Soul of the Sorcerer - Part Three: Daughter of the Dragon (22 page)

The journey from Limúarn, the home of the Bremethren, to the adjacent Island of Júarn, home of the hugely appreciated Hurg, now a main demand of Horace Burnaby’s crew, had been immensely tricky for the crew of the Stormracer to navigate.

Although, on a clear day like today, the island was just about visible on the horizon, with a thin veil of white mist clinging to its shores, the trip was not a straight one or one that the Stormracer could take at speed. Luckily, the perilous sharp rocks had been identified by the breaking white heads of the waves.

Horace had immediately lifted all but the very forward sail, to bring the vessel to a crawl and then ordered that the ship’s boat be lowered into the sea; manned by Jerack and four of his albino crew.

This boat was then rowed a hundred feet or so in front of the Stormracer; where Jerack would then take regular depth readings using a knotted rope. Occasionally he would use a device like a periscope to actually check the formation of underwater rocks on either side. Also, sometimes more urgently than others, he would both call out and gesture a course correction.

It had taken four days, in the end, for them to reach their current position, anchored in a sheltered cove on the island.

They had been greeted initially with great excitement; as none had ever known a ship of Stormracer’s size…even though Horace termed it a yacht…make it through the
Teeth of the Shark King
as the islanders called the rocks. This, however, had taken some time to interpret.

The initial joy and excitement had turned to fear though, when they had laid eyes upon Horace’s eight albino crew.

Although their language was different, the word “Bremethren” did not need any translation.

Somehow, though, through the use of some common words and pacifying gestures, including getting the albinos to kneel before the locals, who had appeared from a ramshackle of buildings above the cove, Horace was able to convince them they had nothing to fear.  All he wanted was some Hurg and the knowledge of how to make it.

The town, perched on the cliffs above the sandy cove,
was named “Heethroon” which seemed to translate, as far as far as Horace Burnaby was concerned, to “Fruit of Joy”.

The fruit of joy in question was, of no surprise to Horace, the key ingredient to Hurg which, ironically, he was now successful in translating to “Desire to Drink”.

They had spent several days with the local islanders, in the town; this was a real mishmash of buildings, mostly built from simple materials such as mud and straw, but some were built with a timber frame and filled with a plaster smoothed onto a mesh of long threaded twigs. Horace was slightly bemused that many of the properties he surveyed, reminded him of those in Malaga Bay, where he had originally discovered, the addictive drink.

At first the locals, and especially their leaders, had been reluctant to give up their secret recipes and the fruits, including seeds, which would enable Horace to grow the ingredients back at home; he then could brew Hurg to his heart's content. However, once he had shown them a handfull of mixed gems, and they had picked their mouths up from the floor, they had been surprisingly compliant to his demands and laughably inadequate in their negotiations.

While in amicable mood, Horace had managed to work out that the people of the Island had very few visits from the Bremethren. It seemed they only came once every few summers in an attempt to find new stock to add to either their slaves or breeding pool.  It was only this that drove them to risk the natural barrier around the island, certainly not the Hurg…Horace was both amazed that they did not have an appetite for the addictive drink nor the imagination to work out a more successful way of reaching the island. How could a race with seemingly incredibly powerful magic be so lack in applying it compared to those in Kalana?

He returned to the Stormracer with two dozen kegs of Hurg, four large sacks of the seeds needed to grow the main ingredient, and a grin that made the Cheshire cat seem sad (if Horace Burnaby would have had any idea what a Cheshire Cat was of course), this journey was going to make an already incredible wealthy man incredibly more wealthy! Not that Horace Burnaby did it for the money, of course, it was purely and simply the principle of the thing; he really did treasure the title of Kingdom’s Richest Man you understand!

Back on board the Stormracer, Horace partook of a fresh glass of Hurg, the delightful drink barely touching the sides as he swallowed it appreciatively. He poured himself another and also one for his first mate Jerack, who now climbed up one of the side stairs leading to where Horace currently sat under a little canopy placed over the ships wheel.

“Here you go J, nothing like a shot of the good stuff after a day's successful business.”

“Aye Cap'n” he said appreciatively before knocking back his own glass, beads of sweat lining his skin, from both the heat and the hauling he had been supervising. A sudden loud chatter of excited voices, in the language from the Island of Limúarn, indicated that something was amiss with his albino crew in the cargo hold.

A collection of them now emerged from the hold below, dragging a bedraggled looking figure concealed in robes.

“Master, Captain!” one of the males, whose name Horace failed to recall, dragged the individual further towards the stairs, leading up to where Horace and Jerack stood, the male then pulled off the hood, “BREMETHREN!” he exclaimed lifting up the head of the squinting albino in his grip.

“ZIRON!” Horace said leaping down two steps at a time to reach the frail looking mage, now sitting on the deck.

“Get him some water!” he ordered one of the female albinos, called Silver; this had not been her Bremethren name, which he had found difficult to pronounce and remember, but she had been named it because of the long curly silver hair reaching down between her shoulder blades. The girl returned quickly with a water skin and gently lifted it to the young mage’s cracked lips.

“Slowly” she whispered as he tried to hungrily drain the container. When he could drink no more he looked into her red eyes with gratitude.

“Horace,” he said turning to the wealthy businessman, “I am sorry but I must request your permission to come aboard and join your crew again.”

Horace pursed his lips as he thought through the implications of this.

“Why?” he asked, to gain a bit more time.

“They are monsters” the young mage said earnestly, “they intend to control all aspects of our lives, what we learn, what we do and who we love...their intention is to crush all of those weaker than them, crush them to a point below submission, where any thought of rebellion or fight back is non-existent.”

Horace had detected how sad the young man had been, but even so there was considerable risk to harbouring the fugitive from his family.

“You know they will come for you?” he asked the mage finally.

“Yes, but their ships are dreadful.”

“Yes they are,” Horace responded, “but in helping us rebuild the Stormracer we have given them the fundamentals; which if they have the desire, will enable them to cross the sea in great numbers to search for you.”

Ziron considered this, “From what I know of my family, Horace Burnaby, they will be coming to Kalana as soon as they are ready anyway. I have seen their eyes fill with greed at the sight of your treasures.”

“Yes I sensed this myself young Z. You can stay on board; it’s a shame that you can’t do the wind trick like your brother” Horace said twiddling his fingers in such a way as to reinforce the term magic.

For the first time Ziron smiled in response, “do not worry Horace Burnaby, I have some new tricks to impress you with now”. He too twiddled his fingers at the word tricks.

It took a little less than two days to pass back out through the shark king’s teeth and into open sea. It was here that Ziron demonstrated his new power, while standing on the poop deck, at the stern of the ship.

The young mage stared at his wielder font as it undulated around itself in a sickening spin. The command words were, as ever, on the tip of his tongue; but he knew now, from experience, that trying to apply the rigid controls on magic that he had been brought up with, would only cause the wielder font to collapse back into its old soul portal sphere.

Behind the Stormracer the water began to lift and with it the hull of the vessel; there were a few cries of panic from the crew as the stern of the yacht lifted, causing the deck to slant downward and the vessel to lurch forward.

The tilt of the vessel did not change as it attempted to race down the wave created by Ziron. As the wave moved with the ship, both steadily increased in speed.

Horace gripped the rear hand rail, near the mage, and grinned with excitement “Jerack! It’s not got the natural feel of the wind about it, but bloody hell it’s exciting!”

Lloyd and Allen made their way through a tight cobbled street bizarre; with long shadows cast by the freshly risen sun. It was very early and most stall holders were still setting up. Lloyd had woken Allen early, with a heart so full of love and excitement, that he felt his feet hardly touched the floor.

He had been tempted to wake Edala for an early morning cuddle but she, along with Bethany, had not stirred when he opened their bedroom door with a loud creak.

Instead, he decided that he wished to buy her a gift, a very specific gift…an engagement ring. As Allen had spent many years in the city, Lloyd had decided that he would know the best places to go. The young soldier now led the way through the street full of vendors to another street that intersected it. This one did not have stalls packed onto the cobbled road, allowing for easier passage.

The shop fronts seemed a little grander than those in other streets and this was because, Lloyd realised, the shops only sold one type of item; jewellery of all types and sizes, catering to those with the poorest of budgets or those who could afford the rarest of metals and gemstones.

“I remember buying my Mother a ring for her funeral, in a shop just up here on the left” the young soldier gestured. Lloyd paused “Your father bought a ring for your Mother to wear when she was buried?” he asked confused.

“Yes, it is custom here in the empire, to bury loved ones with a final gift to show your love”

Lloyd shrugged, still confused at what he deemed a waste, and headed up the left hand side of the road. They reached a shop with half of its front window dedicated to rings, and the other half dedicated to pendants and necklaces. The black iron door to the shop was wedged in the open position and the two young men marched in.

“Lloyd Brook!” Amelia’s familiar voice and face greeted them. The tall blonde, daughter of Ingemar, was currently in conversation with the shop owner, a broad short man, with thin greying hair and round spectacles.

“Amelia, what are you doing here?” Lloyd asked the tall beauty.

“I am just trading some of my work for some raw materials, with my colleague here. And what brings you two young scoundrels out so early?” she smiled.

“I would like to buy Edala a ring, an, err, engagement ring” he replied blushing.

“Oh, I see” she smiled, the smile was then replaced by a serious frown, “I take it you have asked our father for her hand in marriage?”

“Err, no, not yet...I will cross that bridge when I come to it” he replied with a cautious smile.

A smile returned to her face “I think I have something here, it is simple, but on Edala’s hand it will be a thing of beauty.

She reached into her basket and pulled out a gold band which had an emerald set within it.

“Yes I like it” Lloyd said inspecting the ring.

“Wait” Amelia said to Lloyd, before turning to the shop keeper. “Can I borrow your engraving machine please my friend?” She smiled a disarming smile at the man.

“Why of course mistress Amelia” he replied opening a door at the back of the storefront leading into a workshop, Amelia and the others followed the man in. The tall woman then sat at a strange looking table where a three stage steel arm, supported by wires from the ceiling, dangled in front of her, a head like a pencil at its end. Under the bench were two pedals linked to a shaft and gearing. She placed her feet on these and began to peddle, slowly at first, as the Diamond Tip at the end of the pencil, began to spin with a high pitched whining noise.

She then placed the ring in a small grip and began to carve out some symbols which Lloyd could not make out on the ring. Each time the Diamond Head bit into gold the pitch of its sound lowered, and then lifted again, as Amelia moved the pen away to begin working on the next part of her masterpiece.

Finally after a few minutes, she handed Lloyd the ring, which now felt warm to the touch. He inspected her work and smiled in appreciation at the tiny dragon with the female, circle and cross, symbol next to it, both sitting on the right hand side of the emerald. On the left of the gemstone sat the four interlinking circles which meant Sorcerer and the circle and arrow symbol meaning male.

“How much do I owe you?” Lloyd asked.

“This is my gift to the two of you with my love” she said standing up and hugging him with a kiss on the cheek.  Lloyd found hugging a woman taller than himself quite a surreal experience.

The three of them then headed back towards the sister’s home.