The Vitalis Chronicles: White Shores (29 page)

“What ship did he say we were going to?” Alisia asked from behind him.

He turned, the concern fading from her face as her old determination rose to the surface again.

“I don't know, but it can't be that hard to find.”

They stepped out from behind the crates and Ardin swallowed his words. The South Docks stretched for miles. Covered in crates and cranes, pulleys and carts, the place was teeming with merchants and their wares. Warehouses lined the eastern side of the port while dozens of ships bobbed on the water opposite.

The ships themselves varied in size, but all of them were larger than Ardin had ever imagined a ship could get. How they managed to float seemed a miracle to him. They stood stories high above the docks, and some seemed to stretch forever as they bounced gently off their moorings.

“How do we find one ship in the middle of all that?” Alisia seemed almost as impressed.

“I... I have no idea” he stammered. “We don't even know what we're looking for.”

“I'm starting to wish I had asked more questions when I had the chance,” she said as she started walking.

“Yeah,” he agreed as he followed her down the pier and towards the rows of ships. “I get the feeling you wouldn't have gotten much out of him though.”

They walked in silence for a while, taking in all of the ships and the massive corded ropes that hung overhead. Ardin had scarcely seen buildings this high, and he had certainly never seen a boat so big he couldn't tip it over by himself.

Gulls cried overhead as bells donged lightly along the bay and waves lapped gently against docks and hulls. The giant cranes of the shipyard loomed over the entire landscape in the distance. And in spite of the busy workers hustling from warehouse to ship and back again, the whole place felt peaceful to Ardin.

“Look at that!” Alisia pointed at the rusting hull of an old shipwreck, laying out in the middle of the bay. “What's that doing there?”

“That marks the shale, lass,” a familiar voice came from behind them.

They spun around to find the fisherman standing there, smiling as he breathed in the sea air.

“That was the first ship to miss the mark and beach herself, did it right good too. No tug could pull her free and so there she sits. Any ship that passes to the south of her will share in her fate, so it's a cheap way to warn ships' captains. Not so cheap for the owner of that ship though, I reckon.”

Ardin almost wanted to hug the old man at his reappearance. “How'd you get back here?”

“You see the size of the lad they asked to walk me to my boat?” He laughed. “Which raises the point, we don't have much time 'till he's missed. I best be showin’ you to Donovan's ship before he sets sail. Wasn't lyin' about needin' haste.”

With that he took off down the pier, walking so briskly that Ardin had to make a conscious effort to keep up. The three of them made an odd bunch. Though they drew a few curious glances, they managed to move along unquestioned. Ardin just kept his focus on the fisherman, not wanting to risk looking too out of place. His outfit was doing a good enough job of that as it was.

“That's her, lad.” The old man pointed to a large white vessel a dozen ships down. “The Droning Ingrid, beauty of a ship she is. Old Donovan will take you on for a small fee,” he turned and looked at the pair behind him. “You do have money, don't you?”

“Some,” Alisia said tentatively.

“Don't you worry yourself, lass” he smiled. “I'm not expecting anything from you, and Donovan's a good man. He'll do right by you, on my life. Just tell him duty calls, the Old Guard beckons him to fulfill his oaths.”

Alisia blinked at that. “Are you–”

“Oi! You!” someone yelled from somewhere behind them. The fisherman turned, smile gone from his face as he scanned the shipyard.

“You'd best be on your way, lad.” He grabbed Ardin's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “I don't envy your path; but great men are made in moments like these: the moments that will stand to define you. Forget your displeasure, forget your discomfort. Press into them and accept this as your time.”

“Where are you going?” Ardin asked as he passed them by and began walking back up the pier.

“To give you some more time, I think they're just looking for me anyways.” He turned and smiled again, “Remember lad. What's coming will go far better if you accept the inevitable and press ahead. Attack it lad! With joyful fury!”

And with that he turned and strode into the crowd of onlookers that was gathering to see who the police were looking for.

Shouts sounded from the spectators as more officers joined the search. Ardin took that as their cue to go. He turned and grabbed Alisia's arm, walking quickly for the Droning Ingrid. They were only minutes away from safety, a place to hide and a trip out of Brenton. And with that they would hopefully be far away from Elandir's efforts to find them.

More shouts erupted from the crowd that had formed behind them as police started to converge upon and assail the fisherman. By the sound of it, they had their hands full. He had brought them miles through town, risked his own life, and had connected them with an escape route. Ardin wondered why, and who the Old Guard was, but his pondering was cut short by a terrifying realization.

The Droning Ingrid was casting off.

He could see her pulling back from the dock slowly, her horn blasted once to sound the all clear as she put into full reverse and made space with the dock. Ardin and Alisia looked at each other wide eyed and ran. They sprinted, leaving all pretense of belonging behind. The realization that their life-line was pulling out of port hit both of them simultaneously. They rounded the last ship in time to realize that hope was lost, the ship was under way and there was nothing they could do.

Ardin turned, sensing something else going on nearby. Word had spread, they were being hunted along the docks and he knew it. Their last dash hadn't helped in any way.

“What do we do now?” Alisia was in tears, the empty space where the ship had been reflecting her vacated hopes.

Ardin didn't respond, he just squeezed her arm lightly as he scanned the docks. Not much farther on he saw a load of crates resting on a net, ready to be lifted onto a ship. It was as good an opportunity as any.

He pulled Alisia after him and began weaving through the piles of cable, chains, and empty boxes that lined the dockside. He stayed low, trying to avert any attention with the protective covering of their surroundings. They were able to get within feet of the net without leaving cover. Ardin turned to Alisia to check on her. She had pulled herself together again. He squeezed her arm reassuringly and then checked the open space around the net again. No one seemed to be nearby or paying attention.

He snuck over to the thick ropes that made up the mesh around the boxes, and pulled himself up and into their midst. It was awkward at first, but he managed to pull himself around to where he could see Alisia. He waved for her to join him. She hesitated, looking back and forth before taking a deep breath and scurrying over to him.

She climbed up with ease, quietly vaulting the top of the net and landing next to him in perfect form. He would have felt embarrassed at how easily she had managed it had the ropes not been pulled taut in that moment.

He looked up as a crane sitting on the nearest ship lifted them slowly off the ground. It twisted, rotating at its base as it folded in on itself again to lower them to the deck. They lowered themselves into the boxes as best they could, trying not to get crushed as the tension on the net let out and its contents shifted in response.

A deck hand wandered over and unhooked the net, not paying any attention to the cargo as he swung the hook free of it. He hollered at someone over the stern and walked away, leaving them on the surprisingly quiet deck of an unknown ship.

T
HE SHADOW KING
stood on the cliffs to the north, overlooking the Delta as the sun made its way towards its zenith. His long black cloak whipped in the wind hard enough that he had to compensate for it in his stance. It almost looked as though he was fighting to keep from being cast over the edge. He stood there, motionless in contrast to his struggling cloak, staring. Focused on the city below, he found it difficult to discern what the pockets of unrest along the streets meant.

He could see small packs of men hunting through the streets as if on the trail of a hidden treasure. Others had grouped together and begun to shout at each other, small conflicts breaking out almost everywhere that the Shade could see. His eyes and ears were sharp enough to see and hear most of the disturbances, but not enough so that he could actually make out what was being said. The wind at his back wasn't helping any.

He could see groups of police making their way through town, on their own search but often held up by the need to disband various mobs and stop fights before they broke into a full scale riot. It looked as though Elandir had offered a healthy reward for the Magess and it was having its effect on the city. That was unfortunate for the Shadow King, who would have liked to undertake his hunt in secret. This would at least produce signs of where to look, and hopefully the fools below would unknowingly trap the girl for him. If anything they would try to sail out of the city, which meant they were most likely on the South Docks.

He would have to get there as quickly as he could. The only problem would be if he wasn't close enough when they were discovered. Getting through town in this mess would prove challenging enough for someone who stood out less than he did. When a large scale brawl started on the South Docks, his temper flared for a moment.

Getting to them there would be nearly impossible if time was an issue, which it always was. He stepped to the edge of the cliff and peered as hard as he could towards the Docks. Whatever was going on down there warranted investigation. He wouldn't get a better sign from where he was.

He tested the hilt of his sword, ensuring it was securely sheathed in its scabbard, and then launched himself out as far as he could. Soon he was stretched out parallel to the ground, cape whipping behind him as he fell towards the earth hundreds of yards below. He picked up speed as his knees bent and his eyes started to tear up.

Jagged black rocks started to make themselves apparent at the base of the cliff, reaching for him greedily. Moments before impact he disappeared, reappearing seconds later among the rocks that so hungered for his demise. They were left disappointed as he walked out of them and started running through the rows of low buildings that lined the North Shore.

Most of the streets here were empty, the crowds having moved further into the city; first to search for the fugitives and now to investigate the commotion. He didn't have to go far before he caught up with the stragglers, and soon was in the midst of dozens of people walking through the streets. Trucks and carts alike found themselves stalled indefinitely as they waited for the crowds to disperse. There was a lot of money on the line for anyone who found the girl and her friend, enough that a man wouldn't have to work a day for the rest of his life.

The Shadow King pushed his way through the crowds, ducking down alleys and, in particularly crowded areas, passing through in his immaterial form. He didn't like passing through things, for the most part his form was forced around them instead, and though he felt nothing, it disturbed him in a foundational way to do so.

It took him the better part of an hour to make it to the South Docks, but when he had he could tell he was too late. Sliding into the shadows he waited and listened to the nearby maritime police officers and their squawking wireless.

“Can you believe the fight that old man put up?” said one to his comrade.

“No.” The other seemed preoccupied with some paperwork. “Impressive though.”

“I'll say,” the other continued unfazed by his comrade's lack of interest. “I've never seen a guy pound so many cops before getting taken down.”

“Mmm,” the other continued to ignore him.

“I guess fishing is a good workout if ever there was one.”

It didn't take long to put together what had happened, and who was responsible. The Shadow King would have ignored the whole story had it not been for the description of the old fisherman. It piqued his curiosity, as if brushing uncertainly against an old, hazy memory. And then it came to him: the Old Guard.

They weren't all dead, he knew, though they had been dispersed early in the Purge. The Shade's mood waxed as a wireless squawked the station the prisoner was being taken to. He grinned; he would get his answers.

A
RDIN AND ALISIA
soon found themselves surrounded by endless amounts of shipping crates and boxes on the long flat deck. They were happy for the natural hiding place, but realized it wouldn't last when deck hands started rushing about tying it all down. The pair slid down from their spot as the ship's horn blared, signaling its departure from the dock.

Ardin didn't know where to go until he spotted a grate on the deck. It's lock had long been broken and it lifted easily enough when he pulled, rotating haltingly on rusty hinges. They hesitated a moment, but he took a deep breath and dropped down into the darkness.

“C'mon down!” he hissed from below as Alisia stared after him. “It's a cargo hold.”

She followed, dropping half on top of him, eliciting a muffled grunt. The hold was hot; much hotter than anticipated. They were both sweating within minutes as they tried to navigate their way among the canvas-covered crates to the floor. Finally, they found a path among the containers and dropped to the deck.

“Well,” Ardin said. “I guess this is our new home.”

“I guess so,” her response came from the dark.

“How long does it take to sail to Silverdale?”

“Two weeks, I think.”

“Two weeks?” he gawked. “No way.”

“Believe it,” she said. “And get used to the heat.”

“We're gonna stink so bad by the time we get there, it'll be a miracle if they don't find us first.”