Rise of the Blood Masters (Book 5) (20 page)

Tallin chuckled. “That’s just an old sailor’s tale.”

“It’s not!” said Mugla adamantly. “There’s a lot of truth in those tales. The sea has a dark temper and it would do well for ye to show some respect.”

Surprised by her brusque tone, Tallin decided to listen. “Well, we have some time. Why don’t you tell me one of those old sailor stories?”

Pleased with the suggestion, Mugla replied, “Good idea! What do ye want to hear?”

“Tell me about the sea,” said Tallin, pulling a piece of dried meat from his saddlebags. He ate it slowly and sat down to listen. As soon as Tallin was settled, she began her tale.

“Long ago, when the land of the elves was still part of Durn and before humans walked the earth, a bountiful harvest season passed, and Saekonungar the sea god was born. Saekonungar’s mother was Golka, the dark goddess of war. His father was Bannus, the jolly god of festivals. That’s why the sea is so temperamental. Saekonungar’s father only wanted to have fun and make merry, while his mother only wanted to fight and make war. Eventually, Saekonungar grew tired of his parent's bickering, and he left to go live in the bottom of the sea. That’s why the sea god is both generous and spiteful at the same time. In one breath, he will push fish into yer net, and in the next breath, he’ll crush yer boat. Sailors know this, and that’s why they always spit over the stern, in order to give the Lord of the Ocean something of themselves, in the hope that the sea god will give them calm seas in return.”

“Hmm,” said Tallin. “Nice story. I don’t remember that one from my childhood.”

“Ye wouldn’t have. It’s a story that I learned during my travels. Dwarves are creatures of the earth, not of the sea. Our people dwell in the mountains, so the sea god is not worshipped by us, but ye should still respect him when ye are in his lands. Just because Saekonungar isn’t
yer
god doesn’t mean he isn’t important to somebody.” She grew quiet after that, drawing her blanket up to her chin. Tallin thought she’d fallen asleep.

It was dark now. Only the dim light of their small campfire illuminated their surroundings. But then she said, “I’m going to say a little prayer to the sea god tonight. I think ye should do the same. Crossing the Black Sea is difficult, even when the water is calm, and we could use the sea god’s help.” With that, she turned around and fell asleep.

Tallin tried to sleep, but couldn’t. His mind wouldn’t let him relax.
Am I doing the right thing?

Now that they’d come so far, he felt riddled with doubt. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, risking his life and his aunt’s life on what now seemed like a very risky plan. After hours of tossing and turning, he finally fell into a restless sleep, troubled by dark dreams.

Tallin awoke the nest morning with the elves standing over him, shaking his shoulder.

“Wake up, halfling,” said Carnesîr. “We’re here. It’s time to go.”

Tallin sat up and threw off his blanket. All that remained of the fire was a mound of ashes. “When did you arrive?” he asked.

“Just now, as the sun was rising,” said Amandila. “We ran through the night. I saw the smoke from your campfire from a distance.”

“Do any of you wish to rest awhile?” asked Tallin, rubbing his eyes.

Though all of them looked weary, Carnesîr replied, “No. We are close to the end of our journey. We’ll rest later, on our way to the island.”

Mugla took that moment to pop up from her sleeping place, crouched behind some tall grasses.

“Hell-ooooo!”
she shouted at the top of her lungs, and cackled when all three of the elves jumped with surprise. She had been completely covered, and she was so small that she looked like a roll of blankets.

Carnesîr’s face went pale. “Mugla!” he cried, “What are
you
doing here?”

Tallin’s eyebrows shot up. “You two know each other?” He hadn’t expected that.

Mugla hooted, “Oh yes, Carnesîr and I go way back, don’t we, ye scheming old tramp? We were in the war together. Do you remember those times? Not all of them were
good
times, mind ye.” Her voice was taunting.

“She can’t come with us,” said Carnesîr firmly.

Tallin stood up. “Why not?”

“Yea, why not?” said Mugla with a toothless grin. “Sorry to disappoint ye, but you can’t stop me. I’m coming along, whether ye like it or not.”

Carnesîr blinked, taken aback. ‘‘Why, you simply can’t. I forbid it!’’ His words trailed off in sputters and gasps.

Tallin couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Carnesîr is really upset over this—genuinely upset!

“Oh, grow up, Carnesîr!” Mugla snapped, poking the elf’s chest with her bony finger. “Ye can’t stop me from coming along.”

Carnesîr’s face turned almost purple with rage. “How dare you speak to me so disrespectfully!”

Tallin noticed that Fëanor was smirking. Amandila covered her mouth with her hand so Carnesîr could not see her laugh.

Mugla enjoyed the elf’s rising discomposure. “Ye’re such a toffee-nosed gobbin. This mission is about savin’ the dragons, and if we’re lucky, getting’ rid of a few nasty assassins along the way. This mission is
not
about putting another feather in yer cap or pleasing yer snotty queen, do ye understand?”

Carnesîr raised a trembling finger at Mugla’s face. “I refuse to allow this foul-mouthed dwarf to accompany us. I refuse!”

“Nonsense,” said Tallin, “Mugla’s visited the island. She knows the terrain and the location of the temple. Her knowledge is useful to me.”

“Fëanor’s been there, too! We don’t need her to come along!” Carnesîr argued. His hands were clenched into trembling fists by his side.

“Well, it’s not your decision, it’s mine,” Tallin said. “And I say she’s coming. If you don’t like it, then you can turn around and go back to Brighthollow by yourself.”

Carnesîr’s face turned a rainbow of colors as an internal battle raged within him. After what seemed like an eternity, he responded. “Fine,” he spat. “That’s perfectly
fine!
But don’t blame me when she ruins this mission with her careless attitude!”

Tallin bit his cheek to keep from laughing. The elf’s anger was so overblown that it was ridiculous.

“I’m going down to the dunes. I’ll hire the boat.” Carnesîr shot Mugla a withering stare and pushed past them, walking toward the beach.

Mugla couldn’t resist sticking it to Carnesîr one last time, and shot a final insult at his retreating back. “Eh! Where’re ye going in such a hurry, ye stuffy bastard? We’re just starting to catch up on old times!” Tallin couldn’t hold back after that and doubled with laughter.

Carnesîr ignored them all and kept walking, his back rigid with anger.

Tallin started cleaning up the camp and packing away the blankets. In the meantime, Mugla introduced herself to the other two elves.

Amandila and Fëanor were aloof, but polite, and didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Carnesîr seemed to hate her. Tallin made a mental note to ask Mugla about her gripe with Carnesîr later, when they could speak in private.

At that point, Duskeye left, going back to Shesha’s cave to help her guard the nest. The remainder of their journey would be by sea until they reached the island of Balbor. Tallin didn’t like the thought of traveling to Balbor without his dragon, but based on Mugla’s prior warnings, he knew he couldn’t risk it.

They arrived at the beach an hour later. Carnesîr was waiting for them on the shoreline, near a little sailboat tied to the dock. It was still early, and they were alone on the shore.

The ocean sounded like the breathing of a giant; the unceasing roar was audible even from a distance.

“Are you sure that boat is big enough for all of us?” Fëanor asked. “It looks rather small.”

“It’s big enough,” replied Carnesîr. “I checked it.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” said Mugla, prodding the elf in the ribs. “It doesn’t look nearly big enough for your ego!” She cackled and slapped her knee. The other two elves giggled.

“What’s… your… problem, dwarf?” said Carnesîr through clenched teeth.

Mugla smirked and tossed her hair like a young girl. “Ha! Nothing’s wrong, nothing at all.”

Carnesîr huffed and walked away. Tallin glanced at his aunt and noticed the crafty look on her face. She grinned back at him. She was definitely enjoying this.

They walked onto the dock and climbed into the sailboat. It was a simple vessel, with only a small cabin, a single mast that went straight up from the bow, and one big triangular sail. There were several small barrels of fresh water, but no food. Carnesîr anticipated the question and said, “The man who loaned us the boat gave us plenty of fishing poles and lures.”

Tallin shrugged. He supposed they could fish along the way. Tallin moved to the back of the boat and used an oar to push the boat away from the dock. There was a hush on the dock as they moved silently into the water. Mugla sat alone near the mast. The three elves huddled together at the front of the boat. Tallin stood at the rail, looking back at the shore as they moved out to sea.

There was no turning back now.

The elves spoke in whispers, and then, only in elvish. Sometimes it looked as if they were speaking, but their mouths weren’t moving at all.

None of them spoke very much, even Mugla, who was now oddly subdued and lost in her own thoughts. “Five days,” she said cryptically then spoke no further. They sailed day and night, taking turns on the night watch while the others slept. The ocean looked vast and empty.

The next morning, Tallin’s stomach pinched with hunger, so he grabbed a fishing pole and tried his luck. He’d never done much fishing, but he was able to catch several while the sun was rising. He gutted the fish on deck, saving the entrails for later to use as bait. He skewered the fish and cooked it himself, using a magical flame. Mugla did the same.

Tallin offered fish to the elves. Carnesîr and Amandila refused, but Fëanor accepted one fish and ate it without cooking. Steering by the stars, they sailed for five days before the island came into view. Balbor sat on the horizon like a huge black plate. “Go north,” said Mugla. “The southern coast is crawling with frigates.”

Tallin changed their course and waited for nightfall before approaching the island. That night, the water darkened, and the sea became choppy. The boat rocked back and forth in the tumultuous waves. Tallin grabbed the oars and struggled to keep the sailboat steady.

Soon they were battering their way into a rising storm. His stomach began to send warning signals, and he watched Amandila jerk herself to the edge and vomit over the side. The sea was churning wildly, pounding over the deck. The water stung their faces and arms. All of them were soaked to the skin. Jagged lightning bolts flashed in the sky, and one hit dangerously close to the boat.

“It’s the wards!” cried Mugla. “This boat won’t take much more! We’ve got to get to shore!”

“We’re still too far out!” said Tallin.

“I can do it,” said Fëanor, his lips set in a grim line. He stood up on the deck, and raised a glowing hand into the sky.

“Sefask!”
he cried out, and a bubble of dazzling white energy surrounded them. The boat steadied, and became still. Directly underneath the boat, the water was like glass. But all around them, outside the bubble, the ocean churned and boiled.

Fëanor gasped, “Grab the oars! Move quickly! These wards are powerful and I don’t know how long I can hold on!” His face was a mask of pain, and a feverish pulse throbbed at his temple.

Everyone grabbed an oar and started rowing furiously, trying to draw the boat out of the brutal current. Fëanor cried out and fell to his knees, but his spell didn’t falter.

“Row faster!” cried Tallin. The boat lurched, shuddered, and moved forward. They finally reached a darkened beach on the northwestern side of the island, and Fëanor collapsed, tumbling over the side of the boat and into the water. Tallin jumped out, pulled the unconscious elf from the water and carried him to the shore.

Seconds later, Fëanor woke up in a daze, coughing dirty water.

“We made it,” said Tallin. “Thank you, Fëanor.”

The elf nodded and stood up. “The wards are stronger now than before. We shall have to be more careful when we leave this place.”

There were no seabirds anywhere, and the beach was deserted. The night was incredibly dark, and the beach was shrouded in heavy fog. The shore was littered with brown seaweed, and wood flotsam drifted onto the surface.

“Push the boat back out into the sea,” said Mugla. “Make sure that it sinks. We can’t afford to have it discovered in the morning.”

“But if we destroy the boat, how will we get back?” asked Amandila.

“We’ll worry about that later,” said Mugla. “It’s more important that our presence is not discovered. Trust me.”

Carnesîr gave a slight nod, and Fëanor kicked the sailboat back out to sea. It went far with a single push. He muttered a short spell under his breath, and a large wave rose up to tip the little sailboat onto its side. With another wave, the sailboat flipped over completely. 

Carnesîr threw a firebolt at the upturned hull, blasting a hole in its side. The ship sank slowly to the bottom. “Let’s be on our way,” he said quietly, and they walked off the beach together, entering a thin forest beyond the bluffs.

“We must travel only at night,” Mugla cautioned, “by moonlight. We mustn’t be seen.”

They traveled swiftly, only speaking out loud when absolutely necessary. The elves raced through the trees, while Tallin brought up the rear. Mugla kept up as best she could.

They made camp in the forest, stopping just before sunrise. Tallin prepared a meal from the remainder of the fish he had caught before, supplemented with some wild berries they had found along the way. They took watch in pairs, too cautious to build a campfire, despite the cold temperatures. They slept during the day under a concealment spell.

Tallin foraged what he could along the way, finding a few mushrooms and edible wild plants. He shared everything with Mugla, but overall they ate very little. He wasn’t concerned with his appetite. He didn’t think he could eat much, even if it was available to him. The elves seemed to eat nothing at all, although they did stop frequently to drink.