Wizard's Blood [Part Two] (71 page)

Cheurt was also tantalized by the suggestion of another Nexus point that might open up the path to Earth once again. Even if that became possible, the contacts and expertise that Ryltas had developed during his two years there would be lost, but certain items could be acquired that would put some of his projects back on schedule. If he could get his hands on any of Jolan’s friends, and he knew who most of them were, he’d immediately probe their minds for the information that had been denied him.

His hand stroked the new device that now hung around his neck. He was thrilled by the power it gave him. It looked relatively new. He couldn’t decide if that was because the magic it controlled had kept it that way for centuries, or if it was a recent construction. He shuddered to think if Jolan had used his Earth based knowledge and was able to construct such devices in quantity. His wizards would be outmatched if they had to face an army of mages so equipped. Perhaps it was time to share the triad technique with more of the wizards in his army. He had hesitated before, because the right three would have been able to defeat even him. That was no longer the case.

He fingered the amulet once again. More than any device he’d encountered, this one enhanced everything he could do. No wizard or mage could stand against him. If he could find a way to ensure he was protected against their projectile weapons, he could raise havoc on the battlefield. He had a couple of ideas. Soon enough he would see.

He turned back to his maps. He still had a war to fight. For now, it was mostly a traditional war, but the winter would give them time to build a few surprises.

The first days at sea were filled with excitement and adventure. Now that Asari was immune to the effects of the debilitating seasickness, he found the motion of the ship and the constant splash of spray as the ship plowed through the water refreshing and fun. Often he could be found high in the rigging, watching the land off to port and the ocean ahead. Jolan and Shyar found his reactions amusing, but were happy that the voyage was turning out to be one of discovery rather than misery for their friend. When Jolan had told Shyar about Asari’s earlier experiences, she’d immediately gone to talk with the medical-mages and several who specialized in sea medicine. The effectiveness of her investigations was there for all to see.

Their ship, the
RS Wave Runner
, was a square rigged, four masted clipper ship, designed for speed. The jinga-wood masts were enhanced with magic, and virtually no seas were strong enough to break them regardless of the amount of sail they carried. In the past, the Queen sometimes needed to visit other dignitaries, and time was often a factor. Narrow compared to her length, the ship carried an immense amount of sail, and with the winds mostly behind her at this point, she raced across the ocean, faster than any ship they’d encountered. The
Wave Runner
was just over ten years old, having been built for the Queen’s father when he decided a second Royal Ship was required. After ten years the ship looked almost new, the metal fittings shiny and free of corrosion, the wood varnished and polished. The deck was of a heavy grained wood Jolan didn’t recognize, but which seemed to provide a firm footing even when wet from the constant spray present on the calmest of days. The crew were often barefoot, which they claimed gave them better purchase than any boots would have done, but Jolan thought his feet would ache after a day of the constant running and climbing the crew performed as a matter of course.

Often Asari would point out a ship on the horizon from his lofty perch, and by midday they would have overtaken and passed the slower vessel. Given the speed of their vessel, if the winds held, they would be able to reach their destination in a little over a month. The return voyage would take considerably longer, since they would have to tack into the prevailing winds rather than simply run before them.

Since the ship was one of the Queen’s two private vessels, it was furnished accordingly. There were four staterooms designed for the Queen and her party. At the moment they only used two of them, and they were far more comfortable and luxurious than one had any right to expect of a sailing ship. As nice as they were, Jolan couldn’t help wondering what the Queen’s private quarters looked like. That room remained locked and, while no one had said anything, was basically off limits. The room was only opened when the queen herself was on board.

Captain Elms had made a point of introducing the crew to his special passengers, knowing they were the type that would prefer to mingle rather than remain aloof as some of the political types he’d had aboard in the past. They had their choice of eating at the captain’s mess or with the crew. Asari most often ate with the crew, in part because he was trying to learn all aspects of shipboard operations from the various deckhands, and partly because he had met Krisse.

Two women sailed on the
Wave Runner
. Apparently the Queen expected more of her meals than had been delivered by the men who had filled the position of cook in the past. Now the position was taken by an older woman who had spent years at sea with her fisherman husband until he’d died, and Krisse, her apprentice. Krisse was a year older than Asari, and quite attractive. While there were strict rules against romance between members of the crew, no one was bothered by the fact Asari and Krisse frequently shared the same cabin.

Jolan was still going over the names he’d learned the previous evening. The first officer was named Ghav. He was a few years younger than the captain and would most likely move up to the position when the captain retired or be given a command of his own before much longer. Extremely knowledgeable, he noticed everything around him and was quick to have the crew set right any discrepancy. Yade was the Operations Officer and navigator, and Asari was taking lessons from him on how to fix their position. Each morning and evening the two would huddle together while they took readings and marked them carefully on a large chart on the bridge.

Chief Mate Lyen was the senior enlisted man aboard. Jolan had expected a portly, somewhat overweight man well along in his career, but Lyen was in his mid thirties, and was as trim and fit as any of the men. He could climb the rigging with the spryest of them, and moved with the motions of the ship without a second thought. Jolan could only remember two more of the names, and would have to make the rounds again until the rest could be driven into his memory. Samz was the ship’s carpenter, and was continuously busy with small tasks. At some point Jolan was going to try and get a look at the man’s shop, because he seemed to have on hand whatever was required for whatever task that arose. Finally, he could remember Burk, the striker. He hadn’t know what a striker was, but after First Officer Ghav explained the function, he could see why the man was held in such high esteem. Burk was an experienced fisherman, and was expert at catching sea turtles and a large creature that looked like it had wings called a bracker. Both were highly prized for their meat and the variety they added to the mess. When they stopped for replenishment as they needed to do every couple of weeks, he was extremely knowledgeable of the various plants that could be used for food and in the habits of all kinds of game animals.

They had been very lucky weather wise thus far, with constant winds that varied only slightly from day to day and continued through the nights as well. At the mercy of the winds, they could expect to hit storms before the voyage was over, and it was possible they might spend a few days becalmed, one of the frustrating realities of such voyages.

Jolan pulled the small square out of his pocket and unfolded it, once again amazed at how the two inch square could open into something that was almost fifteen inches across. He laid it on the top of the bed and lifted off the top half, exposing what appeared to be a large box below that would have extended into the bed if magic hadn’t been involved.

“
Mail call,” Jolan said, as he reached down into the box to retrieve the note that was resting in the bottom. There were also a number of game birds, all carefully cleaned and wrapped in a bag off to one side, and several small casks of wine. He would take those to the cook, who would gratefully add the variety to their evening meal. Jolan still hadn’t gotten used to drinking out of the special tankards that had spring loaded lids and which slipped into slots on the table to prevent them from wandering during the ship’s motion.

Shyar and Jolan read the note from Vaen together. In the week they had been gone, little had changed at home. That meant there was no need for them to consider returning. In two days they would be putting into Simor for a brief stop. They would take on water and supplies, and set sail again the same day. If something had come up, there was a portal near the anchorage they could use to make a temporary return to Cobalo.

With nothing that needed addressing, Jolan slipped his own note, already written, that described their progress and status, along with Shyar’s note to Tishe, into the bottom of the box, closed the lid, and then folded up the portable top. Jolan laid back on the bed and smiled meaningfully at Shyar. She grinned and climbed onto the bed next to him. The trip was providing them ample opportunity to make up for long months apart. Jolan remembered Tishe’s words to Janie about “almost married”, and vowed to see if the captain could change that.

The days passed, some swiftly when something out of the ordinary provided distraction, but most seemed to linger and slip away reluctantly. The expectations of each day became blurred, and it was often hard to recall if a given event was two days ago or five. After the first week there was no place to go that they hadn’t seen. They knew every member of the crew by name now, and the three had been accepted as more than simple passengers. Unlike many who traveled with these men, Jolan, Shyar, and Asari spent most of their time outside the enclosed and protected spaces located in the aft part of the ship that had been created for the privileged travelers
RS Wave Runner
had been built to carry. Jolan and Shyar liked the open air and the constant breeze that blew past the ship. Asari was now like one of the crew. Tanned and fit, he was most often seen barefoot and dressed only in a pair of short pants as he aided in any task that needed a spare pair of hands.

Although they were headed almost south, the winds were still mostly favorable and they continued to make good time. With Simor well behind them, they now saw far fewer vessels on the great sea, reminding them that they were headed into lonely waters, far from the regions that most ever explored. Asari grew ever more excited as the days of travel grew in number, knowing they were slowly making their way to the Lost Territories which continued to pull at his mind. He was more certain than ever they were doing the right thing.

While their world became focused on those on board ship with them, certain reminders of home traveled along. Each day they exchanged messages with Vaen and Buris, learning that the war continued to go slowly. Ale’ald had continued to probe the portal system, activating portals in both Seret and Angon. It had become apparent that Ale’ald did not know how thoroughly their efforts could be monitored, although they had to suspect that opening a new portal would be observed by anyone watching the system. Thus far, no attacks had been made via the portals. Each new portal that Ale’ald seemed interested in that was located in either Seret or Angon was sought out and then watched against its becoming a means of slipping spies or saboteurs into the country. Ale’ald’s primary use of the system appeared to be travel within lands they already controlled. It was impossible to tell if Cheurt himself used any of the portals, but it seemed likely.

One reminder of home they had been unable to be free of was Cheurt’s daily viewing of Jolan. The time of day he spied on them varied, but a day hadn’t passed without the cold chill of being watched suddenly triggering Shyar’s defenses. Jolan wouldn’t have known, but he could see the frown cross her face each time she sensed the wizard looking over their shoulder. They were certain the wizard must be very frustrated in his viewings, because there was nothing to give away their location. While the shore could sometimes be seen in the distance, it was a low dark mound along the skyline, with no features distinguishable. The partial overcast they had been experiencing had blurred the shadows, so Jolan doubted the wizard could even get a sense of their direction from his viewings.

Because they spent so much time outside the cabins and were exposed to the almost constant salt spray as the ship plowed through the heavy waves, their clothes became white and stiff with dried salt. Fresh water on board was a precious commodity, and little could be spared for the purposes of washing. Washing clothes in salt water which could be brought on board by the bucket full even while they were underway helped some, but the clothes seldom felt clean as a result of such a washing. Shyar had taken to placing their clothes into the Travel Box every few days, where someone back in Cobalo was able to retrieve them and have them cleaned. The next day they had them back, fresh and clean, with all traces of the dried salt removed. Jolan felt they were taking advantage of the situation, but had to admit he was far more comfortable this way. Like the crew, Asari was oblivious to the state of his salt encrusted shorts, and passed up the opportunity to have anything cleaned back in Cobalo.

Their first major storm came upon them suddenly nearly a week after they had departed Simor. The morning breeze had turned gusty, and the clouds began to darken by mid-morning. It was early in the season for the big storms, but they were not unheard of.