Ignore those who assure you latter generations of wizards have both wisdom and discretion. Remain vigilant lest misguided sentiment over this archaic Artifice seduces anyone into thinking magic of whatever nature has any claim on these enlightened times.
Suthyfer, the Western Approaches,
18th of Aft-Spring
The islands rose from the vast ocean with shocking abruptness; sharp ridges strung out across the waters. Closer to, tree-clad hills hunched defiant shoulders beneath the infinite blue skies, steep bulwarks drawn up close beneath serried spines grudging the barest suggestion of a beach to the all-encompassing seas. The sea matched that niggardliness with a paltry band of surf, meagre waves lifting listless sweeps of white before retreating to the coruscating deeps. No hint of reefs threatened the ship shunning the lesser islets, intent on a narrow strait just visible between two emerald promontories.
Clouds drifting unfettered cast light and shade on restless waters already brilliant with fleeting shimmers like fish darting away from inquisitive eyes. The isle ahead offered an impassive mosaic of greens unruffled by the steady wind carrying the fast-approaching ship inshore. Stalwart trees carried sober hues beneath the verdant highlights of new growth and underbrush, motionless patterns framed by the dark mossy bulk of the rising peaks. The wind shifted and moist earthy scents momentarily won over the scouring salt of the sea breeze and seabirds’ cries pierced the creak and thrum of rigging and sail.
“I’ll be so glad when we land!”
“That sounded heartfelt, Parrail.”
The man clinging to the rail of the ship greeted this new arrival with a weak smile. “Naldeth, good day to you.”
“Duty to you, gentlemen, but clear out of the way.” A sailor hurried past, bare feet deft on the swaying deck, oblivious to the chill wind despite his sleeveless shirt and ragged knee breeches. “Can’t you go below with the rest of the passengers?” He didn’t wait for a reply before hurrying up the ladder-like ratlines running from the rail to the crow’s-nest where the top half of the mast was securely stepped to the lower.
Parrail looked apprehensively at Naldeth. “I don’t think I dare.”
“Over here.” Naldeth led the way to a stack of securely netted cargo. He cast a wary eye up at sailors deftly reconfiguring the creamy sailcloth billowing on the Tang’s tall square-rigged fore and main masts. “Still no sea legs?”
“It’s not so much my legs as my stomach.” Parrail took a reluctant seat, lifting his head to see past the intricacies of ropes and pulleys. “It’s better if I can see the horizon. One of the sailors told me that.”
“I do what I can to keep the ship on an even keel,” said Naldeth lightly.
Parrail managed a faint smile. “My thanks to you, Master Mage.”
“My pleasure, Master Scholar.” Naldeth made a comic attempt at a seated bow. Leaning back against the shrouded lump of canvas that was the ship’s boat, he yawned widely before looking around. Animation and intelligence lent distinction to an otherwise unremarkable face. “This trip’s taught me just how much I don’t know about the workings of water, but the winds have been favourable so I don’t think we’ve lost too much time.”
“Dastennin be thanked.” Parrail’s intensity had little to do with devotion to the god of the sea. Much of an age with the wizard, the scholar nevertheless looked appreciably younger thanks to a snub nose, boyish features and wiry brown hair teased by the wind.
Naldeth idly tapped a foot on the tightly fitted oaken deck. “Master Gede was saying we should be anchored and ashore in time for lunch.” He laughed. “I take it you didn’t want breakfast?”
Parrail took a deep breath. “No, thanks, and I’d rather not talk about food.” He tugged absently at the laces of the plain linen shirt he wore beneath an unadorned broadcloth jerkin.
“Sorry.” Naldeth looked up towards the sterncastle of the ship where captain and senior crewmen stood in purposeful conclave before the lateen-rigged aftmast. They broke apart, each one sliding deftly down the ladder-like stair, intent on his allotted task. The captain remained behind, scanning the vista ahead as he talked to the helmsman whose broad hands cradled the whipstaff that governed the ship’s massive rudder. The captain was a tall man, hair pale grey in contrast to brows still black and knitted in the scowl fixed on his weathered face by years of peering into sun and wind. He wore soft half boots and long breeches of plain blue broadcloth beneath a comfortably loose-cut shirt much the same as wizard and scholar wore. Where Naldeth had opted for the same leather jerkin worn by half the crew, the captain maintained the dignity of his rank with a sleeveless mantle of warm grey wool belted with a tooled leather strap and a fine brass buckle.
“So is Suthyfer just the name of this island or the whole group?” Parrail asked more for the sake of distraction than wanting an answer.
Naldeth obliged regardless. “I think it’s the whole group. I don’t think anyone’s actually named the individual islands. I’m not sure anyone’s ever stopped here to do a proper survey.” With the fast growing bulk of the largest isle now dead ahead, his hazel eyes were bright with curiosity. “Whoever does should name at least one rock for himself, don’t you say? That would be something.”
“You’re interested in doing it?” queried Parrail.
Naldeth was visibly taken aback. “No, I’m bound for Kellarin.”
Parrail hesitated. “You didn’t seem overly taken with the colony when we were last there.”
“I was glad to see the back of the place.” A scowl threatened Naldeth’s cheery countenance. “I’d never seen people killed before. I mean, people die, don’t they? Poldrion rolls the runes but when it’s people you know…” He fell silent for a moment, face vulnerable. ”I’m sorry. You lost friends, I know.”
“I want to help Kellarin for their sake.” Parrail’s unguarded reply wasn’t a rebuke but Naldeth’s swift response was defensive.
“I’d done as much as I could, hadn’t I? I thought I’d best take what I’d learned back to Hadrumal. The Archmage and the other wizards left long before me.”
But Parrail’s soft brown eyes were looking inward on remembered sorrow. Awkwardness hung between the two young men as sailors’ shouts of encouragement and warning sounded the length of the ship. The hills loomed closer. Manoeuvres with ropes and rigging were punctuated by bellows of command from the rear deck and the snap of obedient canvas. The strait between the central island and its slighter neighbour threaded a silver ribbon between the green shores. White birds darted towards the Tang and wheeled above its wake, cries of alarm and curiosity loud.
“When did you go back to Vanam?” Naldeth’s question held the faintest hint of accusation.
Parrail dragged his wits back to the present. “For-Autumn last year, not long after you sailed. We reached Zyoutessela for Equinox and I was back in Vanam by the middle of For-Winter. I swore I’d never set foot on a ship again.” He shuddered before his expression brightened. “But Mentor Tonin persuaded me. I take it you’re on your way to consult with Demoiselle Guinalle as well? I heard Usara went looking for aetheric lore with that woman with the Forest blood, Livak? Did he truly bring one of the Mountain Artificers to Hadrumal?”
“Yes, a woman called Aritane but I’ve nothing to do with that.” Naldeth looked surprised. “I’m just lending a hand to keep this ship on course. I’ll want to see what’s to do in Kellarin. My affinity’s with fire and I hear the Edisgesset miners are planning on refining ore this year.” He grinned. “But you’re welcome to woo the demoiselle if you want.”
“I’ve no notion of wooing anyone.” Parrail tried to cover his chagrin with firm dignity. “I thought you worked at the Archmage’s orders.”