Warrior Mage (Book 1) (25 page)

Yanko had already confessed to pride. That had been what ruined his chances ultimately, but it had been more than that, and he knew it. A need to prove himself to those who had mocked him, and also to those who watched. To his family. “I get nervous when people I know—my family, especially—are watching. There’s this pressure to do well, the knowledge that... since I was three years old and showed an aptitude for the mental sciences, it’s been understood that I would be the one to redeem the family’s honor, to become a powerful warrior mage and serve the Great Chief. Sometimes, it’s hard to be competent with all that pressure trying to squish you.” He knew he had said that word more than once, but even that didn’t seem enough times to emphasize how much he felt the weight of the family’s eyes upon him.

“You were just under pressure,” Dak observed. “If you had failed, the ship would have been enveloped by a fireball.”

“I suppose.” Yanko shrugged. “Is it strange that your own relatives can make you more nervous than angry wizards and vengeful assassins?”

Dak’s eyebrow twitched. “Assassins?”

Yanko debated if he should say more. The rest of the crew had gone back to work, and nobody was around to overhear the conversation. He might not want to let the smugglers know someone wanted to find him—and kill him—lest Minark and the others decide it would be safer for them if Yanko was thrown overboard one dark night, but wouldn’t it be disingenuous not to tell Dak? How could he expect the man to risk his life protecting him when he didn’t have any ideas as to what was coming?

“Perhaps,” Yanko said slowly, “this would be the time to admit that there are some people following me.”

Dak grunted. “I gathered that.”

“There’s at least one warrior mage, and there’s a mage hunter, as well. They attacked my brother, who was delivering a message to me, then burned down the family house. Lakeo and I barely escaped.”

“A message.” Dak must be wondering how scintillating this message could be to cause all this.

Yanko did not think it as scintillating as all of this violence following in its wake implied. All it was now was a promise. Not even that. It was a suggestion of what might be out there. Nothing more. And yet, people were willing to kill for that suggestion.

“Yes,” Yanko said. “It’s from someone important. About something important.” All right, that was vague, but even admitting that made him nervous. What would keep Dak from rifling through his bag one night while Yanko slept? Granted, Yanko had been sleeping in his clothes and with the letter in an inside pocket, but a light touch might still ferret it out. Maybe later, he could see if he could put some small hex on it, to deter snooping. Making wasn’t his specialty, but he thought he could manage something simple.

“I see.”

Yanko hoped he didn’t, not truly. With the Kyatt Islands halfway to Turgonia, he had no doubt that Dak could find a way to relay information home from there. The last thing Yanko needed was for another party to become interested in what he sought.

Chapter 12

Y
anko let out a long relieved breath when he spotted the island on the horizon of a placid blue ocean with not a wave over two feet in height. Both sights were a respite after the last few days. They had survived the magical storm only to run into one provided by nature. Nature’s had been scarier and had lasted much longer.

He sagged against the railing, glad he did not feel the need to throw up over it this time. The captain must have his artifact working again, because the schooner was cutting through the water faster than it should have, given the slight breeze. Minark must not want the mage to catch up with him again. Understandable. Yanko didn’t want to see him again, either, though it might be inevitable, since the other ship seemed to know where they were going. He had no idea how the rebel faction had learned of the letter or of Zirabo’s mission, but he accepted it as a truth that it
did
know.

“Enjoying the calm waters?” came Arayevo’s voice from behind him.

She walked up and rested her elbows on the railing next to him. He did his best not to gaze longingly at her, but he hadn’t forgotten that kiss, even if it had been nothing more than the brushing of her lips against his cheek. “Yes. I’m not sure how many quiet moments I have ahead, so it’s important for my stomach and me to appreciate them when they come.”

She grinned and leaned over the railing, eyeing the hull of the ship. “Yes, you and your stomach are lucky the captain didn’t have you hanging over the side here, swabbing vomit off the paint.”

“Actually, he did. You’re not on the night shift, so you missed it. It was before I worked the bilge pump and after cutting potatoes for that hash that seems to be one of only three meals your cook knows how to make.”

“Well, our cook was a miner before he lied his way into this job. If dinner doesn’t taste like charcoal, it’s a good night.”

“Arayevo...” Yanko bit his lip. He had been trying to think of a way to make this request for days. “I know you have a job here and that you seem to like it—” he tried to keep all judgment out of his voice, even if he believed she could do much more with her life, or at least much more legal things, “—but I wondered if you might like to come with me.”

She tilted her head and regarded him, the breeze blowing a few strands of hair across her face. He resisted the urge to reach out and tuck them behind her ear.

“With you?” Arayevo asked.

“With all of us,” he rushed to add. Yanko hadn’t meant to make it sound like he wanted her to spend the rest of her life solely with him. Not right away. “Dak and me, anyway. As I’ve already told you, we’re on an important mission, sent by someone high up in government. It could mean great social advancement for your family if you were to help us, if that’s something you care about.” It was important to so many Nurians, but Arayevo had never openly hungered for status. “Even if it’s not, it would be a chance to gain favor, perhaps one day be given a job that’s in line with your dreams and your craving for adventure.”

“Hm.” Arayevo gazed at the three islands that had come into view, some with rounded green banks and black sand beaches, others with cliffs rising sharply from the shallows.

Yanko kept his mouth shut, not wanting to push her. He found it encouraging that she had not said no right away. A wistful expression had found its way onto her face. For as much as the sea life seemed to suit her—he had never seen her bent over the railing and experiencing the hash for a second time—maybe this smuggling gig wasn’t quite her dream after all.

“It’s strange that you’re younger than me, but know exactly what you want from life, Yanko.”

“That’s only because my family has been telling me what I want from life since birth,” he said dryly. He had whined to her often enough about how what he wanted and what his family wanted for him were not the same, so he didn’t bring it up again now. Besides, he was growing too old for whining.

“I haven’t decided yet, but I’m enjoying the adventure right now. This adventure. Seeing places, experiencing the world. All these different ports.” Arayevo smiled fondly over her shoulder at the ship and the crew, and Yanko’s hopes sank. “I know you care about the government and who’s in charge, but honestly, I don’t. One great chief means as little to me as the next.”

“For us, in our remote village, maybe it hasn’t been that important who’s leading the Great Land, but the times are becoming more difficult. If we don’t care now and act now... we might not like what our future holds.”

“Then we can leave,” Arayevo said.

“Leave?”

“It’s not as if Nuria is the only nation in the world.”

Yanko tapped his fingernail against the railing. It was not that he hadn’t understood her; it was that he could not imagine walking away from his homeland. He was already agonizing over the fact that he didn’t know what was happening to his kin back in the village. To abandon them and never look back... No, he couldn’t imagine it.

“Your father would miss you,” he said. “And your sister, as well.”

“I would miss them, too, but we can always write. Assuming they’re all right.” A rare wrinkle formed on Arayevo’s brow. “I
am
worried about the village, after hearing what you said. That’s another reason I want to return with Minark, to see if I can find out what happened back there. There’ll be word in port, and if not, I can take a few days and head home.”

Yanko winced at the idea of her traveling inland alone, now that there were rebels roaming the mountains. Why couldn’t she come with him instead? Once they finished, they could travel back home
together
to check on everyone. He had to make one more try,
tell
her that, make her see the logic. “If you were to come with us and we succeed, we’d all be able to go back to the village together, to check on everyone. Maybe the pri—person in government I’m working for would even give us a carriage and a military escort.”

“You’re going to take Dak back to our village?” She smirked at him. “I don’t think he would fit in on your homestead.”

Yanko flushed. He hadn’t been imagining either Dak
or
Lakeo in the carriage with them as they traveled down the coast. Lakeo wanted to stay on Kyatt and study, after all, and Dak would doubtlessly consider his favor redeemed before they got to that stage. Yanko certainly couldn’t stroll into the Golden City with a Turgonian spy at his side.

“Let me think about it, will you?” Arayevo asked. “You said you’re doing some research on the main island here? That you’ll be a few days? The
Falcon’s Flight
needs repairs after the storm, so we’ll be in dock a few days too.”

That was a better answer than he had expected to get. Maybe she was letting him down easy, but he brightened, nonetheless, and said, “Of course. Take your time. Just... there’s one more thing. Have you considered—well, you probably haven’t, but consider this from my perspective. I ran down to the Port of the Red Sky Wars without a plan or any notion of finding anyone I knew. But then—I know this sounds arrogant to say that the gods are helping me, but I feel that more than chance led me to you. And to Dak, as well. There are what? A hundred thousand people in that city? More? What are the odds that I would run into the two of you? Maybe this is meant to be.” Yanko managed to keep himself from saying, “Maybe
we’re
meant to be.” It seemed a stretch to claim the gods wanted him to have a happy love life, but he had been thinking about the rest of it on the voyage, that maybe, just maybe, one of the gods was behind him in this.

“It’s an interesting premise, Yanko,” Arayevo said gently, “but I’ve never been one to spend time praying or studying religious history. I don’t think the gods are that invested in me. I’d believe that they might have an interest in you, though.”

Yanko wasn’t sure she understood his point—he doubted a god was invested in any individual, but maybe one or more had a reason to put together a team that could bring better times to their people. He shrugged. It didn’t matter for now; the argument wasn’t going to sway her. “Gods aside, please watch out for that other ship while you’re doing your repairs. They’re after me—the letter I carry. They should leave the
Falcon’s Flight
alone once we’re off it, but you should still keep an eye out.”

“Always.” She hugged him, then backed up and waved. “They’ll need my help docking, but I’ll see you again soon.”

“Of course,” Yanko murmured.

Thanks to the wind artifact, the schooner had already reached the mouth of the harbor, and the crew was scurrying about, responding to the captain’s orders. Since Yanko’s shift had been during the night, he did not feel compelled to jump in, but he did see Dak pulling at ropes. Yanko watched the shoreline draw nearer, trying to guess which direction the Polytechnic would be. White and beige buildings lined the waterfront and stretched inland for at least a mile before the dwellings grew more sparse with more green interspersed. Here and there, palm, coconut, and eucalyptus trees arose between the structures and in parks, but the port was in the middle of a heavily populated area. More buildings stretched up and down the coast, stopping at the base of a cliff to the west. A dormant volcano rose in the center of the island, with greenery and black lava rock dominating its sides. This was the biggest of the islands, the maps told him, with a population of nearly a million. He would have to find a local map or do a lot of asking around in order to find anything.

As he considered asking for directions, it occurred to him that he did not know a single word of Kyattese. He would not have a guide who spoke the language, either, unless he lucked out and Dak knew it. Did he spy—or do whatever diplomatic things he supposedly did—here, as well as in Nuria? The Kyattese weren’t allies with either Turgonia or Nuria, having fought fiercely, despite their pacifist tendencies, to defend their homeland from occupation. It was a port city, known as a destination for ships from all over the world, so he would hope
someone
would speak Nurian.

Still, his next thought was to realize that all of the research materials in the library would likely be in Kyattese, including anything that referenced this Golden Lodestone. He groaned and rubbed his face. Why hadn’t he realized this earlier? Not that he could have done anything at any point in the trip, but how was he going to recruit someone to translate for him and also dig through the foreign texts? Someone he could trust utterly? He didn’t even trust his own comrades utterly. Neither of them knew the whole truth of this mission.

He sighed and gazed down at the water. The flip of a fin or a tail—something big and dark—caught his eye. It disappeared beneath the water before he could decide what type of fish or shark might be lurking out there. It hadn’t
looked
like a fish, though. More like a snake, but larger. It wasn’t in their path, but out of curiosity, Yanko reached out with his mind. He brushed past hundreds, if not thousands of fish, their auras tiny specks of brightness that lit up the world beneath the surface. A much brighter and larger aura appeared to him, and he grasped the railing tightly, a surge of fear racing through his body. He hadn’t seen a snake but a tentacle, one of many. It belonged to some kind of giant octopus or kraken, and it was as large as the
Falcon’s Flight
. He had heard of such massive sea creatures, but it was hard to imagine them from the mountain forests back home.