Grief-stricken over losing his wife in childbirth, Karydor
commands that his son be drowned. Carers choose to hide the new-born instead.
The child, when his father realises his terrible mistake, vanishes without a
trace.
A world is not effortlessly rescued.
A father will step into that arena, though, because of the love he bears his son. This is Karydor Danae’s atonement.
CHAPTER 10
Midges
do more than bite; they serve as distraction.
~ Finli – Naturalist ~
Occra
Northern Coast
WITH first light they transported to a level area north of the fen. From there, according to Fletcher, it was a twenty-minute walk to the bridge in question. On high ground, the area overlooked the fen and the ocean, as well as giving fair view of the strange steppingstone peninsula that connected Occra to the northern continent where Ghant was the largest occupied territory. Ghant itself was a far grey smudge on the horizon. The steppingstones were giant outcrops of land around which the Natticus Sea swirled. Narrow stone bridges linked each bluff. The sound of almighty waves crashing drowned out even the calling of the seabirds. Karydor found the transport simple to achieve. Fletcher described the region; he pictured it and landed up exactly where envisioned.
“Now we’re talking,” the old man grinned when
he appeared beside him.
Kristyn, on arrival, stared out to sea. Her
golden hair lifted and spread in the fresh breeze. “Astonishing,” she murmured.
“Does anyone live on those outcrops?”
“There is a lighthouse and keeper on the central
one,” Fletcher responded, “and a tavern on another to ease the crossing, but
otherwise it’s deserted. Gets pretty vicious out there in the elements.”
“Hoy there!” a voice called out, causing the
three companions to jerk around.
In that movement, Karydor discovered his right
hand instinctively reaching for a weapon at his hip. He possessed no weapon,
but it was immediately clear to him he once wore a sword and was familiar with
it. Muscle memory, he realised. In that moment, though, he forced the insight
aside to focus on the newcomer. A moment later a huge smile bloomed on his
face. “Naej!”
From a copse of twisted trees, a green giant
emerged, wearing light-weave trousers and tunic of a dun hue, sandals on his
massive feet. He was all smiles. “Captain! You made it!”
The two men met up and clasped arms, a gesture
that had the Sagorin lifting an eyebrow. “This is new,” he said, chin gesturing
at the clasp.
Laughing, Karydor disengaged. “Seems you were
right. I am not Farochin.”
A giant hand slapping his shoulder nearly
drilled him into the earth. “Finally. So, Captain …”
“Enough with the ‘captain’ nonsense.”
Chortling, Naej shifted his attention. “Good
to see you again, Fletcher.”
“You, too, my friend. Glad you could make it.”
The giant looked to where Kristyn stood
watching everything with interest. His olive eyes narrowed. “I feel as if I
should know your kind, but the memory of you slips from grasp. Why is that?”
She smiled. “A long story. I am Valleur.”
His gaze sharpened. “Amber quartz. The Valleur
mined amber quartz on Glorium, our homeworld, a long time ago.” He shook his
great head, causing his multitude of thin plaits, a mixture of grey and black
hair, to dance. “Strange; it feels akin to a dischant.”
“It is. I will tell you when we have time for that
tale,” Kristyn murmured. She extended her arm. “The Valleur regard the Sagorin
as friends.”
Naej gently clasped arms with her, smiling
again. “You are here to help with the imminent failure of the terraform?”
She inclined her head.
“Did anyone else make it, Naej?” Karydor
asked.
The big man nodded. “I heard that Lariki
washed up on Anaphus and went to check on him. He got bashed about pretty badly
and is still at the healer’s in Napi Vale. I promised to sneak back in and
collect him in about a week.”
“Glad to hear it,” Karydor said.
“No need to blame yourself for what happened.
That wave? There was no besting it.”
Karydor shrugged. While that was true, it did
not serve to mitigate his feeling of guilt. He changed the subject. “And just
how did you manage to ‘sneak’ in? You?” Grinning, he indicated the overt
presence of a giant, one with obviously green skin no less.
Naej roared laughter. “I have my ways!”
“Glamour,” Fletcher pointed out.
Rolling his eyes, Karydor said, “We are
invited to a meet on the bridge at ten bells.”
The Sagorin gaped at him. “The sorcerer’s
bridge? How in hell did you manage that? No one has set foot on that bridge in
more than fifty years.”
Karydor smirked. “I have my ways,” he said,
which caused the giant to roar laughter. He readied to deliver a back slap, an
action Karydor fortunately had the foresight to duck away from.
“Oh, behave,” Fletcher muttered, “both of you.
Let’s get to walking.”
The Fen Path
THE PATH wound down to bog territory. It still stank, but here the ocean breezes somewhat lessened the stench. In single file they negotiated a sliver of a path through the insect-ridden stagnant ponds. Periodic white stones revealed the way.
“In the past this place was more visited,
particularly by leaders in the know, and the residents of yon stronghold
considered it wiser not to dump folk into the fen,” Fletcher informed when
Kristyn asked about the marker stones.
“Why can’t we see this stronghold? It’s so
flat,” Kristyn said.
“I think the main question here should be …”
Naej began, only to be interrupted.
“Sagorin, one would swear you never ended up
in the ocean,” Fletcher muttered. “You’re like a youth with your ‘insights’.
Have you not questioned me to near death already?”
Karydor, at the head of their column, halted and
turned. “Yes, Naej, how is it you show little ill from that dunking?”
Thick grey eyebrows beetled upward in a green
face as the Sagorin came to standstill along with the others. “Were you not
hearing me back on Walkin? I am immortal. A dunking …”
Karydor held a hand up. “I thought you were
being facetious.”
Naej shook his head.
Blinking, Karydor simply stared at him.
Shrugging, Naej stepped forward, forcing
everyone to go on moving, including Karydor, who wordlessly swung around again.
As the Sagorin walked, he talked. “A storm such as we endured curtails the
ability to employ our talents, which is why I did end up in the water unable to
transport out. Had I been able to, I would have fetched everyone away to
safety, but it did mean I could not drown. Think about it, Karydor. That was
some event; we should all be dead. Yet three of us made it. What does that tell
you?” Karydor did not answer. Huffing about stubbornness, Naej went on. “Lariki
is a Sylmer, which means, the moment he is immersed too long, his legs
transform into a fish tail. He, too, could have helped us to safety, kept us
afloat, swum us to calmer water, but unfortunately, he suffered severe breaks
and bruising when a portion of the deck bore him into the depths. He survived
it, because he breathes under water, but it took him a while to free himself
from the wreckage. Yes, only an immortal
Sylmer is able to walk on two legs.”
Karydor growled under his breath.
“And then there is you.”
Without turning this time, Karydor halted …
and waited.
Between the two men, Fletcher and Kristyn
glanced at each other, but neither dared interfere. Crossing his arms over his
mighty chest, Naej braced with one foot tapping the soggy ground impatiently.
“It took me a while to figure it out. Your mind-set wasn’t that of a youth.
Your insight spoke of otherworld knowledge. The sometimes-instinctive actions
you took, much like you reaching for a sword earlier, revealed your muscle
memory knew of a different way …”
Karydor swung around. “Just spit it out.”
“Reborn, my friend. You will remember who you
were at the same age when you underwent your Immortality Ritual.”
Much like a statue, Karydor did not move,
other than a flicker of his left eyelid.
“We cannot wait for that,” Kristyn said.
The Sagorin lowered his gaze to her.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning Karydor achieved the Ritual at an age
that will see most of Farochin dead before it will come to pass again. Valleur
live long.”
Huge green arms loosened. “He is Valleur?” She nodded. “Well … fuck.”
Glaring up, she demanded, “And what does that mean?”
“The dischant sunders in hearing you claim
race. You lot deliberately made us forget, but now I remember the Valleur
again. If Karydor is Valleur … man, we’re talking old. Before the split between the golden and dark kind.”
Suddenly alarmed, she whispered, “Do not say the dark kind name.”
Licking his lips, Naej nodded.
“Interesting that you would know of such a
split,” Fletcher murmured.
The Sagorin gifted him a baleful look. “I am
no seer, Trinian. I happened to cross paths one day with a survivor of said
dark kind and he told me a story one drunken night, a story I have never
forgotten. See, he spoke his name and had I not been immortal I would surely
have died. In the morning he did not remember, but I did.”
Karydor reanimated. Swearing foully, he took
to the path once more.
The Fen Bridge
FLETCHER’S claim of a twenty-minute walk from the height they arrived on was off the mark. The path through stinking pools twisted and meandered so much, it was closer on two hours before a bridge came into view. By then tempers were frayed, for every step was plagued by flies, mosquitos and other flying leeches. The bridge was there, but no sight of a stronghold.
“It’s shielded,” Kristyn discerned. “This is
why we cannot see it.”
“In the past the invited found the edifice
waiting, but no one sees it now,” Fletcher added. He scratched at his chin. “I
wonder who is within. There is no record of the sorcerers who left Trin and
there is no record of them here.”
“Only one way to find out,” Karydor growled,
and stepped onto the bridge.
“Foolish,” Fletcher muttered, but it was
already too late.
At the far end a form materialised as if
exiting a doorway. It did not approach; it waited. As Fletcher set foot to the
stone walkway, another form appeared. Kristyn, about to follow, found herself
detained when Naej gripped her shoulder and halted her. “We wait. Someone needs
to remain outside … in the event.”
Glancing over his shoulder, Fletcher nodded
his agreement and, thus, huffing, she stayed put. Karydor meanwhile strode
across. His temper had now taken over.
The first form, a tall man hooded and cloaked,
stepped forward and held one gloved hand up. “Halt. Do you know who you are?”
Frowning, Karydor came to a stop. The words
made sense to him, and yet it was not Farochin the man spoke. How did … what
did … what was …
“Valleur!” Kristyn shouted from somewhere.
“Don’t go with them!”
His skin erupted into gooseflesh. Why not? If
this was a Valleur speaking Valleur, then surely … An instant later he lost all
sense of time and place. Darkness overtook his world.
“NO!” Kristyn screamed as Karydor vanished.
The two forms disappeared also, and so did the
bridge. Fletcher discovered himself summarily dumped into foul fen treacle.
“What the fuck?” Naej hollered. He waded into
the stinking water to retrieve Fletcher, hauling the man backwards with massive
hands under frailer armpits. “What just happened?”
Back on the sliver of dry path, the Trinian
spat dirty liquid from his mouth. “Probably get the runs,” he muttered.
Spluttering some more, he straightened.
“Fletch?” Kristyn demanded.
The old man sighed and gave a wry shrug. “They
were waiting for him.”
“Well, yes …”
“No, Kristyn, I mean they were waiting for Karydor.”
“Explain that!” Naej roared.
“Valleur,” Kristyn whispered, her tawny eyes
widening. “They knew he was here.” She licked her lips when Naej dug his huge
fingers into her shoulder and then stared up at the Sagorin. “The dark kind you
mentioned earlier? Karydor lays claim to that bloodline.”
“And they were waiting for him to come to
them,” Fletcher said.
The Sagorin stared at the emptiness ahead.
“Because his name is a word of power, one able to unmake a terraform.” He
glared at the Valleur staring up at him. “Why would a Valleur wish for failure here?”
She grimaced. “Some Valleur still fight the
war. Humankind won and the wounds and scars are still fresh.”
“And Farochin, despite what the locals think,
is all about humankind,” Fletcher added.
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