The Long Journey Home (The Legend of Vanx Malic Book 8) (9 page)

“I can.” Zeezle nodded and then motioned for Master Ruuk to come cast the spell. “What are you going to do?”

Vanx shrugged and pulled off his shirt. Then he took down his britches so that he was in naught but his small clothes.

“Going to scare it off with your sea monster, are you?” Zeezle asked jokingly.

“You are one to talk.” Zeezle had recently been chased across three leagues of turf while completely naked. It was an image Vanx was still trying to shake from his mind. He met Zeezle’s eyes then. “I’m going for a swim.”

He had decided the goddess wouldn’t want him to just kill the two leviathans, so he climbed up onto the rail and balanced there. The
Adventurer
held herself as steady as the sea would allow.

“He is serious?” Master Ruuk asked.

“He’s one of a kind.” Zeezle shrugged. “Send me over.”

Vanx dove into the water. He then reached for the crystal hanging at his neck and gave the creatures a warning.

Leave us be
, Vanx said.
Leave us be for your own sake. I can kill you as I please, but that is not what I wish to do
.

Chapter Twenty

Some days it is easy
.

Some days it is hard
.

Some days the luck

just isn’t in the cards
.

S
aint Elm’s Deep had been boring since Chelda and Vanx had disappeared through the tower. Moonsy spent her time drilling with King Longroot’s personal guard, keeping them sharp and ready for when the baby king eventually grew into his boots.

She missed her Chelda and wondered if she was safe nearly every moment of the day. One afternoon, when a pair of sprites approached her, fluttering around her head like butterflies, she tried to duck away. Then she heard their chirpy message, and her heart flooded with hope.

Moonsy hurried down into the Nexus formed by the Heart Tree’s roots to hear what the Troika Sven had to say. The sprites said that the council of ancient elves detected the magic of Vanx Malic. Just the idea that her lover and friends could still be alive was music to her pointed ears.

If the sprite that brought her the news hadn’t confused the message, which sometimes happened due to the flighty, forgetful nature of the creatures, then Vanx had just used the Hoar Witch’s controlling crystal from not so great a distance away.

Moonsy was hoping Elva Toyon, the head of the council, would tell her they were all at Dragon Isle again or similar news. She raced through the Underland caveways until she was among the worshipers gathered in the great cavern around the slightly glowing root columns that formed
the Nexus. Hope was thick in the air, for every fae there loved Vanx of Malic, Chelda, and mighty Sir Poopsalot, who had carried their greatest, General Foxwise Posey-Thorn, into battle against the Hoar Witch and her monsters.

But Moonsy knew hope was sometimes futile.

Gallarael had lost hope. Moonsy heard she was living in Orendyn as the Princess of Parydon, and cared not what happened to her former closest friends. The one time she’d returned, after hearing rumors of Vanx appearing and then returning through the tower, she was hopeful. His not being there broke her heart, which was already broken after losing their child.

Moonsy decided not to judge the woman. She was a changeling and a Princess and had lost her previous lover, her father, a child, and now the hope of her new lover’s return in a short period of time. It all had to add up to confusion at best. Such was the way Moonsy felt when she saw the uncertain looks on the faces of the seven ancients that made up the Troika Sven.

“Slow down, dear,” Elva Toyon, the voice of the council, spoke calmingly. “We felt the Hoar Witch’s crystal being used, but from underwater. This may not be good.”

“Where from?” Moonsy asked, refusing to give up. “Where did you sense them?”

“We sensed the crystal, General. Not them.” Elva Toyon gave her a stern look. “Do not let your emotion cloud your judgment or distract you from your duty.”

“My duty is to go retrieve the Glaive of Gladiolus.” Moonsy’s eyes lit up. “There is a good chance that it was or is near Vanx Malic’s crystal.”

This clearly surprised the Troika, for they hadn’t been thinking about retrieving the baby king’s blade yet.

Elva gave her a wink, and broad smile swept across her face. “See there. There is a need to summon the great hawks. Does anyone disagree?” the leader of the Troika asked the group. “Three, I’d think, as tradition dictates. General Moonsy, pick your successor, then pick two
of King Longroot’s bravest elves. A few of the pixed will ride with you, as our eyes and ears. Gather everything you’ll need for several days of flight.”

“Flight?” Moonsy asked. She’d heard of the great hawks and a great battle the elves had once helped them win. It was a great hawk that had once picked up General Posey-Thorn, nearly drowned at the shore of Three Tower Lake, after he retrieved a shard for Queen Corydalis. In her wildest dreams, Moonsy never thought to ever be flying on one herself.

“Yes, Moonsy,” Elva Toyan said with authority. “From a bird’s-eye view, you will be able to see more than any other way. The great hawks’ vision is especially keen, and since Vanx Malic and the crystal didn’t likely get to be in the sea unless they were just on a ship, maybe we can find them.”

“Now it is you who have confused feelings with duty,” one of the Troika Sven said in what might have been a joking manner. “But the sending wasn’t so deep in the water. After long consideration, we have concluded that he could have been in the belly of a ship. Not physically submerged.”

“That is even better,” Elva said. “You will be looking for a ship, it seems. Now go. The great hawks will arrive in short order. Be ready, up on the Silvermane, with your chosen.”

Moonsy thought about Elva Toyon’s words. She understood the order but not the use of the term Silvermane. It had always been the Shadowmane, but now, since the Heart Tree’s magic flowed through the silver that mostly encased it, the area of protection had been extended, and Silvermane was the perfect term for what it now was.

Moonsy chose Papri for his ability with the bow and Anitha because she was the best young spellcaster King Longroot’s small army had to offer—outside of the Troika and a few ancient elves, that is.

Moonsy chose her successor, too, which was a creepy thing to do. First Captain Briar-Thistle was put in charge of defending the baby, King Chervil Longroot, until her return or in her absence if she did not make it home.

It was all very cryptic as she read the words of the passing of command from an ancient book before a host of fae and Elva Toyon on a shimmering expanse near the silver-coated Heart Tree.

She’d left the Underland before, but with Vanx Malic and General Thorn leading her. This time, she would be in command. The sensation of bugs in her stomach when the great hawks came flapping down made her feel like a mouse in an open field. It was almost overwhelming.

For Chelda and Vanx
, she told herself. She mastered her fear and gave what she hoped was a confident nod toward Papri and Anitha, who both looked as scared as she felt.

Chapter Twenty-One

Some days it’s all honey
.

Some days it’s all blue
.

Some days the luck is so good

that you just can’t lose
.

Z
eezle was high above the water, watching the surface of the sea from the
Ada Rosamond’s
transom railing. He knew his friend could swim, but no one could hold his breath that long. Panic was starting take hold of him, and he peeled off his shirt before climbing to the rail to dive in after him.

He was about to jump in, but Vanx was suddenly at the bow of the
Adventurer
, wet and waving, as the smaller boat moved back into position to tow the larger.

“They’ve gone,” Chelda called from the crow’s nest. “They are swimming that way.”

Zeezle climbed from the rail but looked up to see she was pointing more-or-less in the direction they were about to be going. Luckily, after Ronzon and sea mage Castavonti rigged the ships back together, they were on a different course than before. He didn’t ask Vanx about it until Master Ruuk teleported him back to the deck of the
Adventurer
. He could have asked through the ethereal, but he wouldn’t have been able to exclude Master Ruuk, so he waited.

“Where are we going now?” Zeezle asked once they were out of everyone’s earshot. “What happened with those things?”

“I told them where Nepton wished them to go.” Vanx grinned. “We are heading to the northern side of Pyra’s island, where a most fertile valley full of dragon shit awaits my seed.”

“I thought you were going straight to Gallarael.” Zeezle scratched his head. “She is all you talked about until a few days ago.”

“I told you,”—Vanx’s grin evaporated—“I have to do a few things for my goddess and myself first.”

“Truthfully,”—Zeezle put his back against the rail, leaned on it with his elbows, and crossed his legs—“if we get to port, any port, I’m catching a ship home to Zyth. The destruction there was terrible. It was almost as bad as Parydon. They’ll still be needing hands.”

“You can take the
Adventurer
on to Orendyn, if you wish,” Vanx offered. “You can leave me on Dragon Isle. This tub will return once Gallarael is aboard, with or without a crew.”

“Are we following the will of the ship, your will, or that of your goddess, Vanx?” Zeezle didn’t mean to be sharp, but he was. “You still haven’t told me what we are doing.”

“Here.” Vanx gave him a drawstring-topped, flat leather case. Inside it, Zeezle saw, was the broken piece of the Mirror of Portent he and Chelda had lost when the Paragon Dracus captured them.

“How did you get this?” Zeezle asked before looking into it.

“Poops saw it falling when you first appeared over Harthgar.” Vanx turned away from his friend’s portent and stared out at the sea. “You can have it. I can’t use it anymore.”

“Hmmm,” Zeezle said, not wanting to tell Vanx that he saw them all being surrounded by a small fleet of pirate ships not too far from an unrecognizable land mass.

“I suppose I will stick around until you’ve done what you need to do.” Zeezle patted Vanx on the shoulder. He did his best to conceal his worry until he went below and found his tiny cabin. He had no way to know when his portent would come to pass, but they would be on this ship and near a landmass when it did.

The next day, when Zeezle casually warned everyone to keep an eye out for pirates, Vanx didn’t take it lightly. He didn’t ask his friend about his
portent, though, for he knew the goddess would disapprove of him using the Hoar Witch’s tools for anything, anymore. It was why he’d given Zeezle the mirror in the first place.

He hadn’t given away the controlling crystal, though, for he understood that if it wasn’t used to control, but only to communicate with other species, then it wasn’t a tool of evil.

He and the goddess had an understanding based on faith, not witchcraft. He had to be very careful. He wanted to see Gallarael more than anything, still, but he knew he had to win the favor of his life-giver back before he did anything else.

The goddess had been manipulating his dreams, for they were informative and specific, to the point of him waking feeling as if he’d been instructed on just what to do.

Planting the seed, or more accurately, destroying the amber gem on Dragon Isle, would bring the Zwarvy underneath a Heart Tree, as the Zwarvy near Harthgar now had. These power-filled, deeply rooting trees would bind the world in a more wholesome magic than the strange black towers had. There were several other tree-seed gems that needed to be retrieved and then cracked open in their proper location. Vanx would have to go find them and put them in their place.

His hope was to get Gallarael to Dragon Isle so that she could go with him. Chelda would have to decide between Moonsy and the quest because Moonsy was duty bound, but that was her choice to make.

The
Adventurer
would take Vanx where he needed to go, but he knew the goddess had intended for him to do these things on dragon back—that somehow a failure by him somewhere along the line was the reason Pyra and Kelse were dead.

This began to weigh heavily on him. Only Poops’s random bursts from near dead sleep into barking angst and adrenaline-rushing excitement kept him from slipping into despair. The dog was funny. Sometimes it was naught but a noise that the sea made against the ship that caused him to go off. Other times, it was just a scent on the wind.

No matter what it was that set him off, though, when Poops exploded into a fit of barking, a burst of battle rush and warning shot through Vanx.

He was glad for it, for it kept his mind from going numb. He was reluctant to use the crystal again for fear of the goddess thinking his desire to have Gallarael meet him on Dragon Isle selfish. After all, he had the feeling there would danger there.