Sea Queen (9 page)

“How do you mean?”

Tyson laughed incredulously. “Feikinstafir, brother. I
mean
, no more running away from people like the Vald. I mean standing up against arseholes like them and the slavers. Hells, you…you could be rich, live like a chief.”

“Rich?” Talon tried to imagine how to make money with a spirit wolf.

“Look at the loot we got from those slavers.” Tyson gathered all the coin purses from his pack. The bulging sacks clanged as he tossed them on the rocky floor.

“I’m not going to kill men for their money. What happened yesterday was a mistake.”

“The hells with that kind of talk. Imagine if there were more Skomm like us—there would be a godsdamned revolution. You think killing slavers is wrong? What about the thousands of Skomm who do nothing against the Vald, and condemn all future Skomm to a life of slavery? Isn’t inaction as much a sin as violence?”

“You’re right,” Talon admitted. “But I’m no warrior, no hero. I just want to find Akkeri and go somewhere we can be safe. Maybe have a farm or something.”

“And live happily ever after? When you have the power to do so much more?” Tyson was disgusted. He got up and grabbed a torch. “You see any of these murals depicting Talon the farmer?” he asked, dryly. When Talon had no answer, he shook his head and walked out of the cave.

Talon called after him. “Where are you going?”

“To be alone.”

Chief perked up and looked to Talon expectantly.

“Let him go. It’s not every day you find a picture of your own death.”

The promise he had made to Jahsin came back to him then. Tyson was a lot like Jahsin, in that they seemed to share the spirit of revolution. Talon had vowed to free the Skomm, to help the weak—how soon had he forgotten his own words. He had become so caught up with finding Akkeri, he’d forgotten his promises. And though he
had
tried to help Tyson and the other slaves, it was really only to find Akkeri. Now Windy, Thorg, and Marcus were dead—they might have lived much longer, albeit as slaves. How much had he really helped?

Nearly an hour later, when the sun had left only the light of the moon, Tyson returned and slumped down beside the fire. Talon had been tending to the smoker, adding green leaves when need be. The cave smelled of hickory, venison, and lingering cherry pipe smoke. The occasional gust coming in from the ocean and whistling through the tunnels and caverns only added to the sweet taste in the air.

“Listen, Tyson, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings by saying we should split up—I’m just looking out for you.”

Tyson grinned. “You’ve been wanting to be rid of me for a while now.” He snorted a weak laugh and shrugged. “Now you got a good reason, is all.”

“It ain’t like that—“

Tyson assured him with a friendly smile. “None to worry, brother.” From his makeshift pack he withdrew the whiskey from the tavern.

“What you say we have a drink for old time’s sake, in honor of Marcus, Thorg, and Windy?”

Talon moved to join him. “I’ll drink to that.”

Tyson lifted the bottle and took on a solemn demeanor. “To Windy, a feisty pain in the arse who was usually right.” He drank and passed the bottle to Talon, who took a big gulp.

Accepting the bottle back Tyson lifted it again. “To Thorg, a big dummy with an even bigger heart. Never hurt no one, that lad.”

“Here, here!” said Talon.

They drank again.

“Finally, to Marcus,” said Tyson when the bottle came back, “one hells of a talented man, and the best friend a Skomm could want. I’ll miss you, brother.” He seemed to tip the bottle longer than before.

Talon drank to Marcus and began to hand the bottle back, but thought better of the idea. Instead, he lifted the whiskey to the heavens. “To Jahsin—a promise is a promise, brother. And I plan on keeping it.”

He drank again, handed the bottle back to Tyson, and with a warm little fire in his belly, moved back to man the smoker. A few more leaves sent plumes of fragrant smoke into the air. The taste of the whiskey lingered on his lips, seeming slightly more bitter than before, but working all the same. His head began to lighten, his shoulders relaxed, and his smile came quicker.

“So, Chief—where does he go when he disappears?” Tyson asked, stoking the main fire.

“He goes…to the spirit world, I guess.” Talon had never really thought about it much.

“Has he ever brought anything back?”

Talon swayed where he stood and had to seat himself. His vision blurred and crossed onto itself. He shook his head. He didn’t remember the whiskey being so strong.

“Has he ever brought anything back?” Tyson repeated.

“Back? N…no, he ne’er.” Talon peered at the other Skomm through bleary eyes—there were two of him.

Tyson got up and joined him beside the smoker. “Let’s see if he can bring something back.”

“We could try,” said Talon, drunkenly. He hiccupped and almost vomited. “I don’t feel so good.”

“It’ll pass. You just did four fast shots, none to worry. Tell Chief to try and bring something back,” Tyson pressed.

“Hey Sheef, try bringinin’ somefin’ back from the ssspiritword.” Talon shook his head angrily and fought the effects of the whiskey. “Back to spirit world, Chief!” he blurted, as clear as he could.

Chief turned to mist and returned to the trinket.

“You don’t look so good,” said Tyson.

Talon tried to focus on him, but now there were four Tysons. The cave spun and the firelight sent the murals dancing strangely. The scenes came to life before him suddenly. He lurched and vomited, tasting the bitterness again—he didn’t remember the taste of blightweed before…
Blightweed!

Talon’s mind screamed poison. He lurched toward Tyson but fell on his face, nearly colliding with the smoker. The timber wolf figurine was taken from his clutching hand—he could do nothing about it.

Tyson bent down to stare him in the eyes. “Sorry about this, brother, but if you won’t use these gifts for a greater good, I will.

Tyson tried in vain to get the ring off of Talon for a while, but finally gave up and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take your finger. Don’t worry, I’ll cauterize the wound.”

Talon tried to protest, but no words escaped him. He lay on the stone like a fish out of water, twitching involuntarily and drooling. His vision swam as he fought the effects of the paralyzing poison. Tyson came back into view, holding his sword. He placed Talon’s ring finger over a stone, with the rest curled into his palm.

Tyson raised the sword. “Hold steady now—I don’t want to take your whole arm.” A surge of power from Kyrr filled Talon with strength. He pulled his arm away and rolled out of reach. Fighting the effects of the poison, he got up on shaky legs. “Give me back Chief!” he screamed.

A strange combination of emotions played across Tyson’s face. He brought back the sword to strike, but then glanced to the ring on Talon’s finger. He backed up and held the figurine before him, preparing to call Chief.

Talon reached out a cautious hand “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Why not?” Tyson took a step back toward the cave entrance.

“He’s my wolf. If you summon him he’ll turn on you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” said Tyson after a moment’s pause.

“Think about it for a minute! What if the mural depicting your death is because of this—here, now?”

Talon’s words seemed to hit home, and Tyson’s eyes jerked around the cave in retrospect. Anger crossed his face, turning his handsome features ugly.

“Why are
you
so godsdamned special? Born a Skomm like the rest of us, given incredible power to help our people—and what do you do with it? Try and find some wench who batted her eyes at you twice. You don’t deserve Chief or the ring. I’ll be feikin damned if I’m going to give up such a chance and die quietly in some elf painting!” He raised the figurine. “Chief, come to me!”

“No!” Talon screamed.

The figurine glowed bright blue, and the mist swirled out of it and around Tyson. Chief came to form beside him, and glanced up curiously.

“Give me the ring!” said Tyson.

Talon ignored him, and bent down, slapping his thighs. “Come here, Chief. Come on, boy.”

Chief wagged his tail and began to pad toward him.

“Stay, Chief!” Tyson ordered.

The spirit wolf stopped in his tracks, and whimpered as he turned to regard Tyson, who held the trinket out before him.

“Come here,
now
,” he insisted.

Reluctantly, Chief turned and stood beside Tyson.

Raising his eyes to Talon with a malicious grin, the traitor pointed at the ring. “Give it to me or I’ll order him to kill you.”

Talon’s voice was shaky. “You wouldn’t…he wouldn’t...”

“Oh I would, and he will. Hand it over!”

“Chief,” said Talon, getting down on his knees. “Chief, you don’t have to listen to him. I’m your master. I’m your friend. He’s just scared, is all.”

“Shut your mouth and give me the ring!”

Chief whimpered.

“Come on, boy,” Talon urged.

“Stay!” said Tyson.

Chief sat and whined.

“You have one more chance,” Tyson warned. “Give me the ring.”

“Don’t do this,” Talon begged.

Tyson’s face reflected his inner struggle. He seemed to know he was doing something wrong, but also that he had already gone too far. His indecision was lost as he gazed upon the glowing Kyrr. Power lust sparkled in his eyes.

“Don’t do it!” Talon screamed.

“Attack, Chief! Attack!”

Chief leapt with a growl, and turned to mist as he shot across the cave, suddenly solidifying before Talon.

“It’s me, Chief! It’s Talon. Stop this!”

“Take him down!” Tyson hollered.

“Listen to me, Chief. I am your master.”

“Take him down
now
!”

Chief whimpered and backed up a step. Tyson was still creeping around the entrance.

“I gave you an order, wolf! Kill him now!”

Chief growled at Talon.

“Fight it, Chief!”

“Kill him!”

“Fight it, boy!”

Chief raised his head to the ceiling and gave a deafening howl. In a flash of light he returned to the figurine. The echo of his howl went on through the cavern for many long moments.

Talon staggered to his feet and laid furious eyes on Tyson. “Give me the trinket!”

Tyson brought the sword before him and shifted nervously.

“Come, Chief!” he called to the trinket, shaking it.

Nothing happened.

He began to back up as Talon slowly stalked forward.

“Come, Chief. I summon you!” Tyson pleaded.

Talon charged and Tyson ran out of the cave.

“Tyson, stop!”

By the moonlight, Talon saw him running across the rocky coast, and followed cautiously.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Tyson. I just want Chief back!”

Tyson kept going at a reckless pace. More than once he slipped.

“We can work this out!” Talon pleaded.

Tyson began to climb the sheer cliff that loomed before them, blocking the way.

More than once he slipped, raining down loose stone, but Talon steadily clawed his way up after him.

“Leave me alone!” Tyson screamed when he reached the top. He started kicking at the cliff, trying to loosen stones to fall down on Talon.

“You were scared. You weren’t yourself. Please stop this, Tyson! You’re going to get hu—“

Talon’s voice failed him as Tyson slipped. Screaming, arms flailing, he fell to land on a jagged outcropping of rock.

“No, no, no,
no
,” cried Talon. He frantically made his way back down the steep cliff.

He jumped the last ten feet and ran over. A wave crashed into Tyson’s limp form, and Talon knelt by his side.

Tyson stared up at him as he took his hand. He tried to speak, but coughed up blood. His eyes gazed desperately to the heavens, and a pained expression crossed his bloody face.

“Just like…” He fell into another fit of bloody coughs.

Talon wanted to tell him to be still, that it would all be alright, but is voice failed him.

“Just like the mural,” Tyson finally managed to say. A strange smile spread across his face and he went still.

Talon shook him. “Tyson? Tyson!” Grief-stricken and sobbing, he raised two fingers and closed Tyson’s eyes forever.

Talon has found my cave of dreams, and he has learned the price of power. Was it a gift or a curse I bestowed upon him? When first the dreams came to me, I thought nothing of them, but as they continued to come night after night, I became intrigued. Who was this boy born of the ominous star? I filled the cave of dreams with the images, unable to control what I saw. My inquiries led me to the Temple of Kronas, to the Star Seer’s tower. After many days and nights of study and calculation, Kronas gave to me the boy’s star scroll. I did not read it for many cycles of the moon, afraid of what I might find and what I might do. The boy’s story, as I had seen it unfold, spoke to my heart and soul. I worried I might be tempted to intervene if I knew too much. Finally, curiosity got the better of me, and I read the child’s star scroll, he born of the Dog Star moon. I understood then what I must do.

-Azzeal of Elladrindellia, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive – 4997

Talon pocketed the trinket and carried Tyson’s body back into the cave. He laid him down gently before his death mural, and positioned his body neatly. Returning to the fire, he gathered Tyson’s sword, a coin purse, and the playing cards. He laid the cards and the sword upon Tyson’s still form, and placed the coins in his hand. He gathered stones from about the cave and began to cover the body. When he had finished, he regarded the large mound of stone and then bowed his head. He cried all the while, until his eyes were itchy and puffy with no more tears to give.

“I’m sorry, Tyson. I should have understood how the lure of power would affect people. It wasn’t your fault. You just wanted a better life for your people. You saw a chance and you took it. And you were right—if I’m not going to use my power for the greater good, perhaps I don’t deserve such gifts. Goodbye, my friend. I wish I could have known you longer.”

He returned to the fire and added more wood. The smoker needed stoking, and he forced himself to tend to it. From his pocket, he took the figurine and hoped Chief was alright. He had never seen him dismiss himself before.

“Chief, come here, boy.”

The familiar routine of Chief’s arrival played out, and the spirit wolf barked happily, dancing in circles.

“There you are, you old devil.”

Chief perked up and stared in the direction of Tyson’s chamber. He sniffed at the ground and whimpered. Following the scent he disappeared down the tunnel into darkness. Talon set the dried meat to cool for a while, and put on another dozen small steaks—these he would leave until morning. After a few minutes Chief returned. The wolf held his head down, as though he had done something wrong.

“It’s alright, boy. Nothing you did.”

Chief whimpered with a high pitched keening and lay down.

“I know what you mean,” said Talon.

He threw a few pieces of wood on the fire and tossed another handful of green leaves in the smoker before setting his bed roll down for the night. Chief lay next to him, staring at the fire.

Talon studied a mural on the ceiling depicting him in Beorn’s cave, speaking with Azzeal. He smiled at the memory. The elf had bestowed a great gift on him in the form of Kyrr. The ring had somehow saved him from the worst effects of the blightweed poisoning. Talon had been lucky—Tyson could have easily ran off with Chief while he lay helpless. He had to be more careful in the future.

Tyson may have been a bit of a shyster, but in the end, fear of imminent death had made him do what he did. He might easily have been successful in his robbery, or worse—if Chief hadn’t been able to fight the command, Talon could be dead. He had learned two valuable lessons. He couldn’t summon Chief unless he was holding the trinket, and Chief could defy another who summoned him. Did that mean the spirit wolf could also defy Talon if he truly disagreed with the command?

He stared at the mural wondering what he could have done different.

With Chief watching over him, he hoped his sleep would be dreamless. He was especially uncomfortable sleeping in the tomb of the recently deceased. His amma had said Chief’s spirit stayed behind after death to watch over him and would chase away bad spirits and nightmares. As far as he could tell, she was right.

Talon woke an hour before sunrise, and groaned as he rolled over stiffly.

Chief stalked in from the mouth of the cave and licked his face affectionately.

“Mornin’ boy. You ready to put some miles behind us?”

Chief barked.

Talon got up and prepared for the day as he considered his leads. His search along the coast had brought him to Akkeri’s busted keipr, and the murals showed she’d been here, but where was she now? The murals told that she had been taken by the slavers. He had to catch up to that ship.

McGillus had gotten a good look at him. There would be no disguising himself as a member of the crew. He would have to find another way on board to get the answers he sought—surely someone would remember his red haired girl. He tried to think back on the exchange between McGillus and the slave owner. Where had he said they were headed? The word came back to him,
Hornhollow
.

Talon thought back on his amma’s maps. The place stuck out in his memory, due to its location. The port city was aptly named, being that it was situated on what looked like the pointed horn of a dragon. Hornhollow was a part of Eldalon, the next kingdom to the west.

“Well, at least we know where the slaver is headed, boy. If we’re lucky, the ship will make enough stops for us to catch up.”

Talon rolled up his bed and tied it to the top of his pack. He took the remainder of Tyson’s coins and spilled their collective contents out onto the stone. He counted fifty-five silver and over one hundred copper. To his utter delight and surprise, one of the sacks even contained seven pieces of gold. On one side of the coins was a majestic mountain range with the sun rising between towering peaks, and on the other was the face of a gruff looking dwarf king. Below his bust was the name
ZRENGAR
. In smaller print, on the bottom right, was
4787
followed by a dash, indicating the king still reigned.

“Forty seven - eighty seven…Feikinstafir, Chief. That would mean he’s been king for…Two hundred and ten years! I heard dwarves lived a long time, but that’s incredible.”

He didn’t know anything about the Shierdon markets or money, but he had learned that two rooms cost fifty copper. During the card game in the room at the tavern Marcus had said twenty five copper equaled one silver—he could only guess how many silver traded for one gold. One thing he was sure of, however, was that he had a small fortune on his hands. He realized then why some men turned to a life of thievery to get by.

Talon thought to bring all the loot with him, but his amma’s words changed his mind.
Don’t carry all your eggs in one basket
. He decided to stash some of the money there in the cave, against the chance that he would ever need the funds.

Chief helped him find a suitable hiding place. They settled on a dark corner behind a big rock. He divided the fortune into two equal piles. One sack he would hide, the other he would bring with him.

He spent ten minutes or so pushing the rock deeper into the corner so as to help conceal his stash. When he was done, he slumped against it and threw up his hands to Chief.

“What, you couldn’t offer a paw?”

Chief grinned and panted.

Talon decided on some breakfast before setting out for the day. He ate a big piece of venison and the last of the bread. The small amount of cheese, he saved for dinner. He stuffed as much of the smoked meat into his pack as he dared attempt carry, and set about extinguishing the fire. When he was finished stomping out the coals, he dismantled the smoker and scattered its stones. He wanted to leave as little trace as possible. When he was done, he chuckled at the stupidity of trying to cover his tracks in a cave littered with scenes depicting his life. The thought made him wonder if, or how far, McGillus and the slavers had ventured inside—and how many others would, throughout the years.

He shouldered the pack and made his way to the mouth of the cave. Looking back a last time, he said his goodbyes to Tyson and walked out into the new day.

He climbed to the top of the steep cliff by way of an eastern passage—avoiding the rocky expanse to the west where Tyson had fallen to his death the night before. He saw no boats out on the water, and considered it a sign that the nearest village was far off. He needed to find a horse, and right quick, if he hoped to catch up to the slaver.

Chief ran ahead to scout as they crested the high bluff overlooking the calm ocean waters. The clouds gave no threat of rain. They were the kind which rose into the heavens as great arches of silver and white. Most of the day, the world was covered in their shadows, but when the sun shone through, the land was bathed in golden light.

A wide parting of the clouds occurred shortly before midday. As Talon and Chief walked through a mature field of wheat, the sunlight transformed it into an ocean of gold, and the two began to run. It was just the inspiration they needed to lift their spirits and forget recent events for a moment.

Soon they diverted from the coastal path to follow a winding road slightly inland. When they came to a three-way fork in the road, Talon read the old weathered sign which hung at a slant from a rickety post. To the west the sign read,
Willow Wood—10 miles
.

“Alright, Chief, looks like we’re headed toward Willow Wood. But let’s take lunch first. I want to have my wits about me when we get there. And being hungry don’t make for a clear head.”

Chief barked agreement.

Talon took his lunch in the shade beneath the long drooping bows of a giant everpine, a few hundred feet from the road. He ate some more of the venison, saving the smoked meat for after it was all gone. He drank from his water skin, downed a handful of his amma’s nuts and berries, and headed out once again. It would take him three or four hours to reach Willow Wood, but hopefully there he would be able to buy a horse.

“Now listen, Chief. We have to be more careful about you being seen. And under no circumstances are you to go ghost in front of other people. I mean no one. You understand, boy?”

A bark affirmed that he did.

“Good. You gotta understand…other people, they might see you as a…as a weapon. We don’t want to tempt them. Men don’t do well with temptation. We’re going to have to keep the ring a secret too. Of course, it would help if the damn thing wouldn’t glow every time I use it. I’m going to have to get a hold of some thick leather gloves to keep it hidden. We have to be smart, Chief. The stakes are too high for another foul up like what happened back at the cave.”

Talon told himself he needed to take more responsibility for his actions. He should have never gotten drunk and played cards all night long. If he hadn’t been passed out, he might have been able to save the others from the slavers.

When Willow Wood finally came into view a few hours later, Talon stopped for a moment before following the road down into the valley where it lay.

“Alright boy, I have to go alone into town. Don’t worry—if there’s any trouble, you’ll be the first to know.”

He sent Chief away and pocketed the trinket.

As he approached Willow Wood he searched the harbor for the slave ship. He found only fishing boats and a few traders. He was surprised by the size of the village. It was at least four times bigger than the previous two. Farms dotted the landscape inland, and further on Talon could make out the neat rows of apple trees in a sprawling orchard. Cottages and other thatch covered buildings stood tightly packed around the large harbor. The docks bustled with activity. Night was a few hours off, and the fisherman were returning with the day’s catch. The harbor slowly sunk behind the village as Talon walked down into the valley.

First things first, I have to get some different clothes.

Keeping his head low, he walked into the village and quickly veered into an alley. He would have to try to stay on the less traveled routes. As he made his way deeper into the village proper, the dirt streets were replaced by cobblestone. Shops, inns, and other businesses came into view. Big bay windows and wooden signs announced the wares to be found within. Talon passed by a shop with an assortment of clothing in its window and slipped inside.

The store offered mostly dresses. Much different from the drab burlap garments the Skomm women wore, or the thick fur dresses of the Vald, these looked more like fully bloomed flowers set upside down. Some had frilly shoes with long spiked heels and long elbow-length gloves to match.

Talon moved to search the men’s clothes. Trousers, shirts, jackets, vests, and the shiniest boots he had ever seen sat on display.

The shop keep startled him. “Hello, good sir. I’m about to close up, so if you know what you want—” He stopped mid-sentence when he got a closer look at his customer.

“I just need some clothes and I’ll be out of your way,” said Talon with a friendly smile.

The shop keep was suspicious. “Where you from, boy?”

Talon thought to run, but he tried to think like Marcus instead. The shop keep obviously knew, by his clothes and features, that he was Skomm. His mind raced as the man raised a brow, scrutinizing him.