chills run down her body.
‘They know his name…’
It was official. She was freaked out.
“We’ve been waiting for your arrival for quite a while,” they added.
“How long of a while?” James called back to the speaker.
“Six months,” the hooded man answered. Dahlia blinked in surprise. That was roughly around the time James was summoned. Did they know?
“Iendis told you?”
“Of course she did. The goddess has spoken to us about you, about your importance. She has been eager to finally meet you!”
The hooded man pulled back his hood, revealing his wrapped head. “I am the speaker, chosen by the goddess herself.”
“Speaker?” James questioned.
“I am a mere messenger, here to communicate with those who come here,” the speaker explained. “These men and women, they are oracles and apostles of Iendis. They receive her word and teachings and keep it secret among themselves.” He gestured to them. “To where they have cut their lucid tongues to keep themselves from revealing too much.”
“Freyja’s mercy,” Dahlia cursed.
“So you don’t know why I’m here?” The clan leader asked.
“Only that you would come. That is all I know.”
James turned to look at all the robed men and women. “They know who I am?”
“Anything Iendis knows, they know.”
“So what does Iendis want? How do we speak to her?”
The speaker raised his hands to slow James down. “Not just anyone can simply speak to her. The apostles could only do that. However, a guest such as yourself, you are an exception.” The speaker gestured to the clan leader’s allies. “They cannot come, however. Only you can visit her.”
“Visit?” James asked.
“Visit,” the speaker confirmed. “There is a ritual, one that we must perform to send you to her.” He sounded off.
Dahlia knew nothing of deities and their visits, but this felt strange. “James. I don’t think you should go through with this.”
The blond man turned to her, his expression showing hesitance. Before he could say anything, the hooded man spoke up.
“Holter, this is an offer Iendis only gives to special individuals. It would be an offense to reject.” That seemed to do it. James broke his gaze from Dahlia, his body facing the hooded man once more. The shaman could only watch.
“Fine. How do we do this ritual?”
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James shivered as he felt cold paint run down his back and chest. The fingers of the robed figures ran down his pale skin, leaving streaks of black paint behind. They painted over his runic tattoos, the ones Nathan imprinted on him nearly a year back.
“James, are you sure you want this?” Dahlia asked.
“I’m sure,” the blond man responded. “I won’t get another chance like this. I might as well take it.” He shivered again, this time at the breeze that came through. At the moment, they were all at the shore, specifically the one east of the island.
They had told James that the sea was needed for the ritual, that it would summon the boatman Thien to come and pick him up.
“We’re done,” the speaker said. The robed figures parted away from James to allow the speaker to pass. “Now, here’s the hard part.” He gestured to the sea, where the mist covered the horizon and everything beyond. James noticed that there were no waves, if at all. It was dead calm, like a lake in the fall.
“You must go into the black waters and float off into the mist. Only then will Thien come for you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m more than sure,” the speaker confirmed. “Do you have coins? A valdora or a king piece by chance?” James reached for his coin purse, his hands opening it. It had only one valdora left.
“This is all I have.”
“Good.” The speaker smiled. “Put it in your mouth, above your tongue. Make sure you have nothing else but that coin on you. No gear, no weapons, nothing but the pants and boots you wear.”
James nodded and placed the coin into his mouth. He could taste the blue metal as it pressed against the roof of his mouth.
“Now step into the waters and lie. Close your eyes and relax,” the speaker advised. James nodded and made his way to the sea. “Don’t forget. No matter what you hear, do not open your eyes. Until you hear Thien’s voice, do not respond nor open your eyes. Otherwise, you will be lost in the waters.”
‘Got it.’
James stepped into the sea. The water seeped into his boots, cold enough to numb his toes. He pressed on, feeling the water rise to his knees and finally, his waist. He stopped there and looked back at the shore. While distant and obscured by fog, he could still see them, even if barely. They all watched in anticipation, the robed figures on their knees as they whispered nonsense.
James took a deep breath and lowered himself into the waters, his body tensing up at the freezing cold. He did as he was instructed, floating on his back as he closed his eyes. He could feel as his body was slowly drifting away, his ears filling with saltwater. James kept his eyes closed, his body slowly relaxing as he drifted.
For a while, nothing happened.
‘This is pretty boring, actually,’ James muttered internally. He awaited for a response from the spirit. None came. ‘Faust?’ The spirit didn’t answer. Instead, another voice spoke up.
“James? James, get out now!” It was Harald, his voice distant and warped. The blond man frowned as the voice quickly passed by, its tone and pitch unrecognizable.
Silence then came back, the veteran’s voice gone. James focused on mediating, trying to get himself to clear his head. He needed to be ready.
“Get out! Wake up!” Seamus’ voice came through this time. James didn’t budge. He knew it was coming. The voice shouted some more before it disappeared.
“Oh gods! Please!” Dahlia’s voice shouted out, her voice distressed. James almost moved, but he knew better. He restrained, forcing himself to endure as Dahlia’s voice faded away.
‘James!’ Faust’s voice came out to him, nearly making the blond man react.
‘Faust?’
‘No time! React now! We’re getting attacked!’
James had to force himself not to open his eyes. He knew Faust wouldn’t straight up shout warnings. The spirit would react if needed. They both knew that. Still, the response was so ingrained in him it felt wrong to ignore the spirit’s warnings. Thankfully, he held out before the voice went away.
More time went by, along with the silence. Soon enough, another voice broke the silence and James was prepared.
“Oi,” the voice called out. “Get up.” It was a simple request, one that baffled James. Wasn’t it going to try harder? The others before were screaming and shouting, yet this one just simply told him to do it.
“I’m on a schedule here. When are you getting up? Are you asleep?” The voice didn’t even sound like anyone James knew. No, this voice sounded unfamiliar, ethereal in a way even.
As he debated on who was speaking, James felt a flick on his forehead. “Ow!” He exclaimed, nearly spitting the valdora from his mouth. He sat up in the waters, which only reached to his chest, sitting down. James blinked and looked around his surroundings. Without realizing it, the surrounding waters had turned from freezing to lukewarm. It was pitch black as well, resembling ink. The clan leader looked up at the man who flicked him, his eyes widening at the sight.
The figure was covered in a ragged cloak, his long spindly hands clutching an oar. He sat upon a rowboat, which swayed gently. His face was… something else. He had a beard, one that looked far from real. It looked artificial, fake. His skin was a pale gray, one that glistened like wax. James squinted and realized that it was melting. The eyes on this ‘man’ were nothing more than pits that showed no sign of life. The thing that freaked James out the most was the man’s smile. His teeth were slanted like rat’s teeth, their yellow surface pointed inwards. They looked sharp and numerous, which was more than enough for alarm.
“I knew you weren’t asleep,” the boatman chuckled. James could only stare at the thing’s unmoving smile, which stayed static when it talked.
“My name is Thien, the boatman of Iendis and son of Myr, God of Chaos.”