The Thieves of Blood: Blade of the Flame - Book 1 (18 page)

Both Onkar and Jarlain nodded, looking only slightly chastened.

Makala was beginning to feel the first faint stirrings of hope. If there was conflict between the three of them, then perhaps if she were clever enough, she might find a way to exploit it for her own advantage.

“Jarlain, since you’re so eager to get to know Makala, why don’t you take charge of her for a time?” Erdis Cai said. “See she freshens up, eats, and is provided with new clothing. See also that she gets some rest. Bring her to me again after sunset. I would like to … talk with her further.”

Without saying farewell to either Onkar or Jarlain or giving Makala another look, Erdis Cai turned and strode off, making his way easily through the mounds of ancient artifacts, precious treasure, and arcane junk that crammed the cavern. Within moments the shadowy gloom of the cavern had swallowed him and he was lost to Makala’s vision. Most of her was relieved to see him go, but part of her, the part that still longed for her dark spirit, wished he had stayed.

“Come, girl. You heard the master.”

Jarlain grabbed Makala’s wrist, and the woman nearly
panicked, recalling the horrendous fear that had gripped her previously, but this time Jarlain’s touch didn’t spark any reaction within Makala other than disgust.

Jarlain led Makala out of the cavern, Onkar following close behind. Once they had crossed the threshold, the metal doors swung shut and the lock engaged with a soft click. Back in the corridor once more, Jarlain turned to Onkar.

“As for you, Commander, go do whatever it is you do when you’re not at sea.”

Onkar glared and his hands twitched, as if he were considering wrapping them around Jarlain’s neck and squeezing until her pale white face turned purple-black, but he made no move to attack the woman.

“I suppose I’ll go check on the new prisoners before I turn in.” He looked at Makala. “Have a pleasant day.”

The vampire headed down the corridor leaving Makala alone with Jarlain.

“Let’s us two girls go get acquainted, shall we?” Jarlain squeezed Makala’s wrist in a grip just short of being painful, and Makala offered no resisted as Jarlain escorted her down the corridor.

As the metal doors shut, the green fire burning in the braziers throughout the cavern slowly dimmed until it was gone, leaving behind only the darkness. Erdis Cai strolled through the cluttered maze of his possessions, not needing any illumination to make his way. Even if he didn’t have a vampire’s eyes, even if he were still mortal, so well did he know the position of every item
in the cavern that he could have gone blindfolded and still not have bumped into anything or gotten lost. He’d spent a great deal of his time in here during the last few years, too much of it, perhaps. He’d even taken to resting here during the daylight hours, something he knew Jarlain didn’t approve of. She didn’t think it was “healthy,” whatever that meant.

He paused for a moment and stretched out his senses. Dawn would be coming soon, and though no light could penetrate the tons of rock that lay between him and the sky, nevertheless he would be forced to rest. It was one of the limitations of undeath, but he didn’t mind. The power he possessed was far greater than anything he had known as a mortal man, and it was well worth whatever minor inconveniences accompanied it.

He continued touring his collection, occasionally reaching out to touch this or that object, as if by doing so he might relive the adventure during which it had been acquired. Though the memories came, they were empty, hollow, unsatisfying, but then Erdis Cai had never been one to settle for past glories. He’d always searched for the next destination, the next challenge … always looking for something but never quite finding it, until, that is, the day he and his crew had anchored offshore of a certain island in the far frozen north where they’d discovered a castle and what dwelled within its cold, dark halls. Erdis Cai had found what he’d truly been searching for that day, or perhaps, he mused, it had found him. Whichever the case, Erdis Cai had, like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, become something much greater than he’d ever imagined.

If that were so, why did he hold onto all these things? Why did he spend so much time among them while his fleet, under
Onkar’s command, sailed the Principalities, working to make the final preparations for their next adventure, the one destined to be the greatest of them all?

He knew how Jarlain would answer that question, for she had spoken to him on the subject numerous times before.

You’re in your eighties, Erdis. You’re coming to the end of what would’ve been your natural life span just as you’re about to see the fulfillment of a plan you’ve worked to bring to fruition for the last forty years. It’s only natural that you should spend some time in contemplation and self-reflection
.

Perhaps she was right. Jarlain possessed great knowledge and insight into the mysterious and often baffling ways of the mind. Certainly she had infinitely more understanding than he—who, at heart, was still just a simple sailor—would ever have.

Lately he’d begun to fear that something else was at work here, something darker and more complex than the simple melancholy of an old man. He thought Jarlain had gotten it right when she’d first pointed out that he was, at least in terms of years, at the end of his human life. More and more often it felt like the personality that called itself Erdis Cai, the man who had once been one of the greatest mortal sailors ever to ply the seas, was dwindling away, eroding, shedding pieces of itself, like a calving iceberg, and in its place remained only a cold, fathomless darkness, like the uncaring ebon depths of the most frigid sea. Forty years ago, his body had died and been reborn, but now it seemed his very
self
was dying, and what new being would arise from its ashes, he couldn’t guess.

He grew tired of this brooding. He would just have to trust to the grand darkness that had transformed him so long
ago. He pressed his hand against the crimson symbol on his breastplate—a symbol known as the Mark of Vol.

Thy will be done, Mistress, he thought.

He sensed the night dwindling outside Grimwall, felt the first light of dawn glowing gently above the eastern horizon. A dull, leaden weariness came upon him, and he knew it was time to rest. He simply lay down where he was, between a massive shield he had once stolen from a storm giant and a large clay jar. He didn’t bother to remove his armor. He was well beyond the need for what mortals would consider comfort.

As the day’s oblivion began to take hold of him, he thought of Makala. That she was something special, he had sensed right away. Just
how
special, though, remained to be seen. She would be the next mystery for him to explore, and he was looking forward to it immensely. That, at least, was something about him that hadn’t changed.

He closed his eyes as in the outer world, the sun edged up over the horizon and a new day began.

I
think we’re coming out of it.”

Yvka looked drained, as if keeping the elemental active during the storm had taken a great deal of energy out of her. She was pale, her face drawn, and Ghaji feared she might pass out any moment.

Diran’s suggestion had worked. By going southeast, they’d escaped the storm’s fury, and the waters they now sailed were calmer, and the rain fell more gently. The wind was still blowing strong but nothing like the gales they’d experienced before. Diran and Ghaji stood next to the mast where they’d ridden out most of the storm, prepared to make any needed adjustments in the sails.

Ghaji leaned close to Diran and whispered, “Do you think she’s going to be all right?”

Diran glanced back over his shoulder at Yvka.

“It’s difficult to say. She claimed the magic that controlled the elemental was embedded in the pilot’s chair and the containment
ring, but our journey has obviously taken a toll on her. Perhaps it’s simply fatigue.”

Without waiting for Ghaji to reply, Diran headed back toward the pilot’s chair.

“The wind’s strong enough,” he said in a gentle voice. “Perhaps it’s time we gave the elemental a rest.”

Yvka looked at Diran with half-lidded eyes. “The elemental doesn’t need …” She broke off and gave Diran a tired smile. “I see. I
am
weary,” she admitted. “I don’t need more than an hour’s meditation, two at the most. I am an elf, after all.”

“Of course,” Diran said. “Ghaji and I can sail the
Zephyr
while you rest. We’ll call you if anything happens.”

Yvka looked at Diran for a moment, and Ghaji thought she might change her mind about resting, but finally she nodded and lifted her hand off the chair arm. As soon as she did, the glow in the elemental ring faded, and the wind that had been issuing forth from it died away. Yvka flexed her fingers, the joints making soft popping sounds as she did. She then removed her other hand from the tiller and rose from the pilot’s seat. Diran then sat and took hold of the tiller.

The rain had tapered off to a mild drizzle now, and Yvka removed her sodden cloak and hung it over the guardrail to dry. She then headed toward the cabin just as the clouds broke, revealing a hint of dawn. When she drew near Ghaji, she paused.

“There’s both water and food in the cabin. Feel free to come in and get it. If you want it, that is.” She smiled then continued on into the cabin.

Ghaji watched her go, admiring the smooth, languid way she moved even tired as she was. When she closed the cabin door, after giving him a last meaningful look, the half-orc
turned to Diran. Diran smiled and waggled his eyebrows.

Ghaji sighed.

“Diran?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s this stuff? It looks like seaweed, but it’s thicker and it’s all around us.”

“Seaweed?”

There was something about Ghaji’s words that set off a warning bell in the back of Diran’s mind, though he wasn’t sure why. He locked the tiller into its current position, rose from the pilot’s chair, and moved toward the starboard bow where Ghaji stood looking over the guardrail.

The stormclouds were long behind them now, and the late morning sky was a rich, clear blue. The rain was a memory as well, and the breeze had done much to dry the deck, as well as their cloaks, which hung on the railing next to Yvka’s. The elf-woman was still resting, though she’d been in the cabin longer than the two hours she’d claimed was all she needed. Ghaji had entered the cabin once, on the pretext of fetching them some breakfast, and he’d struggled to hide his disappointment was he returned and announced that Yvka was still meditating. Diran, to his credit, had managed not to laugh.

He joined Ghaji at the guardrail and looked down at the water. Just beneath the surface was a thready mass of greenery that indeed looked something like seaweed, and as Ghaji had said, it seemed to surround the starboard side of the
Zephyr
, stretching off into the distance.

“It’s like this in front and on the other side, too,” Ghaji said. “I checked.”

“It doesn’t appear to be slowing us down.” Even without the elemental’s aid, they were making good time, but Diran couldn’t shake the feeling that this situation was familiar somehow. A mass of seaweed covering the water for miles … ships sailing right through it with ease, almost as if it parted to allow them passage …