Seeker (The Source Chronicles Book 1) (24 page)

Lady Ara looked into Varlock-Sharron’s eyes, and was met by only bitter determination.  She turned and departed, having no response to his statement.   

*****

Cam Murtallan had just completed quarterstaff training, and was simply observing the activities of the raiders around him in this abandoned village.  Olitarn, Lyrra-Sharron had called it.  During the war with Medaelia two-hundred years ago, battles raged to both the east and west of the village.  Both armies had marched through several times over the course of three years, and eventually all the people were driven out.  When the war ended, Gara-Loros Anduin the victor, the people never did return here.

Lyrra-Sharron had decided a new center of operations was necessary.  They were very mobile, and had a good many scouts and guards alert for Sharron Army soldiers.  Cam had preferred the last headquarters, but Dak was certain their discovery would not be far off.  So they moved, joined by Nadav and his crew, having abandoned their base.  The Falcon Raiders were split in two now, with a quarter of their people stationed with Torman, the rest with Lyrra-Sharron. 

Cam pondered that.  His relationship with the leader of the Falcon Raiders was changed.  Aside from two hours of rapier practice in the mornings, often with both the Princess and Nadav, he never saw her.  Cam had begun to wonder if Lyrra-Sharron was avoiding him on a more personal level, for some reason.

A month after the raid on Brivarn, The Falcon Raiders seemed more spirited, more enthusiastic about their activities.  Lyrra-Sharron had made some contacts on The Common, and begun to circulate information.  Her planned raids on the caravans had worked as they’d hoped, and several large merchants were using Falcon Raiders as guards.  Aside from Nadav’s losses, things had gone smoothly indeed.

In the intervening weeks, Cam had opened himself now to almost two-thirds of his power.  As he meditated, studied what it was that made him a sorcerer, Cam had confirmed that the webbing was the key to it all.  A curious thing Cam had pondered much, though his understanding of it was still limited.  But with this knowledge, he had begun to open himself more. 

He was a different man now.  No longer arrogant, no longer over-confident that his sorcerous abilities would save him from any confrontation. Instead of looking at sorcery as the definition of his very being, Cam was coming to see it more as a tool, like a knife, a pen, a spoon or a sword.  A tool that, like any other, had its own time and place.

Cam had grown stronger physically, and to his mind, mentally, as he’d studied the power, and trained his body.  He had been capable of quite a bit before.  Now, he was sure, he would be far more skilled.

              This morning he had made an intriguing discovery.  Since he’d been free, each time he unleashed his power, he found himself beginning to actually understand the archaic language he used to release and cast his spells. 

Cam had poured over as many books as had been available to him, though much knowledge of the power of sorcerers was lost with The Falling.  But the archaic language had been passed on, somehow, and the sorcerers today continued to use it.

This morning, as Cam meditated on his power, he had taken the time to cast the same spell over and over again, lighting, extinguishing, and re-lighting a single candle.  It finally dawned on him why the speech of ancient days seemed comprehensible to him. 

As he uttered the phrases and words with meaning lost in time, he translated what he wanted of the spells to his own language, inside his mind.  Soon, Cam found that word for word he could translate the dialect, and even think in the ancient tongue.

He’d paused, going over in his mind various spells in the archaic language, translating each instantly.  A new idea came to him, so he took a deep breath, and quietly intoned:

“Power within me, magic of sorcery, power beyond sight:  Make the flame dance upon the wick, and with this spell, bring the candle to light.  A flame to make the darkness less, a candle lit by my power - Ignite!”

And with that, the candle began to glow.

Astonished, Cam had broken his own concentration.

To his knowledge, no one could cast a spell with modern language.

It took almost fifteen minutes for him to refocus, and then, after examining his power closely, he realized he’d done no damage. 

Concentrating again, he reversed the spell, intoning, “Power within me, magic of sorcery, power beyond sight:  Make the flame cease its dance upon the wick, and with this spell, dispel its light.  Return the flame to darkness from which it came, a candle quenched by my power - Extinguish!”

And with that, the flame winked out.

Once more Cam lost his concentration.  But this time it only took him five minutes to get it back.

He looked more thoroughly at his sorcerous energy than before.  The web had not worsened.  The orb appeared no different than it had been before.  There was no harm done.

Within half an hour, he’d been able to repeat the spell in his own tongue a half dozen times.  He’d tried another spell, to move a tankard of water from the table in the room to his hand, also in the common speech, and had succeeded. 

Cam deliberated on the meaning.  Everyone had proclaimed for nearly five-thousand years that sorcery could only be performed with the archaic language.  If any modern sorcerer had tried to do as Cam had, it was not known.

Modern sorcerer.  So few remained now, and Cam had never met another. 

In the time of Imperial King Pallantir, the Academy Citadel of the Arte of Sorcery had thrived, and every king and high noble had a sorcerer as an advisor.  As Pallantir had marched on the world, taking nation after nation, the kings begged the Sorcerers’ Academy to stop him.  But they turned a deaf ear, and soon Pallantir ruled the whole world. 

After Pallantir’s fall, the practice of the sorcerous arts had started a steady decline.  The Seeker of The Source would change that, or so the prophecy foretold.

Cam returned to the present, taking in a deep breath of the mid Stillness air.  This had been another abnormally mild winter, though the approach of sunset brought a noticeable chill to the air.  Cam smelled the comforting odor of wood and coal fires that had been stoked to warm the approaching night.

The sorcerer noticed Dak walking towards him.  Over the past month, they’d become better friends, often speaking together at meals, and in the converted tavern in the evenings.  They did indeed have much in common, and since the attack on Brivarn, had trusted one another more than any other, save perhaps Lyrra-Sharron.  And Cam found, recently, he had more confidence in Dak.

They had come to know one another’s greatest secrets, having found a kindred spirit they could confide in.  Their fast friendship had been unexpected. 

“Cam,” he said simply.

“Dak,” Cam replied.  They always greeting one another exactly the same, he realized.

“Lyrra-Sharron has gotten your request.  She wants to see you,” Dak leaned in closer.  “She’ll answer your questions, but only if you will answer hers.”

Cam thought it over.  “Not going to be a better time, is there?” he asked.

Dak crossed his arms.  “No.”

Cam shook his head to himself.  “Thank you.”

Dak turned, and walked away.

Cam knew this moment was coming for some time now. 

He wanted to know why Lyrra-Sharron led a rebellion against her father.  The majority of the Falcon Raiders only knew some of the story, that the King had long-term plans that would make life in the Kingdom of Sharron hard, and that he’d committed crimes his daughter held him accountable for, and that was enough for them.  Most followed Lyrra-Sharron because of the sheer force of her personality.  They believed in her - that was all they needed.

Dak, Nadav, Torman, and some of the others were privy to the whole truth.  Cam wanted to know as well.  So through Dak, Cam had sent their leader a note, requesting a complete explanation.  Lyrra-Sharron would give him that, but for a price; she wanted to know what it was that had brought Cam to Sharron.

Until recently, Cam had not been ready to tell her.  But every sign and portent pointed to the conflict coming to a head soon. Evidence showed that the Falcon Raiders were gaining support within the Common.  The King would not remain idle much longer.  Sharron Army troops were reported massing on the Medaelian border.  So Cam wanted to know now, before he continued to help Lyrra-Sharron and her cause.

He only hoped she would not send him away, when she learned the truth.  He fervently hoped he would not wish to leave when he knew hers as well. 

Cam was certain he could be ready for what was to come next.  He only hoped his power would be with him, when the moment arrived.

Chapter 19

The tavern was noisy, and crowded.  It was approaching sunset, and the Port of Anduin was always the scene of ceaseless activity. 

Even in the Season of Stillness, merchant vessels sailed across the seas, bringing goods from the continents of Soutaria and Nortamia to Estaria, often through Sharron.

Anduin was one of the foremost ports on the continent, and a wealthy and clean city of Sharron.  The streets were well cared for, free of debris and garbage.  Sewers had been dug under the city a couple hundred years ago, and the buildings were either renovated and cared for as they had been for centuries, or were removed and replaced with new structures.

The port was therefore a mixture of architectural styles ranging across almost four centuries.  Some structures held a historic value, while others were purely functional, though aesthetically pleasing.  None were dilapidated, and no signs of peeled paints or crumbling stone were anywhere to be found in the entirety of the city.

A couple miles outside of Anduin was the expansive estate of the namesake of the port, and encompassing Barony.  The Anduin Estate was unoccupied, but constantly maintained, should its owners pay a visit to their ancestral lands.  The manor had been used as a summer home by the Crown since Varlyn-Sharron’s elevation over four hundred years ago.  Varlock-Sharron and his family had not visited for more than a decade, however.

But the Barony did not suffer.  Taxes were the lowest in the Kingdom, and the autonomy of the local officials was unheard of.  Since Varlock-Sharron was both the King of Sharron, and the Baron of Anduin, his attentions necessarily were focused on the former. 

Thus the local mayors and appointed Baronial Seneschal took care of the business that the Crown could not take the time to do.  And since the Anduins did not take much for themselves from the taxes collected, taxation was minimal, and went almost entirely to the maintenance of the infrastructure.

Anchorage fees were among the most reasonable in the world, keeping the port constantly flowing with traffic.  Ships moored, off-loaded then took on new cargos rapidly.  Warehouses had been erected all along the waterfront, leaving a place for all goods and services to be held, until they could be moved in one direction or another. 

Very strict rules were in place for maintaining the overall security.  A special Fire Constabulary patrolled the marina, providing defense against both crime and the danger of the warehouses being set ablaze, which would have terrible economic repercussions.

The presence of the Sharron Navy was constant.  The swiftest attack vessels in the fleet patrolled the harbor, while larger ships could be brought to bear quickly.  No invader, nor pirates, had ever entered these waters, making Anduin quite possibly the safest port in all of t’Thera.

The
Red Sky at Night
alehouse, or at least a similar saloon, had been in this location as long as any resident of the city could remember.  Traders from all across the globe would come here, to find and make deals with freight haulers, or Estarian merchants, to move their goods from the warehouses of the port to the rest of the continent. 

He lived aboard his galleon, a three-masted vessel, which he had sailed around the world more than once.  He had been born to a fisherman and his wife on the Isle of Torvik.  His education had been a mix of traditional schooling, as well as the arte of sailing and navigation from his father. 

At thirteen, he ended his conventional tutelage and became a cabin boy aboard a schooner.  He worked his way through the ranks over the next few years, eventually becoming an assistant to the ship’s quartermaster, a man the entire crew called Dog. 

Dog could acquire any cargo, and sell it to anyone in any port they chose to sail to.  He made sure the crew was never wanting, and they always had the finest ales and rum, an amazing store of fresh fruits and vegetables, clean clothes, blankets, and weapons. 

The sea captain’s own similar abilities were owed to his time spent with the schooner’s quartermaster.

When Dog opted to purchase his own brigantine, he was offered the job of quartermaster for the new captain. 

He would sail as quartermaster of that brigantine for five years, and as Dog’s protégé and most trusted crew member, he earned enough money to purchase his own vessel. 

At the age of twenty five, he bought himself a sloop, a well used, but well cared for two-masted ship.

He set sail from the only place on land he even slightly considered calling home, the Port of Kearvy, where he’d been raised, and would see half the sea ports of the world in command of that ship.  The sloop, named by her first owner
Tegora’s Rising
, for the planet visible on the western horizon at sunset, had been a good ship.  But then he ran into an organized band of pirates off the coast of B’ornadd. 

Like all the vessels of Torvik, his sloop had been armed.  His cannons were fired that day til he had not a shot remaining.  His sailors had all been outstanding fighters, and repelled the boarding parties of pirates until not a one remained.  But they had lost more than half their number, and their beloved vessel was listing heavily to port, and slowly sinking.  They boarded their longboats, and watched as the ship sank to the bottom of the sea.

When he returned to port, he went looking for a larger vessel…and commissioned the galleon he now called his own.  He named her
Tegora’s Sister
, in honor of his sloop.  And for the past ten years, she had been his home.

His love of the sea was total, and all-encompassing.  He spent as little time on land as he could, and did all of his business from his ship.  He had no home in any port, and would choose to stay aboard his vessel, unless he was sailing to a port he could only access via longboat, and he had to be on land overnight.

But he was not just a sea captain, he was a businessman.  He owned warehouses in at least one port on every continent, from which he would transport and pick up varying cargos.  He had stake or partial ownership in a number of freight companies as well, to move the provisions across the land.

In Sharron, he would usually warehouse the goods he brought from the Soutaria continent, and from Sharron take Estarian produce to the rest of the world.  Operations were normally smooth and uneventful.  Until recently.

A month ago, the convoy his wagon had been in was attacked, and the Sharron Army soldiers he paid good money for failed to save the shipment of olives, coffee, and Yadiman chocolate.  All of those items had been bound for Gara-Sharron, and would have fetched a tidy profit.  Instead, they wound up costing him a small fortune, and nearly the loss of his Soutarian warehouse.

He had brought with him a new shipment of citrus and tea from Jennorrit, and had no intent on losing the profit from this one as well.  His associates in Anduin told him of a group that was offering to protect shipments for a better price than the Sharron Army.  He was here to meet a representative of this organization, to make the necessary arrangements.

His contact was late.  But then, the tavern was crowded, so perhaps he had still not been spotted.

“Can I get you anything, my lord?” a serving girl asked loudly, to be heard over the crowd.

“Aye, lass.  A pint of lager, and a roast beef sandwich, please.”  He placed a coin on the table.

“Right away, m’lord,” she responded, scooping up the coin and practically dancing away towards the bar and kitchen.

He looked about, not seeing any familiar faces.  Not that he knew personally more than one or two souls in Anduin. 

He saw a man come in, wearing a green tunic, black vest with gun-metal grey studs, and black pants.  They made eye contact, and the man approached.

The man soon reached his table.  “Good evening, Captain Uronay?”

“Aye.  You must be Corlan?”

“I am,” he sat down.  “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, Captain, I’m sure you have places to be.  Let’s get down to business.  You have a cargo that is being transported to Gara-Sharron in two days?”

“Aye.  And unlike my last shipment, I would prefer that this one reached its destination.”

“Your last did not?” Corlan queried.

The serving girl returned to the table, placing down a plate with the sandwich, and a tankard of lager.  “Can I get anything for you, m’lord?” she asked Corlan.

He waved her off, as Captain Uronay placed coin on the table to pay for his meal.  The server practically twirled away into the crowd as she scooped it up.

“It was taken along the way, and the Sharron Army could not offer a decent explanation, and their compensation was nary a pittance.”

Corlan was shaking his head.  “That’s the trouble with the Sharron Army these days.  They have their attentions completely divided, and now these marauders have arisen from nowhere, and are causing a real stir.  The inadequacy of the Sharron Army is but a reflection of King Varlock-Sharron’s failing administration…”

Captain Uronay held up a hand to stop Corlan’s rant.  “Look, lad, I don’t care about the politics of the land.  I care that the cargo I acquired in Jennorrit and transported across the sea now reach Gara-Sharron, and the profit from its sale reach my pouch.  Tell me plain…why should I hire your Falcon Raiders over the Sharron Army?”

Corlan leaned forward, so he could be heard clearly by the sea captain alone.  “The Falcon Raiders will charge you one half the fees of the Sharron Army, and guarantee that your shipment will arrive at its destination unmolested.  Furthermore, if these marauders strike, and manage to take or damage your goods, we will pay the full market value to you, as you would have received at the time of its arrival.”

Uronay took a draught from the tankard.  He looked into Corlan’s eyes, and could see no obvious subterfuge.  “I won’t just take your word, lad.  I have heard rumors of your band and its doings outside of this sort of business.  Not that that is any of my concern.  Will you put that in writing?”

Corlan smiled, reached into the scrip that was hanging over his left shoulder, and withdrew a sheet of parchment, which he passed to the sea captain.

Uronay read over the contract, nodding his head as he completed it.  “This is satisfactory.  How many guards does my shipment get?”

“One per wagon riding with the driver, and two more on horseback escorting them.  No uniforms, we prefer to be discreet.  When we arrive at the starting point, you pay half.  The second half is paid up when we reach Gara-Sharron.  Our escort service ends at the gates, we prefer not to go into the capital.  But you should need no further protection at that time.”

The Sharron Army charged double, and all of it up front.  Their compensation for stolen goods barely covered the cost of the lost wagons.  His warehouse manager had been the one to recommend this course of action, and the man had never led him astray before.  The savings and possible benefit were too good to not take a chance on.

“You have yourself a deal, lad.  I’ll be hiring you to escort my provisions to Gara-Sharron.”

Corlan offered his hand.  “Thank you, Captain.  I guarantee your shipment will arrive safe, and on time.”

Captain Uronay took Corlan’s hand, and they shook.

Corlan produced an ink bottle and small quill from his scrip.  He produced a second copy of the contract, and signed both.  Captain Uronay signed them as well.

“Where will we find your cargo, Captain?”

“Pier four, third warehouse from the street, called
Tegora’s Depot
.  Two wagons, black and maroon, registered to
Olvan’s Freight
.  They’re scheduled to depart on Tagoduan at three hours after sunrise.”

Corlan wrote that on the bottom of his copy of the contract.  He again offered his hand.  “Thank you, Captain, it was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Uronay took his hand, “It will be a pleasure, if you don’t fail.”

Corlan grinned.  “Fair enough.  Calm seas, Captain Uronay.”

Uronay tipped his hat as Corlan stood, and disappeared back into the crowd as he departed from the tavern.

Narv Uronay would be back in his stateroom just after sunset, and heading to sea with a new cargo, bound for port in Ticarr, by dawn.  If they did indeed make good on their contract, he’d probably hire the Falcon Raiders to protect his next shipment from Port Anduin to the rest of the Estarian continent.

The Captain of
Tegora’s Sister
sat, took a bite of his sandwich, and chewed upon it thoughtfully.  He could care less about the political situation of Sharron.  His only concerns were that his ship could sail from port to port, and that his cargos always reached their intended destination.  Who guarded and protected them only mattered to him if they failed, and his profit suffered.

*****

The King looked around the oval table at the Sharron Council of Military, Civil and Foreign Administration.  Around him, from right to left, were Lord Tulock, General Bodrir, Captain-General Callan, Constable drey-Sharron, Lady Marna Forkuln, Common Speaker Erlonn Broyva, Lady Ara Wiram, and Sir Garvol Dorran.  General Sopiir was still at Vantirr, and Admiral Trem-Sharron was absent.  Word had it he was with the fleet at its headquarters in Kelfarn.

“Alright, we have work to do,” began the King without ceremony.  Lord Tulock, escorting the Speaker of The Common, had been the last to arrive, and they had just taken seats.  “I would like to thank Erlonn Broyva for joining us here today.  My Lord Speaker, I would also remind you that save what we say may be told to Common, you are to remain silent on affairs of state.”