Chapter 23

It didn’t take too long to cover up the evening’s events as they simply dragged the bodies to the edge of the cliff and tossed them off. The sea took them and as Avera stared at the crashing waves she sighed.

“Guess we’re back to waiting.”

“The captain wouldn’t help?” Josslyn asked.

“Nope, and he didn’t have anything encouraging to say either. He’s convinced I’ll die if I go to Verlora.” So was Zhos, which didn’t help matters.

“He’s probably right,” was Gustav’s unhelpful grumble.

“I have to do something. The monsters”—she waved a hand at the chapel—“were created by the thing in the Spire.”

“What makes you say that?” Josslyn frowned.

“Because it told me.” Avera quickly recounted what she’d experienced and finished with, “Apparently, the ice that’s trapping Zhos has some sort of link that allows it to act.”

“What?” Gustav barked. “How did the ice get here?”

Avera shrugged. “It didn’t say, but it did imply that more of it would be delivered to parts of Daerva, meaning its influence can spread.”

“Maybe instead of trying to get to Verlora, we should find a way to bring down the mountain. I wonder how many explosives it would take?” Gustav stared off in the distance as if he could see the Spire in the dark.

“I’m sure if that were feasible Opal would have mentioned it. And besides, I’m fairly certain it’s too late for that now. With Zhos spreading via water or mist or whatever, it would seem the stones might be the only way to squash its ability to remotely act.” Left unsaid, if it could do things like mesmerize people and conjure monsters while still trapped, what could it do if freed?

“Things might seem bleak now, but perhaps after a night’s rest we’ll have clearer heads to make decisions," Josslyn stated.

"A clearer head won’t make a boat suddenly appear and agree to give us passage.” Avera remained miffed. Of all people, a Verlorian captain should have been the most willing to aid.

They trudged back to the inn, passing by the boat that showed no sign of life or the captain.

Sleep proved elusive as Avera tossed and turned, riddled with emotions that varied. From the moment her mother died, things hadn’t gone well. The people hadn’t truly accepted her. A coup had ousted her. An evil entity threatened. She couldn’t get to Verlora. Couldn’t stop failing.

She rose in the morning, morose, and despite Josslyn’s attempts to cheer her, Avera couldn’t shake it.

“I need some time to myself,” Avera muttered when Gustav asked if she wanted him to help her train.

“Where are you going?” he asked as she headed for the door.

“For a walk down the pier.”

“Alone?”

“Why not? The soldiers are gone, and you know I can protect myself.”

“You can but shouldn’t have to.” Gustav’s lips pinched. “If you’re going to try and talk to the captain again, do it quick. Korr says they’re readying to leave.”

Her lips turned down. “I doubt there’s any point. He made himself very clear on the subject.”

“Stay away from that chapel,” Gustav warned.

She didn’t reply, mostly because she preferred not to lie. Avera fully intended to return and look at it in the light of day. With the altar destroyed, and the Zhos tainted water gone, she didn’t fear.

Much.

As Avera strode along, she noticed the sailors busy loading crates. Of the captain, she saw no sign. What a puzzle he proved to be. Acting as if he couldn’t be bothered with her problems only to join the fight against the knights and monsters. The fact his blade could slice through Zhos’ creations intrigued. She’d never heard of wolfframm before. A metal sharper even than her dagger-sword. And what of the glow when it struck? Magic or something else? Had her amulet, been partially made from the same ore?

The crushed shell path crunched underfoot as she strode past the ship, her lips and fists tight. As Josslyn kept saying, there would be more vessels. Likely more rejection, too, if she didn’t find a way to pay. How would she find the funds, though? She needed something of value and the handful of coins taken from the knights would not be enough.

And no, she wouldn’t trade Luna. Her steed wasn’t an object for bargaining.

The chapel appeared derelict in the light of day, the stone facade cracked and pitted, the roof sagging in the middle. On the ground outside, blood spatters remained, the kind left by humans. Of the monsters? Nothing, not even a splotch to show where they’d died.

The door remained slightly ajar, and she entered, leaving it wide open behind her to give herself light as the chapel lacked windows. The altar at the far end remained collapsed. A pile of broken bone and dust, destroyed by her blood. What made it so special?

Avera glanced at the walls and realized they had faint drawings on them. They’d been unnoticeable the night before by lantern light. She stepped close to eye them, and her brow crinkled as she tried to make sense of it. The first part seemed to be a map showing the continents. Daerva. Verlora. Okkilam. Pequilh. Merisu. All of them there plus one she didn’t recognize. It sat North of Daerva, only as far as she knew nothing existed in that area. The squiggled waves drawn indicated the seas around the countries and islands, and in spots, depictions of monsters. A serpentine shape. A bulbous one with tentacles. Even a crab.

She crossed to the other wall and saw a man in a robe holding out his hands, cupping something. Light, or it could have been water given the faint droplets that fell from them. The figure stood on a cliff and at his back, what could have been the chapel she stood in. Rising from the waves, a monster. A thing of nightmares with a serpentine body, wings, teeth. It reminded her of the drawings of dragons she’d seen in the royal library, but mixed with other creatures. Part of the religion that used to be followed?

“Looking for more trouble?”

The deep voice had her whirling. The captain leaned in the doorway.

“I’d prefer to return to my life of nothingness, however, fate has decreed I shan’t have peace.”

“What did you expect? You are queen.”

“Not currently,” she muttered. “As you pointed out, there is a traitor who is determined I never hold that title.”

“Do you want to rule?”

“Not really, but that choice was taken from me when Benoit had my family murdered. I was supposed to die, too, you know. My surviving the assassination caused issues with the traitor’s plans.”

“Why do you really want to go to Verlora?”

“I told you. I have a task to accomplish.” Then because she lost nothing by telling the truth, “I was told I must retrieve five rocks stolen by my father and taken to your country.”

“You want to risk your life for rocks?” He arched a dark brow.

“It sounds silly, I know, but those rocks are supposedly the key to keeping an ancient evil entity locked away.” She grimaced. “And before you ask, a month ago I would have laughed if anyone claimed such a thing existed. However, that was before magical totems came to life and tried to kill me. Before I saw what was inside the Spire. Before I heard it speak to me.”

“Could these rocks have caused the problem in Verlora?” He sounded nonchalant and yet she noticed a slight tension in him as he waited for a reply.

She shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t know. I do know without them Daerva will most likely end up the same way. The evil in the Spire wishes to end all life.”

“You’re awfully tiny for someone set on such a big task.”

“Size isn’t everything,” she huffed.

“Agreed. My father was a big man, the biggest in truth, and yet he still fell.” The captain went quiet.

“Is there a reason you followed me?” Because she couldn’t see him coming to the chapel for any other reason.

“Curiosity. You aren’t what I would have expected from a former pampered princess.”

She snorted. “Hardly pampered. Until recently, I was ignored and had no title. After all, an heir plus two spares were considered enough. Even my brother’s child ranked over me.”

“That bothered you?”

“Not one bit. I told you. I didn’t want to rule.”

“Then why not let Benoit keep the throne?”

A sigh escaped her. “Because the people deserve better than a despot. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m sure we both have better things to do than antagonize each other.”

“Just trying to have a conversation.”

A noise left her as she went to slip past him as he remained blocking the door. “More like an interrogation peppered with insults.”

He grabbed her by the arm. “Just trying to clarify a few points.”

She glanced at his hand holding her. “Release me.”

“In a moment. One last question. Your blood, it destroyed the altar.”

“What makes you say that? More likely its age succumbed to my weight.”

“You weren’t standing on it when it shattered.”

“Delayed reaction.”

“I wonder what else your blood can do.”

She yanked her arm free. “Nothing. Now if you’ll excuse me?—”

“I’m afraid you and I aren’t done, little queen.”

Before she could ask him to clarify what he meant, a damp rag pressed over her mouth and nose. A startled inhalation brought an acrid scent and taste into her mouth.

She might have struggled more if her limbs didn’t turn heavy and her eyes shut.

The last thing she recalled was his whisper, “You should thank me, little queen, for I’ve decided to take you aboard my ship after all.”

Avera didn’t return for the midday meal and a frowning Gustav strode down the pier, barely glancing at the departing ship. How disappointing that the captain refused to take them. Then again, perhaps for the best. Something about the ship’s leader niggled at him. The man spoke too well, lacking the dialect and slang of his crew. He had a proud bearing, which anyone could technically have, but the arrogance… Gustav rarely saw that outside the noble ranks.

The chapel door was closed, and Gustav paused at the sight of a note pinned to its surface. It didn’t say much. Just enough to have Gustav cursing.

I’m taking the Queen to Verlora.

Nothing else. But enough. Gustav highly doubted she’d gone of her own volition. Avera would never leave without speaking to him. Despite knowing the futility, Gustav raced to the pier and then pounded to the end of the dock. Too late.

The ship was a mere speck, too far for him to swim. His sister found him there, staring long after it sailed out of sight.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Avera?”

“That blasted captain kidnapped her.”

“Oh dear.” Josslyn gasped, putting a hand to her lips. “Do you think he’s turning her in to Benoit for the reward?”

“No.”

“What makes you say that? He’s a pirate.”

“He is, but he’s also Verlorian. The note he left claims he’s taking her there.”

“Has he changed his mind? Is he going to help her?”

Gustav’s lips pinched. “I don’t know what he plans to do.” But he didn’t imagine it would turn out well for his queen—and the girl who was like a daughter to him.

“How can we help her?”

“There’s nothing we can do for Avera but pray she survives whatever this pirate has planned.”

“And what of us? What shall we do?”

Gustav glanced at his sister, and while it would have been easier to give up and retire somewhere remote, he didn’t have it in him. “Now, we start countering Benoit’s rumors. Start the revolution to oust him.”

“But who will sit on the throne if we succeed?”

“Anyone but him,” spat Gustav.

If it was the last thing he did, he’d ensure Benoit died.

For the good of Daerva. It was what Avera would have wanted.