The Long Journey Home (The Legend of Vanx Malic Book 8) (3 page)

The underbelly tissue was soft, and the creature’s guts were most likely pulverized and definitely scorched. It went flailing backwards, sinking as the muscles it was using to tread water went slack.

“Now!” Zeezle yelled, and Vanx felt Chelda catch him as he crumpled to the deck, suddenly exhausted from casting the potent spell.

The boat went lurching ahead, and Vanx knew they’d gotten clear. He almost laughed when he opened his eyes looking upward and saw Ronzon in the rigging trying to hold on as the ship rode Zeezle’s potent wind wish, but he remembered Zirk’s grisly death, and the moment lost its humor quickly.

Deep inside, he felt the ship’s redemption. The wallop Vanx had given the sea monster would be remembered forever if it hadn’t killed the bastard.

Chapter Five

On an old barrel keg

in the shade I sat

with a pint of watered ale

and a skinny old cat
.

C
helda used the Glaive of Gladiolus to heal everyone, but poor Zirk was long dead. His remains were far behind them, already being reclaimed by the sea.

The mood was somber, but once the sea mage and Ronzon felt the power of the ancient elven sword, and were granted their request of having Zirk’s full share split between them, their sorrow started to fade.

They didn’t dally. They were clear of the sea beasts’ breeding grounds in a few turns of the glass, and nothing was following them. At least nothing they could detect.

Zeezle used three
wind wish
spells, each of which was said to cost a day off the end of the spellcaster’s life.

“Three days is a cost,” Vanx said jokingly after they were some distance away from where their ship had been laid over like a child’s toy.

“At least we know we will survive a few more days,” Zeezle joked. “Otherwise, I’d have just used up my last few days and dropped dead.”

Once they were back on course, what goods and equipment they’d not lost overboard were lashed down again, and Vanx’s strength was refortified by way of hot food, prepared this time by Chelda.

A little later Vanx also cast two of the wind wish spells, so that they would reach the island on the wizard’s map that much faster. Now, it was full night, but the mysterious island wasn’t that far ahead.

At least it was supposed to be.

Zeezle was up in the crow’s nest with the full set of looking glasses, trying to spot a land mass in the dim, cloud-filled night.

Ronzon said they were fools, and Castavonti agreed, saying that they’d sailed the trade routes all their lives and would have heard of such an island if there was one.

Half the night later, Vanx was starting to believe them. Ronzon was now up in the crow’s nest, ringing a bell and listening for echoes. Zeezle had climbed even higher and was at the top of the mast pole, leg wrapped in the lines to hold him steady as he scanned the pinkening horizon with the scopes, one after the other.

Poops was down in the galley with Chelda, listening intently for the sound of anything falling to the plank floor. But the dog slipped into Vanx’s head when he heard the whistle of a distant shore bird.

Ronzon hushed everyone then. In the following silence, he struck the bell with its hammer, and the chime rang out, carrying over the sound of the waves sloshing along the
Adventurer
’s hull.

Poops heard the echo, so Vanx did too. Then Ronzon grumbled something from above about being wrong about the island.

“There.” Zeezle pointed.

“Land ho,” Castavonti called out.

“Land ho!” Ronzon, Zeezle, and Vanx repeated out of habit.

“We’ll find the lee side and drop anchor after the sun shows us the best place to land?” Castavonti gave Vanx a shrug.

“Belay that,” Vanx said, but was nodding his agreement anyway. “Take us all the way around it. I want to sketch the shoreline in detail. Have Ronzon use his pinger to mind the bottom as we go. Keep us fifteen fathoms or deeper. I don’t want to run onto a reef or anything. Find the calmest lee, but don’t drop anchor until I’ve studied the shape of what we see against the wizard’s chicken scrawl.”

“Aye,” Castavonti nodded, acknowledging to Vanx that he was no longer in command. “Should I have a longboat loaded?” he asked. “How many are going, and for how long. It looks like a pretty big island.”

“Can you cast spells beyond those of your current station?” Vanx asked.

“A few,” Castavonti answered unsurely. “I mean, a few light spells and a protective ward or two; my kinetic pulses have a little thump to them still. I think. At least when I’m rested, they do. I can cast a handful in a day.”

“It’ll have to do.” Vanx gave him a forced grin. “We will need you to help detect the exact location of what we are after and slip the wards if there are any.”

“Ronzon, you’ll stay on board with Chelda Flar. Someone go fetch Master Ruuk. He, Zeezle, the sea mage, and I are going a questing.”

“What about your better half?” Zeezle asked, indicating the dog that just came on deck.

Chelda wasn’t far behind the pooch. She must have heard what he’d said, for her cheeks were an angry shade of red, and she was glaring at him.

“Master Ruuk,” Vanx called down the spiral staircase, suddenly changing his mind about who should go with them. “Ship or shore? I’ll let you decide.”

“I’d just as soon stay right here if you don’t mind,” the Zythian replied. He was clearly pleased about this option, for his words held more enthusiasm than anything he’d said since they’d run into the leviathan.

Vanx had to remember the man had lost his charge, Pexicon, in the battle with the Paragon Dracus. The old Zythian was down there fighting more than sea illness. Grief was an ugly bastard. Thankfully, after singing about a hundred thousand laments, Vanx found that when someone in his world died, he didn’t dwell on the loss but on the good times. He gave them a ballad to live in forever, and that was that.

“That settles it. Master Ruuk and Ronzon will stay behind and guard the ship. The rest of us will go ashore, so pack the longboat with a few days’ worth of provisions and gear while Zeezle and I map this place.”

“That’s more like it.” Chelda’s crimson complexion faded back to normal. “Should I put a harness on the pooch?”

“We have one?” Vanx asked, wondering when they’d have picked up such a thing.

“I threw it in the pile when you were clearing out our credit at the harbor. I think it is for swine, but Poopsy has gotten fat enough to fill it, if I widen the leg holes.”

No leash
, Poops barked.

“Take it with us, in case we have to climb or haul him up a cliff.” Vanx eyed the dog, not seeing any fat on him, but Poops was twice as thick as he was the last time he’d thought about it. “Take plenty of rope, water, and food, too.”

Vanx darted down into the belly of the
Adventurer
then and returned with a charcoal pencil, some parchment, and his lodestone compass.

“Get comfortable, Zee,” he called up to his oldest friend. “Once we are close, I’ll be asking you to estimate all sorts of distances and elevations.”

“Aye, Capt’n Vanxy,” Zeezle joked, as he dismissed Ronzon from the rigging to go help Chelda load the longboat. “Don’t forget to put some bedrolls on that tub,” he told the seaman. “Not all of us have a four-legged heater to keep us warm at night.”

Chapter Six

Some things are hard to find, my friend
,

some places hard to go
.

There’s a reason, most like, they’re so obscured
,

because no one’s supposed to know
.

T
he island was roughly shaped like a bean and resembled the wizard’s map enough that Vanx had his bearings pretty quickly. The lee wasn’t in the natural curve, where sandy white beach met coral-green sea, but at its opposite side on the southern, slightly larger end. There was a cut in a steep rise there, and a less graded, lightly wooded area to land the longboat a few oar strokes away.

Even though the beach looked to be most optimal from the map and the terrain’s perspective, anchoring in the lee protected the ship. Vanx was already spying, with the short glass, a path for them to take up and over the ridge to where the wizard’s map showed its “X.”

“If you camp on the hilltop there,” Master Ruuk said, “we will be able to see your fire.”

“So will everything on that island,” Zeezle said. “This is bigger than Dragon Isle. This place could sustain all sorts of dangerous predators.”

“Our ‘X’ is just over the ridge there, near that old dead tree.” Vanx pointed to a place where there was a dead, grey, tangle-limbed oak amid an area of green pines and firs. Perched on one of its limbs was a yellow-beaked buzzard, and when Ruuk nodded that he saw, the bird squawked at them and lifted away, only to dive down below the ridgeline, beyond their field of view. “You’ll be able to sense the heat rising with the fire smoke
from here, but we will camp on the other side of the ridge in a shelter even if we have to build it.”

Vanx looked over at Ronzon. “Be sure there is an ax and a saw on that rower.”

By midday, Vanx, Poops, and Castavonti were being pulled swiftly toward the island by Zeezle and Chelda’s smooth, powerful oar strokes. When they landed, Chelda distributed the packs evenly. Then, she, Vanx, and Zeezle hauled the longboat up the shore until it was fully above the high tide line. There, she tied it off to a tree, just for good measure.

Vanx drew his sword but let Zeezle lead. Zeezle had a machete, and though he really didn’t need to, he hacked and trimmed a path of signs, that any of them could follow, as they went.

It was thickly wooded, but the trees were of a size to give plenty of space to walk under them. Chelda had to duck a time or two, and there were thorny shrubs that had to be cut away in a few places, but the uphill journey was less of a climb and more of a hard walk. Only Poops had an easy time of it. The dog was elated to be around so many new smells, and he stopped and peed on everything from tree trunks, to rocks, to deadfall.

“Gah, he’s full of piss,” Chelda laughed.

“Piss and vinegar,” Zeezle replied.

“Shhh,” Castavonti hissed. “Did you hear that?”

“‘Twas just a bird or a coon, man,” Chelda scoffed.

“Nah.” Castavonti shook his head. “It was bigger.”

They stood there a while, all looking around, seeing nothing outside of what one would expect to find under a rich forest canopy.

Vanx had submerged himself into Poops’s perception now and couldn’t smell any danger or threat in the air. “I think we can continue,” he said. “Everyone keep your eyes open, and be on the ready. Who knows what lives around here?”

“‘Twas a deer or a big bird, Vanxy.” Chelda shook her head.

The frozen forests were her element, and Vanx knew she was no fool. She was acting cocky, though. She’d smashed the Paragon’s head flat with that dwarven hammer she was carrying, so he supposed she had a reason to be.

“I hope you’re right.” He grinned at her, but gave Castavonti a look that showed he didn’t doubt the man had heard something.

Then a noise carried across the forest.

“Cuck! Cuck! Cuck!” came the sound, deep and guttural and very loud.

“That was no deer,” Chelda admitted quickly. “That is big.”

Castavonti started to say, “I told you so,” or something to that effect, but Vanx pushed his palm over the man’s mouth before he could speak.

They stood there frozen in their tracks. Vanx was fighting Poops’s urge to bark at whatever it was, while trying to get a scent of it, so he could judge its proximity.

Whatever it was, it was downwind, and it stayed away. After a while, Zeezle just started them back into motion. He still hacked a limb here and a branch there, but no one spoke. Poops was uncannily silent as he sniffed everything he came across.

When they topped the ridge, it was late in the day. The scene below them was quite breathtaking, and Vanx took a few moments to gather it in.

There was a bowl-shaped valley down there, with a lake the size of a city collected in its embrace. The trek downhill was going to be easier, for on this side of the ridge, all the way around the crater-like depression, the trees were sparse and the ground was covered in lightly weedy turf.

“We’ll camp there.” Zeezle pointed to a large collection of tumbled rocks a few dozen yards below the ridge line.

It was a good place, Vanx decided after a long look. It would be easier to protect the group if they had the boulders at their back.

For the first time since they’d heard the native creature, Vanx let Poops have his head to go sniff around their prospective camp.

If there was a snake, or a den of badgers or worse, living in the nooks and crannies, then the pup would find it before it found them.

Chapter Seven

If you seek peace and solitude
,

you may or may not find what you’re after
.

But if you seek risk and adventure
,

you’ll always find more than you asked for
.

T
he night was uneventful, save for a short burst of the “Cuck! Cuck! Cuck!” sound around dawn that had everyone on high alert—especially Poops, who was barking out their presence to the whole island, as if it were his now that he’d pissed on it.

Vanx was trying to hush the dog, to no avail, but he managed to gather his bedroll and ready himself for the day. Luckily, Chelda knelt down and began petting the agitated pup. This calmed him enough that Vanx could slip out of the dog’s anxiety-ridden perception and do something he’d been wanting to do for some time.

“I’m going to go piss,” Vanx said. He eased away from the group. Once he was leaning against a tree, he did let loose his britches and urinate, but he was focused on the jagged piece of the Mirror of Portent he’d pulled from his pocket, nothing else.