''Chosen 4''
By;fernand jiro
Fabled speech by Domaen Palima, The Forge, before the Battle of the Citadel, the final conflict in the War of the Forge.
Caslian gazed out to the north from the balcony of his room. The queen had been surprisingly generous with his accommodations considering the nature of his occupation and his association with the enemy. Still, he realized that he was under close scrutiny from Imogene and those of her kind that arrived days earlier. One of them sat on the east wall of the palace at that moment, watching him. The rising sun cast a shady silhouette of the lone figure standing statuesque in careful study. Caslian could understand their mistrust and would have felt wronged if they did not regard him in such a manner. He was, after all, still one of the Taige.
“Traitor,” hissed a voice softly in his mind, echoing over and over. Caslian looked to the west, seeing the harbor where preparations were being made for the voyage. It was still early in the morning, the sunlight slowly crawling across the countryside, but urgency was important. He knew that the Taige would try to stop the voyage somehow though he was not sure why.
“Traitor!” The voice was harsher and more present than he had ever felt it before. Caslian almost winced at the force behind the attack as the foreign presence fought to make itself known. He had not slept since they captured the guard Ricis Kappan. The voice kept haunting him, gradually growing stronger. Caslian knew it was speaking only to him, resorting to the only recourse it had available to it, to drive him mad.
Another wince distorted his face momentarily as he sliced his palm with a dagger. The quick jolt of pain refocused his mind and forced out the invading voice. It was a trick he used often when his mind wandered from his task. He looked to the west again, past the harbor to the horizon. He stretched his bloodied hand out, palm facing the great unknown that lay beyond the water’s edge.
“I cannot betray what I never followed,” Caslian murmured softly. “You cannot stop the inevitable.” He closed his hand tightly and quickly turned back into his room, striding swiftly through and out into the hallway. Without the normal compliment of guards the palace seemed empty, devoid of life. Only the occasional groups of servants preparing for the day broke the tedium of the still statues and hollow halls.
He turned the last corner before the throne room to find two of the new guards from Clan Roaz standing watch. Their dress was similar to Imogene’s, plain hoodless robes covering their bodies, leaving only their head visible to the world. Markings adorned their faces, one guard with white hair having many dark purple marks while his companion only bore a few subtle brown ones, nearly matching his dark tanned skin and dark brown hair. Caslian paused for a moment before continuing on as if it was nothing. The brown-haired guard, however, firmly planted a hand on the assassin’s chest to halt him without flinching.
“Why do you wish to see her Highness?” he asked in a cold, demanding voice as he intently gazed into empty space.
Returning the gesture of no eye contact, Caslian confidently responded, “It is for her to know.”
“Perhaps he has been seduced, Jeramai,” replied the second guard.
“Is what Kalom speaks true?” Jeramai asked, flexing his fingers against Caslian, digging them into his chest.
Caslian glowered, resisting the urge to avenge the insult given him. “No one…commands me.”
“We have smelt the fetid stench of the tainted essence before, but your scent is different,” stated the second guard, Kalom. “Stronger, more…intimate.”
A fire burned in Caslian’s eyes. “Can I be responsible for the actions of a filthy mutt trying to jump into my lap?”
“Your hand is bleeding, is it not?” asked Jeramai. “Why?”
“You witnessed it for yourself,” Caslian stated firmly.
The guard widened his eyes slightly. “Rare is it that one can find me when I do not want to be found.”
“May I enter or shall two of us die today?” Caslian replied flatly.
Jeramai removed his hand. “You believe you could kill one of us before the other would kill you?”
Caslian approached the doors. “It is a certainty,” he replied. The doors opened to allow him entrance.
The assassin felt a subtle shift in the wind, more so than what would have been from simply the doors opening. A sideways look to the guards revealed their hand in the phenomenon. The whites of Jeramai’s eyes were fading from complete darkness to normal as the markings on his face ceased to glow. Caslian simply continued on into the throne room without a word, the doors slamming shut behind him.
The room was empty, not even the torches were lit. The thought that the queen might not be up crossed Caslian’s mind but was quickly dismissed. He knew that there was too much to attend to before the launch. Without hesitating a moment more Caslian moved toward the hidden chamber near the thrones.
“Where are you going?” asked a voice from the shadows.
Caslian stopped and stood motionless for a moment. “To see the queen.”
Imogene stepped out of the shadows and slowly strode up to Caslian. “Said as if you had the authority to do so.”
“Authority? No. Need?” There was a brief pause in Caslian’s voice as he realized what he was saying. “Yes.”
Imogene gave Caslian a puzzling look, slowly circling him. “Whose need?” she asked.
“Mutual need,” he replied hesitantly, unwilling to weaken his position further.
Imogene stopped before him and stared. “Truth is liberating,” she said, motioning to his left arm. “The queen is presently busy, however.”
“If she wants the expedition to succeed then she will want to see me,” replied Caslian.
Imogene nodded. “A threat by anyone else yet a warning from you. This way.” She turned and strode gracefully to the hidden door with Caslian following behind. They entered the small room to see it empty except for the queen, seated at the head of the table nearest to the door, Mornic to her left and Pallan to her right, both looking to Caslian with surprise.
Queen Laye turned and smiled as she stood slowly to greet the two newcomers. “Welcome. This is a most unexpected visit.”
Imogene bowed to the queen. “Our…friend wishes to speak with you.”
Pallan stood and approached the queen’s side. “What do you want?” she asked.
Caslian stood motionless for a moment, looking between the priest, queen, and guard before he replied. “What I ask of you now is not an escape from my crimes, but redemption for my sins.”
Queen Laye was taken aback by his words. “I…I do not understand.”
“I wish to join the expedition.”
Pallan stepped forward. “Why? So you can butcher the crew?” she asked in condescending manner.
“I do not believe in suicide,” replied Caslian shortly, a cold tone coursing through his voice. “If I were to…“butcher” the crew I would be stranded out at sea. That is not my intent.”
“Then what is?” asked Mornic gently, curious as to the assassin’s motives.
“The Taige does not want the expedition to happen,” replied Caslian, caution and warning hung in his words. “This much I am sure you have gathered from your interrogations.”
Caslian looked to Pallan for confirmation. She looked to the queen then nodded. “One of Tizmak’s subordinates confessed the plan to sink the ship shortly after launch and claim that they were ambushed by a superior force. After which, had the queen been deposed, a full fledge naval build up would have commenced by order of the acting ruler.”
“A naval build up?” asked Mornic. “But what purpose would there be for such a thing? The other Crowns would surely notice.”
“We do not know,” replied Pallan, looking to Mornic then to Caslian. “Perhaps he could tell us.”
Caslian stood in thought for a long time, looking down to the floor. Imogene narrowed her eyes while looking at him and spoke softly. “You are hiding something.”
He slowly looked up and into Queen Laye’s eyes and said, “I cannot put into words why but I must go.”
Queen Laye gazed back into Caslian’s eyes for a moment then slowly nodded. “I will grant this.”
Pallan spun to face the queen. “Your Highness! I must protest!”
“He has helped us thus far, Pallan,” the queen stated firmly. “Perhaps he is able to help us again.” She smiled and curtsied to Caslian. The assassin stood motionless until the queen regained her posture then turned to leave the room. “I do have a condition, however,” the queen stated before Caslian was able to leave.
Again he stood motionless, facing the door. He wondered why he was surprised. Everyone had conditions, why should the royalty be any different. “What is that?” he asked with subtle hint of venom in his voice.
“I ask that…you watch over my daughter.” The queen lowered her head, humbled, and awaited his answer.
“Your…daughter?” he asked, still facing the door.
“Yes. She will be aboard the ship as well for a short time. If you are to go then please, guard her until she departs..”
Mornic, Pallan, and Imogene all focused their sights on Queen Laye, shocked about the news of her daughter’s planned travel on the ship. Pallan began to question this change in plans but saw the queen’s face and knew it would be no use. The decision had been made and there would be no changes now.
Caslian closed his eyes, a painful grimace washing his face. “I…will do as you ask.” He opened his eyes again and slowly made his way out of the room and into the throne room.
The queen turned to sit down again. “Now…where were we?” she asked. Mornic and Pallan still stared, unsure of what to say or do.
Imogene stood her ground, contemplating. “Escape?” she asked softly.
The queen lowered her head, trying to fight back the tears that were welling up inside of her. “She claims to feel unsafe here. It tears at my very being but…”
“She will come to no harm, your Highness,” interjected Imogene confidently but comfortingly.
“No, she will not,” added Pallan. “Citro and I will be there as well.”
Queen Laye looked up to Pallan. Tears slowly overflowed from her eyes. “Thank you my friend.” She looked down again to her hands resting on the table, to the elegant ruby ring on her left hand, the sign of her love to the late king. “Maybe if I had never…”
“Do not think that way!” shouted Pallan in a commanding voice, already knowing the thought that Laye had.
Imogene’s calm exterior broke for a moment in shock at Pallan’s temporary disregard with formalities. She looked to Mornic who sat, observing intently but not showing any signs of surprise. “Yes,” she murmured to herself. “Just as I suspected. The royal bloodline is no longer pure. The future of our land is in the hands of commoners.” The thought amused Imogene, as she assumed it amused the late King Cregia.
“I…I am sorry,” replied Laye as she removed her crown.
Pallan knelt down beside Laye and embraced her, resting her head on Laye’s elegant shoulder. “No harm will come to her.” She looked up and met Laye’s eyes with her own. “I swear it on my life.”
Laye smiled softly, her tears flowing more freely than before. “Thank you, my friend.”
Mornic cleared his throat softly. “I know this is hard, but if we are to proceed on schedule…”
Laye nodded and wiped her tears away before placing the crown back on her head. “Yes…I am sorry.”
“There is nothing to be sorry about, your Highness,” replied Mornic with a gentle smile.
“By your leave, your Highness,” interjected Imogene with a slight bow. “There are some matters I must attend to as well.”
Queen Laye turned and nodded. “Of course. Be well.”
Imogene turned and silently slipped out of the room. She pondered what had happened and how it will affect the future of the land. Light from outside caught her attention as the sun’s rays poured through the windows into the throne room. “The sun is rising,” she thought to herself. “A new day, and a new journey, begins.”
* * * * * * *
Daegan sat on the terrace railing facing the sea, deep in thought as the morning light slowly inched its way down his face and body. Every fiber of his being was alive and on fire, anticipation coursing through his veins. He knew this was where he was to be. Destiny was calling to him from out among the waves; he could hear it.
“Excuse me?” asked a meek voice from behind him.
In one graceful motion, without a moment’s hesitation, Daegan swung his feet back over the railing to stand face to face with whoever would be foolish enough to sneak up behind him. Focus set, his stance firm, and hands in position, the warrior was prepared for anything that could be behind him. Except for Princess Mayla.
For a moment their eyes locked. She stood still, wrapped in a light blue shawl and silk robe to protect her from the cool bite of the morning air, and said nothing. There was no fear in her eyes even though a hasty whip of Daegan’s arm could have injured her. His discipline held firm to his reflexes, however, and the young girl was spared the precise attack that Daegan instinctively moved to instigate. Slowly his muscles relaxed though his attention stayed sharp.
Mayla’s eyes slowly peered Daegan up and down, the silhouette of his body standing statuesque against the motionless, brightening sky. His loose fitting clothes waved with the wind, enhancing his frozen posture. Again their eyes locked and jolt ran through the young princess’s body. In the shared moment of silence they stood, the soft breeze blowing her hair gently into her face.
“You…your name is Daegan Ralth, correct?” she asked him softly.
Daegan slowly nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “I am,” he stated smoothly.
A shy smile spread across Mayla’s lips. “I…saw you fighting yesterday. You were very impressive.”
“Thank you, princess,” replied Daegan with a slight bow. “If I may, you are quite impressive yourself.” A sly smile appeared on his lips as he caught her stare again.
Mayla quickly darted her eyes to the side, as if trying to hide. “What…do you mean?” she asked.
Daegan stood straight up and slowly drew closer. “I mean,” he whispered softly, “you are very beautiful.” He stopped only a step away from the princess, staring intently yet gently.
“Thank you,” she muttered softly, still avoiding his eyes. “I hear that you…you will be joining the expedition. Is that correct?”
“Yes it is, your Highness,” replied Daegan, hovering close to Malya. A subtle, sweet fragrance emanated from the princess. Daegan closed his eyes a moment, taking the scent in to savor. He smiled and thought to himself, “She was impressed indeed. Good.”
“May I ask a favor of you?”
“Of course,” the warrior said in a soft whisper, slowly edging closer to Mayla’s body, anticipating her request.
Mayla looked up into Daegan’s sky blue eyes, her own welling up with tears. “Protect me. Please.” Daegan’s advance halted. In her eyes he could see both fear and hope battling in the field of her soul. He could do nothing but stare, crippled with doubt for the first time since he could remember. His body stood frozen, unable to move, until finally the princess fell against his chest. Instinctively his arms grasped her body and held firmly before any thought came into his mind. “While we are on board the ship together…please protect me.”
“Your Highness,” he muttered, unsure of what to say. Mayla clung tightly to his clothing, fearing that she might be refused. The gentle touch of his hand stroking her head and his comforting voice in her ear eased her worries. “You have my word.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Your Highness,” said a gruff voice from behind.
Daegan’s first instinct was to pull away from the princess, to pretend as if nothing had happened, but instead the princess acted first. She pulled away and turned slowly, looking down as if ashamed, and faced toward the doors to the palace. “I’m sorry, Citro.”
From the shadows of the doorway came the dark figure, crossbow in hand. He stood motionless for a moment, staring at Daegan intently. “You were warned about leaving your room without an escort.”
“I am with her,” Daegan said defiantly, stepping past Mayla to confront Citro.
“As I said, without an escort,” replied Citro flatly.
Daegan’s brow furrowed as he narrowed his eyes. “She is safe with me.”
“Irrelevant,” replied Citro. “She was told not to leave her room without an escort. She disobeyed.”
“The palace has been cleared of anyone who could harm her,” Daegan replied vehemently, staying between Citro and Mayla. “She is perfectly safe.”
“Again, irrelevant. If she cannot obey a simple rule here then she may be a danger elsewhere.” Citro motioned to the horizon then looked to the princess. “Thyse can be must as dangerous as Jalstiria.”
Mayla sniffed softly then hurried past Daegan and Citro. The two of them stood there in silence, staring one another down, motionless. The gentle morning breeze continued to blw, causing Daegan’s loose clothing to waving lazily. Citro, in contrast, was motionless. His hair tucked under a protective leather cap, his clothing armor of various types.
Finally the dark guardian spoke to Daegan. “It is her wish, thus you will aid in her protection until we arrive in Thyse.” There was another moment of silence before Citro spoke again. “Should you betray the trust she has given you…” He trailed off and looked down to the crossbow in his hand, armed and ready.
Daegan straightened his posture. “You insult me by insinuating…”
“You insult the trust that both the queen and the princess have put in you if you finish that sentence,” replied Citro as he locked eyes with Daegan. He slowly turned halfway to the door back into the palace. “I know of your dealings out of the tournaments. Your ‘conquests’, if you wish to state them as such.” He finished his turn to the door and slowly walked away. “Heed my warning.”
As Citro passed through the doors Daegan stood motionless out alone on the terrace. The wind ceased, leaving the stillness of the cool morning air. Daegan slowly turned and walked back to the railing to lean against. The image of Mayla’s emerald green eyes looking up at him, completely vulnerable, was etched into his mind’s eye. She was calling for help; she was calling for his help.
“No,” he said softly to himself, “she is no bar maiden, no simple conquest. She is my charge and I have sworn to protect her.” A sly grin gradually slid across his face. “Though I could not deny her if she wished my company.”
Daegan stared out to the horizon, thinking about the journey ahead. The morning light had arrived, blanketing the landscape in its warming glow. He studied the land surrounding the palace, wondering if it may be the last time he would see land. After a moment of reflection, the warrior shook his head fervently. That would go against Daegan’s destiny. He knew that great things were in store for him.
* * * * * * *
The sun shone down brightly into Raleigh’s eyes as he looked up to the tall mast of the ship before him, the ship that would be his home for the coming weeks ahead. A soft mist sprayed through the air at random, lightly covering Raleigh and those around him. It left a salty presence in his nose and mouth adding to his discomfort. Deep in his stomach a churning feeling made him pause to reconsider the journey and wonder if it was truly something he should be apart of. A look to his mentor, Mornic, standing nearby with small group of the crew of the ship gave him some reassurance. The jovial belly laugh that resounded over the port in the midday that was so familiar to Raleigh gave him comfort.
Mornic had always been one with the people, able to communicate with anyone from the lowliest peasant out toiling in the fields to the wealthiest noble in his manor. He was always able to find some connection, a way to allow both sides to open up and speak freely without fear of judgment or betrayal. It was a gift that made him perfect for just such a journey. At ease at all times, Mornic never held false pretenses or withheld a part of himself for protection. When he spoke with someone he spoke with all his heart and soul.
“And then,” Mornic continued talking to the sailors. He spoke softly to emphasize the importance of his next words. Raleigh could not hear what was said but suddenly the sailors burst out into a fit of laughter, some barely able to stand. Those nearby looked to the group with strange faces, wondering what had happened, but Raleigh knew. Mornic winked at his apprentice and subtly wiped his mouth with his thumb, a mischievous grin curling his lips.
Raleigh smiled back to Mornic. “A joke,” he muttered to himself. “He told them a joke.” With one simple gesture Mornic opened up to the sailors and let them know that he was just a man. A man, and a priest, with an extensive library of lewd jokes; a contradiction that Raleigh had never been able to understand.
“Raleigh, my boy! Come here and say hello!” The aging priest waved the young apprentice over, smiling bright in his usual cheerful manner. Raleigh slowly made his way over to the small gathering, his bags held in tow with one hand over his shoulder, weighing him down, and his walking staff in the other hand. As he approached he become nervous. The men that surrounded Mornic did not seem very trustworthy. Many were unshaven and unwashed; some wore tattered clothing. Their odor gave Raleigh a small moment of pause as he attempted to adjust. His stomach began to sink as he came closer to the men of the sea, a combination of the salty air, the sailors’ scent, and his own nerves acting in unison to increase his uneasiness. Unsure of how to act around them, Raleigh just kept walking toward the sailors in silence until one of them gave the young priest a hardy slap on the back.
“So dis is Raleigh Da Great, eh?” the sailor said. “He shaw don’t look like much but den we don’t neither, huh boys?!” The other sailors cheered and shouted. “We here be da best on da seas, little man,” continued the sailor. He leaned down to whisper into Raleigh’s ear. “Even if we duna look like it,” he whispered with a wink.
Raleigh began to shake his head, about to deny the doubtful thoughts that raced through his mind when he saw the sailors. “No…I mean, yes. I mean…you look very…”
The other sailors burst into laughter again, including the one next to Raleigh. He calmed himself and stared straight into the young priest’s eyes. There was a soft gentleness in his eyes as his face settled into a kind smile. “We been mistook for riff raff many times. We know da look.”
Mornic smiled when Raleigh realized the sailors could not be fooled. “Raleigh is my apprentice and a fine young man, but a bit cautious.”
The sailor next to Raleigh gave him another hardly slap on the back. “Dat’s good enough for us, eh boys? I be Esen, at ya service. First mate ta da crew and second only ta da captain. We sail da blue waters of da Great Ocean on da great ship Gallant. She’s da best dere is.”
Raleigh smiled and began to relax as the sailors took turns regaling both him and Mornic about their adventures. The young apprentice was not sure what to think about them but he was fascinated to hear what the mean of the sea had to say. They spoke with such passion and zest it was hard not to believe what they said, even if many of the stories seemed far-fetched.
At the beginning of the pier that stretched out to the waiting Gallant stood Pallan staring off out to the horizon. She held a focused and determined look as her cloak and small strands of her hair swayed gently in the breeze. Slowly her gaze glided across the view before her. The rolling waves of the blue waters, the constant motion of the sailors and dock hands preparing the Gallant to sail, and the steady pace of the patrolling guards that had been on duty around the docks since early that morning, all brought life to the to goal at hand.
Pallan remembered the complaints that were made when patrols were assigned a member of from Clan Roaz to observe. She tried to give them as little information as possible, hoping to quell the concerns of the patrolling guardsmen while trying to avoid giving away any information about the conspiracy of the Taige against the throne. “I never thought I would see the day when we would have to fight a war behind the backs of the people,” Pallan said to herself. There was no doubt in her mind that the guards patrolling were trustworthy; she had personally hand picked them. It was merely a matter of keeping the threat of the Taige out of the public eye.
The extent of the Taige’s corruption was still unknown. Noble families, businesses, military officials, even the common people of Jalstiria; all were possible targets for the Taige to influence and take control of. An open war would be a war of propaganda, of rumor and hearsay, until the public splintered into factions supporting one side or another. It was decided that a silent war was the only option for now.
“She’s here.”
“Hmm? Oh, thank you, Citro,” replied Pallan. The shadowy protector nodded slowly. “Do you believe this to be the right course of action?” she asked.
“That is not for me to decide,” Citro muttered.
Pallan slowly nodded. “We should not question the queen.”
“I was not referring to the queen.”
“What?” asked Pallan, turning to look into Citro’s eyes. Her stomach tightened for a moment, truly seeing her partner for the first time since she first meeting him. “I…did not realize you had blue eyes.”
Citro held her gaze as he spoke, his dark, raspy voice floating on the air. “It is not for any of us to decide what is right or what is wrong. The High Father alone has that authority. We can only trust in Him.”
Pallan blinked and looked away for a moment then looked out to the sea. “I did not know you had such belief in the High Father.”
There was a moment of silence between the two royal protectors before Citro spoke. “I believe that the High Father has lead us here. It is up to us to follow through.” A small carriage pulled up as he finished speaking and the door opened. Three robed figures stepped down from the carriage and walked in unison to Pallan and Citro. They both nodded to each other and began to walk down the pier, Pallan at the front with Citro at the rear.
As they approached the Gallant, Esen stepped away from the group sailors still sharing tall tales of the sea to greet the coming entourage. He smiled to them and bowed awkwardly to Pallan with a big swing of his arms, which was either supposed to be comically melodramatic or he was genuinely unsure how to act in front of Pallan.
“Ello dere…I mean greetin’s, Lady Pallan!” he exclaimed.
Pallan smiled. “Greetings, friend. Are we allowed to come aboard?”
Esen eyed the others with Pallan with a quick dart of his eyes. “Yes, of course. And who is with you? For da official records, of course.”
“These are just servants, no one of consequence,” replied Pallan.
“We must know, Lady Pallan,” insisted Esen.
“They are my servants!” called out Mornic. Everyone looked turned to look at the aging priest who merely smiled and blushed. “I realize the hypocrisy that a servant of the High Father would, himself, take on servants of his own but I assure you there is good reason.” He hurried past Raleigh and the sailors to the three robed figures. “These three are serving sentences of repentance by humbling themselves to a priest as a symbol of humbling to the High Father. The robes signify the sin they carry, thus they must wear them until their service is completed.”
Raleigh blinked in confusion and began to speak. “I’ve never heard of…”
“It is a very rare ritual, my boy,” interrupted Mornic quickly. “Only those who have committed serious wrongs and whose conscious may have trouble forgiving themselves undergo such a trial.”
The sound of the rolling waves breaking on the shore and the seagulls above in the sky filled the air during the silence shared among those on the pier. There seemed to be a tangible feeling of tension clinging to everyone as all eyes fell upon Morning and Esen. The first mate broke the silence finally, saying, “Well ain’t that amazin? Ya never know what dem priests will come up with next.” He stepped aside and bowed to let the entourage pass.
Pallan nodded. “Thank you, Esen, for you dedication to your job and our safety. It is an honor to have you and your crew serve as our transport on this voyage.”
The sailors around Raleigh cheered. He looked around and smiled, almost wanting to cheer too. Pallan escorted the three robed figures up the ramp onto the ship and disappeared as they went down below. Citro stood guard at the bottom of the ramp, watching everyone on the pier with careful, vigilant eyes. The sailors resumed their activities to prepare for the voyage; leaving Raleigh and Mornic to board the ship. They locked eyes with each other, Mornic relaxing visibly with a mischievous smile spread across his lips.
Raleigh looked puzzled and moved closer to Mornic. “Is there something wrong?”
Mornic put his arm around Raleigh and began to walk toward the ramp. “My boy…we must discuss the wonders and uses of the skill known as tactfulness.”
“What?” asked Raleigh. “Did I do something wrong?” His face became blanketed with worry and doubt.
With a loud laugh and a large, tight hug, Mornic replied. “In private, my boy. In private.” As they passed Citro the priest gave him a wink and nod. The guard nodded back, a small hint of a smile spreading across his lips. The irony did not elude him and, despite himself, found it amusing.
Mornic and Raleigh stepped onto the deck of the Gallant and were greeting by one of the sailors.
He bowed humbly and said, “I’ll take ya to ya quarters. This way.”
Raleigh looked around as they walked to see the crew busy preparing for the launch, surprised that so much had to be done. The whirlwind of motion and sound almost caught the young apprentice off guard. Below the deck the sailor opened the door to a small room with two bunks attached to the walls and little space for anything else. Raleigh widened his eyes, unsure what to think about the room.
“Ain’t nuttin fancy but we don’t have them comfortable luxuries ya’ll have on the land,” the sailor said.
Mornic smiled. “It is perfect, my friend. Besides, we will only be here at night to sleep, right my boy?”
Raleigh looked puzzled. “We…we will?”
“Aye!” exclaimed Mornic. “We have to earn our keep, after all.”
The sailor grinned and looked Raleigh over. “He ain’t much but we might be able to make a sailor outta him.”
Raleigh again began to reconsider agreeing to come on this journey. Mornic put his arm around Raleigh and murmured, “Serve others as you would server the High Father.”
“I think we got a job just right for this boy. Come ‘ere!” The sailor took Raleigh’s arm, causing him to drop everything, and began to pull him away toward the stairs up to the deck. “Ever swab a deck?”
“Mornic,” Raleigh whimpered. “Sir? I…help?”
Mornic laughed. “Serve them well, my boy! I’ll take care of your things!” He saw a look of worry blanket the young man’s face but knew he would be all right. “The work will be good for him,” he said to himself as he started to carry their things into the tiny room. After everything was organized and stored Mornic left to explore the lower deck of the ship. He took note that there were only six small rooms such as his and Raleigh’s in the short corridor at the bottom of the staircase. The remainder of the deck housed the crew quarters, three rows of bunked beds with chests at the ends to hold the personal belongings of the sailors. Mornic saw another set of stairs leading down to what he believed was the storage area near the opposite end of the ship.
Mornic mumbled to himself as he examined the crew quarters. “Sir Kaliste?” came a voice from behind him in the corridor. He turned to see Pallan standing next to one of the six rooms and smiled to her. She motioned for him to enter the room and slipped in herself. Puzzled, Mornic did as he was asked and made his was to the small room.
“Sir Kaliste!” exclaimed one of the robed figures Pallan escorted onto the ship. She removed her hood and displayed a bright smile before rushing to embrace Mornic.
“Mayla,” he replied warmly with a large smile and took the princess in his arms.
“Your servants, hmm?” asked Pallan jokingly. “Thank you for your assistance, Sir Kaliste.”
The two remaining robed figures pulled back their hoods, revealing two young men. The first shook his head, his black hair sliding to the side of his face. “Your ‘friend’ almost ruined it,” commented Daegan in a snide tone.
Mornic chuckled. “Do not judge him too harshly. I must admit my own fright when he started to speak.”
Daegan sighed. “He needs to learn to keep quiet.”
“Who was that, Sir Kaliste?” asked Mayla.
Pallan blinked. “You…do not remember?”
“Remember what? Have I met him before?”
Mornic looked to Pallan then back to Mayla. “You met at the reception, my lady.”
“Oh,” replied Mayla, trailing off. “I try not to think about that,” she continued softly. “I met a lot of people, too, so…”
“He was the one who saved your life,” Pallan stated clearly. “He stopped the assassin.”
Mayla blinked in surprise. “Him? He saved me?” Her face flushed red with embarrassment. The whole day was a blur in her memory, only surfacing in the nightmares she had suffered through the nights following the assassination attempt. It did not even occur to her that there was a single person responsible for her safety yet, deep in the recesses of her mind, there existed a shadowy image of what happened. “I…must thank him.”
“I would recommend against that,” interjected Daegan. “At least, not until we are well underway.”
Pallan nodded. “Yes, lets wait until we are at sea.”
Daegan thought to himself. “So he was the one to save the princess. He didn’t seem like much to me.”
“Do we have to wear these robes the entire time?” asked Squill, the third robed figure.
“Once we get out to sea the princess will let her identity be known,” replied Pallan. “Until then, though, it must be a secret to protect against another attempt on her life.” She paused a moment, in thought about the situation. “Upon thinking about it, you three should stay here until we are at sea. Being inconspicuous is priority for now.”
Squill nodded then look puzzled for a moment. “Then what about…what’s her name, Imogene?”
Pallan smiled. “She is already here.”
* * * * * * *
“Can we trust him?” Bria whispered softly.
“It depends,” replied Caslian, leaning against the far wall of the small room. The shadows drowned his image, barely allowing his silhouette to be seen.
Imogene looked to Caslian calmly. “For our purposes he is trustworthy,” she answered.
“Spoken with assurance. I am surprised.”
Imogene turned to face the assassin fully. “I speak assured that you realize your place.” A small flicker of electricity darted between her eyes.
Caslian slowly stepped from the shadows. A few strands of his red hair hung down in front of his face, hiding his eyes some yet allowing his smile through. He knelt down to one knee and looked to the young girl, reaching to touch one of his strands of hair. “We are a special breed of human, you and I.” Bria smiled shyly, instinctively reaching to touch her own red curly hair. Caslian nodded to her and continued. “I would sooner harm myself than another of my kind.”
Imogene gently caressed her young companion’s hair. “Go above deck now, young one. I shall meet you there soon to watch us sail away from land.”
Bria beamed. “Ok!” she exclaimed and hurried out of the room. Imogene watched her rush off with a small smile spreading across her lips.
“I must admit, hiding in the open was a better plan than I had expected,” comment Caslian.
“A simple trick of the mind,” replied Imogene, still looking toward the door. “Implant into your target an idea and they will assume the rest.”
“And we are to be…soldiers?” he asked. “That is what the sailors envisioned us as, correct?”
“It matters not what they saw. The image will linger in their minds for some time to come.”
“And when it does wear off?” he asked.
“By that time we will be far enough out to sea that it will not matter.”
Caslian nodded. “Very clever. I must remember that one.”
“I suggest that you stay here,” remarked Imogene as she gracefully moved toward the door. “The image will not hide your aura, lest the Taige is present aboard.”
“Yes, I assumed as much,” replied Caslian, looking to his left arm. Imogene left him alone to join Bria on the upper deck. In the shadowy room Caslian knelt in silence, the voice in his head now hundreds of voices, all speaking in unison about everything and nothing. The assassin pondered the thought of a new, maddening attack on his mind until he was able to single out one voice.
“Let me die…please,” the voice moaned. “So much pain…to much pain…”
“The thoughts of the tortured,” Caslian murmured in reflection. His eyes widened as he realized the source of the voice. “Mansle,” he murmured again.
His former employer’s thoughts pushed through the fog of other voices. “Where is that wretched Caslian? He is the betrayer. Not me…not…no! Not again!” For a moment Caslian could almost feel the instruments being used.
Caslian could not help but chuckle. “I am a traitor…but not the betrayer.” He stood up and took a deep breath. Then, in a moment of crystal clarity, Caslian realized a terrible truth. The Taige was aboard.
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