KANATA

ASTRIDE THE RIFT

CHAPTER III

“...where Hells begin and gateway ends

well met the friendless friends of friends...”

Donvyik Karasyn Dynde IX

2:1:1:5/5, III:IX

Port Myre hadn’t changed much in the four years since Kigal last laid eyes on it, but the recent waves had launched Kanata’s largest city into chaos. Though ancient mer enchantments protected the island from swells, the choked harbor couldn’t shelter all the damaged ships limping in across the Katei, and dock fees had tripled in the past three days. Merchants struggled to repair their own vessels, unable to meet the public demand for new wood, line, and canvas. With half his starboard rail missing and a good chunk of deck torn away – not to mention ripped sails and a crooked bowsprit – Kigal could neither afford to fix his ship nor risk the journey elsewhere. “I could rent myself out as a mage,” ventured the tanned sailor between hammer strokes, “but we won’t get to repairs for another week at least.”

“The tie-up charges alone will bankrupt us before then,” refused Anelle, the bereft captain’s first mate, ship’s cook, and sole crew member. She hadn’t set foot on the island since she’d fled an arranged marriage to a Kanatan aristocrat, and too many faces from that old life milled the streets for her comfort. “Let’s finish what we can and go from there. If we batten the deck and squeak it to the Red with a gap in the rail, so be it.”

“Fair,” the sailor grunted, banging the rim off their last empty barrel to reclaim its curved slats for repairs. The warped oak exuded the sour stench of pickles as he tacked it to his deck’s rosy planks, the ship’s exotic redwood unmatched outside the Unknown East. “But it’s a week at best, with the time we’ll be making. How are the dry stores?”

“Gone, and the cold stores too. Let’s hope the fishing’s good.” His hollow laugh dismissed her joke, the voyage downright reckless without some food on board. “What about passage?” suggested Anelle, dropping her half-patched sail to tuck golden wisps of hair back into her bun. “We could take on a private charter. Most ships are already bound somewhere, so we’ve got a good angle.”

“Yeah, but who’s going to book passage on a damaged ship?”

Unfazed, she surveyed the widespread bedlam with a wicked grin. “They haven’t got much choice right now.” A battered liner waded into the harbor and dropped anchor, its viewports blown out, whole lengths of hull missing, and two of the masts snapped like twigs. “I bet someone off there wants to ditch this hellhole as bad as we do.” Laden with goods and weary passengers, its few remaining lifeboats lowered to the water and made for the overcrowded piers jutting from the wharf.

Through her spyglass, Anelle watched two racing dragons leap from the liner’s slanted deck and swim after a boat shuttling a dozen kits to shore. A bruised young couple corralled the infants while a sailor rowed, the man’s hair dark and foreign, the woman’s black eye apparent through the scope. “Looks like they’ve caught the worst of it yet...” Trailing off, she followed Kigal’s gaze past the ship to a strange bird soaring in the sky beyond.

Too distant to be so large, the silhouette beat its slow wings and rocketed through the air. “Dragon,” Kigal provided, stealing her spyglass for a closer look. “About the size of my ship, I’d say. He’ll be a few centuries old by now.”

“What’s it doing?”

“Flying, obviously.” The captain’s sarcasm earned him a sharp elbow in the side, and he returned Anelle’s spyglass with a laugh. “I wouldn’t worry. They’re peaceful beasts, especially wise old ones like him.”

Peering at the creature, she pressed, “But why’s he flying here? I thought they liked mountains.” Across miles of boundless ocean, the black dragon bore out of the northern horizon. “You think he came from Kholl?”

“Well, I’m no speaker,” reasoned Kigal, a weathered hand rubbing his ribs, “but I bet someone asks him soon.” Sure enough, rumors flared as fast as the city took notice, but the dominant hearsay insisted the beast refused to answer questions. After a brief excursion for the gossip, Kigal returned to his repairs and shrugged, “I’m really not surprised. Only the strongest speakers can hear dragons anyway.”

Her patchwork forgotten, Anelle reclined on the deck to watch the approaching giant. “Someone’s riding it, by the way. Looks Kanatan, but he’s got those long elf ears.” Twiddling a few fingers behind her head for emphasis, she handed off the spyglass.

“A tree elf? They don’t get much north of the Red!” As they speculated, Kigal attached the last of the barrel slats to the deck and lashed a tarp across the makeshift skeleton.

“Ahoy there!” called a young woman from the pier, her black eye unmistakable. “Where are you headed?”

“Nowhere fast,” Anelle quipped back, “but we’re bound for the Red Delta once we’re patched!”

“Are you taking on passengers?” The woman glanced at the dragon looming in the north and hazarded, “There’s two of us, two racing dragons, and their clutch.”

Waving her aboard, Anelle boasted, “What’d I tell you? Just back from the races with all their winnings, I bet!” She turned to the woman and slung an arm around her captain’s shoulders. “Anelle and Kigal, at your service.”

“The name’s Larin,” intoned the girl, offering her hand to the handsome sailor and his first mate in turn. After leaving Jorn on the wharf with the dragons, she’d muddled through the discord searching for passage to Allana and finally found a captain who hadn’t laughed or cursed her. “Those mer waves did all this?”

“Indeed, and we’re not ready to shove off quite yet,” Kigal apologized, indicating the tarp across the injured deck. “But the sooner you pay, the sooner I can get us under way. I’d need one, two days tops.”

“And you’ll not find a departure sooner than that, I promise you,” chimed Anelle.

“Sold.” Eager to take cover, Larin waved Jorn over from his post on the wharf.

Anelle tucked her chin onto Kigal’s shoulder and whispered, “She didn’t even ask for a price! We lucked out on this one.”

“This wood looks expensive,” observed Larin, crouching to run her fingers along the beautiful rosewood deck. “How much will it cost you to replace?”

Kigal’s grin faltered. “We’ll do repairs in the Red, but there’s no replacing that wood. I don’t dare another trip that far east.”

“I see. Then perhaps we can work out a deal.” With the dragons in tow, Jorn crested the gangplank and Larin introduced, “This is Jorn. He’s still learning Allanic.”

“Pleasure,” roused the captain, shaking Jorn’s gloved hand. “What sort of deal did you two have in mind?”

“I fix your ship today, and we sail with the tide – for free.”

Both Anelle and Kigal scoffed, though for different reasons. His first mate forgot that magic came in modest trappings, but the mage knew a sound offer when he heard it. “Free? Come now, if I could afford to supply for four and dragons to boot, why’d I fix that to my deck?” Garnering a smile from the girl, he tendered, “Half price, and you sail with the tide.”

“The cost of food,” countered Larin, “and I get you wood to match.”

“Oh ho!” Delight bright in his blue eyes, the captain prompted Anelle with a fond nudge. “Well girl, what say you?”

She could do little else but stick out her hand. “Welcome aboard–”

“I know you’re there, boy!”

The cold taunt rent Jorn’s thoughts, and wind off the dragon’s wings swept over them, filling sails and rocking ships across the harbor. “He’s close! Hide!” But the great beast dove for a different pier, scattering the aghast throng in all directions.

Splashes and screams punctuated the horrible crunch of immense claws splintering through the docks. “Come out or they all die!”

“What’s that voice?!” shrieked Anelle, a hand at her temple. “Is that the dragon?”

“Bastard elf’s a reader!” Snatching up the spyglass to focus on the manic rider, Kigal stirred his magic and ripped the elf from his perch. With a few flicks of his wrist, he slammed Haisrir twice against the pier and held his limp body over the sea to bait the dragon. Instead, the beast veered from the wharf and settled in the harbor, passive and directionless with water lapping at its sides.

Kigal brought the forsaken elf overhead and dropped him to the deck beside Jorn. “How do you know him?” he demanded in perfect Khollic.

“Wha–?” sputtered Larin, the sailor’s fair hair and countless talismans a far cry from the natives of Kholl. “We don’t–” But Jorn spat, landing a few vindictive kicks to the elf’s temple. Curses mounting under his breath, he slammed Haisrir twice more in the head after Kigal grabbed his shoulder, and he crushed the elf’s nose beneath his heel before the sailor dragged him off.

“I asked you how you know this reader!”

A roar from the harbor drowned out Kigal’s bellow, and the dragon surged for their ship, shrieks erupting along the pier. It did no damage rushing through the water, but the captain’s grip slackened and Jorn broke free. Pulling Larin clear of Haisrir’s body, Jorn hid her face against his chest while the beast devoured its rider in ragged pieces. Dark blood rained across the deck, and the dragon spouted a great mouthful of seawater to rinse it clean. Satisfied, it retreated from the ship and headed out to sea.

“H-he chased us, from Kholl,” Larin confessed into their rattled silence. “We didn’t know until–”

“I trust you won’t be having any more surprises drop out of the sky?” Kigal needed this fare, and though he commended Jorn’s hatred of the deceased mind reader, he knew no darkmage worked in isolation. “Who else is after you?”

“No one, I swear!” insisted Larin. “He was the only one who knew I wasn’t dead.”

With a week at sea to milk the truth from his passengers, Kigal relented. “You’d best get to work on the deck,” sighed the captain, reverting to Allanic. “We’ll need payment before we resupply, and I’d rather shove off before they start asking questions.”

“What are you doing?” Anelle hissed, cold fingers clenched around his forearm. “You’re not seriously–”

“They’re still our best ticket out of here, love.” Waving away Jorn’s handful of pewter coins, the captain pried Anelle’s grip from his arm and checked, “You’re okay to man the ship while I’m gone?”

“Well, yeah, but–”

“Then keep an eye on the girl,” he instructed before jabbing a finger at Jorn. “You there! You’re coming with me.”

Alarmed, the speaker stalled, “What, me? Why? And how do you know Khollic?”

“Don’t think a rosewood ship’s all I’ve picked up on my travels, boy!” Once Larin knelt to coax new wood from his damaged deck, the captain marched Jorn down the gangplank. “Those nekkos are as good as rocks in your pocket once you hit Allana’s shores. First stop’s the bank of Port Myre!” With a hearty clap on Jorn’s back, the last of Kigal’s ire fell away, and he guided the youth through the mayhem. “Hurry now,” he advised. “This madhouse’ll get worse before it gets better.”