chapter 1, WIP
Eralon wandered through the docks of Oronyan. He moved quietly, not wanting to alert the guards, and yet not so quietly as to seem suspicious. All around him, workmen went about their daily jobs, hammering and lifting and dragging and stowing all sorts of goods in heavy metal containers, thirty-foot boxes that would be shipped throughout the empire. Eralon wished, as he often did, that he had some sort of magical talent. Something that could make him invisible. It would make things so much simpler.
Of course, if he had any magic, then he probably wouldn’t need to scrounge around the harbor for scraps that he could eat or burn or pawn off on street corners. There was food to be scavenged here, food and goods and, if he was lucky, something that might even fetch a few coppers at the local market. Oronyan was the busiest port in Northern Visk. From here, the agricultural wealth of Torranzio and Nornik would be shipped off to the population centers around the Inland Sea. The metals and magical stones of Mornikos would be loaded onto barges and towed to the factories in Elsevereth. And the fine trinkets of Arbarik would be shipped across the empire.
It was a scavenger’s paradise.
Unfortunately,’ that meant that it attracted lots of scavengers. The docks of Oronyan were known throughout the empire for their street rats. Beggars, thieves, pickpockets, muggers, thugs, grifters, and plain old scavengers like Eralon roamed the freightyards. This, of course, brought an equally large population of guards, police, and watchmen to stop them from roaming the shipyards. So for a simple scavenger like Eralon, it was a constant struggle to find pickings that the other drifters had missed and evade capture by the guards.
Slipping between two large boxes full of goods, Eralon eyed the premises. Up ahead and to the left, a team of four dockhands were struggling to load an enormous metal ingot into the container. They were indisposed of; they wouldn’t notice anything unless it fell on them, and (glancing at their ripped bodies) probably not even then. Behind them, a fair distance away, a guard stood on a tall platform. His eyes scanned the rows of containers, but his line of sight to Eralon was blocked by the ingot and container. As long as Eralon stayed fairly low to the ground, he wouldn’t be seen. He just had to make sure that his crouching didn’t attract attention from the workmen.
Eralon took a quick glance behind him; the coast was clear. It was time to see what he could find.
Ducking forward, he made his way to the mouths of the containers. A long line of them stretched off into the distance; the shipowners would brook no inefficiency in loading their vessel. He glanced over to his left and tried to keep an eye on the work crew without seeming too out of place. They were still engaged in their task and took no notice of him.
This close to the ingot, he could feel the tingling in the air of magic. Of course; it would’ve been magicked to seem lighter; otherwise, there was no way that only four people could move it. For all Eralon knew, the whole walkway might have a conveyor system of interlocking spells, all designed to bring goods along with a minimum of manpower. Eralon had never been in this part of the shipyard before; he usually went for the lighter fare, and he knew there was no magic there.
The important thing was that they didn’t have detection spells implanted. Eralon doubted it; everyone knew it was very difficult, if not impossible, to create a detection spell when you didn’t know exactly what you had to detect. And “a thief” or “someone with nefarious intent” didn’t cut it: you needed to know which specific thief or person with nefarious intent.
Still, Eralon wouldn’t necessarily put it past the corporate fat-cats; who knows what they would come up. He’d just have to take his chances and hope nothing bad happened.
It wasn’t the ingot that he was interested in anyway; he’d never be able to drag it home. Even if he could get a hold of it without anyone noticing, it would crash to the ground as soon as it left the confines of the underlying magic matrix. It wouldn’t be very useful to him then.
But maybe the container on his right…what might it hold?
It was shut. Blast. The door had been closed tight, and sealed, probably magically. There was no way Eralon could open it without attracting attention.
Much farther down the row, however, there was an unguarded container with the door open wide. Getting to it meant wandering out into the guard’s field of vision. However, if he could just get inside, there was nobody to catch him.
Thankful that his tattered rags basically matched the tattered rags that the workmen wore, Eralon crossed his fingers and set off at a nonchalant yet purposeful pace. He glanced back at the guard: good, he was looking off at another part of the shipyard. That would give Eralon a few seconds.
A pair of conversing workers stepped out from between two containers. Eralon’s heart jumped in his chest. Surely they couldn’t hear that? He ducked his head and avoided making eye contact. They walked on, oblivious.
He was almost there.
He took one glance back over his shoulder, only to see the guard turning back his way. Moving quickly, he passed the lip of the container and ducked inside. Had the guard seen him? His quick movement would probably have seemed suspicious, if it had been noticed. He mentally cursed himself; why couldn’t he think more clearly and act less impulsively?
Leaning against the container wall, he let his pulse slow down, and then took a look at his surroundings. The floor was covered with…feathers? At least, they looked like feathers, all soft and wispy. Yet there seemed to be scales mixed in, hard leathery things. Had a python eaten a chicken, maybe? It didn’t seem likely that a shipping company would be dumb enough to ship the two together, but Eralon couldn’t think of another explanation.
Towards the back of the container was an empty cage. It was big; it took up almost the entire width, and extended over the rear third of the container. The door was open, but the cage itself had heavy bars made out of a metal that Eralon had never seen. Some of the bars were dented and bowed outwards; whatever had been in the cage was surely fearsome.
For that matter, the container itself was dented. What had been in here? Obviously, it wasn’t here now; it must have been unloaded earlier, and the container had just never been refilled. But it looked like it had put up quite a fight on unloading.
Also, the sharp tingle of magic was all around the air. Whether it came from the cage or the beast or the unloading process, Eralon couldn’t say. But he knew that something had involved a terrific amount of magic here.
Eralon set about searching his surroundings for anything of value. He wasn’t going to let curiosity distract him too long from what he set out to do. He had to eat tonight, and obviously he wasn’t going to eat feathers or scales.
He sifted through them, however, thinking they might conceal something of value. At first, it didn’t seem likely. The only thing concealed by the feathers was a whole lot of droppings and a few food pellets (which were unidentifiable and definitely not fit for human consumption, alas).
Eralon was about to give up, when his fingers closed on something that felt like a chain. At first he thought it might have been part of the cage, which either would be a little nice (rare metal links often fetched decent prices on the black market) or completely useless (if it was still attached). But it was too small, barely the size of a bracelet. Maybe it was a bracelet - as he picked it up, he realized that it was just about the right size, and the links were certainly smooth enough. It had an odd glimmer to it - it was metal, but had a slight reddish cast to it, and shined as if it were polished silver.
He pocketed the bracelet and went back to searching. Nothing else jumped out at him though.
A muted conversation nearly made him jump, however. People were approaching. He didn’t know if they were workmen or guards, but it didn’t really matter. If he were caught in here, there would be no escape. He could play at being a workman for a bit, but if they asked for ID or a badge, he had nothing to give them. The game would be up.
He made his way to the front of the container and got ready to run for it. The voices were closer now, and he could barely make out what they were saying. “A hard job…fought like a dragon in heat,” one of them complained. Workmen, at least, but Eralon still didn’t want to get caught by them. It would lead to unpleasant questions.
He slipped out, hearing the workmen behind him, and started walking down the row. “Hey mate,” he heard behind him. He ignored it, pretending not to have heard.
“Hey man,” the voice continued, raising in volume a little. “Hey! Don’t ignore me!”
A hand grasped Eralon’s arm from behind and spun him around. He found himself looking up into the angry face of a burly dockyard worker. The man looked him straight in the face. “Disrepectful little…” he began. His eyes narrowed, and then he turned to his compatriot. “He’s not authorized! Look at his face! He’s too young to work here!”
Eralon jerked around and broke free. He felt the man grasp at his back, but Eralon lunged forward and out of reach. The man swore. Eralon heard him call out for the guards, bright and clearly.
Suddenly, it felt like a million eyes were upon him. All around him, heads swiveled around and workmen dropped their jobs to apprehend the street rat. Some started moving towards them. He ran. Fast.
Running between two containers, he nearly collided with a burly dockhand. He ducked underneath the man’s arm, evading him to shouted curses. He turned left as the alley opened out onto another row, his feet skidding on the loosely-packed dirt.
Up ahead, a posse had turned his way and blocked the row completely. He’d need a miracle to get past them, and given his past luck, he didn’t suspect a miracle was forthcoming. He turned right again, and ran up a pile of bulk cargo. The jagged pieces of metal scratched his shins, but he didn’t care. The heavy workmen would not (and probably could not) follow him up here, because the pile would shift and they would all come tumbling down. They could, however, surround him, and he needed to figure out how to avoid them.
Another group of guards had formed slightly behind him, cutting off his way out of the shipyard. However, up ahead, towards the harbor, was a relatively clear pathway. Only one or two guards: as long as they were not magic-users themselves, Eralon could run right by them.
And there was a ship just beyond them. One that looked deserted.
Eralon set off in a run down the scrap heap. He heard cries and frantic activity behind him, but he was faster than them. He blew right past a policeman who tried to tackle him, leaving the policeman sprawled on the ground. The end of the quay was fast approaching.
Eralon took a deep breath and jumped into the water.
It was frigidly cold. The early spring weather had not yet had a chance to warm the water, and the year-round currents that fed the Northern Shore didn’t make it all the way out to Oronyan. Eralon fought to keep his wits about him. He couldn’t swim straight to the ship; there was no way he could make it all the way in one breath, and people would be looking for him. Instead, he turned around and swam back towards the dock, where he knew there was an overhang. He surfaced and took a deep breath.
His pursuers were right on top of him.
He tried to stay very quiet and keep his breathing calm. The lapping of the water covered most of the noise, and it was too dark for them to see through the cracks in the dock. He waited for them to give up and go away.
After nearly an eternity of shivering, he took a deep breath and started off towards the ship. He couldn’t make it all in one breath, but he wanted to stay underwater for as long as possible. Best that no stray workman hear the splashing and investigate.
He surfaced in near total darkness, having swum under one of the two hulls of the vessel. From hear, there’d be no way into the hull, and hence no way to get warm. He swam around back to the stern. There was a flimsy rope ladder there. Not exactly an easy climb, but better than nothing. And he couldn’t stay in the water. He’d freeze to death.
Trying hard to make his numb fingers grip the ropes, he made his way up the ladder and onto the afterdeck. The boat looked deserted; probably its crew were all ashore on leave. With any luck, he’d find a small trinket or two that might be worth something and yet be carryable back to land.
But first, warmth. He entered the main cabin and made his way down to the hold, listening intently in case someone had stayed behind.
A slight tingle went through Eralon’s skin. The cargo was magical; that much was clear. It seemed to consist mostly of machinery and guiderails for windriders, the transport mechanism of the cities. Not really what he was looking for. There were more complicated pieces of equipment than he’d seen anywhere outside of the shipyard, though.
A quick warm breeze caught his attention. He followed it to its source, a flickering flame that floated eerily above the floor. Again, the faint tingle of magic touched his skin. But any misgivings were overwhelmed by the need to get warm. He ran over to the fire and started stripping off his wet clothes.
“That’s mine,” came a small voice behind him. “You’re blocking my light.”
Eralon jumped and whirled around, thankfully before he had gotten his clothes off. A girl sat in a small nook, apparently made by arranging pillows around a control console of some sort. She was sprawled across the cushions, a book in her hands.
“Move please,” she said again, not lifting her eyes from the book.
Eralon wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “Who are you?” he finally stammered. It sounded weak to his ears; the girl must think him the crudest sort of plebian.
The girl finally put down her book and sat up. She had a pretty face, which would probably be prettier if she didn’t have a strong expression of distaste plastered upon it. Dark hair fell in a ponytail besides it, pinned back in the style of the well-to-do, and obviously had not washed in a very long time. Her clothes also smacked of wealth: she wore the sort of rags-and-ripped-pants outfit that the children of wealthy parents wore to appear poor, except every crease was custom-designed by the fashionistas, every rip form-fitted. Not that she had much of a form to begin with: she looked to be about Eralon’s age, perhaps a year or two younger, and so only the faintest curves were visible.
“You’ll know my name,” she replied. And he did. Ranye. He didn’t understand how, but the name had suddenly implanted itself in his mind. “I’d rather not say it out loud, in case someone’s listening.”
“How…” Eralon started, and then figured that she wouldn’t tell him anyway. The fire shifted a bit, the flames flickering eerily a few inches off the floor. He tried a different question. “Who might be listening?”
“Oh, the ship’s weatherworker is still on board. Resting, for now. She knows I’m here - she took me on board in the first place, and kept me hidden from the crew. But she doesn’t know who I am, and I want to keep it that way. The crew themselves are off having fun with the ladies” - she said this with more than a little irony, and a trace of disgust -“so they won’t be back for a while. I hope. It’s dreadfully boring here, and I wanted to keep up with my reading. I haven’t been able to read the whole voyage, you know? It’s too damp, and the captain would know if magic were used on his ship.” Ranye paused, finally, and then evidently ran out of things to say. An awkward silence followed.
“So you can use magic then?” Eralon ventured. He had never met anyone that could personally control the flows; such people just were not part of his social strata. Eralon’s only exposure to magic had been the industrial artifacts that pervaded Oronyan. One couldn’t escape those, but it was easy to forget that behind them all were people who could change the fabric of reality with a blink of an eye.
“Top of my class,” she beamed with pride. “Or at least I was, before I ran away. Say, how’d you end up soaking wet and stealing my fire anyway?”
“It’s a long story,” said Eralon.
“We’ve got time. Usually the crew doesn’t return until long after dark. I did want to finish my book, but I doubt that will happen as long as you’re here.”
So Eralon told her the day’s events, starting with his morning on the docks. She seemed surprisingly interested - moreso than he expected for someone of her background, at least. He doubted that she’d ever met anyone who didn’t have a roof over his head and a family to go back to; probably, she’d never even met someone who couldn’t work magic. Maybe that was why she found him fascinating.
“Now we just need to figure out how to get you back to the mainland,” Ranye said, after he finished. “You can swim, right? You must be able to, to get over here.”
Eralon didn’t relish the thought. “Why can’t I just stay on the ship until it sets sail? The police will be looking out for me in Oronyan, and besides, I have nothing to keep me here.”
Ranye suddenly turned frosty towards him. “This is my ship. I know all the crew’s routines and I’m good at keeping away from them. I’ve kept myself hidden all this time, but there’s no way I could keep you hidden too. You have no magic, and you’re bigger than me.” It was likely the first time she had realized that Eralon was a head taller than she was.
“Well, you can’t just make me disappear. Unless you have some magic spell that disintegrates people.”
Ranye looked pensive, and Eralon worried for a moment that she really did have some spell up her designer-tattered sleeve and would turn him into a toad or worse. But no ribbits were forthcoming. “No,” she said simply. “You’ll just have to…”
She stopped in midsentence, and seemed to be listening carefully. The fire flickered out and died, leaving only the light of the portholes to see by. Eralon was sad to see it go: his clothes were only half dry, the air was cold, and he started shivering. But Ranye apparently had concerns other than his warmth.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered.
Eralon didn’t hear anything. He was about to say so, when Ranye flinched. There - he heard it. The scuffling of feet on the deck above.
“Take cover over there,” she ordered, guiding him to a large pile of rocks, quite unlike the containers that he’d seen on the dock. “It’s material for a new rockpark, plenty of nooks to hide in.”
Eralon let her lead him around, and then ducked behind a large piece of granite. Ranye had crawled inside a hole in some river-worn limestone, and now seemed quite invisible. Eralon wasn’t sure whether it was magic or whether Ranye just naturally disappeared into the background when you weren’t talking to her.
Whoever was above them had now moved over to the ladder, and Eralon was beginning to hear voices. There was a man and a woman, their speech slurred and fawning. “C’mon honey, lemme show you our load,” he heard the man say. “There’s good stuff down here, and the company will never care if a trinket or two is missing.”
More cooing ensued. Across the rockfield, Eralon could just barely see Ranye’s face appear, all scrunched up with disgust. She made a vomiting gesture with her finger and rolled her eyes.
The couple really seemed into each other, and Eralon was momentarily afraid that they would walk over to the rock pile and discover him and Ranye. But they seemed far too into each other to notice another pair.
They did, however, notice the afterglow of Ranye’s fire. “Wait…” said the woman. “Is there something magical in this hold?”
“Only us,” replied the man. Eralon had to stifle a guffaw.
“Someone’s been working magic in here. The residue’s quite strong.”
“It’s probably just some piece of equipment. We came in with a load of parts for a new windrider. They require magic, right.
“This is newer, and more intricate. Somebody’s been in here lately.” She pulled away from the hopeful sailor and started concentrating intently.
A visible trail lit up the hold, from the fire’s past location to where Ranye was hiding. The sailor visibly shrank back - apparently, he no more expected his date to be a magic-user than Eralon had expected to find Ranye in the hold. Across the rockpile, Eralon saw Ranye flinch and shrink down behind her limestone. She was illuminated in a pale blue haze.
The woman pulled on the sailor’s hand. “Looks like we found our intruder. Let’s take care of her, and then we can be alone together.”
Ranye frantically whispered a command to Eralon, the blue glowing a little more brightly around her. “Get out of here. She’s powerful - back in Nithrallah, she would have been at least my father’s rank. I don’t know what she’s doing with a drunken sailor. But they don’t take well to stowaways.”
The couple was nearly upon them, and the sailor was speaking into a talkbox. There would likely be other crew members cornering them in soon. Eralon could still get away, but he had to move now. Ranye would have to fend for herself. Wherever she went, the woman’s tracker would follow, and she’d just bring them down upon him. Eralon didn’t see why he should care anyways - Ranye had been nothing but selfish and bossy since he met her.
He stealthily moved away from his granite hiding place, ducking into the shadows. He was halfway across the hold when he heard a squeak behind him. The woman had grabbed Ranye by the wrist. “Pretty little thing we’ve got here,” she said. Her companion just stood there silently - there really was no right response to that. If he agreed, the woman would probably just get mad that he thought Ranye prettier than her. If he disagreed - well, never disagree with a woman. “You had some friends that couldn’t find girls tonight. I wonder if they’d like this one.”
As she said this, Ranye tried to break away, but she didn’t get far. She stopped in her tracks, apparently immobilized by…something.
Eralon hesitated, a moment of indecision gripping him. He should get out - he wouldn’t have a chance if he delayed for just one minute. But he felt that he shouldn’t leave Ranye to her fate no matter how bossy she was.
His conscience won out. Eralon crept back towards them, looking for something to throw or otherwise distract them. He found a small metal disk - not heavy or sharp enough to do serious damage, but if it hit someone in the head, it would likely knock them out. He hoped it would.
Creeping carefully back, he stopped about ten feet away from the woman. He’d need very good aim - a heavy metal disk like this was not easy to throw, even though he had experience with slings and rocks from his days on the street. And if he was off by a little, it would hit Ranye, give away his presence, and make things even worse for them all.
He threw. It hit the woman in the temple, and she crumpled to the floor. The man lurched forwards, frantically searching for the source of the discus, and then strangely toppled to the floor.
Ranye rushed by him, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him with her as she ran. “That was dumb. Let’s go!” she said.
They ran towards the stern of the vessel, the same place that Eralon had climbed on board. Above them, they heard the pitter-patter of running feet. The rest of the crew must be back on board now, and probably had been alerted to their presence. It wouldn’t be long before they ran out of time.
They reached the railing and stopped. “Can you swim?” Ranye asked, and then remembered their earlier conversation. “Okay, dumb question. Jump!”
And just like that, he was in the freezing cold water again. He surfaced immediately, then looked around for Ranye. She wasn’t hard to find: she was splashing around frantically and doing her best to keep her head above water. He set off with strong, vigorous strokes towards her.
“I thought you said you could swim,” he teased her.
“I asked…” her mouth nearly disappeared beneath the water, prompting a coughing fit when she resurfaced. “I asked if you could,” she said, determined to finish the thought. “I haven’t been in the water for five years. The canals - ” her head disappeared again. Eralon grabbed her by the waste and pulled her back up. “The canals in Nithrallah are polluted, and we had to get rid of the swimming pool when we moved.”
“Can you make it over to that island over there?” He nodded towards a lightly suburbanized exclave sitting across the harbor. It was unlikely to be patrolled by policemen, and looked to be a swimmable distance away. For people who could swim, that is.
“Of course,” she said, though Eralon rather doubted it.
He set off anyway, listening carefully for Ranye’s splashes behind him and ready to turn around if they stopped. He had to rescue her three times, the third times actually diving beneath the surface to pull her back up. After that, he half dragged her up onto the beach. She gave a sputtering cough and panted for a bit.
“That was a really dumb idea,” Eralon said. “Jumping into the water without being able to swim. Couldn’t you have held her off magically?”
“I’m eleven,” she retorted. “She must have been a trained magic user for years. I have no idea why a sailor would’ve picked her up.” She shivered. Eralon did too. It was still cold out, though the sun had moved overhead.
“Could you at last magic our clothes dry?” he tried.
“Too tired,” she said. And then collapsed back onto the beach.
“What do we do now then? We can’t stay here - the residents will notice and call the police.”
“Ask me again after I’m dead,” she murmured.
“Suit yourself,” Eralon said, and started walking off. “I’m getting off this island.”
“Wait!” he heard behind him. He turned around. Ranye was sitting up now. “How do you get off?” Right, she didn’t know the area. She needed him much more than he needed her.
“There’s a tunnel that runs below the harbor mouth. The general public doesn’t know about it - they built a new one, complete with windriders and even a transporter, and so the old foot tunnel’s just abandoned. I’m going that way - it runs by a few houses, but there’s a buffer of trees between them and the beach, and if we’re quiet, they won’t notice us.”
“I’m coming with you,” Ranye said. Suddenly she had more energy. Not much more, but enough not to play dead on the beach.
Eralon shrugged. “Whatever. Just don’t expect me to slow down and rest.”
She ran to catch up with him. “Where will we go after that, anyway.”
“I’m going to catch up with some folks I know in the city. I don’t care what you do.”
“I’m coming too.”
Great. A tagalong. “Will you be a little quieter then? We can’t afford to attract attention in the city. Act like a street kid and don’t stick out much and you’ll be okay. Act like you’re somebody important’s daughter and you’ll get us both kidnapped. And can you dry out these clothes now.”
Amazingly, the wetness in his clothes started to dissipate. Eralon noticed that Ranye’s hair was already dry, and her jeans would be soon too. Figured that she would take care of herself first. Then again, that was what most people did, so he shouldn’t be too surprised.
They walked in silence along the beach, keeping to the treeline to avoid detection. It wasn’t far to the mouth of the tunnel, a rickety hole in a copse of trees, concealed by some planks and leaves. Eralon lifted the loose covering off the hole, revealing a steep staircase leading off into blackness.
“I’m not going down there,” Ranye complained. “It looks like the kind of place where psycho thugs take victims to murder them.”
Eralon wasn’t quite sure whether she was comparing him to a psycho murderer. “It’s the only way off the island, besides the windriders. Take them and everybody will know you’re here.”
She chewed on her lip a bit and thought. “Is it long?” she asked.
“Very,” Eralon said. It wasn’t really, but if she was going to act like this all the time, he’d be better off without her.
Ranye made to turn around, then wavered a bit. “Okay,” she said, finally. “You’re going first though.”
Eralon shrugged and hopped into the tunnel. Ranye followed close by, so that Eralon could pull the tunnel entrance closed behind them.
The blackness closed in upon them.