Chapter 49


    Sea Monsters Aren’t Real


    It was a much smaller group than the last time Femira had passed through Heraldport. She and Selyn were wearing their black bloodshedder uniforms. Landryn and his two personal guards, were similarly in black although Landryn’s was a finer cut and the dark metal of his armour cast him as an impressive figure on the back of his horse as they waited for the cliff-side lift to lower for them. Majestic was the word that came to mind when she looked at the horse, it had a white mane, and fur around the hooves but otherwise was a deep black.


    “His name is Champion,” Landryn said when he caught her admiring the horse.


    “He definitely looks the part,” she noted. She was riding a reddish horse this time, she liked the one she’d been given for the last mission but this one seemed a lot more attentive to her commands and not simply following the group. Or it could be that I’m just a better rider now. Yeah, that was likely it.


    “He matches your armour,” she commented, her eyes running over the intricate plates of black metal. It looked expensive, but then again he was a prince so of course it would be. It was the kind of fancy armour that she wouldn’t even bother stealing back when she was a thief. It was too identifiable and there’d be no pawner or shady merchant willing to take it off her hands. Lichtin probably would’ve just melted down the metal and sold it but then it would’ve lost that impressive black effect.


    It didn’t look to be painted and she didn’t know any kind of metal that was completely black like that, it also didn’t seem to reflect any of the light. Lightly, she extended out her edir and was surprised when there was no vibration of response from it. Strange. Metals general had a duller—more reluctant—response to her edir, but this was completely silent. Almost as though it weren’t metal at all. It was more like the empty response of a runestone—or something organic?


    “What kind of metal is that?” She asked, now intrigued, “I don’t recognise it.”


    “I don’t think there’s many who would know it to see,” he gave her an amused smile, “it’s nythilium.”


    “Nythilium?” she echoed, cocking her head.


    “You’ve not heard of it?” His eyes widened slightly in surprise, “I’d thought that there were some relics of nythilium in possession of the Keiran.” Shit, would Annali have known would this was? She racked through her memories of valuable items she’d stolen over the years—and the jobs that Lichtin had considered too risky for anything that sounded similar. She recalled a disgraced highborn man that had wanted the crew to steal an old family heirloom that his family home. It had been described as a very valuable and rare knife. What had he called it? A nightblade? It was definitely something that had made her roll her eyes.


    “Do some people call it night metal?”


    “Possibly,” he conceded, “I’ve heard people refer to swords made from it as shadowblades.” That was it! The man had wanted us to steal his family shadowblade.


    “Ah,” she replied, “yes. It’s quite rare from what I know… It doesn’t respond to my edir,” she frowned.


    “No, it doesn’t,” Landryn shook his head, “it’s the only metal known that cannot be used in runewielding.”


    “Weird,” she narrowed her eyes at the interconnecting plates, “why is that?”


    “You’ve asked a question that stumped metalshapers and runestone researchers for centuries,” he chuckled, “it can’t be broken down by eradite. To shape it, you need to use traditional blacksmithing techniques. Heating it to an incredibly high temperature and hammering it into shape.” Traditional techniques. She smiled inwardly, that was still the way that most poor people did it. She found it amusing how detached most of the highborn were to little common people knew of runewielding. Runestones were too expensive for most people to ever afford—let alone train with. It made more sense just to use a cheaper and easier method.


    The lift was finally lowered, interrupting their conversation. The group dismounted their horses and led them onto the wooden contraption. It groaned as the iron chains were pulle. Her eyes scanned the ships down at the dock as the platform lifted them up the cliff. Having taken the thing twice now, she was reasonably confident that it wouldn''t drop them to their deaths. The red sails of Hurok’s junkship were no longer present amongst the crowd of ships. She felt her face knot in a disappointed frown.


    Femira’s eyes drifted over to the other bloodshedder—Selyn—who stood leaning against the rail of the platform watching the horizon as they rose. She was the wavecaller who had also been assigned to the trip and had hair as black as a Keiran woman. She was tall and lithe like almost all other Reldoni she’d met. Beyond introducing herself to Femira earlier that morning, they hadn’t spoken.


    Femira had hoped to spar with the woman on the ferry across the bay as she’d not had the opportunity to train with a wavecaller yet. From what Aden and Jaz had told her, most wavecallers found employment working for shipping companies or along city coastwalls to protect against stronger tide surges. Very few enlisted to join the military and from what Femira understood, Selyn was among only three of wavecallers in the bloodshedder ranks. She was a strange addition to their party as wavecallers weren’t seen as being very effective combatants and generally were only brought on missions that required extended periods at sea.


    “Have you ever seen a Yarji junkship?” Femira asked the woman, hoping to spark up a conversation.


    “Of course,” the woman replied, giving Femira a suffering look, “I worked merchant vessels for years before joining the bloodshedders,” she added matter-of-factly as if Femira should have already known this and she was ignorant for asking.


    “Did you know that Yarji have horns?” Femira continued, unfazed by the woman’s attempt at pushing her away. All of the bloodshedder’s she’d met ranged from disitinterest to outright hostile towards her at first. It irked her in the beginning, but Femira had realised that there was a lot to be gained from winning favour with them and she really wanted to test her skills against a wavecaller. Even Endrin had come around to her in the end.


    “Don’t be silly,” Selyn scoffed, “everyone knows that’s a myth.”


    “I’m not sure,” Femira replied, “I met a Yarji last time I was here. He told me there are some that do.” Femira still wasn’t completely certain that Hurok had understood her correctly about the horns. She also wasn’t certain why she was so intrigued by it. Landryn, who had been having a conversation with his pair of bodyguards, had moved over to them.


    “That’s foolish,” Selyn said, dismissively, “it’s as ridiculous as mer-folk.”


    “The Yarji?” Landryn interjected, “it’s true. Some of them do have horns, I’ve met one… I believe the leaders in their society all have them.” Selyn’s eyebrows rose at the comment.


    “You’ve met one?!” Femira turned to face the man, “what do their horns look like?”


    “I was very young,” Landryn replied, a thoughful expression on his face, “there was a delegation of Yarji over to discuss a trade agreement with my father… they were weaning these red masks,” he covered part of his face with his hand to demonstrate.


    “My brother and I thought the horns were part of the masks. It was only when Daegan asked to try on the mask that we caught a look of his face without it,” Landryn shuddered and grimaced, “It looked like an exposed animal skull with a stag’s horns growing right up out of the bone,” his hands stretched and strained, to convey the shape of the skill, “I tell you, it was quite a horrifying sight for a young boy,” and then he barked a laugh, his eyes lighting up for a moment, “Daegan ran… he was so terrified. You know, I don’t think he left his room the entire time they were in Epilas after that.”


    “Was it his actual skull?” Femira asked.


    “Yes… one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen.”


    “Do they still have eyes?” Selyn asked, her face knotted up in revulsion. Femira shuddered at the thought of a pair of living eyes inside the sockets of an exposed skill. And a knife sliding in, grinding against the bone. She felt her stomach lurch and she forced it down.


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    “They were actually quite like an Honorsword’s eyes,” Landryn mused, “but also not like them. They were bright with a blue light, not red… It was like the light of a filled aquamarine runestone.”


    “You’re fucking with us,” Femira laughed. She could stretch as far as Yarji having horns, but exposed skulls with magic glowing eyes like some kind of lich from the stories was a step too far for Femira to believe. She’d seen a lot of different kinds of folk from all over pass through Altarea. She’d even pickpocketed and mugged a fair few strange looking people too and none of them were undead skeleton people.


    None.


    Seyln looked at her aghast. Femira supposed that she shouldn’t be speaking like that in front of a Prince but Landryn didn’t seem to care. In fact, he was chuckling to himself, “I swear it,” he said, “you can choose to believe me or not.”


    She opened her mouth to throw another disbelieving comment but then thought against it. She had scoffed at Endrin and called him a fool for not believing her that the Yarji existed in the first place. Am I being just as foolish for not believing Landryn… but, seriously?! Blue glowing eyes inside a skull? That was a bit too far into myths and monsters than she could take.


    They passed through the same villages she’d come through on her last expedition along the Tidewall. In most places they passed through, the Prince wasn’t recognised. His uniform was unadorned and he kept his cloak up over his face most of the time. Femira wasn’t sure why he bothered hiding his identity. It’s not like anyone would risk robbing or attacking him, he was a renowned runewielder and would likely take care of any bandits or would-be assassins on his own, let alone with his bodyguards.


    When they arrived at Inish Head, the town mayor did recognise the Prince. The mayor graciously pandered to their group and even offered his own home to the Prince and his companions to rest in. The annoying man continued to hover around them and Femira realised that Landryn hadn’t been hiding his identity exactly, he simply didn’t want to draw too much attention to them. Ladryn politely declined, indicating that the inn would be fine for them. Eventually the mayor realised that his company was not wanted by the group and left them alone.


    The atmosphere in the inn was a lot different than the last time Femira had been there. The staff were better dressed, wearing what was likely the finest clothes they owned. Last time, they’d been served a watery fish stew for their dinner but now the inn had provided them a plethora of plates with grilled red trout, sea snails the size of her fist and even Femira’s favourite; spicy rice balls. The staff bowed every time they passed the table and Landryn had to insist that they stop. To which they bowed in apology.


    Femira recalled the innkeeper being a timid person from the last time they’d been through. But that was to be expected when he had two dozen bloodshedders staying at his inn. Now, with the Prince, the man’s voice was extra high and nervous.


    Landryn attempted to engage in a conversation with the innkeeper, asking about the villages further to the north. The one’s where the people had all completely vanished.


    “Well, s-since the bloodshedders, milord, since they, you know, they took care off all them Altareans pirates. Everyone feels a lot safer.”


    “You believe that it was the pirates?”


    “Oh well, milord, uhm, maybe… Yes.”


    “You don’t seem convinced.”


    “Well, it’s just that, you know, travellers still passing through here from the north. They still bring stories of missing people along the coast. I-I’m not suggesting that the bloodshedders didn’t do a good enough job or nothin’,” he glanced nervously at Fermira and Selyn’s uniforms, “no, not at all. It’s just that folk coming through, you know.”


    “What have they been saying?” Landryn asked, not at all irate at the man’s painful awkwardness.


    “Oh lots of wild things milord. Some saying it’s more Altareans, some say sea monsters coming up from the depths.”


    Selyn chuckled into her drink but Femira stayed quiet. She’d seen one of these barren villages for herself. The strange marks on the walls. The broken weapons… nothing stolen.


    “What do you think?” Landryn pressed the innkeeper.


    “Well, I-I’ve, you know,” he began awkwardly, “I’ve lived here on the Tidewall for a very long time, see. City folk, they, uhm—” he glanced around the table—“I know they think that we’re being foolish for believing in stories about monsters and mer-folk and what-not. But I, ehm, I’ve seen a lot o’ strange things o’er the years living out here.”


    “We’re not judging,” Landryn said, appeasingly, “we just want to get to the bottom of it.”


    “There’s a reason people ‘round here, we all head east to the bay for Unionsday, we have our weddings on the sands there, see. Nobody heads out east of the Tidewall…”


    The Unionsday tide along with Lua Nova when both moons were full were when the tides were at their strongest. Miles of coastline were exposed for most of the day. Most people spent the day celebrating with weddings and festivities but there were still a lot of people desperate enough to risk head out further searching for pearls and waterstones. The east side of the Tidewall, Femira guessed, would be similar to Altarea, with miles of newly exposed crevices and gorges.


    “Folk that head out east. Those willing to take the risk—not many, mind you—and more often than not, they never come back… So no, milord, I don’t think they’re exaggerated claims… I think there’s something dark hiding below the waters that’s been attacking these villages. Don’t know why they’ve started coming up to the surface now, what might be driving them up from their nests below the waves. I’m just thankful our town sits up on the cliffs and not closer to the water.”


    The innkeeper bowed and apologised stating that he needed to see to getting their rooms ready for the evening. Landryn thanked him for the information before the man scurried off.


    “Sailors are always making crazy claims like that,” Selyn shook her head, “working the ships, you hear nonsense stories like that all the time. The only real danger out there were Altarean pirates and storms. My guess is; it’s the Altareans.” The tone the woman used made Femira think that this woman had quite strong opinions on Altareans. Perhaps that was why the woman was still so standoffish with her.


    “Could be,” Femira added, “one of the warships did get away. But why attack random villages… killing civilians and stealing nothing? It makes no sense and not really what pirates do.”


    “‘Cause they’re scum,” Selyn spat, “Altareans kill just because they enjoy it. I was working on a vessel two years back. We were attacked by this corsair ship… they managed to board us and kill half our crew before we finally pushed them back. I can tell you, those Altareans. They were killing just for the fun of it.”


    “There were a lot of corsair attacks around then,” Landryn replied sadly, “more and more Reldoni trading ships had been disappearing. It was that—along with my father’s goal to reclaim the Altarean Isles—was the driving reason for the assault on Altarea.”


    “I remember when you announced the invasion,” Selyn said, “I enlisted that day… I’ve no love for Altareans,” she snorted, “pirates and cut-throats all of ‘em. I wanted a chance to get some revenge on the bastards.”


    Femira never really thought about the amount of corsairs that operated out of Altarea. The city was rife with crime gangs—of which she was intricately familiar—and she knew a lot of them had some kind of pirating operations going on too. Lichtin himself had always planned to eventually get his hands on a corsair ship. Piracy was next level criminal activity, and was something that Lichtin’s enterprise hadn’t been able to break into.


    “Not all Altareans,” Landryn conceded, “but their navy has been splintered and most of their warships have unfortunately turned to piracy.”


    “Most of them actually were pirates to begin with,” Femira countered, “King Amenia used to work with the pirates all the time.” That fact was well known amongst the criminal gangs in Altarea. Landryn looked at her with surprise. Had he really not known this? “Amenia had a bounty on any Reldoni ships that were destroyed,” Femira continued, “even before the war.”


    “We had suspected this in the months leading up to the invasion,” Landryn replied, nodding, “but all the highborn we interrogated refuted the claims.”


    “Maybe they were ashamed they needed to resort to it,” Femira shrugged.


    “Forgive my forwardness, my lord” Selyn put in, “but are we really going to be recruiting former stormguards into the bloodshedders?” Selyn was aggravated and lowered to a conspiratorial tone, “they can’t be trusted. We can’t really be considering making them soulforged like us… they’re our enemies,”


    “Our goal is for peace,” Ladnryn replied, “Amenia is dead and the Treaty we’ve signed with the remaining Altarean highborn has made Reldoni citizens of all Altareans. As Reldoni citizens they are welcome in our ranks. There are many amongst the Altarean highborn who held little love for Amenia and many of them have embraced Reldoni rule and the rest will soon follow as we build trust. Allowing the stormguards into our ranks will strengthen that trust.”


    Selyn inclined her head. She didn’t look happy about it but the woman clearly wasn’t going to disagree with someone so much higher ranked than her.


    “What do you think, Annali?” Landryn asked Femira, “you lived amongst the Altareans for over a year.” Femira had spent a lot longer than a year in Altarea.


    “I didn’t enjoy killing those bluecloaks,” she admitted, “but that’s not to say I like them much. I wouldn’t want to be training with any.”


    “They are experienced stormstone users,” Landryn said, “we could learn a lot from their techniques.”


    “You’re a stormstone runwielder,” she objected, “and you’re far more skilled than they are.”


    “I am soulforged though,” he countered, “my abilities are enhanced because of that. In terms of raw power, yes, I am superior… but in terms of skills and experience…” he trailed off.


    “I believe that adding the stormguards into our ranks will be good for all of us.”


    Femira wasn’t so sure. Despite Selyn’s borderline apathy towards her, Femira agreed with the woman. The stormguards were still their enemies and inviting them into the bloodshedder barracks could be opening them up to danger. But also like Selyn, there was little she could do about it. Landryn was their Commander. If he and Garld wanted to do this, then they could hardly argue against it.