Fire And Ice (Book 1) (47 page)

             
He decided not to make an issue of it.  “I was not sure if you still wanted to accompany me,” he said walking past her.

             
She caught up quickly and matched his stride.  “I still want to go,” she said simply.  It was almost too simple for her. 

             
Word must have spread to others of a ship in the harbor and why it was there.  The Karands came out of their houses and watched from their places against the buildings and inside doorways shaded from the sun.  Coran walked by quickly in the narrow streets.  More people were gathered outside the harbor gate and inside as well.  He recognized men who he had trained in the camps.  He saw Karod, the hunter who had smiled at him in the night attack.  He heard words spoken quietly among the gathered Novelah.  The name ‘M’Shai’ was heard the most often.  It was said like a farewell, or maybe a prayer for his return.  It coincided with the looks on the people’s faces.  Some held concern over his leaving, and others hope of his return one day.  There was another thing different in the faces that he saw lining the street.  Instead of the dread they once held, there was now pride.  It didn’t matter to him.  He was finally leaving. 

             
Treska sat at the stern of the longboat.  Four crewman manned oars at the center and one was ready to push off from the bow.  The captain gave Shirri a curious look as she stepped carefully into the vessel.  Coran followed her and they sat on benches behind the rowers, who backed them out into the bay and towards the waiting ship.  The quiet words were repeated louder as the Karands watched them depart Crecy.

             
“What are they saying?  M’Shai?” Treska questioned.  “I know a few words of old Karand, but I have never heard that word before.”

             
“It means death.”  Shirri was the one who answered with a sideways glance at Coran.  “It is a very old word.”

             
“Well,” Treska huffed, “why would they be shouting death?  They seemed friendly enough.”

             
“It is not you they are saying it to,” she replied.

             
Treska was not slow.  He eyed Coran warily, but kept his mouth shut.  Coran wondered why Shirri would blurt it out in front of a stranger after telling him nothing for so long.  He shook his head at the thought and watched the dock and the city of Crecy grow smaller as they got farther away.  For the first time in a long time he took a deep breath and let it out in relief.

              Coran watched the dark sky to the west with concern as did everyone else on deck.  Treska had ordered a change in course to try and make it to the safety of Sol Tara before the storm struck.  Standing in the prow he felt the cold wind blow in from the direction of the clouds.  His dark hair had grown during the journey and strands of it were whipped about by the breeze.  Shirri had come up to stand beside him, her own hair held to one side to keep it from blowing wildly.  He waited to see if she wanted to talk.  They did talk to each other on the journey, but both of them had refrained from bringing up the subject of their argument. 

             
“We will be caught out in that,” she finally commented of the weather.

             
“I think so too,” he replied neutrally. 

             
“Most of them,” she said cryptically.

             
“What?”

             
“You asked before about how many of my people would believe you are...the M’Shai,” she stated.  He could sense her reluctance to speak of it.  “Most of them will, maybe all.”

             
Great, an entire people waiting to gaze at him with rapture.  It had to be some big quirk of fate.

             
She must have seen the disgust on his face.  “You truly do not want it, do you?”

             
He shook his head.  “No.  I just want to be me, Coran Tyelin, a minor lord serving my King and my people.”

              “I still do not understand you.”  She spoke in a troubled voice.  “We knew that it would happen someday, but to have it happen in our own lifetime is hard to believe.  I think that would be something to worry about.  How many will not accept you because they cannot bring themselves to believe it would happen now?  And yet the problem is not them, it is that you cannot except it because you do not wish to believe.  How many men would turn down the chance to lead an entire people?”

             
“You mean to rule a people, to accept responsibility for their welfare.  To have to deal with those who will resent you for being who you are or what you are.”  He couldn’t keep the contempt for the idea from his tone.  “I know enough of being a leader to know the difficulties that come with it, and what I have stated is only the beginning.  Besides, I am not your M’Shai person anyway.”

             
She was silent for a time.  “I did not think of it that way.  Perhaps you have a point, but if you are the M’Shai you have a responsibility.  I think I know you well enough to say that you do not shirk your duties.  You should think about that.”  She tugged her cloak tighter about her.  “Did anyone tell you the legend of the M’Shai?”

             
“Miko told me that She’al says your M’Shai will come to unite your people and end the division that exists between her and Sha’elt.”

             
She waited for him to continue.  When he didn’t she spoke.  “Is that all?”

             
“Yes.  Is there more?”

             
“Yes, a very important part.”  She gazed out over the sea with a faraway look in her eyes.  “After the First Great War, after Ithan’s fall from power, the Ithanian Empire still held my people in thrall.  The rebellions that sprang up while they were at their weakest were brutally crushed during the Empire’s recovery.  The hope that my people would finally be free was crushed as well. 

             
“After that the legions of Ithan used harsh methods to keep the people in line.  Anyone suspected of raising rebellion was executed. Any village suspected of having sympathies towards rebellion was discouraged.  The Ithanians would pick at random a few of the children in such a village and execute them in front of all.” 

             
Shirri’s expression reflected the plight that had plagued her people for so long.  Before it had been Ithan but only recently it had been the Shiomi.  “Those were dark times.  Everyone was afraid because the Ithanians routinely ‘discouraged’ villages whether there were dissenters in them or not. 

             
“As legend has it, at one such village a girl was about to be executed when a man appeared.  He was a tall man and he was dressed all in black.  Even his face was covered so no one could say from what land he came.  He was supposed to have wielded a blade that gleamed with a bluish hue in the sunroom light.  This one man killed every single Ithanian and saved the young girl.  No one knew where he came from or where he went.  The story of what happened there spread through every tribe, along with the name the people in that village gave to the stranger.”

             
Coran didn’t have to guess what name.  “M’Shai.”

             
“Yes.  They named him death.  That sparked the rebellion that led to my people being free at last. It was after that that She’al first told us the M’Shai would come again to end the division of our peoples.”  She turned her brown eyes to him and she was no longer looking in the past.  “And now, when my people are once again kept in a state of subjugation, you come and free us.”                         

             
Now he understood a little better why everyone seemed so in awe of him.  He wasn't just a potential savior, or someone foretold to arrive in the future, but he was a legend come back.  To Karands nothing was more important than their division and when it came to that the M’Shai was the embodiment of all their hopes.  The return of Death would be the singular most important event in their history. 

             
He was not Death.  He was not their M’Shai.  Coran denied it with a shake of his head.  “That just proves this is all a coincidence.  Your people think I am someone I am not because of that legend.” 

             
“The legend is true.”  When she said it, it was in a voice that left no doubt as to what she herself believed. 

             
He did not want to upset her by calling her a liar but he could not accept the role she wanted him to play either.  “I did not mean to say it wasn’t true.  I just think you have the wrong person here.  It does not prove that I am your M’Shai.”

             
“Maybe, not to you.”  Then she sighed.  He thought it might be because he refused to believe.  “It does not matter.”  She returned her gaze to the sea.  “I guess I can understand how you feel.  I know that it is hard being so long from home.  It cannot be easy to know that something else may drag you away before you even reach it.  Think on that as well.”  She turned to walk away.

             
“Shirri.”  She turned back at his call.  “I am sorry for the things I said before.  You are right.  I am not thinking at my best right now.”

             
She cocked her head to one side and peered at him as a thin smile came to her lips.  “Apology accepted.”  Then she left. 

             
Coran snorted to himself.  Of course she would not apologize for her own behavior during their arguments.  After watching her go he once again turned to watch the dark, approaching clouds. 

             
It wasn’t long before the rain started pelting the ship.  The waves became more ponderous and the ship rose high into the air on the top of the swells and came down the other side dangerously.  It was a nervous experience when the waves ahead were higher than he was.  It didn’t take long for him to seek shelter below. 

             
Down in the companionway he was passed by two of the crew.  They wore heavy coats buttoned up tight.  Their hats were tied down by strips of cloth to keep them from blowing off in the storm. 

             
“My Lord.”  The first one ducked his head before going up on deck.

             
“M’Lord.”  The second followed the first.

             
Behind them came Captain Treska, similarly dressed.  “I hope a few waves aren’t getting to you,” he grinned. 

             
“No, it’s a little too cold and wet for me.”  He indicated his thin clothes better suited for the desert.              

Treska nodded thoughtfully.  “I will see about getting you a proper coat.  I think I have something that will fit you.”

              “No need Captain.”

             
“It is nothing,” he insisted as he headed out onto the storm tossed deck.

             
Coran decided to use the time to sleep.  He had never been in any serious weather on board a ship before.  There was nothing for him to do though, and he didn’t want to sit in his tiny cabin worrying.  Sleep seemed the best solution.

              He was in a room.  It was round and the stone walls were smooth.  The place was hazy, faint, like a dream, and he realized that was what it was.  He was dreaming. 

             
In the center of the circular chamber was a smooth pillar of a clear, white substance.  It appeared to be ice.  Reaching out a hand he touched the pillar, but it was not cold as he expected.  It felt no colder than the stones that made up the walls. 

             
As he stared closely at the pillar, he thought he could see something inside it.  It took a few minutes for him to make out.  The shape of it was familiar.  Then he knew what it was, a sword.

              Coran wasn’t sure when the storm ended.  After he woke he went up on deck, the dream already fading from his memory, all except the sword.  He told himself it was just a dream.  He was a warrior and dreaming of swords was not uncommon. 

             
The first rays of sunlight were breaking above the horizon off the starboard rail.  That meant they were heading in a northerly direction.  He spotted the Captain by the wheel and went up to greet him.  “You haven't been up all night, have you Captain?”

             
“I slept for a bit,” he responded.  “Never do for long when I’m on board.  Bols! One point west!” he ordered and the steersman responded.

             
“One point west, aye, sir.”

             
“We were blown south a ways,” Treska explained, “nothing to worry about.”

             
Coran nodded and surveyed the sea from horizon to horizon.  After a time he thought he saw something appear in the distance.  It was just a speck that could have been nothing.  As he watched, it grew into a larger, darker speck.  He was about to tell Treska when the lookout called.   “Ship to southwest!”

             
Treska squinted in that direction.  It came closer and the vague shape of the sails became visual.  “Ithanian,” he said darkly.