The Soul Sphere: Book 01 - The Shattered Sphere (39 page)

Demetrius hobbled toward the bow of the ship, letting his gaze drift over the people waiting there. He saw an occasional look of relief and unbridled joy, but more often deepening dread and grief. Theirs was the last boat in, and with it came the final survivors, and the final confirmation of those who had not made it.

“Alexis!” someone called, a familiar voice. She turned and saw Rowan, exhausted but smiling, and Tala next to him with her hands on the shoulders of the young girl who had held the boat for them with her mother. Tala’s grip grew tighter as a shadow crossed the girl’s visage, and Alexis knew she had lost both father and mother in the night. The girl’s lips quivered for a moment, but no tear fell from her eyes. Her face slowly grew hard and took on an angry expression. She pulled away from Tala and marched away. The elf turned to follow, but Rowan held her back.

As the duchess watched the final survivors come off the ship she struggled to project an image of strength and perseverance. Her lips betrayed her, mouthing “So many lost…so many lost” as she looked beyond them at the bay, as if hoping another fleet would suddenly appear, overflowing with red-and-white clad warriors ready to join the fight.

Rowan dropped to one knee before her and asked how he might best serve Delving.

“Rise,” she said. “Continue your quest. It is our only hope of salvation. A boat I promised you, and a boat you shall have.”

“M’lady,” Alexis began to protest. “You have lost so much…”

“And we will lose all if you fail. If the Dead have acquired ships, we will not attempt to flee across the bay again. Their attack did us great harm, but they have not destroyed us, and they have now provided the ship you needed. I will have it provisioned and send you forth with my blessing.”

“Thank you,” Alexis said, to which the others added their own gratitude.

The duchess waved such comments away, and asked, “Rowan, are any of you sailors?”

“We will manage.”

She smiled indulgently, as a mother would to a child. “No doubt you would. But the Dead may prowl the bay, other dark things inhabit the deep places of the ocean, and the northern seas are not to be traveled lightly. She looked beyond them. “Jazda?”

The captain leapt from the ship and bowed to the Duchess. “What is your wish m’lady?”

“Our friends need to sail north but need an experienced crew. Would you and your men be willing to serve?”

“If it serves Delving, we would be honored.”

“It serves Delving,” the duchess assured him, “and all of Arkania. See Master Klee for whatever supplies you need. The journey may be long.”

 “When do we depart?” the captain asked.

The duchess turned to Rowan, who answered, “We should go as soon as we can, but we have wounded. Perhaps we should wait—”

Demetrius cut him off as politely as he could. “We leave as quickly as we can. Today, if possible. We’ll have time to heal on the ship.”

“In the morning,” Tala said. “The captain and crew should get some rest.”

Jazda waited a moment, then hearing no other comment said, “Very good. We depart at dawn.” He gave Demetrius a wink. “I’ll make sure we have something to deal with the pain of those wounds.”

While the ship was prepared they first spent a few hours with Sawdel and his top lieutenants discussing how he could best use his depleted army. There was little hope of defeating the Dead Legion. Keeping their distance seemed the best plan for survival. “But if we disperse into the forests and hills, Delving has been destroyed just as surely as if we had all died at Upper Cambry,” Sawdel said, suddenly unable to meet the eyes that watched him. They could offer little solace to the beleaguered commander as they set off to get some food and rest.

They spent that night under the stars. When Rowan awoke he noticed that Tala was absent. He stepped quietly away from their little campsite, looking over the scene as the remnant of his people slowly rose to face a new day. Before he could begin to search for Tala he saw her coming toward him.

“How is she?” he asked.

“She is strong of character. By the way, her name is Dometia. Her mother was Valecia and her father Bandra.”

Rowan drew in a slow breath and let it out in a sigh. “We cannot take her with us.”

“I know. I never considered it, at least not seriously. She is with a family she knows, a friend of her mother and a younger girl she can help watch after. She will carry on, as all these people will, because they have to. They have to or else they will just lie down and die, and they will not do that. I like the stubbornness of your people, Rowan.”

Rowan laughed softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant to be,” Tala said with a gentle smile. “But I will be happy to be away. When it is just our little group… Sometimes I forget how Arkania suffers. It is right to be reminded, but I do not like to see it. Their faces will be in my mind for many months.”

“And in mine as well. We must remember our struggle is to give them a future. Don’t recall their despair unless it motivates you to press on. Hopelessness can be a disease—contagious and fatal. We must guard against falling prey to it.”

Lucien barked out something in the goblin tongue, then rolled back over and continued sleeping.

“He’s usually up as early as anyone,” Rowan commented.

“I do not think he slept well last night.”

“Not because of the battle,” Rowan said, surprised. “He’s seen much worse, I’m sure.”

“Not the battle. The water. He hates it. When we got dumped in the bay…it would have been funny to see the way he reacted, but the terror in his eyes was far too real. And now we have an ocean voyage ahead of us. I am sure he would rather not go. He will, but he will probably try to stay below deck as much as he can, to avoid looking over the open sea. As a matter of fact, it might be best for all of us if he did that. I would hate to see what he would do if the water drove him mad.”

“Maybe we should keep his warblade hidden away until we arrive.”

Tala smiled. “Are you going to take it from him?’

“I don’t think I want to try that,” Rowan admitted.

Tala nodded as she moved back toward the camp. “I knew you were intelligent.”

They found the ship ready when they arrived at the bay. In the growing morning light they had a better view of the vessel than when they had fought for it and then used it the previous evening. It was a three-masted schooner, old but well-built, eighty feet long with a decent-sized cabin in the stern. The hold was easily large enough to sleep them and Jazda’s small crew, and to carry supplies for the journey. Lucien boarded first, giving the captain a brisk nod and proceeding directly to the hold. The others boarded and paid their compliments to the captain, and then took up positions on deck where they might keep watch while remaining out of the crew’s way.

The sailors set to work at a word from the captain and the ship was soon away. A few sullen faces watched them depart, the grime from the battle still there and adding to the bleakness of each countenance. When it seemed they had passed beyond the remnant of Delving, one more face appeared, some miles from the camp. While they doubted she had traveled there solely to see them off, the duchess now watched them solemnly as they passed. She raised a hand in blessing, and called her wishes for luck and Godspeed. Rowan waved back in silence, unable to find any words but inspired by the way she stood so erect and tall, the woman elegant and commanding despite the dirt that covered her clothes and skin and the shadow that lay upon her heart.

Fate was kind to them as their journey began. If the Dead Legion had acquired other ships than those used in the battle they were nowhere in sight, and as they reached the ocean and turned north, the wind favored them. The travelers pitched in and helped as much as they could, mostly cooking and cleaning. Jazda and his crew of six easily handled the ship, which the captain believed to be of Ridonian make. With little to do they mainly healed and rested, except for Lucien, who took several days to get a semblance of sea legs, and even then seemed to be a shade or two greener than usual. Rowan’s healing touch helped a bit, as did a tea that Tala was able to make from the supplies she found in the galley. On the fourth evening Lucien’s hunger got the better of him, and within an hour the large meal he had consumed had made its way back up and over the side of the ship. Tala had brewed some tea, gotten him settled onto the blanket he slept on—the hammock had been a disaster for him—and stepped back on deck for some fresh air.

A gentle breeze carried the salty smell of the sea with it, and Tala breathed deeply and smiled at fading memories of trips to the shore near Ludroe’s Keep as a child. Her father had been happier then, quick to joke and laugh, and interacted with men as easily as elves. The years wore on him after her sister passed away, and he became more protective of his people and his remaining daughter. Tala spoke for herself now and did what she thought proper, and while he did not deny her that right he never voiced his approval.

She was faintly aware that someone had spoken to her. She shook her head one time, briskly, returning to the present. “I am sorry,” she said to Captain Jazda, who had stolen up beside her, staring out over the sea as he did so. “I was lost in thought for a moment.”

“The sea does that to you. I simply said it was a lovely evening. I did not mean to disturb you.”

“It is quite all right. My mind had started to drift to things I would prefer not to think about.” She decided to change the subject. “Rowan tells me you believe this ship was made in Ridonia.”

“Almost certainly. Not elven design, of course, but I think you already knew that.”

“Elven ships are ancient. We stopped building them long before I was born.”

“An interesting people.”

“A withdrawn people. We are expert in using the wood that surrounds our home, but if we never venture from the forest we have little need to make ships.”

“The vessels are greatly prized by men, though. One would be worth a small fortune.”

“All are not driven by wealth.”

“I would not know,” he said with a laugh. “I run a merchant ship. It seems everyone I deal with is driven by money, as I am.”

“You belittle yourself. I do not recall the duchess promising payment for this journey you are taking us on.”

“War changes things. Who is there to trade with right now? This is simply a way to pass the time, and perhaps when we are done, this ship will be mine. My previous vessel was lost in the battle.”

“Much was lost.”

They stood silently for a time, their gazes upon the ocean but their thoughts elsewhere. Finally, Jazda said, “None of you has said exactly where we are headed.”

“An island far to the north. Have you ever traveled as far as Veldoon?”

If the name of Solek’s land concerned Jazda, he did not show it. “Never traded beyond Ridonia to the north. Mostly worked the southern coast actually—Delving and Corindor.”

“Those days must seem a pleasant dream now.”

“That they do, although I would not complain about my current circumstance—looking out over the sea at night, a star-filled sky, the conversation of a beautiful woman.”

His last words hung awkwardly for a few moments, as if suspended between them. Finally she said, “It is a lovely evening, but I should get some rest. I do not know what awaits us.”

He bowed formally as she took her leave, sighed, and then resumed pacing the deck.

Chapter 11: Valya and Belthros

Winter slowly returned as they moved north, and the seas and winds became more unpredictable and volatile. Their progress became more erratic as well, some days the brisk breeze pushing them along, other times swirling about them and causing them to tack constantly to gain ground. But if anything, the sinking temperatures confirmed that they moved a bit closer to their goal each day.

Tala did her spell-casting out of sight of both captain and crew, and what adjustments needed to be made to their course were passed on by Rowan as a fellow Delvishman. Jazda took these changes in stride, as if it were commonplace for a man to come up from below decks and say “a few degrees more to the east.”

A violent storm broke late afternoon on the eleventh day of the trip and continued into the night. Freezing rain and sleet pelted the ship and the skin of any who ventured on deck, while huge swells rolled the ship back and forth. Lucien wasn’t the only one who needed to lean over the ship’s rail, and even those who did not expel their lunch fought to keep it down, including Jazda and his men. Demetrius had gone on deck, thinking it was his turn to be sick, but the icy wind and bracing sleet actually helped steady him. He stood at the rail, breathing deeply while ice clung to his face and then melted away due to his body heat. The arrow wound was much better now, not fully healed and his gait still with a bit of a limp, but the pain mostly a distant memory. He was glad for the respite this sea journey had given him, despite the way the sea spray was currently soaking his clothes and skin.

He watched distant lightning in the clouds, dull flashes that cast an eerie glow for a second over the ever-changing black of the sea at night. The chill was starting to get to him, urging him back below, and his stomach agreed that for now he should trade the fresh air for a drier spot. As he turned to go, the sky lit again, and something at the edge of his vision made him stop. He strained to see, the faint, sporadic light not allowing him to pinpoint or track anything in the vast sea swells. He shrugged, ready to go below, when the lookout above shouted to him.

“You see something too?”

“Yes!” he yelled back. “I think. I’m not sure what.”

“Nor do I, but something is out there. Something in the water, alive.”

“Fish?”

“If it is, it’s a big one.”

Lightening flashed twice in quick succession. “Nothing,” called Demetrius. “Must be gone.”

“Maybe so,” said the lookout, whom Demetrius finally recognized as Klaffee, a strong, quiet sailor who treated everyone on board with the same cordial distance. “But I’d feel better if the captain and a couple of other men were up here, to lend a few more eyes. Once dawn breaks, I’ll be more at ease.”

“I’ll get them,” said Demetrius.

A few minutes later Captain Jazda and Demetrius looked to starboard, while Tala and Rande watched to port. Rande was no more than boy really, but he worked as hard and as efficiently as anyone on board, and the other sailors respected him and clearly accepted him as one of their own.

“What did you see?” Jazda asked Klaffee, who remained in the crow’s nest.

“A flash of silver, cresting. An eye, I think. One glance was all I got.”

“You did right to get us up here. If something large is near my ship, I want to know what and where.”

The storm was losing some of its steam, the swells still large but the sleet and freezing rain starting to slacken. The lightning grew less frequent as well, lending them fewer chances to see what it was they sought. It was between flashes, not during one, that Tala called out. “Something to port! A hundred feet off at eight o’clock.”

Rande pointed. “There! I see it.”

Klaffee joined the chorus. “I have it too. Pacing us for sure.”

Demetrius and Jazda moved to the port side of the ship for a better view. “Can you tell what it is?” the captain asked Klaffee.

“No, sir. Not as large as a small whale, but too big for a fish, and shaped wrong—all elongated like a big fat eel or something.”

Now others, drawn by the shouts, started to fill the deck. Weapons appeared, swords and bows, as well as the hooks and clubs they used to subdue a fresh catch. Whispers of “sea monster” were audible to those willing to listen.

“Stay calm,” Jazda said. “We’ve always known different waters hold different life. The northern sea is colder than what we’re used to, so it’s no surprise—”

“Look!” someone cried. “There’s another one!”

“Two more!”

A fourth and a fifth soon showed themselves, and the group drew inexorably closer to the ship. They darted in and out of the water with ease, pacing the vessel without any sign of extra effort. Tube-shaped with a rounded front and tapered tail, each was at least thirty feet long. A quick look would have deemed the beast a large shark, with the silver-gray coloring, the black eyes, the large, tooth-filled maw, and the pelvic fin. But the creatures worked in and out of the water like dolphins, and when they did so two rows of three rope-like appendages could be seen on each side of their bodies.

One of the sailors had a harpoon ready to throw. “Should I skewer the nearest, captain? Scare ‘em off?”

“Not yet. As long—”

A scream started and was quickly muffled. Almost as one the group turned to see a man named Yantod disappear over the side of the ship. Two of the tendrils that hung from the sea creatures held him tightly, carting him off like a chained prisoner. He was gone before anyone could reach the starboard rail.

“To port!” Klaffee screamed from the crow’s nest.

The warning was just enough to let Rande get an arm up before the first tentacle could grab him, and he was able to ward it off. A second coiled around his leg and spilled him to the deck. With its other appendages the creature pulled itself up onto the side of the ship, and it gnashed its teeth either in warning or in expectation of a meal.

Demetrius moved to rescue the boy, but his leg slowed him, and others got there first. One, Onder, hacked at the appendage with a large knife, while a second, Pellano, took an awkward swing at its head with a club. As Onder severed the limb and Rande was pulled clear, the beast let out a piercing shriek, a primordial scream of pain and rage. It relaxed its grip on the ship and fell back into the ocean, but not before grabbing Pellano about the neck, pulling him forward and biting deeply into his arm. A misfired harpoon and an on-target arrow each had the same non-effect. Pellano was gone.

“Stay back from the rails!” the captain commanded, the sleet starting to gain momentum again, lashing the deck, washing away the co-mingled blood of man and monster. “Form two double lines, one to port and one to starboard. Swords, knives, and clubs in front, arrows and harpoons to the rear.”

“They’re on each side now,” Klaffee called from above. “Three or more on both sides, closing in.”

They waited silently, listening for the faint sounds of the creatures, which were all but lost in the noise of the sleet and the crashing sea.

“Hold!” shouted Klaffee.

“What is it?” the captain demanded.

“They’re gone. I mean I can’t see them.”

“Keep a sharp eye,” Jazda ordered everyone. “They may try to come over bow or stern.”

“Or leap up onto the deck,” someone offered.

Tension grew as the wait stretched out. When the silence was broken, it was not by an attack, but rather by a new sound. The noise came not from the sea but from the sky to the north. It was a cry, a high-pitched wail, a howl that sent shivers down the spines of those who had never heard it before and caused the heart of those who had to beat faster.

“Mist,” said Tala softly.

“Demon creatures,” Jazda breathed, swallowing hard. His men mumbled curses and prayers, and pressed close against one another.

There were four of them, and they circled the ship, wailing and laughing, pointing shadowy fingers at the vessels’ occupants. Dawn arrived as they swirled about, the sun hidden behind dark clouds but still brightening the world.

“Last day,” one of the Mists hissed, swinging in close and hovering just above their heads to taunt them. Onder grabbed a harpoon and hurled it. It found its mark but passed through without doing any damage. The Mist howled with laughter and its fellows joined in eagerly.

“Hold!” said Demetrius. “Weapons do them no harm. They hope to unnerve us.”

“They do their job well, in that case,” Jazda said.

“Last day,” the shadows called. “Last day. Last day. Last day.” The nearest flew lower, the edge of its form close enough to brush the heads of the boat’s fearful occupants had they not ducked to avoid it. Even so, the proximity of the demon shade sent chills up every spine. As quickly as they had appeared, the Mists flew away to the north, vanishing from sight in the sleet and low-hanging clouds.

The icy rain and the creaking of the ship seemed louder in the relative quiet that fell. No one on deck dared to move for several minutes.

“They appear to have frightened the sea creatures even more than us,” Klaffee called down from the crow’s nest. “No sign of them.”

“Stay wary,” Demetrius warned.

“He’s right,” Alexis said. “I doubt those Mists were here just to say hello.”

A large swell passed, rocking the ship violently to port, forcing everyone to scramble to maintain their feet on the slick deck. Klaffee gripped the edge of the crow’s nest tightly, for an instant feeling as if he might be thrown clear, the ship momentarily listing such that he saw only sea beneath him. Slowly the ship rocked to starboard, then settled back into a gentle sway. Klaffee made a quick count and found everyone still on deck. As his eyes returned to the watch, he saw a large, dark shape approaching from the north, shrouded in part by the clouds. His first instinct about its identity was correct, but he had trouble finding his voice. He saw similar forms join the first, coming out of the haze, until there were four. Their wings beat the air lazily, yet somehow kept the large bodies aloft. As they came near, he saw they were different colors: blue, red, green and brown. The blue one let out a roar, announcing its arrival just before Klaffee could loose his tongue.

“Dragons!”

Blue came straight for him, its eyes locking with his, its mouth open in a toothy grin. Part of Klaffee’s brain screamed at him to jump, knew he could not fight or flee within the confines of the tiny lookout tower. The monster seemed nearly as large as the ship as it flew closer, its speed terrible and awe-inspiring. Klaffee’s muscles locked in place, and his tongue was likewise frozen. Blue grabbed him with a foreclaw, taking part of the nest as well, some of the wood driving into Klaffee’s chest and legs. The man was vaguely aware of pain, and of arrows clattering harmlessly against the dragon’s plated belly, just before Blue drew his head and shoulders into its mouth and sent him into eternal rest.

Tala had tried to target Blue’s right eye, an impossible shot given the dragon’s speed, the sleet, and the swaying of the ship. She had heard that dragons existed but had never thought—or wanted—to see one, but from the lore she knew they had few weak spots for archers to target. She ended up not firing, as Blue had grabbed Klaffee and she had as much chance to hit man as dragon. Once the dragon made concern for Klaffee’s well-being a mute point, the monster was out of firing range.

“Down!” Rowan screamed, and Tala dropped without question. Overhead the main sail burst into flame, and the main mast with it. The sleet beat ineffectively against the spreading fire. Above the blaze, the red dragon passed, smoke and flame still trailing from its mouth.

Alexis had made a lunge at Red with her spear as it passed overhead, but it was already on the rise after having set the vessel ablaze. Her spear scraped the creature’s underbelly but did no harm. She watched Red wheel slowly, wondering if she had drawn its attention with the jab, and if it would try another pass, perhaps with her as the target. If it did so, she intended to see just how strong its plating was.