Exiles of Forlorn (17 page)

“Do you think he’s crazy?” I asked as we huddled close; we couldn’t risk being overheard. This was a ship of desperation, after all.

“Maybe,” said Uller, holding his hand to his stomach. “But I believe him.”

Blackfoot nodded. When my eyes fell upon her, so did Reiwyn. I looked at Antioc. “What about you?”

He shrugged slowly. That was as much as I was going to get out of him at the time.

“What have we got to lose?” asked Uller. He looked impatient, as though he may need to run off and let go over the rail again.

“Quite a bit, actually,” I replied, feeling the need to provide a critical voice to this. “You’ve heard the stories about cannibalistic giants and horrible walking fish in the forests of Forlorn. To say nothing of the pirates. We’re not adventurers. If we go trekking about in those forests, we’re liable to get smashed or eaten . . . or worse.”

“Those are just stories,” said Reiwyn.

“What if they are?” I opened my hands. “Let’s say they’re stories, and the forests are as serene and pleasant as those in Bulorwai. If so, another team of adventurers, far more qualified than any of us, would have already found the place and plundered its riches. And then what’s in it for us?”

“You don’t understand,” said Antioc, slowly shaking his head. “There is more to this than treasure. This is the old graybeard’s legacy. If Xanas Muir is never found, he dies a fool. His life wasted.”

“His life was already wasted. Us refraining from following his madness doesn’t change that.”

“But if the city were found already, wouldn’t he know it?” asked Blackfoot.

“He’s right,” said Reiwyn. “The graybeard knows everything about this place. If another group of adventurers had plundered it, surely he’d have found evidence of it already.”

I stroked my chin. She had a point. A very compelling point. Forlorn was not long known to the lands of Morment and Illyr. It had been discovered by accident, and wasn’t even added to some official sea maps. The colony there was less than a decade old, and it was unlikely that many adventurers wanted to brave the forests and treacherous volcanic mountains on the off chance there was some treasure buried there. Forlorn was an unremarkable place, so named because it was at the furthest edges of Eios. No one went there willingly. We certainly weren’t. Why would anyone else? Roren Fullstag would, with his crazy theories about a long lost city of treasure and knowledge buried in the forests at the base of a volcano. He was old, but he certainly didn’t seem mad.

There was a more salient argument to be made here. Finding Xanas Muir meant being the first to uncover its treasure. If the graybeard was to be believed, the Muir had untold riches hidden away in the ruins of their city. With wealth like that, we could return to Morment, buy our pardons, and live out our days as rich as kings.

More importantly, everyone else seemed ready to do it. Reiwyn and Blackfoot made sense. A pirate and thief, it was only sensible they’d be hungry for a bit of adventure. Uller was surprising. He was even less suited to quests than me, but he was a student of the arcane. Ancient secrets held innate appeal to him, especially if they promised a return from exile. And then there was Antioc. He was a brave soul. A little adventure would never frighten him off, especially if it meant getting to return home.

There was more, though. There had to be. Why was I even considering this? It was a gamble, to say the least. Even ignoring the legends and rumors of man-eating giants and beasts, travelling through virgin forests to find something that may not have even been there seemed ludicrously unwise. I’d never even been camping, and I ventured none of my companions save Antioc ever had, either. Sure, Blackfoot was street smart, but where we’d be going there wouldn’t be any streets. Uller was city born, and spent more time around books than trees. I grew up in a castle, with most of my needs met for me by my father’s servants, and the only station I’d held was at a fort. Reiwyn was certainly handy with a bow, but she was more at home on the deck of a heaving pirate ship than chopping through unexplored forests.

It was foolishness, plain as that. And I knew they wouldn’t go along with it if I didn’t agree. I was the leader, naturally, but there was more than that. Antioc was sworn to me, so wherever I went, he went as well. There was little chance that the rest of them would want to go anywhere even remotely dangerous without his muscle to protect them. At least Uller and Reiwyn would see it that way. Blackfoot would do whatever the river woman decided; he’d latched onto her like a surrogate sister. So, I was certainly in no danger of losing them if I decided against following the graybeard’s quest.

And yet . . . 

“Fair. Let’s do it.”

I’d like to say there was something nobler at stake. In time, I would claim I didn’t like the idea of the graybeard dying with an unfulfilled legacy. I would also claim I felt bad for my friends and wanted the treasure so we could buy our pardons and return to civilization. On the contrary, most would assume baser motivations: I wanted to be rich. That was fairer. In truth, I did it because Reiwyn wished it. I could see it in her sky-blue eyes. In the way she watched me, almost trembling with the anticipation of my decision. You can take the girl away from the pirates, but you can never take the pirate away from the girl. She needed this. She needed the excitement, the adventure, the promise of gold. It made her happy, and in the end that was the most important thing to me in the world.

Everyone was excited, letting out cheers and patting each other’s backs. Antioc patted Uller a little too hard, forcing him to run to the edge of the deck again. They laughed as Antioc apologized, but all I could do was watch her. I was captivated by her. I’d made her happy, and that was probably the single most wonderful thing I’d ever done.

14.

M
elvon was swinging his pudgy little arms far too close to my drafting table. “How are we supposed to get the crops in if you keep taking all my workers to build your Daevas-blasted walls?” asked the little, round man with his gruff, rock-garbling voice.

I put my hands on my table, really no more than a flattened chunk of wood atop four vertical logs, and looked at him. “If I don’t get these ‘Daevas-blasted walls’ built it won’t matter how many crops you bring in. Your workers will find new employment as slaves in Ket.”

He put his hands on his hips. “You said you could have it done in three weeks.” He pointed at the empty frames and hanging supports that stretched from the northern to eastern borders of the settlement. My workers were busy carrying logs to the builders as they hammered and dug with about as much skill as could be expected from the workforce I had available. “We’re well into month two and your wall is little more than a dream.”

I placed a pencil behind my ear and scratched the side of my face. “No, I said the last time I built a wall it took three weeks. Those were under ideal circumstances. I had a team of skilled builders. What have we got here?” I gestured to my crew, such as it was, hammering wooden pegs into rough cut slots to support the framework for my new walls. “I have crop pickers, farmers, a
few
soldiers, and a bunch of menial laborers endeavoring to construct what I think by all measures of the word would be considered a work of brilliance.”

Melvon just stared at me. He was a petulant little man, that quartermaster. “You could have just fortified the wall we already had. You’d be done by now if you hadn’t torn it down and started anew.”

Antioc walked up while we were talking, hefting a log on his shoulder like it was as light as paper. He dropped it at Melvon’s feet, making the little man jump back with a shriek. Antioc took his place beside me and crossed his beefy arms over his chest.

“The old wall wasn’t fair,” I explained, pointing my hand-made ruler at him. “In fact, I would barely consider it a wall by the way I understand the term. More of a pile of sticks propped up by mud, old rope, and faith.” I turned my attention back to my table and the roughly drawn schematics I’d pinned there. “This wall will be better.”

“Yes, it will be quite lovely. At least we’ll have a pretty wall to look upon as we’re starving come winter.”

I didn’t look at him when I said, “Arn has personally asked me to erect this wall. If you have a problem with it, perhaps you should take it up with him?”

Melvon bit his tongue and stepped away. I heard him muttering under his breath as he left, barely audible over the sound of his little feet pounding the earth. I looked at Antioc; he grinned. I grinned back and returned to my work.

Melvon was right about one thing: the wall was taking longer to construct than I anticipated. Arn had enthusiastically agreed to my plan, especially after the latest attack. When I’d rolled out my schematics and showed him the wall I wanted to build, his entire face had lit up. It was worth it just to see how excited he got. “You can build this?” he’d said, holding a cup of
un-uo
in one hand and pointing at my sketches with the other.

I remember chuckling. “Of course I can. Walls are simple things, really. They need only do one job: not fall.”

I was paying for my hubris this day. While I’d made amazing progress under the circumstances, I was still far from reaching my goal of a strong wall worthy of the colony. I took a deep breath and scanned the line of my wall. It was all frame, no sides or top. Despite the plentiful supply of lumber from the forest, it was taking longer to accumulate resources than I had planned. Arn had approved only half the work-force I’d requested, insisting that we couldn’t divert too many workers from the farms lest we not have enough food come the winter season. I’d not considered that; I didn’t plan on being there come winter.

I could have made a half effort of it, sped things along and made a wall that looked good enough to past cursory inspection. That would have fulfilled my obligation and gotten us on our way. A lesser engineer might have done that. There weren’t a lot of things I cared about in this world, but I cared about my work. If I was going to build a wall, it was going to be a wall that stood. It would stand when we left for Xanas Muir, it would stand when we sailed from this place with our coffers bursting with treasure. And if we deigned to return some fifty years hence, it would be standing, still.

I wiped sweat from my brow and looked at Antioc. “How goes the logging?”

“A worker got hurt,” he said, opening the cap on his waterskin.

“Again?” I whined. He drained the skin and wiped his mouth with the back of his arms as he nodded. “Which one.”

“Toogk.”

“The Wesdentishman?” Antioc nodded. I sighed. “How? He’s so strong?”

“Strong is one thing, but he’s a fighter, not a logger. It takes more than bravery and brawn to take down a forest, Lew.”

I put my hands on my head and ran my fingers through my curly black hair. It was getting long again. I’d need to have Reiwyn go to work on it with her dagger before too long. As much as I enjoyed the idea of spending time with my river woman, I didn’t care for the haphazard way she cut my hair. All jerking and chopping. I might just go the way Blackfoot had gone and have her shave it all off. I’d never been bald before, and wasn’t sure it would be a very good look for me. I supposed I could have just shaved the sides, like Antioc had taken to doing. The rest he wore tied up in the back so it looked short in front. It looked good on him, but I wasn’t sure I was tough enough to make that look work for me.

Antioc was right. I didn’t have enough loggers. That wasn’t anybody’s fault, there just weren’t that many of them living here. I had plenty of disgraced soldiers and a few conscription-dodgers with past lives as laborers, but not too many people who actually knew how to take down trees safely. Arn had allowed me to select my own crew. I’d decided that since the resource collection aspect of this endeavor would be the most labor intensive, I’d assign it to Antioc and a team of the toughest looking people this place had to offer. I figured if they were strong enough to fight, they’d be strong enough to bring down trees and carry logs. I was a fool, and that is no easy thing for me to admit.

Using soldiers for labor had other consequences as well. Since the old wall was gone, the guards were the first and last line of defense against anyone sneaking into the colony. Ferun certainly wasn’t happy about that. He had to triple the guards to patrol the eastern border at night, walking the perimeter with torches all night. Because I’d taken so many of his best, he had to call up the reserves, which meant depriving Melvon of farmers, crop-pickers, and fishermen. I wasn’t making many new friends with this chore.

I sat a smooth rock down in the middle of my sketches and pulled a waterskin from my belt. I’d built my workspace in the shade, but as it was growing cooler by the day, that consideration was turning out to be pointless. Soon, the changing of the seasons would bring a cold wind from the north. The rains would come, followed by the freezes. Being that close to the ocean meant it rarely ever got dangerously cold, but it still made farming anything that grew above ground impossible, and the redfish swam up the river too far for the fishers to catch. I’d only heard about winter here, never actually experienced it. Daevas willing, I’d be on a ship loaded with treasure on our way back to Morment by then.

I took a long, lustful drink from my waterskin. Sure, I wasn’t doing any of the actual building, but it was still enough to work up a thirst. I had just squeezed the last drops out of the skin when I noticed people were starting to make their way toward the beach. I didn’t pay it much mind until I saw some of my workers putting down their wooden mallets and dropping logs to join them.

“What the Daevas is going on?” I said, trying to get someone’s attention. “We’ve still got three hours of sunlight left to work!”

Blackfoot ran by. I waved him down, and he stopped in front of us. “New arrivals! Five boats of them!”

Antioc and I exchanged looks as Blackfoot scampered on. We tucked away our waterskins and followed, rushing down to the waterfront almost fast enough to keep up with our little friend. Thick brown dirt roads turned to white sand when we arrived. The crowd gathered at the edge of the beach, looking down at Arn, Sharkhart and Ferun as they watched the boats come ashore. I saw Reiwyn down there with them, standing next to Ferun, of course; that never stopped burning. Melvon made his noisy way through the crowd to join them.