The Fifth Vertex (The Sigilord Chronicles) (34 page)

"The gods be praised!" Goodwyn shouted, tears running down his cheeks.

He raced down the hill as Aegaz dismounted. He slammed into his commander's chest just as he hit the ground, lifting the unsuspecting man with a back-crushing hug.

"Easy, boy, you'll crush the life out of me," Aegaz said in Kestian, wheezing a laugh.

Goodwyn set down his commander and perhaps a more attentive father than his own sire had been.
 

"There's so much to—" He was about to unleash an assault of words explaining what had happened since he had left Kest when he saw another of the First Fist dismount, a handsome young man with short cropped, dark hair and brilliant brown eyes.
 

"Therren!"

The two ran to each other and embraced. Then, realizing that all eyes were upon them, they separated and gave each other a traditional warrior's greeting with arms clasped together up to the elbows.
 

"I, uh," Goodwyn stammered. "It is good to see the colors of the First Fist again."

"These men of Ehmshahr arrived last night, in search of two boys, one of whom fit the description of the fein duras," called the foreman as the First Fist gathered in closer to the discussion.

"How did you find us? How did you even get here so quickly?" Goodwyn asked, his mind reeling with questions.

"Quickly? Why, it's taken us nearly seven weeks to get here," replied Aegaz.
 

"Seven weeks? That can't be right. Urus and I only arrived here a couple of days ago."

Aegaz shook his head and smiled. "I remember each day of the journey from Kest. We left a city under siege to come find you boys."

"How did you find us?" Goodwyn asked.

"I was able to unlock one of the journals in the room where you three vanished. In it I found this," Aegaz said, pulling a scroll from one of his saddlebags. He held it up. "Where are Urus and the grey-skinned stranger?"

"That is a very long story, but they are gone. I suspect they went to the location of the next vertex, but I have no idea where that would be."

"Well, I might." Aegaz unfurled the scroll, revealing a detailed map with hundreds of landmarks and annotations. He ran his finger along lines leading from a spot that marked Kest to Waldron and then followed a line out into an area labeled as the Faernath Sea.

The blade and the foreman pressed in closer to study the map, though from the looks on their faces it seemed as though they had seen it before.

"That's out in the middle of the ocean. How are we going to get there?" Goodwyn asked.

Aegaz smiled but said nothing, instead turning to look at the blade and the foreman.

"This was the purpose of our parley this morning, fein duras," said the foreman. "The briene wish to make amends to the people of Waldron and to those who defend it. The briene will repair every stone taken down, once the task is done. The briene wish to exact revenge upon the true villains, the blood witches. The fein duras and the Waldrenes have the same goal, no?"

"Indeed we do," Goodwyn replied.
 
"I mean to see the heads of all of the blood mages on pikes and to help Urus stop them from destroying the fifth vertex."

Aegaz stared down at Goodwyn with an appraising, surprised look. "Much has changed since you left Kest."

"You have no idea, Commander. You have no idea."

"Well then, you can tell me all about it on our way down to the briene ships. They are ready to take us all, including as many of Waldron's army are able, out to meet the blood mage's navy."

"The briene have ships?" Goodwyn asked.

The foreman and the blade exchanged mischievous looks. "The briene adapted some of the techniques the blood witches provided in ways the blood witches did not expect," the foreman said. "nor did the briene share those adaptations with the witches."

"So after attacking my city, laying siege to it, and killing my people, you want me to just give up, to walk away and pretend as though nothing happened here?" Corliss snapped.

"No, Knight Marshal. The blade and the foreman want to help hunt and kill the blood witches," said the blade. "All of them."

Corliss looked at Goodwyn, Aegaz, the rest of the First Fist, the briene army, and then finally back at his men, all standing at the ready, awaiting a battle with the briene they all knew they would have lost.

Then he nodded resolutely. "I can have a group of men ready within the hour."

25

Cailix pushed off the rocks and spat out seaweed. The blood from the unfortunate sailor who had been foolish enough to stand between her and freedom had been enough to cast a spell that sent her soaring through the water like a bird would through the air.
 

She rubbed the bump on her forehead and checked to see if it was bleeding. Somewhere on her escape from the blood mage pirate navy, she had slammed head-first into something big and heavy. Being knocked unconscious seemed to be the only explanation for her current situation; washed up on the rocky shore of a lighthouse keeping watch over the bay.

Cailix took stock of her surroundings, looking for potential danger. She was standing on a manmade stone platform in the middle of a bay, over which a bright red lighthouse kept vigil. Fishing boats crammed into the bay and the harbor within. Vessels of all shapes and sizes dotted the ocean beyond.

The whole place smelled of salty seaweed and decaying fish. She walked around the base of the lighthouse to face the bay, looking for a way to get inland. Without any blood to spare for a spell, she might have to swim for it.

Walking down toward the water, still rubbing her head, she nearly stumbled over the nest of a sea bird. Two chicks lay sprawled out on the rocks, chirping for their mother, while another sat oblivious and content, napping in the warmth of the nest made from straw and bits of broken shells.

She bent to the two little birds and watched them crying, struggling to move. Their little legs were bent at odd angles and one chick had a broken wing. Neither would ever be able to fend for itself nor would the mother bird carry that burden.

They were going to die, and do so slowly. Cailix reached out and quickly snapped the two chicks' necks. She cleared away some rocks and dug two little holes in the sand below. She buried the birds, shedding a tear for each. It felt odd to cry, an alien feeling to her.

Seeing those helpless little birds hurt her more than seeing the people in Waldron fleeing their homes, seeking shelter from the coming siege.
Is that normal? Why do I care more for the plight of these birds than I do for people?
she wondered.
 

Because people will betray you,
she answered herself.
Animals operate on instinct alone.

She cracked open a few mussels and scooped the meat into the nest with the remaining little bird. He awoke from his nap and started probing the food with his beak. Satisfied the little thing would be all right until his mother returned, she waded knee-deep into the water and started waving her hands.

"Ahoy!" she shouted at the closest boat, a wide, flat thing piloted by a single fisherman. "Ahoy there!"

"Who's there?" called the man, standing up in the boat and shielding his eyes from the sunrise.

"Please, sir, can you ferry me to the harbor?" she yelled to him.

"Only if you can swim aboard and don't mind settin' on a pile of gloomfish. That's all I got room for, young miss."

"Thank you!" she sprang into the water and swam out to the boat. Either she had misjudged the distance or the energy she had, because she was exhausted by the time she made it to the boat, so much so that the fisherman had to haul her aboard.

The man hadn't been joking about not having much room. The boat had four large square bins, each filled to overflowing with stinky fish. After the fish, there was enough room for the captain, the sail, and the tiller.

She took a seat—wincing as she did so—on a bin of slimy fish, their dead mouths bent into a sad looking frown.
Maybe that's why they call them gloomfish?

The fisherman—a man who looked more like he'd been carved out of a piece of sunburned stone with a beard than made from human flesh—laughed a deep, roaring laugh. Until then, she didn't really think fishing was something that would build a person up like a fighter or a blacksmith.
 

"Little lady, the look on your face—hell, just the look of you as you sat on my haul of gloomfish, will keep me laughin' clear through next week."

Cailix gave him a look. She didn't like being made fun of.

"Oh relax, miss. I ain't laughin' at you, just laughin' in your direction."

She harrumphed and folded her arms, realizing how difficult it was to maintain dignity sitting on a fish pile.

"What's a young woman doing sopping wet and alone out on the lighthouse point?"

"My business is my own, sir," she replied. The defensive reaction was a reflex, like a flinch. She wouldn't get far if she kept up that kind of attitude. "I'm sorry, I-I'm just not used to strangers being helpful."

The fisherman considered her, his gaze softening. "That's okay, lass, no apology needed. The accommodations aren't exactly first rate." He nodded at the fish with a smile.

It was a kind, gentle smile, without an agenda or hidden motive. It was just a simple smile. She had only met one other person who was on the surface exactly what he was within, and Urus might now be dead. The only hope she had that Urus was alive was that news of his death had come from Anderis, and that man was a liar to the core.

"By the by, my name's Hutcher, and don't worry, I won't ask you yours," said the fisherman.

"Who rules this island?" she asked Hutcher as he maneuvered the boat between the larger ships and toward a long pier off to the side of the main harbor. He might be a nice man, but she didn't just volunteer her name to anyone.

"Aldsdowne has no ruler; we're just a small island. This place ain't no place, it's just some place between places. Only us fishermen, farmers, and traders are fool enough to stay out here."

"Is there no garrison here? No law?" she exclaimed. Anderis's captain has said there could be as many as ten thousand people on the island. The idea of all those people with no one to rule over them seemed outrageous. How had the place not descended into anarchy?

"We're not part of any kingdom, so no nation leaves a garrison. As for the law, we have a constable and he's got some men who help him, but they mostly keep the traders in line, checking scales and running scammers off the island and such. If someone breaks one of our rules, we stop trading with them and they lose out."

"No king? No lords and ladies and dukes or castle?" asked Cailix, wide-eyed.

Hutcher chuckled. "No miss. We got us a nice small island here and we love it, so we keep it in line ourselves. We don't need no fancy lords or ladies to tax us or tell us how to live our lives."

They pushed up to the pier, where Hutcher cast a loop of rope around a moss-coated pole and pulled the boat in close. "Out you go, miss. Just watch you don't slip on the pier; it's slicker than my pile o' fish."

Cailix clambered up onto the pier. Turning back to Hutcher, she asked, "Where can I find the constable?"

"This time of day? He'll probably be down in Lucien harbor, the next bay south of here. That's where the big ships put up for a couple days on big trips. Like I say, Aldsdowne ain't no place, it's just between places. Why all this fuss about law and garrisons and such?"

"How far?" she asked, her mind already planning the conversation she might have with the constable.

"If you start walkin' now you can get there just after lunchtime. Just take the main road south. It'll turn east along the southern shore; then you can't miss it. Now, I reckon you have a right to your privacy, and I been nice about it, but now you're gonna tell me why you need to see the constable." Hutcher hopped out of the boat with a grace that belied his girth.

"The island is in great danger, Hutcher. There's a navy coming this way, and they don't mean to take prisoners."

Hutcher laughed, drawing a few curious looks from nearby fishermen busy unloading their own hauls. "Nobody attacks Aldsdowne, girl. We got nothin' worth stealin' and we got no throne to occupy."

Cailix gave him her most intense look, hoping it would impart the seriousness of the situation. "Nevertheless, a navy approaches and everyone on this island is going to be slaughtered unless I can speak to your constable."

"I see," Hutcher said, resting his palms on his hips. "Well, you best be going then, if you hope to catch him still in Lucien."

"Thank you again, sir," she said, then jogged up the pier, turning right at the end and making her way out to the main road. She glanced back once as she ran and saw Hutcher shaking his head and chuckling to himself.
 

He doesn't believe me
, she thought.
If the constable doesn't, this island, and who knows how many other nations with it, are doomed
.

As she ran, pacing herself so she wouldn't get tired too soon, she marveled at Aldsdowne's beauty. The rolling hillsides that sloped down toward the coast burst with brilliant greens and short, puffy trees. Here and there shards of white stone peeked out, wearing thick patches of dark grass like a hood. Even the road was pleasant, a wagon-worn track through the low-lying ranges between hills.