Chapter 22

Along with news of the arranged meeting with the ship’s captain, Korr managed to bring them some dinner without drawing notice, not that Avera had much appetite. She picked at the fish and vegetables, unlike Josslyn who ate heartily.

“You really should fill your belly. Who knows when we’ll get another meal if things go wrong,” her friend remarked in between mouthfuls.

“All I’ve done since our arrival in between talking to people is eat and rest,” Avera grumbled. “I’m worried this captain will refuse to take us.”

“Then sweeten your offer.”

“Offer what, though?” Avera exclaimed. “I have nothing. No jewels to bribe. No authority. Nothing.”

“I’d say the future goodwill of a queen would be tempting.”

“Assuming I can regain my throne. Assuming I can succeed in Verlora in finding the stones and return to Daerva when no one else has been able to. Assuming I can stop Zhos. Otherwise, none of the rest even matters.”

“If this Opal can truly get hints of the future, then this quest she’s sending you on should succeed.”

“She also mentioned a world of death and darkness if I failed,” was Avera’s grumbled reply.

“In which case any promises you make won’t matter. You have to go into this thinking you will make it to Verlora and find the stones and figure out how to return to Daerva. Which in turn will let us once more lock away Benoit’s master. And then we tackle that miscreant. There will be others like Korr who either don’t like Benoit, or don’t approve of what he’s done.”

“But are there enough? The knights he sent seem to have no issue trying to arrest or possibly even kill me.”

“There will always be soldiers who simply follow orders because it’s easiest and what they’re trained to do. Yet keep in mind, obeying doesn’t always mean loyalty. I guarantee many are uneasy at what has transpired and would gladly revolt, but only if there is someone to lead them.”

“I’m not a leader, though,” was Avera’s quiet response.

“You will be. You have the blood of kings and queens running through your veins. You have the intelligence to see and question things. The power to invoke change.”

Avera offered a weak smile. “I didn’t realize a duchess’ role was to encourage and bolster my lagging self-esteem.”

“It is my duty to ensure Daerva prospers, and as I’ve gotten to know you, I truly believe you are the right person for that task.”

The next tap at the door turned out to not be Korr looking for dishes but Gustav. Cloaked head to toe in a raggedy length of cloth, he entered quickly and quietly before flinging back his hood.

“Korr tells me you have a meeting with the captain,” he stated without preamble.

Avera nodded. “At the peak of night in the old chapel past the pier on the point.”

“A good a place as any, I suppose. Although, Korr’s plan to render the soldiers too sotted to notice isn’t working as hoped. One of the knights has refused all drink.”

“Even if he’s sober, he’ll soon be to bed,” Josslyn opined.

“Most likely, but just in case we’ll be furtive with our departure. Take everything with you as we won’t be returning no matter the outcome of the meeting.”

“Already taken care of.” Josslyn waved to their packs by the door, including Gustav’s.

“Good thinking, unlike your visit to the taproom.” He offered a stern glare at his sister.

“No harm came of it.”

“You were lucky,” was his growled reply.

Avera diverted his annoyance. “Where will we go if the captain refuses to take us?”

“Back to the mountain, if needed, until the knights leave. Then we can return and wait for the next ship.”

“And if that takes weeks? The longer I am stuck here, the longer Benoit has to firm up his claim to the throne.”

“You mean the longer he has to make the people hate him.”

“His knights have spoken ill of him?” Josslyn tossed over her shoulder as she tightened the straps on her bulging pack.

“No. However, their behavior isn’t endearing them to the people.”

“They seemed fine to me,” Josslyn stated. “When I went down earlier, they sounded like regular soldiers. Talking bawdily about women. Discussing what they’d do if they earned the reward by finding us. Complaining about being sent to the most boring place in Daerva.”

“You eavesdropped before they began drinking. A man deep in his cups tends to reveal more of his true nature. They’re young and brash. Arrogant too. Pawns that were elevated recently despite lacking the character traits of a knight.”

At Gustav’s obvious disapproval, Avera queried, “You know them?”

“Not personally, no. I have little to do with pawns. But I heard enough to know they don’t have a qualm about this mission. On the contrary, they are hoping for a chance to return with our heads, and I mean that quite literally.”

“Then we shall ensure they don’t have a chance to catch us,” was Josslyn’s pert reply.

“We should rest while we have a chance.”

“Is that a good idea? I don’t want to miss our meeting.” Not that Avera thought she could sleep.

“Korr will let us know when it’s clear for us to leave.”

With that in mind, Avera and Josslyn lay down on the bed together despite having more rooms. Gustav sat in a chair by the door, sword across his thighs, eyes closed. A guardian even in repose.

As expected, Avera couldn’t sleep, worry chasing anxiety round and round with the worst kind of scenarios. They’d be arrested the moment they left the room. This captain would say no. She even wondered if Zhos could send its mist down this side of the Spire to infect the people. Surely if it could, it would have already. Opal had mentioned something about it being blocked, but Avera still couldn’t shake her unease.

By the time a soft tap came at the door, Avera was more than ready to act. She immediately swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pulled on her jacket before grabbing her pack. A yawning Josslyn followed suit.

Gustav also instantly woke and stood, sheathing his sword before once more wrapping himself in the ragged cloak. As they emerged, laden with their packs, they found Korr in the hall. The man said not a word, putting a finger to his lips indicating they should be silent. Walking carefully to avoid overly loud creaks, they descended into the quiet tavern, the patrons gone for the night.

As they reached the main door, Gustav gripped Korr’s arm and gave him a nod. Avera also put a hand on him and murmured, “Your loyalty won’t be forgotten.”

Korr smiled. “Best of luck, Majesty.”

They emerged into a cool evening, the crescent moon overhead barely enough to light their path as they made their way up the street, heading for the docks and then moving past them. The large, nameless ship remained berthed, its crew belowdecks for the evening. Or so she assumed. Most likely a sentry kept watch to ensure no one stole aboard.

They walked alone, everyone abed at this hour. Despite seeing and hearing no one, Avera’s nape prickled. She kept a hand on the hilt of her dagger, ready to draw if needed. The series of docks ended as did the warehouses, leaving them to walk on a path of crushed seashells and coral. The smell of the ocean filled her senses, slightly fishy, definitely salty, with a hint of the pungent seaweed that washed ashore.

The lapping of the waves proved soothing but at the same time had her turning her head left and right since it could mask the sound of someone approaching. Gustav proved just as alert, his sword in his hand as he strode, straight-backed, every inch the protective rook.

The chapel sat atop a stony outcrop that jutted above and slightly over the sea. Under it, waves crashed against the rocks, sending up spray and foam. The building itself, made of stone that stood the test of time, wasn’t overly large. Maybe a dozen or so paces long, not quite as wide. The doors to it were weathered wood, warped by salt, rain, and sun. Gustav grunted as he heaved one panel open, the creak of it ridiculously loud and causing Avera to glance back at the path they’d just taken. The crescent moon barely illuminated, but she saw no moving shadows. However, she remained aware anyone could have been hiding and spying.

Gustav entered first only to exit growling, “It’s dark in there.”

Josslyn snorted. “What did you expect? Did you not bring a lantern?”

A disgruntled Gustav grumbled, “No.”

None of them had thought to bring light, but the person inside had. A sudden glow spilled from the partially open door.

A startled Gustav whirled, sword held in front of him as he barked, “Who goes there?”

“Calm yourself, old man. I am here at your request,” a deep voice stated.

“You’re the ship’s captain?” Gustav questioned.

“For the moment.”

“Meaning what?” A suspicious Gustav frowned.

“Meaning I command only so long as my crew continues to approve of my performance and doesn’t make me walk the plank.” A hint of amusement tinged the words. “I hear you wish to strike a bargain for passage.”

“Yes. But I’m not negotiating without seeing a face.” Gustav went to enter only to have the man inside say, “You can stay outside. I will deal only with the one in charge.”

“That’s me,” Gustav announced.

“Do not take me for a fool. You are but a servant. Send in the woman whom you answer to.”

Gustav opened his mouth to argue but Avera put a hand on his arm. “I’ve got this.”

“It could be a trap,” he warned.

“And if it’s not? He’s our only chance,” she whispered. “Let me handle the negotiation. If I need help, I’ll scream.”

“Before or after you try to deal with any situation by yourself,” Gustav replied sourly.

Her lips curved. “You always did tell me to practice as much as I could if I wanted to hone my skills.”

“This isn’t a training ring.”

“I’m aware, and this isn’t me asking but telling you. I am going inside. You and Josslyn watch for perfidy.”

“If I hear even a hint of danger?—”

“Then you shall come to my rescue. I know.” Avera leaned up and bussed his cheek, a first, but her affection for the grizzled rook had her no longer willing to hold back. “You are the most loyal protector I could have asked for.”

“Bah.” Gustav grunted but he didn’t stop her from entering.

The bright light in the chapel momentarily had Avera blinking. As she took in the space, she noticed it lacked pews like she’d seen in other places of worship. No chairs or even stools. Just a large open space with an altar at the far end made from an enormous bone with a hollowed basin in the center holding a puddle of dark fluid.

A lantern sat on a floor made of more crushed coral and shell sealed by a lacquer. The door groaned shut. Avera whirled to see a man standing between her and the exit.

A very large man.

He towered over her and would most likely be taller than Gustav as well. His broad shoulders strained the fabric of his linen shirt while the sleeves outlined his thick arms. Hair dark as night crowned his head, matching his eyes set against his swarthy skin. A distinctive coloring for a very handsome man.

“You’re Verlorian,” Avera blurted, losing her manners for a moment.

He arched a brow. “What gave it away?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just rare to see anyone from Verlora these days.”

“You don’t say,” he drawled. “Hadn’t noticed.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “You’re the captain of the ship currently docked.” A repeat of Gustav’s question but she had to start somewhere that didn’t insult.

“I am, and you are the missing queen everyone’s been looking for.

Her heart stammered to a stop. “That’s ridiculous. Do I look like a royal?”

His lips held a hint of a smile. “I think you look like the bastard daughter of Calixte Voxspira. Rumor has long claimed you’re half Verlorian. Your appearance confirms it.”

No point in lying. Her status might help the negotiation. “I see you’re well-informed.” She lifted her chin. “I am Avera Voxspira, Queen of Daerva.”

“It’s new king disagrees,” the captain said rather than introducing himself.

“Benoit is a liar and a traitor,” she spat.

“Odd because he’s making the same claim about you.”

“How would you know what he’s saying?”

“Because I make it my business to know the politics and news of the places I do business with. Those knights who arrived today had much to say about the bastard queen who had her family murdered.”

“It wasn’t me,” she huffed. “Benoit was the one behind it.”

“Says you.”

“Yes, says me! And I didn’t come here to discuss my right to rule. I need transport.”

“To Verlora.” At her surprise, he added, “Korr mentioned it to me.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Will you take us?”

He laughed, a deep baritone that brought a slight shiver. “No.”

“Why not?”

“For one, you have nothing of value to pay me. And secondly, no one with any intelligence goes anywhere near Verlora.”

“Why?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Because it’s a death sentence.”

“So I keep hearing, and yet no one seems to know what is killing the people. Assuming they’re dead. Could be they simply cannot leave.”

His lips pinched as his humor faded. “They’re dead in a catastrophe that wiped out an entire country and continues to kill to this day.”

“Not everyone died. You’re here.”

“I am. Barely. The Verlorians who still live were either out of Verlora when events transpired or close enough to the sea to escape by boat.”

“Which were you?”

“The latter. My father’s last act was to have me evacuated with other children.” He didn’t sound happy about it.

“He died?”

“They all did.”

“How can you be sure if you were sent away?”

“I did not come to have my past interrogated,” he snapped.

“Then why did you come if you know I can’t afford to pay you and you won’t take me to Verlora? Why waste my time?”

“Curiosity. You are very tiny for someone who’s apparently causing so much trouble.”

“Only because you are overly large.”

“I am.” His teeth flashed in a grin. “I’m also curious as to why you are intent on going to Verlora. Don’t you have enough troubles to deal with in Daerva?”

Her lips flattened. “I do. However, I have a task I must accomplish in Verlora.”

“Mysterious.”

“More like complicated to explain. I can assure you that it’s very important I get to Verlora. One might even say the fate of the world depends on it.”

Once more his laughter rang out. “You are quite dramatic. I can assure you there is nothing in Verlora that can help you. Unless you’re seeking death.”

“Again, my mission is none of your concern. Will you take me to Saarpira, if not Verlora?”

“I could, but I doubt you could pay for your fare.”

“Surely, we can come to an agreement. Once I regain my throne?—”

He cut her short. “I don’t do favors and I don’t extend credit. I expect payment up front.”

Frustration built. “You know I currently have little to my name.”

“I hear you have horses. A Volaqu of good breeding might be enough to convince me.”

“Give you Luna?” Avera gasped. “Never.”

“Then I guess we don’t have a deal.”

“There are two other horses you can have instead.”

“Common breeds. Not worth my time.”

Avera shook her head. “You can’t have Luna. She’s been my steadfast companion for years. It would be cruel of me to hand her over to another.”

“It’s a horse. It will adapt.”

“Luna is more than a steed. She’s my friend.”

“I don’t know whether to laugh or pity you for that.”

Her cheeks burned hotly. “Neither, if you please. My position was one that didn’t invite friendship.”

“Then who is that standing outside?”

“Gustav, my Grand Rook.”

“I meant the other woman.”

“My Duchess.” She paused. “While recent, I guess you could say we are friends.”

“A friend you dragged with you into exile.”

“I’m not in exile.”

“Says the queen hiding in this derelict city.”

A frustrated Avera huffed. “This is useless. I didn’t come here to argue.”

“Neither did…” He paused and cocked his head. “I do believe we have company.”

She could hear Gustav’s low rumble as someone confronted him outdoors. “I should help him.”

“How? Barbed words are no match against steel,” the captain stated.

“I’m not useless,” she grumbled.

“Not useful either,” he countered.

She would have argued further but for a niggling sense. She glanced behind her to see the altar. No one there and yet… She stepped closer to it and eyed the basin with the brackish water at the bottom. The depression in the altar slowly filled with a dark fog. It both reminded her of the white mist from the Spire and not at the same time. Nor was it like the vapor from the statues she’d encountered. This coalescing darkness had a thickness to it, and as it filled the bowl it didn’t spill over but rose.

“What is that?” the captain asked coming close to peek over her head shoulder.

“Get away from the altar,” Avera suggested as she retreated a few steps.

“Is it dangerous?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Her sarcastic reply.

Avera pulled her dagger even as she didn’t know how it would help against something without substance. Outside, the talking turned to clangs of metal striking. Gustav had engaged whoever had confronted him. However, Avera couldn’t help, not until she understood the danger the fog posed. Would it be like the white mist and turn those it touched into mindless puppets? Or become a monster like the vapor from the statues?

Either way she should warn the captain. “The last mist I encountered more or less kidnapped people to serve a dark entity.”

“Better than the kind that poisons on contact,” he replied.

She hadn’t even thought of that possibility.

As her gaze remained fixated on the rising fog, she noticed it didn’t behave like the Spire’s mist. It twisted and roiled as it rose from the basin, coalescing into a shape with hind legs and arms, even a head with an elongated snout.

“What the fuck is that?” the captain exclaimed.

“A monster created via magic,” she huffed in alarm, her worry trebling as she realized there was nothing for her to break. No figurine or totem that she could smash to stop the attack.

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested in dealing with it. Goodbye.”

“You’re leaving?” Avera turned her gaze for a moment to see the captain with his hand on the door.

“This isn’t my fight, little queen.”

“Who says it’s mine?” she huffed.

“I’ve been inside of this chapel plenty of times before and never seen anything emerge from the altar, so I’d say it’s fairly obvious it’s here for you.”

The creature solidified, literally. She could see the fog hardening into a carapace. Eyes blinked open, the depths of them the deep blue of the sea. Its razor-sharp teeth reminded her of the fish she’d seen split open at the butchers only yesterday. Only this wasn’t a shark.

The monster stepped down from the altar and immediately more smoke began to fill the basin. Rising. Twisting. Taking another shape even as the first stomped for her.

The door opened, letting in fresh air and the strident clang of battle.

Perhaps the captain had the right of it. She didn’t need to fight but she should most certainly flee.

She backed away from the creature, pausing only a brief moment on the threshold to glance sideways to see Gustav holding off two knights. One of them was still bleary-eyed from drink but the other fresh. Josslyn was in the grips of a third while the fourth pointed his sword at the captain and shouted, “Drop your weapon.”

“I don’t think so,” growled the man. The captain charged the soldier, the metallic clank of their blades as they met discordantly loud.

Avera turned her gaze back to the chapel to see the monster almost within reach, and behind it, another stepped from its basin of birth.

Two creatures and a third had begun forming.

She could have run, escaped the menace, but that would mean leaving Gustav and Josslyn behind. Rather than be a coward, with her dagger in hand, Avera whirled and ran for the man holding Josslyn.

The knight’s eyes widened. “Halt or I’ll?—”

Josslyn stamped her booted foot atop the soldier’s. Despite his footwear offering some protection, he yelped and loosened his hold on her. As Josslyn squirmed free from his grip, Avera moved in, her dagger extending which took the soldier by surprise. Before he could raise his own weapon, she’d stabbed him through the chest.

So much for not killing her own people. Then again, he’d left her no choice.

With one soldier down and a second engaged with the captain, she chose to help Gustav who did his best to fend off the pair with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Despite his age, he could still fight, his movements a blur as he blocked thrusts and swings. Still, he couldn’t keep parrying the two knights forever.

Make that one knight. The drunken soldier succumbed to a slash that opened up his torso. As he dropped—one threat less—it left Gustav facing the sober soldier.

“You are a traitor to the crown,” snarled the remaining knight.

“Says the man trying to kill his rightful queen.”

“She is not our queen. She isn’t even Daervian. Anyone could tell just by looking at her,” shouted the knight as he parried a stab by Gustav.

“She is Queen Calixte Voxspira’s daughter. Orphaned by the pretender you call king. You are the one in the wrong,” Gustav declared, advancing with a flurry of strokes that sent the other knight stumbling to defend.

“Behind you, little queen.” The shout from the captain had Avera turning and instinct sent her ducking. A good thing as a hand—or was that paw?—tipped in long claws swept past without doing damage.

The monster hissed in her direction as it began swiping its arms, trying to catch her with every slice. Avera parried, grunting at the impact as she blocked. Her blade did not slice through its armored skin. Didn’t even scratch it from what she could see.

A victorious Gustav came to stand by her side, huffing with exertion but unharmed. “What are those?”

“I was gonna ask you,” she replied as she once more deflected a blow.

The second monster emerged from the chapel and came for them, choosing to engage Gustav. Avera panted as she kept parrying, unable to cause any damage, feeling herself tiring, knowing she would lose this fight. Especially once the third one emerged.

Would the altar keep sending them?

To her surprise, the captain suddenly darted in from the side, his silvery blade flashing as he weaved it against the creature. It glowed each time he struck, the hue of it similar to that of the amulet she used to have. More astonishing, his weapon actually could cut the monster’s flesh.

Despite being injured, the monster didn’t relent. Peppered with cuts and gashes, it kept snarling and hissing as it attacked.

A fourth monster emerged and noticed Josslyn, weaponless, wringing her hands.

This had to stop. Avera ran for the chapel. Would destroying the altar get rid of the monsters or at the very least stop their spawning?

As she entered, more smoke had begun to rise from the basin. She raced for it, noticing more than half the moisture in the basin was gone, indicating the source of the threat—the puddle—couldn’t produce endlessly. At the same time, too much monster-making fluid remained. Despite fearing what it might do on contact, she slapped her hand in the water. The intense cold of it had her sucking in a sharp breath.

The discomfort paid off as the forming creature dissipated, the threads of fog splitting apart before evaporating. She slapped at the water again, gritting her teeth in preparation for the intense chill. Only a small puddle remained at the bottom.

She went to slap it only to pause as its dark surface turned cloudy, then bubbled, the remaining water pooling strangely to form a face at the bottom of the basin. It reminded her of a basic drawing, circles for eyes, a nose that was only a fat blob. A mouth whose lips split apart to whisper.

“ Did you really think you could escape, bastard queen?”

“Zhos? But how? You’re stuck under that frozen lake.”

“I might be trapped but I am mighty. My influence is growing. Even now, some of the melted lake, the water imbued with my essence, spreads across the land. Soon, I will be free.”

A frightening thing to learn, although it most likely explained how Benoit met Zhos. “You’re going to stay trapped. Once I find those stones?—”

Laughter interrupted, a low, gravelly sound that sent shivers spiking up and down her spine. “ As if you can stop me. I should let you go on that fruitless quest. It is certain death, but then I’d lose the satisfaction of seeing the end of the Voxspira line.”

Doubt wanted to taint her reply, but she remained head high and strong. “I will succeed, and you will remain in your prison. And then I will oust your puppet, Benoit, and take my rightful place on the throne.”

“Never,” it hissed, and she realized then it had distracted her as a noise at her back had her dropping without thought. The monster that had followed her missed, its swipe of claws whistling overhead, but it tried again.

Time to end these creatures made of magic and spite.

She rolled to her feet and dashed to the altar, slapping her hand to remove the last of the water which did nothing to rid her of the creature, just Zhos and his annoying words. The thing rushed her, only its lack of speed enabling her to evade by springing to the top of the altar.

Not unscathed. A claw caught the rear of her thigh, tearing through breeches, leaving a bloody, burning scratch. She ignored the sting to turn her sword upside down and dropped to the altar, slamming the pommel into the basin.

The impact vibrated up her arm, but the damp bowl didn’t even crack. The monster hissed, grinning as it saw its imminent victory. It recognized she had nowhere to go, no weapon to fight it.

A sword entered its back and the tip emerged through its belly before ripping upwards. The monster had no time to do anything but die. As it fell, she saw the captain standing behind, looking grim.

“I thought you were running away,” she riposted as she sat on the altar, holding in a wince as her injured leg protested.

“A smart man would have,” he grumbled.

“Are the monsters outside dead?” she asked, sliding from the bone altar, leaving a smear of blood behind.

“Yeah. They might be resistant to regular steel, but my blade of wolfframm cuts through anything. Even evil conjurations. It helps they’re slow.” Said with a grin.

“Where did you get your sword?” she asked. It would be handy to have if she had to face more Zhos creations.

His smile faded. “It was my father’s. He gave it to me before he sent me away. And before you ask, weapons made of wolfframm are rare. Only a few were ever forged, and of them, this is the only one I’m aware of that made it out of Verlora.”

“Maybe I’ll find one when I visit,” she said pertly. She began heading for the door only to realize he was staring at something behind her.

Not more monsters! She quickly turned, only to see the altar beginning to fall. The spot she’d just sat on crumbled, flakes of bone dropping to the floor. The basin cracked as chunks fell. The entire thing collapsed in mere moments.

A frowning captain glanced at her, then the ruined altar. Did he realize the destruction began where she’d left blood behind?

Didn’t matter. She had more pressing things to deal with. She exited to find Gustav sitting on the ground, a hand pressed to a wet spot on his side.

“You’re injured,” Avera cried, dropping to her knees beside Josslyn who rummaged through her pack.

“’Tis but a scratch,” he grunted. “Lyn’s insisting on a bandage.”

“Because you’re an idiot who would rather bleed out than admit he’s hurt,” huffed his sister.

While the two bickered, Avera, with lips pursed, wandered to each of the knight’s bodies. Their deaths were on Benoit’s head. They’d just been following a false king’s orders.

She knelt to open the pouch at the waist of the sober one. She pulled forth some parchment and noticed the drawings Josslyn mentioned.

“That looks nothing like you,” drawled the captain, peering over her shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter what the picture shows. As you noted earlier, it’s kind of hard to hide my complexion and hair,” she grumbled.

“Who was your father? Did your mother ever say?” he asked.

“Basil Currosa, a Verlorian diplomat of that time.”

“Basil Currosa?” he repeated.

She glanced at him and noted his face, or more its lack of expression. “Supposedly. Do you know him?”

“Possibly.” A guarded reply.

She fumbled at her neck to draw forth the chain with the locket. She opened it to show the images within. “Is this him?”

Rather than answer, he snapped, “I must get back to my ship.”

Despite his rudeness, and the fact he wouldn’t help her, Avera had manners enough to say, “Thank you for saving us from those creatures.”

“Guess you owe me now, little queen.”

With that, he strode away, a daunting figure, but also an annoying one. His refusal to give her passage stung. She couldn’t let his refusal deter her from acting, though. There would be other ships. Some that might be more amenable to a deal.

The question being, would the next one arrive before more soldiers—or monsters—did?