Three days after setting out for Spellford, I looked down at the waves passing beneath us, my arms on the front rail.
They sat a long way down, glistening in the afternoon sun as we cut through them. The ride was a lot smoother than I’d been expecting. While I’d known, in theory, that the propulsion on the expanding fin would eliminate most of the rocking typical for a ship, I hadn’t been prepared for the full truth.
With the amount of enchanting Xoth had done, it was a bit like having an underwater jet engine propelling us along. The actual hull of the ship rarely touched the water when we were at speed, loaded as lightly as we were.
And speed we had. The further south we traveled, the more vessels we passed. And few of the others had more than a fraction of the speed of Celinda’s Grace.
I suspected there were more like it out there, but much like us, they zipped past while the other vessels languished.
The coastline had been an impressive collection of cliffs nearly the entire way along. In the couple spots where it hadn’t there were the remains of ruined refugee camps. Places people had attempted to wait out the Howling season, only to be wiped away.
We’d stopped at all three, attempting to render aid. There hadn’t even been bodies left, for the most part. Certainly no survivors.
There were a couple fledgling communities that had survived the season, but they were all carved into the cliff face, with little in the way of docks. There were signs of help arriving, ships parked beneath despite the lack of infrastructure.
The scattered communities had disappeared over the last day. We were in Spellford’s waters, and the shore was a distant mory. While Spellford was technically connected to the mainland, it sat at the tip of a long peninsula, one so thin that a person could walk from one side to the other in less than a day.
At least, that’s what the maps showed.
While we’d left the communities behind, there were several larger vessels on the open water, so the size of cruise ships from Earth. Truly massive things, bristling with enchantnts and weapons both.
The first ti we ca across one, Tamrie had needed to push my jaw closed, before explaining what it was. “Those are the High Lord’s Iron Shield. Defenders of the people, they are. More’n like, they’re chasing the worst of the Howl’s leavings, making sure a stray kraken can’t drag the fishing fleets into the abyss for a light snack.”
Unfortunately, we didn’t get to see the massive ship in action. It had sent out smaller skimr like craft, but they hadn’t found anything by the ti we left it behind.
Probably for the best.
Ahead of us, a low hanging fog started to take shape, almost seeming to climb up in a sphere over the ocean.
“Sure is a sight, from the outside,” Tamrie said from my elbow, coming up from behind.
“The outside?” I asked, noticing Tamrie wasn’t the only one joining at the front. Tresla was right behind her. Above us, up in the mostly ornantal rigging, Calbern and Bevel were both sitting quietly, close enough to listen, but gazes set outward.
“Outside of the barrier. Looks like fog, sure enough. Won’t let folk see more than a couple hundred feet, ‘less you’ve got the proper key stuck to the enchantnts. Leastwise, that’s what I’ve read,” Tamrie said with a small shrug. “Sucks itself tight during the Howl, right up against the holds. Only ti you can lock your peepers on it from inside, and even then it’s faint as morning mist.”
I glanced towards the gradually growing fog bank. It was growing pretty quick. “Celinda’s Grace has that key, right?”
“Sure enough, it does. Won’t let us see much out here. Just in the cabin,” Tamrie said, gesturing towards the raised section towards the back of the ship. “It’ll clear once we make it a ways inside. Heard passing through’s a bit like having a curtain raised.”
“I’ve always wanted to sail into Spellford when the barrier was raised,” Tresla said, her voice carrying a note of anticipation.
Nodding my agreent, raising my voice enough to know I was opening the question to everyone, I asked, “Anything in particular anyone wants to do when we get there? Anyone folk want to visit?”
“Xelinda has assured the theaters will be worth our ti. I’m hoping to visit at least one show myself,” Tresla said, running her gloved hand along the railing.
“Best to visit the lower holds. Theater there is right amusing. Upper holds are stiff as stone,” Tamrie said, nodding. “Post Howl festival might still be on, so chance we could visit so stalls. If we’re early enough, might even catch the Spellford Calming Run. Assuming it hasn’t been cancelled on account of the disaster.”
“Spellford Calming Run? Don’t think you’ve ntioned that,” I said.
“It’s the season opener. Leads into the Tide Run. Surgers race along the major waterlifts and canals. Dated a Surger once. She was fit enough to toss one handed. All Surgers are,” Tamrie said, her gaze going vacant for a second as a smile tugged at her lips. Then she shook her head. “Was fun tumbling but she’d go on about her board and the water, and nary a thing besides.”
“Surger, huh?” I teased, elbowing her.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not ant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Water Surger. Not ensouled. The magic’s provided by the High Shaper himself, it is,” Tamrie clarified quickly, apparently not picking up on my teasing. “Use boards they carve themselves to ride the course, they do. The carving is almost as popular as the race. We’ll have missed that, no doubt, as the contest’s done during the last weeks of the Howl.”
“We should arrange for races of our own, one of these days,” I said, staring into the fog. “Like the bluff race Selvi organized, but with prizes. And maybe sothing for gliders too.”
“Competition can be good for many things,” Tresla said, resting her head on her arms. Sothing that she didn’t even have to stoop to accomplish, given the high rails and her short height. “The Forgeborn are especially fond of competition. It’s part of why Inertia travels so much.”
“Sightseeing competitions?” I asked, chuckling.
“She’s avoiding competition,” Tresla said, a glint of red light escaping her hood. “Well, not all competitions. Mostly just her Forge-sister.”
“Forge-sister,” Tamrie asked before I could, leaning forward.
Tresla’s hood shifted backwards as she looked upwards, as if searching for Inertia. When she didn’t spot her, she leaned closer, a conspiratorial tone in her voice. “Her sister’s na is Calamity. And as you might infer from her na, when she gets involved, things can get disastrous. Mostly for her competition.”
Before Tresla could tell us more, Inertia descended. If not for the incoming bank of fog, I might’ve thought it was to prevent Tresla from spilling more gossip.
Considering that Inertia landed almost gently middeck, soft enough that the other nearby travelers only had their hair slightly ruffled, that probably wasn’t the case.
Was amusing to think it though.
Celinda’s Grace slowed as we approached the wall of fog.
The visual effect of having the water get closer at the sa ti as the fog enveloped us was enough to steal all our attention. I had to wonder if Xelinda had tid it like that on purpose, to heighten the experience.
A few monts later, right as Celinda’s Grace touched the first of the waves, the area within was revealed.
In the distance, Spellford rose, more like a mountain than a city.
It was almost too tall to process. I’d seen skyscrapers in person before. Visited Detroit once with the old man for a special fight. In comparison, they seed so small, so insignificant. Spellford must’ve stretched at least a mile into the air. And from what I’d heard, it stretched just as far beneath the ocean.
Wasn’t just the size that caught my attention though. It was the shape of it all. The entire place was like a massive set of those puzzle blocks I’d seen people use, the ones where if you removed one, the whole tower would fall.
Jenga, my enhanced mory told , dredging the word up from the depths of my mind.
Except it was like a whole bunch of those towers sort’ve jamd together, with each of the blocks covered with green tops and ribbons of blue running up and down between them. Those ribbons would end in fountains shooting into the air, often as not. A lot prettier than a bunch of Jenga.
Barely visible from our position was the central tower around which it was all built, a dark monolith of grey stone, festooned with so many colorful flowering vines I never would’ve known what lay beneath if not for Tamrie.
As we drew closer to a place I was starting to realize was likely as big as the largest cities back on Earth, I grew aware of the other ships around us.
While they’d been growing thicker as we approached the fog, to the point where there were a dozen vessels in sight at any ti, now that we were through, the water was practically clogged with boats.
“There must be thousands of them,” I said, my gaze shifting between the vessels. I knew so parts of Ro’an had standardization, since it’d been pretty common in the Aranor family’s lands, but looking at the ships around us, I wasn’t sure the concept had made it to Spellford.
While there were so similar concepts on display, none were identical. It was as if every single boat had been carved by a different hand. Even the smaller ones, like the rowboats were unique.
So of them were a bit garish, but for the most part, even the work boats had a sort of elegance to them.
“Looks like we made it in ti for the Starter Run,” Tamrie said, shielding her eyes with her hand as she squinted towards the distant city.
“How can you tell?” I asked, doing my best to follow her gaze.
“Guards’re marking off the limits, setting up the lanes,” Tamrie said, gesturing towards a distant pair of boats that were lowering bright green poles into the water. Each pole was easily a hundred feet tall and had a different flag at the tip.
Even the official boats were different from each other, though in this case it was clear to see that one had been designed for the purpose of carrying and unloading the flagpoles.
“A boat, just for the deploying of temporary flagpoles,” I said, shaking my head.
“Spellford takes the Runnings pretty serious like,” Tamrie said, shrugging.
Our slow approach continued, the others moving to prepare to unload as I remained at the front, watching.
Calbern stepped up beside as we passed a low flat ship that looked more like a temporary dock with fancy hand rails than the storage barge it was serving as. “Do you have a mont, master Percival?”
“Of course,” I replied, indicating our own vacant rail next to .
“While we are in Spellford, I have so personal business I must address,” he said while stepping forward, his hands clasped behind his back, posture perfect as ever.
Except… no. Not perfect. There was a bit of an over heightening of his shoulders.
“Okay. You want any help?” I asked.
“That will be unnecessary,” Calbern replied, giving a minute shake of his head. “However, I do not know how long my business will take. If it cos ti to leave, and I have not returned, I would ask that you depart without .”
I snorted. “Yeah, that’s not happening unless I know you’re safe. And the way you’re talking, I doubt your ‘business’ is safe.”
We remained standing there silently for several long monts before Calbern let out a soft sigh. “You are frustratingly perceptive, at tis, Master Perry.”
“Not half as perceptive as you, old man,” I teased, unable to help but smile. Then it faded. “If you consider a friend, you’ll let know if there’s anything I can do to help. I might not be…” I waved at him. “A superhero like you, but I’ve got a few tricks that’ll help.”
“I suppose you do,” Calbern said, a slight smile slipping onto his face for a second. “Superhero?”
“People like the Knights Exemplar and Vox Knights,” I said with a shrug. “Or ensouled. Pretty much anyone who’s more than mortal.”
Calbern inclined his head in understanding. “Speaking of the Vox Knights, I shall ensure we make contact first. Only after we have secured their services will I address my personal business.”
“Don’t suppose you could share more details?”
Calbern didn’t answer imdiately, but he didn’t brush off either. We waited in silence for several longs seconds before he sighed again. “It is… there is an old acquaintance who has taken up residence within Spellford. I suspect he shall be rather difficult to track down. And I am uncertain what the nature of my reception will be, once I do so.”
“An old acquaintance? A friend from before you started working for Evarl Aranor?”
“I was never in service to master Perth’s father. Not in truth,” Calbern clarified, though his voice was more distracted than upset, if I was reading it right. “But no. Sebastian wasn’t a friend.”
I waited as Calbern let out a small sigh.
“He was the man who inducted into the Knights Exemplar. He was my ntor.”
“And he’s the man I’m sworn to kill.”
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