Dark Legion (48 page)

The sailor soon returned with the captain, then went to work on Marcus's barrel and soon pried the lid off. Marcus peeked over the side, looking much younger than his years, then burst into laughter, which had the sailors on edge. The woman took her dagger from my side and walked over to Marcus. I could not help myself and laughed along, and the captain joined in, too.

“Malvin!” Marcus said as he stepped out of the barrel. The woman approached with the dagger, but Marcus had it out of her hand before she knew what had happened, and tossed it into the barrel. He walked to Malvin and embraced him. “Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?” Marcus said.

Malvin hugged him back. “And you continue to surprise me. I have heard stories of your adventures as a stowaway. And here I find myself a part of one.”

“You know these men, Captain?” the woman asked.

“Relax, Lisa, I do,” Malvin said. “Marcus here once spared me from an unpleasant death, and Saul provided me with my fortune to buy into this business. It looks like I now have the chance to repay the favor.”

“Sorry for the intrusion,” I said.

“Nonsense, I'm lucky,” Malvin said. “Three of my sailors did not show up this morning. Now I have two replacements. Have you sailed before?”

Marcus nodded. “I was a deckhand once on this same Gods-forsaken lake. Saul here has not, but I bet he can climb the ropes faster than any on this ship.”

The sailor snorted. “Not likely.”

“You're the captain now?” Marcus asked.

“That I am. Smid has had enough of it.” Malvin held his arms out. “Welcome aboard the good ship Bounty.”

 

Our dinner, if you could still call it that past midnight, was basic, but not bad. Sagemont was barely visible through the porthole beside me. We were anchored not far from where we had boarded the imperial ship a lifetime ago.

The sailors were a lively lot, and much rum was had by all. I detested the stuff, but drank some anyway, thinking it best to blend in with the sailors. Most were still at it, but Marcus and I went to the cabin we shared for an early night. The ship had only three cabins, while the rest slept wherever a hammock could be strung or a bedroll would fit. When the water was calm, most slept on deck, which was hardly surprising as the hold smelled like arse and feet. Some of the sailors were less than happy with the preferential treatment we received, like I could give a shit. One even tried to fight Marcus—a mistake no one was likely to repeat.

 

Sleep came easy, but I had two strange dreams, both plagued by a lion, large and male. In the first, I woke at the edge of the Great Oasis with the lion sleeping beside me, resting its head in my lap like an oversized house cat. The dream was incredibly lucid, and terror filled me, but the lion rubbed its head on my chest, and the fear faded away.

It stood, and I climbed onto its back like it was the natural thing to do. It ran up the dunes through the cool night air, into the oasis lit by the moon, dodging trees, clearing boulders, and all the while I sat fixed to its back as if tied there. We ran into the clearing where the branded men were camped, and to the high spot from which I'd made my speech. The lion roared, impossibly loud. And it went beyond just sound—it vibrated and shook my chest.

The people came from their tents and gathered as an enormous crowd, fearful but excited. I pulled the crown from my satchel and held it above me, and it seemed to glow of its own accord. I shouted the name of my kingdom—the name which bound my people, which
was
my people. “Ubrain!” I shouted. The lion ran with me on its back, circling the crowd three times while I waved the crown above my head. “Ubrain!” I shouted. After the third lap, it ran from the clearing and leapt through the leaves of a low branch. I ducked, holding a hand out to shield my eyes and the world went black.

 

I woke with a start. My heart raced, my blood pulsed, and it took me a good minute to come to grips with the fact that it had been a dream. I brushed my shoulder, as if to rid it of leaves. To my surprise, a single leaf fell onto my bed. I held it in my hand, pondering what it meant. A coincidence; it had to be.

 

My second dream wandered aimlessly, as dreams are wont to do, and all the while the lion followed. I visited familiar scenes, but they were different. I watched my parents burn, Solas on his black steed, laughing that laugh of his. The lion pounced and tore off his face.

I dreamed of Angus, and of some of the less pleasant things he'd inflicted on me, but the lion started eating him before I got to slit his throat.

I dreamed of the burning ship, but instead of flames leaping from one place to another, it was the lion leaving fire in its trail.

I dreamed of Solas in his room, but it was the lion, not I, that knocked him down the steps.

I dreamed of shackling Marcus to my will. But the lion snapped its jaws on my wrist, waking me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Journeys Ended and Begun

 

I woke, clutching my wrist. It felt tender, and a slight tingle ran down my spine as it often did after I used true names. It was pitch dark still, so I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep. Just before I slipped over the boundary between this world and sleep, a lion's roar woke me again. I looked at the ring on my middle finger, barely visible in the dark. I stared at it, willing it to roar, but tucked it away as fancy. What would a mere ring have to do with dreams?

I picked up my satchel and the candle lantern beyond the door and made my way on deck. Three sailors were asleep there, so I found a spot furthest away and made myself comfortable. Untying the cloth-wrapped bundle I had taken from the chest, I laid its contents out in front of me. It held a manuscript, very old, and a notebook in my father's script. The manuscript was familiar to me. I had not seen it before, but it was written in the same language as the one I kept so close,
The Names of Things
. This one was far harder to understand, but I thought the cover read “The Ghost in the Shadow.”

I was probably too tired, as I was unable to discern anything from its pages. It was like I could read the words, but as soon as I did, their meaning slipped from me. Like holding water in my hand. I put the manuscript aside and paged through my father's notes instead. I didn't know what I had expected to find, but it wasn't what awaited me. The notebook was filled with seemingly random, unsubstantiated, and unconnected ramblings and thoughts. One page read:

“We must ponder the reasoning behind the Great Separation, for it was a deliberate act. Such devastation and power is not unleashed without purpose. What was gained by it? What have we lost?”

I got as much from that as from the manuscript. Another page caught my attention, however.

“The Old Ways were our last hope of connecting those lost lands. With each moment, our chances of reaching them become slimmer.”

The Inquisitors in the forest had spoken of the old ways, mentioning that two of their number used them. What they were, and what they had to do with yellow twine strung between stakes in a forest, I hadn't a clue. I soon gave up on the notebook as well and watched the night sky above.

 

Marcus was next to wake.

“Can't sleep?” Marcus asked. I shook my head. “Probably your conscience,” he said. “What have you got there?”

“My father's notebook. It makes little sense to me. Seems he was fixated on something called the Great Separation, whatever that was. Lost lands and some such.”

“I might have an idea on that,” he said. I raised an eyebrow. His scabbard still held the Inquisitor's blade, but his father's blade was wrapped in cloth, and tied to the side of the scabbard. He untied it and unrolled the cloth it was wrapped in. “Remember how I ripped that tapestry from the wall in the vault to wrap the blade in? Well, look at this.” He spread the tapestry out and weighed it down with his father's blade at the top, and the Inquisitor's at the bottom. It looked like a map, but none I had seen.

“A map?”

“Obviously. But look closer.”

I shook my head. “Haven't seen it before.”

“You have. Just not like this. Pay attention to the largest continent. Familiar?”

“Marcus, just spit it out.”

He sighed. “Fine. The center of the largest continent here,” he said, tracing a large circle. “It's our continent, Kor. The other four were joined to it once. Look, here's, Oos; here, Wesse; here, Suid; here, Noord.” He sat back, looking awfully impressed with himself.

“You're saying the continent was split into many? How?” I asked. “And those other lands separated even on this map, continents in their own right. What of them?”

He shrugged. “Great Separation, right? It was great? Gives some credence to the tales that travel between the continents was once more common if they are growing further apart. As for the rest, who knows?”

“A bit farfetched, don't you think?”

He shrugged and looked down at the blade, letting out a deep sigh.

“At the station, that was your father, wasn't it?” I asked.

Marcus nodded, and the silence stretched. A lone tear tracked down his cheek as he shook his head. “I can't believe it. After all these years I find him, and he has joined with the people who destroyed my kingdom, killed the man he vowed to protect, killed my second family. He
is
the enemy. Honestly, Saul, I want to kill the man, and I mean that.”

“Take your time to think that decision over,” I said. “If at the end of this thing you plan to do so, I will help you.”

A half smile played on his face as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. We sat like that for a long time, looking out at the stars as the ship came to life around us.

 

The sailor's life was entirely to my liking. The fresh air, the open space, the peace… it suited me to the bone. True, it had only been one day, and things could yet change for the worse. I was sure they would, just as soon as the Gods noticed I was not hating my life.

True to Marcus's word, I turned out to be a great topman. The sailor we'd first encountered in our barrels used to be the topman. Malvin had set a challenge for the man. We were to race to the top and if he won, he got to keep his job. He lost three out of three races. I was sure the man, named Ryll, was bitter at being bested, but I failed to give a shit. I was just thankful that I was of some use on the ship. Most of my job entailed being at the top and keeping an eye out for ships and other dangers. Sitting up there, completely alone, was bliss.

Ryll came to join me for a short time, and I apologized for holding a dagger to his throat, but not for taking his job. I had the sheet of paper Malakai gave me in hand, folded and refolded so many times that it was tearing along its creases. The stylized cat at its center was barely recognizable.

He looked at it and nodded. “You are so lucky to have a ticket. I wish I was going.”

“Where?” I asked.

“To the show,” he said, nodding at the paper.

“Sorry, I'm not following.”

“That show, the fight,” he said, but my expression remained blank. He sighed. “Each year for near a decade now, the Lion of Ubrain fights in the arena. Should be a good fight, it's the ten year anniversary. It will be quite the spectacle. Wish I had a ticket.”

“The Lion of Ubrain?”

“Fiercest fighter I've ever seen, and a slave at that. We've been shipping your ale there nonstop for weeks now. People from all over will be in Qash for the event.”

The man leapt to his feet, cupped his hands to his mouth, and shouted. “Kronos! Kronos to stern!”

I stood and saw the sailors scurry this way and that. Some distance behind us, the head of the massive creature ducked beneath the water. It looked even bigger than the dead one that had washed ashore in Sagemont, and my guts twisted. Not seeing where it went was worse.

“Where did it go?” I asked.

“Beneath. It will follow us, but this ship is big enough, it should be fine as long as we don't run into any difficulties.”

Ryll made his way down to help with the preparations.

 

The ship had two cannons, and when they were made ready, order slowly settled on board. It took me a bit longer to get my nerves in order, but the sailors probably knew better. I took a deep breath and willed my muscles to relax.

Marcus came up to visit me. “Big bastard,” he said, looking to stern. “Should make for an easy target.” He smiled, then nodded down at the folded sheet of paper in my hand. “What's that?”

I unfolded it and held it up.

“Oh, that,” he said. “Figured it out yet?” I smiled, and a half-sob escaped me. “You did!” he shouted, and hugged me to him. “So?”

I took a deep breath, and clamped down on my emotions. “Ryll says this is a ticket to an arena fight in Qash. A big event, owing to the fact that it's the tenth anniversary of the ‘Lion of Ubrain' entering the arena. A fierce fighter and a slave.”