The Key to Creation (61 page)

The old hermit reached the top of the sacred hill. He was not out of breath, he did not speak a word, but the clash died down with his arrival. Destrar Broeck and his fighters paused with their bloody swords in midstroke, then backed away from their Uraban enemies. Soldan-Shah Omra appeared stunned, like a puppet held up only by the last thin threads of his anger, while Queen Anjine cradled the body of Mateo in despair.

Time seemed to stop, like a held breath. Silence descended upon the hilltop. The hermit shrugged back his hood to reveal a contented visage.

Ciarlo gasped. “The Traveler has come back!”

“Yes, I am the one you call the Traveler.” His skin began to glow. The air around him crackled with the smell of a thunderstorm, and his figure seemed to fill much more than the space he occupied. “I am also the man you call Holy Joron. And I have come to put an end to this violence.”

Terravitae

Even after the feast in the ruins of Ondun’s city, Javian could not embrace the celebration. The secrets he still kept tore at his heart. He had revealed the truth about himself to Prester Hannes, and though the knowledge had died with the prester, the confession had ripped the scab off a wound. Javian had to face his shameful and treacherous heritage. The Teacher had trained him, and all
ra’virs
, to live a lie…but Javian was sick of lying.

Encamped in the comfortable seaside forests, the Tierran crew feasted, drank, and sang boisterous ballads in friendly duels with the Urabans from the
Al-Orizin
. They had become close after their tribulations, but for Javian the internal struggle was unbearable. During the entire voyage of the
Dyscovera
, he had been torn between the hatred indoctrinated into him and the kindness he observed in Captain Vora, Mia, and his fellow sailors. And it seemed that the Urabans aboard the
Al-Orizin
displayed an equal range of kindheartedness and brutality. Javian did not want to go back to Tierra—or Uraba—under such terms. He didn’t belong in either place anymore.

As he tried to sleep on the soft grass near the crumbled stone ruins, he wrestled with what he had discovered about the world and about himself. The ground felt much more comfortable than his narrow bunk aboard ship, but he battled nightmares. His secrets were like a poison, making him violently ill. Only purging himself of the poison could save his life.

Unable to sleep, he rose, stretched his stiff muscles, and walked among the ancient stone buildings, wanting to draw peace from this empty land. He was startled to see a familiar figure silhouetted in the night—Criston Vora, also contemplating. He hesitated, not sure he was ready for conversation, but the captain turned, noticed him. “I see you can’t sleep either, Javian.”

“Too much has happened, sir.” He moved closer, and they stood together in silence for a long moment. “Are you thinking about your sweetheart?”

Captain Vora sighed. “Yes. I don’t need to trust my hope to letters anymore. If Ondun does indeed take us home, then I will find her. We’ll be reunited, and I can speak to her face-to-face…no matter how much has changed.” Moonlight shone on the captain’s face as he turned to Javian. “I’d like you to meet her, when everything is settled.”

Javian was startled when Mia joined them. “Are you all right, Javian? I worry about you.” She had stayed close to him since the death of Prester Hannes, though even she didn’t understand the full reason for Javian’s distress. The young woman slipped her arm around his waist—possibly the most comforting feeling he’d ever experienced. He was glad to have her there, since she was part of his decision as well.

“Captain, when you return home, I…I won’t be going with you,” Javian said. “I’ve decided not to sail back to Tierra.”

The captain turned in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Mia held him tighter. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this? Javian, what’s going on?”

The young man gazed past the shadowy pillars and into the darkness of the unexplored continent. “There’s no place for me back in Calay. I intend to stay here. Terravitae is what calls to me.”

“I can’t maroon one of my men here,” Captain Vora sputtered.

“Look at how lush and fertile this land is, sir. I won’t be an exile—I’ll be a pioneer. And you’ll be back in a year or two. Ships will probably come from both Uraba and Tierra. Shouldn’t somebody be here to greet them?” He hoped they would accept his explanation. He didn’t want to reveal that he had been a traitor among them for all this time, a trap waiting to be sprung.

Mia leaned closer to Javian. “Not even my fondest memories of home can match what I’ve seen in Terravitae.” A deep breath. “I’ll stay behind with him, Captain. We’ll work together, make a home and a life here.” She smiled at him. “Where it’s all fresh and new. If Javian will have me?”

He was surprised and also thrilled. “Are you sure?”

“I came aboard the
Dyscovera
to get away, remember? There wasn’t much left for me back in Tierra, and this new land holds everything I’ve dreamed of—including you, if you’re staying.”

“You don’t know the truth yet—the main reason I want to stay.” He raised his heavy eyes to the captain. “Once you know who I am, you probably won’t want me aboard your ship anymore. I’m sorry I betrayed you so…”

Captain Vora’s brows drew together. “What are you saying?”

Mia was alarmed. “What secret could you possibly have kept from me?”

“I am a
ra’vir
,” he said. “Raised by the Urecari and given the sole mission of harming this voyage in any way possible, to sabotage any Aidenist plans. I ruined the Captain’s Compass during the mutiny and our fight with the mer-Saedrans. I killed the rest of the
rea
pigeons, so we couldn’t send any more messages home.” He lowered his head. “But I was wrong. All Aidenists aren’t like Prester Hannes…and now I know that all Urecari aren’t like the Teacher. You changed me, Captain Vora. As did you, Mia.”

He continued in a rush as they stared at him in disbelief. “For years I lived a false life among Tierrans, but you finally made me see through the lie. I wrestled with it, but I dishonored a good captain and a good crew. I can’t go back to Calay, and I certainly don’t want to return to Uraba. This is the only place I can truly start fresh and make a new life—if Ondun will allow it.”

Captain Vora looked at him in hard silence for a long, long moment. Mia was unsettled, awkward, and Javian didn’t know how much more he could endure. She withdrew from him, stared at him, and didn’t answer. It was the longest silence of his life.

At last, the captain changed, like a shifting breeze on the open sea. He drew a deep breath. “If I can find it in my heart to forgive the Urecari after all they have done, if I accept that Tierra and Uraba must let go of their anger to find a lasting peace, then how can I not forgive you, Javian—someone I consider a friend?”

Mia said, “I thought I knew you, Javian. And in a way maybe I
did
know the true you—before you even knew yourself. If I was one of the reasons that you turned away from destruction, I can’t abandon you now. I want to stay with you. We should be together, make a new start in a new land.”

Javian’s throat tightened. Tears stung his eyes, and he breathed heavily to keep himself from crying. “Then there’s one last thing I will ask of you, sir, before you go. Since you’re the ship’s captain, and if Mia agrees…would you marry us?”

Terravitae

The following day, on the sunlit beach by the lagoon with calm waters whispering out to the two anchored ships, Criston stood before Javian and Mia. The crews of the
Dyscovera
and the
Al-Orizin
gathered around, happy to celebrate the fine event.

The sailors were surprised by their decision to stay, but everyone could see the verdant power of the new continent. Even Kjelnar seemed tempted to remain behind on land in Terravitae, but he had already shifted from one world to another, and he was anxious to return to his original home before he gave up anything else.

Criston held the ancient tome they had taken from inside the ice cave, the combined Captains’ Log of Aiden and Urec. Considering how their understanding had changed, it no longer seemed appropriate to use just the Book of Aiden to perform the wedding ceremony.

“This is certainly one of the more pleasant duties a ship’s captain can have,” he said, raising his voice so that all the people could hear, “to join two people in marriage. Javian and Mia, you have chosen to bind your lives together, the way that we bound our two ships, and thus survived our journey. The two of you will now have to rely on each other to set your course, weather the storms, and anchor in calm waters.”

Javian looked at Mia with shining eyes, and when Criston called on them to make their mutual vows, the young man stumbled on his words. “Now that we’re here in Terravitae, it seems strange to say, ‘May the Compass guide you,’ for the Compass
has
guided us. Mia, I promise to love you and take care of you. I promise to work with you and make your life as happy as I possibly can. I’ll rely on you and support you.” After that, Javian didn’t know what else to say.

Criston chuckled. Mia spoke her own vows from her heart, and Criston raised his hands and pronounced them wed.

They all looked up to see Ondun and Ystya walking down the grassy slope to the beach. The bearded figure strode up to them, beaming. “And I grant my personal blessing to your union. You will be the first couple of a new generation here in Terravitae, our first settlers, our first pioneers. You have this whole land to roam for now, but I’m sure others will soon come. You may use a dwelling in the old city as your shelter, or build your own homes, if you wish. The climate is mild, and Terravitae has plenty of food.”

“Be careful,” Saan said, “or you’ll convince all of our crewmembers to stay behind.”

But that was not the case. Especially with Ondun to guide them, they were all eager to begin the voyage home.

Per Ondun’s command, all crewmembers from both battered ships had come ashore, leaving the anchored vessels empty. Together, the Tierran and Uraban sailors followed Ystya and her powerful father to the headlands above the beached Arkship.

When Ondun walked among them, several overawed sailors fell to their knees, and some spoke prayers using whatever words the sikaras or presters had taught them. Offhandedly, the powerful old man blessed them all, because it was expected, but he seemed disconcerted by the worship. “It is time to go end the war in your lands, so that I can return here and search for the rest of my people, if any remain.”

From the cliffs above the ocean, Criston was amazed to see the two patchwork vessels drifting up the coast toward the remains of the Arkship, like iron needles drawn by a lodestone. Now they floated in surprisingly calm waters not far from the black rocks and churning surf.

“Ah, I think that’s close enough,” Ondun said. “I tried to be gentle.”

During their long voyages, the
Dyscovera
and the
Al-Orizin
had been battered until they were little more than debris held together with nails and rope.

Beside his father, overlooking the crumbling Arkship, Saan gave a skeptical shake of his head. “I can’t see how either ship could hold together for a week, much less all the way back to Ishalem. We barely have any sailcloth, and they’ll break apart the moment we hit rough waters.”

“I have exactly the same doubts,” Criston said, “but I’m curious to see what Ondun intends to do.”

The old man pondered. He didn’t seem discouraged at all. “Though these ships are damaged, there is enough to work with. From these seeds we will fashion an Arkship.” He took his daughter’s hand. “Ystya and I have the power.” Ondun smiled at her. “Will you work with me now to create a new ship?”

“If you show me how.”

Ondun turned to the visitors. “This might be somewhat unsettling, but you will be safe up here.”

As he and Ystya concentrated, joining their magic, Criston saw the
Al-Orizin
and the
Dyscovera
sway in the water and begin dismantling themselves. Planks flew apart, waving in the air like living things, and merged. Seasoned boards stretched like the fronds of fast-growing plants. The decks separated, realigned, and clashed together.

At the base of the cliff, the timbers of the broken Arkship thrummed. Hull boards and ribs snapped apart, flew across the water like debris in a hurricane, and fell into the cauldron of ship assembly.

Kjelnar, who had supervised the construction of many ships, stared with wide eyes as three separate vessels fused together, expanding into one gigantic ship.

The bent and splintered masts stood upright of their own accord. Wood shards flew into the air, but instead of scattering they melded into new spars, strung with new rigging ropes. The clack and clatter of a million pieces falling into place at once was deafening.

Ondun and Ystya laughed joyfully all the while.

The tatters of sailcloth stitched themselves together. Swatches of canvas and silk flew up like paper caught in a breeze and swirled around to make a colorful patchwork of new sails.

The vessel rocked in the water, as if undergoing the struggles of birth. The ocean frothed around its hull. Driftwood pulled in by the vortex was smoothed out and incorporated into the new construction. Soon all the remnants of the Arkship were gone, absorbed into the vessel.

As the last components flurried about and fell into place, the gleaming knurled horn of Raathgir the ice dragon drifted to the new bow and settled into a notch left specifically for it, pointing the way back home. The smell of fresh wood, rain, and the open sea filled every breath as Criston watched.

Finally, the transformation was complete, and Ondun drew a deep, satisfied breath. “I trust this new ship meets with your approval, Captains?”

Saan spoke up. “It’s a fine vessel and worthy of carrying you and your daughter from Terravitae to the world of mankind.”