Chapter Two – Part 10 – The Longboats
As a small apology for being so inconsistent lately, we’re going to push through a number of posts in short order over the next few days to catch up to the intro for Chapter Three which mistakenly posted this morning. It’s been moved back, but not for long. Thanks for sticking around, everyone! It means a lot. – Ian
By the time the boat had made wharf at the city’s main harbor, Kintere had all but forgotten the previous night. He had not planned to be so angry with Mireya, nor had he planned to leave himself exposed to the Curia’s ministrations. He found, though, that he was glad of both. Mireya kept to herself as the ship weighed anchor at the small encampment down the coast from the burning city of Yeun, leaving Kintere and Blackfang with a longboat to themselves to cross to shore.
“I don’t envy you your position, Kintere,” Blackfang huffed in the tongue of the jungle. The language drew curious looks from the sailors manning the boat’s oars, but afforded the pair some measure of privacy.
“Why not? I go with my friends to a place where my past means nothing.”
“You’re a fool. Your past follows in your shadow, whether others see it or not. I, however, remain a hunter. Attensah will make of me the greatest warrior this world has ever seen. Let the elders call me tainted then, when the grime of my captivity is washed off by my deeds.”
Kintere envied his friend that optimism. Blackfang – Kienor, as he had been known before he took the mantle of hunter – had always been of a single mind. Like the arrows he favoured, the hunter walked through life with a purpose Kintere envied.
“My father will certainly not consider you tainted, Kienor. Your captivity was not within your control. What you’ve told me of this hooded one – clearly he is a Weaver, a Dweomercrafter such as those you now go to study with.”
“And yourself, Kintere. Where I go, I learn the ways of war. Where you go, who knows what knowledge awaits? I hope your thick skull allows some in.”
Kintere smiled.
“Still, you’ve chosen well in your friends,” Blackfang admitted, screwing his eyes to narrow beads and glaring out toward the boat which carried Mireya and Rhayd. “That noble, he must be a force when he puts his will to something.”
“If he is, I’ve not seen it. He rarely makes his will known clearly, if at all.”
“There is a great steadfastness in him,” Blackfang insisted. “I don’t think anyone has seen its shape yet. The girl comes closest, though. I’ve seen them fight. She knows just where to cut him to reveal the heartwood beneath his rough bark.”
“She knows that skill for everyone she meets,” Kintere agreed.
The boats made land, all twelve issuing forth a frenzy of sailors and land workers as the cargo from the longboats was removed. The small group, headed by Curia Thryche, made their way off down the coast, away from the mess. Kintere kept to the rear, ignoring the occasional glance from Mireya where she walked beside Thryche and Rhayd. He wasn’t ready to talk to her yet.
“He’ll be here soon,” Thryche said suddenly, stopping to stare out at the ocean.
“Who will?” Rhayd asked, crossing his arms in a gesture Kintere knew signified annoyance at Thryche’s continual cryptic behaviour. He didn’t blame Rhayd at all – the man was wearing on his nerves as well.
“The master of Attensah,” Thryche answered. “Jeeder Legaeta. Head of the King’s Elite.”