The Lion of the Sea (The Maiden Ship Book 2) Read online

  Before she could respond, Valir stood, making his way toward the thick oaken door that Sable knew would be securely locked behind him. “Your training begins tomorrow.” He waved a flippant hand over his shoulder as he exited. “Be sure she sleeps and eats, Idris. We need her strong.”

  8

  At first, Dain found it difficult to be civil in Alis Alloway’s presence. The woman was so straightforward, so abrupt, and she interrogated him endlessly about his talents—she wanted to know it all, and cataloged everything. Today was his third session with her, and the only reason Dain continued to endure was for Sable’s sake.

  The Wildflower’s captain didn’t even look up as she lobbied another barrage of questions his way. Dain suppressed a heavy sigh, and just when he’d mustered enough fortitude to answer again, a knock sounded on the office door behind him.

  Alis poked her head out of her notebook, slipping off her reading glasses as she called, “Enter.”

  Turning over his shoulder, Dain watched a stout, thick-faced man step into the overflowing chamber. He looked to be in his early thirties and seemed oddly familiar.

  Dain’s mother stood up from behind the desk, weaving her way through the chaos that was her office to stand before the newcomer. Her voice was warm in greeting, a sharp contrast to the tone she’d just used to volley queries at Dain. “Jord, thank you for coming.”

  The man dipped his head respectfully, pulling a salt-eaten cap from his thick, mousy hair as he said, “Always happy to be of service, Captain.”

  Alis nodded at Dain firmly. “Captain Alloway, I’d like to introduce you to Jord Abernoth. Jord is also an elemental conjurationist, and he will be your new tutor.”

  The two men looked at each other in surprise—apparently, Jord had been unaware of Alis’s plan as well.

  Dain drew himself out of the chair. He was half a head taller than the man and a full head taller than Alis, and he tried to use his height to convey some form of authority. His voice was near a growl. “This was not a part of our deal.”

  Alis didn’t back down; in fact, she somehow managed to look more imposing than him. “Of course it is. You agreed to two hours a day—what did you think we were going to do with all that time?”

  Heat crept up Dain’s neck. He’d had enough tutelage under his father to last him a lifetime, and the idea of submitting to more under his mother was… He moved toward the door. “I’m not interested.”

  His mother moved faster, snatching for the Dernamn around his neck. Dain halted his exit as Alis pulled the pendant toward her nose. She smelled like lavender; it reminded him of Alloway Manor. Her smile was sly as she said, “I read something about this last night in the Selt hieroglyphics—it appears as though this pendant is more than what it seems.”

  Repressing a frustrated shake, Dain stepped away to pull the Dernamn from her fingers. “And?”

  Alis stared at him squarely. “I suppose you'll have to keep up your end of the bargain to find out.”

  Dain growled again.

  The man beside him wrung his cap.

  Alis retreated behind her desk, putting her reading glasses quickly in place as she waved a hand toward them both. “Dismissed. I'll expect a full report later today.”

  Turning fast on his heel, Dain stomped out of the office. He heard Jord wish his captain a good day before following meekly behind.

  They passed Tars and Anira in the hall outside, but Dain didn’t even stop to greet his friend. Who did she think she was? The sooner he was back on The Maiden, the better—he didn’t have time for this. Dain clenched his fists, resisting the urge to punch a hole in the hallway wall. Once they reached the main deck, the wind whipped at his hair as he rounded on Jord. The shorter man looked ill, and Dain suddenly regretted his rage. All of this was a means to an end, he reminded himself. He just needed to bear with it until he got what he needed. Shoving at his hair, Dain extended a hand. “Apologies for the rough introduction, Jord. My mother has a way of getting under my skin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Jord reluctantly shook his hand, and Dain wondered if there was more behind his new tutor’s reluctance than just their awkward introduction. Everyone had heard about his actions the night of the attack in Aalta, and they’d definitely seen Leara An guarding him the first couple of days, so it was likely that most of The Wildflower crew viewed him as a loose cannon. A Mo-inspired phrase came to mind: “When in doubt, lad, smile. Most folk are too soft to resist a warm grin.” Dain took his mentor’s advice, giving his new tutor a genuine smile. “Tell me about yourself. Where are you from?”

  “I—I assumed you knew, sir. We’ve—uh—met before.” The man’s voice was deep, and it felt like a stark contrast to his timid behavior.

  “We have?”

  “Yes, sir. It was five years ago that your father rescued me. I served several months aboard The Maiden before being transferred to The Wildflower, but I suppose you were only a boy at the time.”

  Dain would’ve been just thirteen years old. And he’d probably been too wrapped up in his own adolescent struggles to take much notice of a transient sailor—or what he’d thought was a transient sailor at the time. As a child, Dain had known nothing about his father’s mission to save the adept—it wasn’t until after Hiram Alloway was murdered by stalkers that he’d discovered the truth. He cleared his throat, smiling again. “My apologies, Jord. It’s been a long time.”

  Jord smiled back this time. “True, it has. No worries, sir.” The man shuffled his feet slightly before he continued. “To answer your first question, I grew up in Zaal—like you.” He easily switched from the common tongue into Zaalish, and Dain found it a nice change to hear his native language again. The melodic words eased some of the tension in his shoulders as Jord continued. “Like most adept, my mother and I lived on the move, always trying to evade stalkers. My Mum died of natural causes when I was eighteen, and after that I was on my own. It wasn’t until just before my twenty-fifth name day that your father found me in Aalta—it feels like a lifetime ago.”

  Dain could relate. So much of his life felt like a lifetime ago. Maybe loss and inescapable stress did that sort of thing, made days feel like years and years feel like decades. Dain tried again to imitate his mentor by placing a Mo-like hand on Jord’s shoulder. The man flinched at first, but then quickly relaxed as Dain said, “I am sorry for the loss of your mother, and for all you’ve suffered.”

  Obviously the tactic was working, because the stout man smiled wider as he slipped back into the common tongue. “I’ve suffered far less than others, sir, but I appreciate your kindness.” He shuffled his feet again, averting his eyes toward the prow. “I think it’s time we get to work—Captain’s orders and all. Should we begin?”

  Dain tried to school his expression as he nodded. They both knew he wasn’t interested in being tutored, but there no point in pushing it, so he simply followed his new teacher to the prow. Crew members stared warily as he passed, and Dain tried to ignore the looks.

  Jord led him to the bowsprit, where a young woman sat manipulating the sea, her ministrations allowing the great vessel smoother passage over the waves. Dain had no idea how this tutorship was supposed to work, but he was mildly surprised when his timid instructor began quite naturally. “Elemental conjuration is a more common talent, and typically an adept can only manipulate one element, like myself”—Jord then indicated the woman on the bow—“or like Eden here. We can manipulate water. Others can manipulate fire, earth, air, etc.” He turned to give Dain a serious look. “It’s rare to find an adept who can do more than one element, but I’ve heard that you can do several. Is that right?”

  Dain hesitated before answering. Besides all the information he’d given Alis during their last couple sessions, he’d rarely spoken about his talents. It was still a sensitive subject for him, mainly because it was something he’d never wanted in the first place—something he’d had trouble accepting. He’d gotten over the bulk of that discomfort, but it was still new. �
��I don’t know about that exactly. I have manipulated wind, rain, and lightning?”

  Jord seemed to take some courage from Dain’s more hesitant state. “Good, that’s a start. Obviously, you can manage air, including the electrical current produced there, and water, though to what extent we’ll need to determine…” Jord rubbed at the coarse stubble lining his full chin. “Earth will be harder to test, for obvious reasons, but we can certainly try fire at some point.” He squinted up at Dain. “How much do you know about your gifts, sir?”

  Dain felt his lips quirk sideways, because now he was going to have to admit how little he actually knew, and this was going to make his earlier resistance to tutelage an acute embarrassment. Another phrase from Mo came to mind: ‘Some days, lad, humble-pie is our greatest teacher.’ Dain ran his fingers through his ever-tangled mat of hair. “I’ll be honest, Jord—not much. I know it takes physical strength to wield them, and the wind seems responsive to me, but the other elements always put up a fight. Usually, I’m as weak as a newborn after a more concentrated attempt, but I’ve heard you can increase your endurance with practice.”

  His new tutor accepted every admission with grace; nothing in his expression or tone was condescending. “Ah, but those are old beliefs, sir. It’ll surprise you to hear that your talents shouldn’t be a great task. We’ve learned much in the past few years. Your talents will still take some physical endurance to wield, but they shouldn’t drain you as much as you are experiencing now.” Jord waved a knowing finger through the air, the movement reminding Dain of Old Toff. “The key is relationship.”

  “Relationship?”

  Jord was starting to look giddy—it seemed the man enjoyed teaching after all. “Here, let me show you.” He headed to the rain barrel positioned near the foremast, waving for Dain to stand at his side as he dipped one hand into the water. “Much like you and I, the elements are entities. Each is imbued, as a part of Orthane’s creation, with a life force of its own. We don’t call them sentient, but in some ways they are.” Jord lifted his hand out of the barrel, and a trail of water rose underneath his palm. “So, if I try to force my will upon the element, it resists. This happens because the use of force goes against creation’s natural order.” His tutor was grinning ear to ear now. “However, if I entice it—if I woo the element—then something entirely different happens.” Jord flipped his palm over, and the water swirled almost affectionately around his hand. Dain watched in fascination as he began playfully manipulating it into a ball and bouncing it back and forth between his wet palms. “Whether you believe it or not, a portion of the divine mingles in the veins of the adept, and because of this, Orthane’s creations respond to us.”

  Dain fingered the Dernamn at his neck. “You really believe that?”

  Jord nodded, letting the water drop back into the barrel with a splash. “I was raised by a very devout mother—in all our years of running, we never missed a vigil to Orthane. After her death, I left my faith behind. It wasn’t until I came to live on The Wildflower that I returned to it.” Jord gave Dain a small shrug. “I know a lot of people don’t believe in anything beyond what they can see or feel, and I certainly don’t hold that against them, but truth be told, my faith has been the most down-to-earth, sensible thing I’ve ever known—especially with regard to my talent.”

  Drawn in by Jord’s confession, Dain found himself unconsciously sharing. “My father taught me nothing but trade, commerce, and modern progress. Faith never figured into our lives, it wasn’t part of the equation.” He fingered the Dernamn again. “Lately though, I’m more curious about—the divine.”

  Jord’s smile was genuinely friendly now. “You’re not what I expected, Captain Alloway. In fact, we might even grow to be friends.” He waved a Toff-like finger again. “However, we are off topic, and I still need to report back to my captain later. So, let’s see what you can do with this water.”

  For all of Jord’s talk about developing a relationship with the elements and not being as drained by his talents, Dain found the opposite to occur. Two hours later, he was lying on the bunk in his cabin, barely able to push the sweat-plastered strands of hair from his face as he heaved in exhaustion. Jord had tried to be encouraging, assuring his new pupil that this was a normal part of the process, that developing a new relationship to his talents would take time, but Dain still felt pathetic. The only real success he’d had that afternoon was with the wind, but it had always been the most responsive. He wondered why Tars had never said anything about this new kind of training—the alchemist-healer had been aboard The Wildflower a great deal in Aalta’s harbor, so he must have already learned something of this new technique. Dain’s eyes drooped as he told himself to remember to ask Tars the next time they talked.

  It wasn’t long before sleep claimed him and a body of stone met him on the other side of slumber. Tonight she came at twilight, the woman with ebony skin and snow-white hair. The stars were at her back as she slid through the brush by the southern end of the garden. She reached him in minutes, flying across the grassy knolls in haste, her inner voice hitting his mind in a rush: “We must work faster.”

  The woman’s singing was deeper this time, more intense, and the wordless melody wove cords of light throughout his soul. It seared his prison of stone, and the encasement no longer chipped away like before. Now it fell away in chunks. His fingers wiggled as more stone fell. Her song lasted all night, and when the first ray of dawn peeked up over the edge of garden, Elden drew his first breath in centuries.

  9

  Sable had slept through the screams, forced asleep by the child magically leashed to her arm. The noise had started at sundown, human cries shifting, twisting into something unearthly—maligned. It was a symphony of horror that haunted her dreams.

  Now, everything was silent, and just as she’d been forced unconscious, she woke again at the will of her young puppeteer. The albino child had been mute since his master left the night before, and when Sable had tried to ply him for information, she’d been silenced. There was no greater oppression than having someone else in complete control of everything you did. It was intrusive in ways Sable had never dreamed possible.

  The child was nothing like Leara An from The Wildflower—that girl was a force of nature. This boy, thoroughly obedient to his master, was evasive and timid. And because of that, Sable couldn’t bring herself to hate him. He was obviously as much a prisoner as she.

  Despite her empathy, a deep crimson stain now peeled its way up her neck as she realized the child would soon be forcing her through her morning routine. That meant she’d be relieving herself and probably even dressing in front of him. Just as this thought occurred to her, the heavy oaken door screeched, the rusty lock spinning internally before it swung inward. A dark soldier, frock and small bowl of water in hand, marched unceremoniously into the cell. Setting the water and garment on the stool beside her cot, the guard simply stood at attention, waiting. It seemed her humiliation would be two-fold.

  Sable’s limbs moved without her consent, forcing her off the cot and toward the frock and bowl. Then, from the waist up, her arms, torso, and head pricked and tingled back to life as her muscles slowly became her own again. Her legs and feet remained stone-still, but she didn’t care because the upper relief, for however long it lasted, almost made Sable forget her shame. When she glanced at Idris, the relief doubled as the child, though right by her side, mercifully turned his back. The soldier, on the other hand, hadn’t moved a muscle. Well, at least it’s better than two spectators.

  Sable did her best to be modest throughout the process, trying hard to ignore her audience and distract herself with other thoughts. The emperor had said that she was here to help him and that her training would begin today, but Sable could only guess at what he’d be using her for. More than likely, it had something to do with her talent.

  The minute she was dressed and ready, her upper body froze, and she was once again in Idris’s complete control. Even her head was not her own,
and when she tried to speak, tried to ask for at least her face, nothing moved. She suddenly had more sympathy for what Ileana and her beloved had endured these past two centuries—this was an imprisonment like no other.

  The silent, red-plumed soldier led them from their cell through numerous torch-lit corridors. At first, with hope of future escape plans, Sable tried to keep track of the twists and turns, but the cold fortress was so vast, so maze-like, that she was quickly forced to give up. They only passed a couple other soldiers along the way, but when the next narrow corridor opened up into a great, mess-like hall, Sable saw that the castle was crawling with militia. Hundreds of men filled the cathedral-sized space, most wearing the same black leathers as her own guard. Some wore long robes similar to those of the emperor, and Sable wondered if perhaps they were officers.

  She and Idris were directed to one of many wooden tables set within the walls, and a porridge-like gruel was promptly put before them. Idris gave her the use of one arm and her face just before he dove into his meal. Sable ate slowly, taking in everything she could, noting the number of soldiers who came and went within the span of minutes. If this was only a portion of the army housed within these stone walls, then the emperor was amassing a sizable force. Not to mention the stalkers, or the creature that had carried her here in the first place… Sable’s free hand shook as she brought the wooden spoon to her mouth again. Valir had said he was planning to redeem the four kingdoms, but this looked more like he was planning to conquer them.

  She hadn’t even finished her meal when their guard motioned her to her feet—now she knew why Idris had eaten so quickly. They were led down more twisty halls before finally reaching an interior arena. It was the first place within these walls where she’d seen windows. Five massive, cloudy-paned openings were fixed on the farthest stone wall. The natural light felt almost blinding. It took Sable’s eyes a moment to adjust and fix upon the contents of the space. Besides housing at least several hundred soldiers in training, the arena was filled with horse stables, riding rings, and fully stocked armories in every corner. It was the ultimate training station. The men she’d thought might be officers oversaw various stations, where they shouted orders and instructions to their respective trainees. They spoke in the Dorthanian tongue, and Sable couldn’t understand a word. She did catch snippets of the common tongue here and there, but it wasn’t enough to make sense of anything.