Chapter Seven
THE SEA WAS MOONLIT WHEN TERYN and I stepped onto the dock, droplets of salty water falling from the stalactites hanging overhead.
Porgo, the Sandrayan captain of the Simin Draya, awaited us, his thick arms crossed and resting on his round gut.
“What does Simin Draya mean?” I asked in a hushed whisper while Porgo stepped up to take the bags that Teryn and I had packed.
I’d not known what to pack aside from armor, weaponry, and some undergarments.
A package wrapped in dark coarse cloth had been delivered to my room in the barracks after a late midday meal.
A meal in which I had to lie to the men about my whereabouts for the upcoming fortnight.
I’d fabricated some meager tale about taking personal time to tend to a sick aunt.
It was doubtful many at my table had believed me, but they were too well trained to question.
My cousin would be juggling his duties as well as mine, something that should be no issue for Rolim.
The king had named him temporary guard captain, so the mantle was his until we returned with the twins.
Any other outcome was unacceptable. We would succeed or die trying.
The package had contained a note in the bold hand of the ambassador, informing me that my bronze armor—despite how fetching I looked in it—was wholly wrong for the hot, arid conditions of the Black Sands.
In its stead, he had sent along armor crafted from the coil root tree.
His note went on to explain that the sandy brown bark was incredibly strong when fashioned into shields and light armor.
The lighter coloration reflected the sun’s rays, and as an added bonus, the coil root branches dug into the sand to find underground water.
The roots, even when severed, continued to draw moisture from the sands, which cooled the wearer.
Along with the coil root armor were robes of pale white flecked with silver threads as well as slacks, a shirt, and a short cape in soft, satiny black.
I’d never heard of such a tree but was grateful not to have to lumber about in plate mail during the trip.
This journey was not a direct assault. It was stealth and shadow, which immediately had me at a disadvantage as I was neither shadowy nor stealthy.
But I would do my best not to stand out like a sore dick, as Tezen would say.
I desperately wanted to leave word to notify me about the pixie princess’s recovery, but a raven messenger might draw attention as the Sandrayans preferred to use peach-faced cactus parrots.
I would have to wait until we returned to discover her fate.
I would whisper prayers to Ihdos to bless her stalwart heart with a full recovery.
Whether he would hear my requests, it would remain to be seen.
“It means silver sea,” Teryn explained as we boarded the ship.
My boots had barely touched down on the deck when a lurch in my stomach that matched that of the waves appeared.
A discomfort that I ignored, following Teryn to a small area under a tarp with several thick rugs and pillows.
He dropped down to sit, folding his legs into a lotus.
I glanced out of the cave to find the rolling tides painted white.
A creeping sensation of unease tightened my shoulders.
“Come, have a seat. We will discuss our plans and sip some chilled tea.”
I knelt on the rug, then sat, my legs unable to bend into knotted bread as Teryn’s did.
I rested my back against one of the stout poles holding up the canvas.
The creaking of the ship seemed louder than it had a few moments ago.
The rope tethering us to the dock was freed by the captain using a long hook.
The ship thudded against the slimy dock repeatedly.
A fine sheen of sweat appeared on my brow.
From the stern, Porgo began chanting in Sandrayan.
The boat rose up slightly, the glyphs on his skin glowing in a pulsing tandem with the sigils engraved on the ship.
The first lurch from the dock made me feel slightly dizzy.
With his arms raised, Porgo then called upon the winds.
A gust of air blew into the cave, pulling us with speed from the dock. My mouth filled with saliva.
“…considering moving along the eastern shores. It will take us through international waters, which will open us up to marauders, but I think that if we travel by night to allow Porgo to rest during the day, that should minimize our contact with sea raiders.”
I nodded, unsure of what he was proposing. I felt off-balance, hot, and unable to focus.
The ship eased out of the cave in reverse, turning once we had cleared the lip of the cavern. My stomach tightened at the swift spinning. Teryn rambled on, pouring us tea as if we were having a lady’s lunch in the garden with the queen and Lady Merrilyn.
“Yes, of course, that is fine,” I replied, easing from one buttock to the other to try to lessen the acidic burn in my stomach.
Eating so much salted fish and soft goat milk cheese at dinner had been a mistake.
I should have eaten lightly, but I’d been unsure of when I would get food that was not coated in spice and peppercorns, so I had overindulged. A very foolish thing to do.
“Mainlander!” Porgo roared, his inkwork illuminating his face as he turned to look back at me. “Free the sails!” The winds tugged on his bright blue skirt.
“He does know that I have a name, does he not?” I asked, sweat dampening my sleek black shirt, as I pushed to my feet.
“Oh yes he does. He just wishes to tease. It’s all in good sport.”
“Hmm,” I mumbled. The ship crested a wave. My head spun slightly, sending my vision into an odd place where I could not locate the horizon. I staggered to the mainmast, found a rope that I assumed was for the sails, and tugged on it with all my might.
“Mainlander! You need to release the control lines on the mainsheet and the boom vang then luff the sail out.”
“You are speaking gibberish,” I shouted over the slapping waves as the ropes flew free.
The sail blew open, catching the wind, and sent the ship forward in a rush that made my stomach rise into my throat.
Unsure of what end of the sky was up or if land was down, I hugged the mast like a lover as the ship picked up speed.
Teryn called out my name. I wanted to reply but was unable to given I was trying to swallow down curdled fish and goat cheese.
Having completed my task, I wobbled back to the ambassador, sat down, and reached for the small cup of tepid red tea he held out to me.
Sipping it eased the dyspepsia, as did the settling of the ship as it skimmed along the tips of the waves, the ocean breeze now strong at our backs.
“You seem a bit unsteady on a ship,” Teryn pointed out as we moved out to sea, the only lights seen now were the soft runes glowing on the captain.
“I have not spent much time on a boat,” I confessed.
“Aye, that was obvious,” Porgo called over his shoulder. I lifted a lip but remained still. My gut seemed less bilious if I sat still, my eyes on the teacup in my hand, and did not try to cast my sight about. “Mainlanders. Pah.”
Teryn said something in Sandrayan to the captain and patted my knee. I dared to look up from my tea to see his shadowed face illuminated by the subtle radiance of wind whisperer runes alighting both ship and elven sailor.
“Do not take his ribbing to heart. Our fishermen and sailors are a loud and sometimes querulous bunch, but they have good souls.”
“I take no real umbrage. Soldiers are much alike in how they tease those who do not understand the life of a man of battle. How did he come to be in your service?” I asked, fluffing off his worry about my feelings.
I grew up rough, teased and called names by the more affluent children we would meet on the street.
My cousin nor I were tender rosebuds who required protection from the sharpness of a salty sea captain’s verbal pruning shears.
The ship hit a large wave, and even though I was riding higher up on the surface, the rolling settled in my tender stomach, causing me to belch softly.
“That is a story that only Porgo can tell,” Teryn replied, adding a bit more tea to my nearly empty cup. Pot in hand, he tipped his head, the dangles in his ear sliding over his darkly robed shoulder. “You sound odd. Are you not feeling well?”
“I overate at dinner.” I forced a smile as the ship, gold horn now coated in something dark to make us less noticeable as a dignitary vessel, sailed along under the light of two fat moons, leading us further from the shore.
The motion was growing stronger the farther out we sailed.
Finding any comfort from the tea was growing more difficult.
A cool wind on the back of my sweaty neck was a joyous but small consolation.
“Do not mix salted cod with soft onion goat cheese,” I tossed out in an attempt at humor. “I shall be fine shortly.”
I was not fine shortly.
As the ship moved out to sea and took a southerly route to cut through a small spit of land called the Isle of Petrels, my illness grew worse.
By the time we had cleared the small clump of land where dusky sea petrels congregated to nest, I was propped up over the railing of the Simin Draya vomiting violently, lightheaded, and sweating profusely.
Never had I been this sick. My mouth was coated with old fish and sour cheese.
My knees were weak. Bone-deep fatigue pulled at me as I slid ungraciously to my knees.
Teryn, at my side throughout the wretched ordeal, eased me to my feet, his arm around me, and led me to the area under the canvas.