Blood of the Sea, Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter 33: Missive

Veyda

The water caller, as he calls himself, bends over the wide, polished wooden desk of the palace’s office. It’s a smaller room, holding no more than four occupants at any one time - but really, who needed that many people in a room to look at one document at a time? The green trim and wide windows don’t hold Vayda’s attention as much as the way Vance keeps glancing out the window, taking in the wide angled view of the city. A little frown furrowed his brows, but the expression would relax when he noticed her still watching him, replaced briefly with a smile, before he continued writing the letter of summons. He had insisted upon writing it, though, Veyda knew she could have written it faster, her nails drumming on the wooden desk as time ticks by. I suppose it’s better to come from him. Initially at least. There was something to be said about familiarity in an unknown land.

At long last - altogether not that long, but her patience was waning - Vance handed her the note. It took up half a page, though it felt like he had written a journal, given all the pauses for thought interspersed between the acts of inking words onto the parchment. She took the note, scanning over the unfamiliar scribbles. Their spoken words matched more closely, despite the distance between their cultures, however the written word was another thing entirely. Veyda grimaces, but decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Excellent. I’ll send a rider.”

“What do they ride?”

“J’korun,” Veyda replies, already halfway out of the room, her booted footsteps carrying her out toward the stables. The palace is a maze of rooms, and Vance chases her through all of them, winded by the time Veyda throws open the doors which lead into the back garden. J’korun lounge on the lawn, several perking up when she steps down onto the cobblestone pathing. A cluster of young mages talking amongst themselves quiet at her approach, bowing. One, a wind mage if she remembered correctly, steps forward; the girl’s light blonde hair ruffles with an unseen wind, her eyes a sheer green, but at least her smile is wide and bright as she stoops before Veyda.

“My Queen, how might I be of service?”

“Take this to Kildangan.” Of course, she remembered now. The girl had been working on stealing the air from one’s lungs. Veyda’s smile grows. She had potential. “Speed will be rewarded, but make sure it’s handed to one of the so-claimed ‘five’. You’ll know them by their strange outfits.”

“Of course, Mistress. At once.” The girl scampers off, whistling for her mount, a light bay, which comes trotting over. She mounts up quickly, and in the blink of an eye, they’re cantering through the wrought iron gate.

“How long is it by J’korun? I was only offered a cart.” Though unfamiliar with him, Veyda is able to hear the pout in the water caller’s voice. She turns to him, a placating smile on her face.

“A day and a half. It must have taken you, what, three?”

Vance nods sulkily.

“How long would it take you by water?”

“How am I traveling on the water?”

Veyda’s brow arches, “Do you have to travel on it, or can you travel in it?”

“We usually use boats, or ‘urgas…”

“What are ‘urgas?”

“Hydrurgas. They’re… well, they’re our mounts. I suppose it’s like your J’korun. They live with us on the islands, but largely spend their time in the water.”

“I see.”

“You want me to go to Kildangan as well? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of sending a messenger?”

“Not yet, dear.” Veyda’s gaze sweeps towards the glittering river, the Lisil. It winds past Seyune at visible distance, but makes its way back out toward the coast, cutting Kildangan in half. “Let’s see what they think of your letter.”

Astrophel

Three days later, when they arrive back in Kildangan, there’s a commotion on the docks that makes Astrophel - as tired as he is from their travels - urges Tore on faster, skirting the town to reach their ships.

“... part of the five. You say your leader is coming back. It has been over a day. Where is he?”

Rounding the bend, Astrophel reins in Tore, swinging down from the J’korun’s warm, damp back. His legs aren’t as wobbly as that first night, but he still braces himself before pushing away from Tore, though he can feel the J’korun walk after him. Dio also canters over, sliding free of Skai as she calls out, “What is all of this about?”

Dusk is settling over the water, but firelight provides enough to go by. Their people are gathered around, some more agitated, others frustrated or tired. Upon seeing Astrophel and Dionne arrive, about half the crowd disperses, some with mutters of ‘welcome back’ or ‘thank the gods.’ None of it sits well with Astrophel as he searches out the new comer.

Sulien pushes past a few of those who are departing, coming to stand by Astrophel, ducking his head as he quickly fills Astrophel in. “There’s been a messenger. We’ve been putting her off, saying we’d wait for you before receiving her missive, but I guess her patience is wearing out.”

“Where did she come from? Who sent her?”

The woman finds them. Young for a messenger, in Astrophel’s opinion, she still holds herself like she has ten more summers to her. “I come from the Queen herself. Seyune sends this message, and warm regards.”

“Warm regards?” Dionne chuffs and holds out her hand, “Let’s have it then.”

“Are you the rest of the so-called five?” The girl glares at them.

“Yes,” Astrophel answers, the conversation already weighing on him. “Hand over the letter, if you’re so impatient that you’d yell at my people.”

“Your people. You’re it then,” the girl hands him the letter, ignoring Dionne. Astrophel immediately hands the letter off to Dionne, who smirks at the girl as she rips open the seal. She scans the parchment, smoothing out a corner as something to fiddle with.

Astrophel crosses his arms, addressing the messenger, “How’d you get here?”

“I was sent on a J’korun.” She sniffs, turning her nose up at them. “It’s the fastest mode of transportation over land.”

Except for Thralkins. Astrophel eyes her. She has a great deal of self-confidence, given she is loosely surrounded by well-armed soldiers. What are these Mages? What have we gotten ourselves into by being here?

“Vance sent this?” Dionne asks aloud. Astrophel leans into her, peering at the paper as firelight flicks back and forth, highlighting and shadowing the scrawled words.

“Vance?” Raelyn steps forward. One of Vance’s friends joins her, holding his hand out for the letter but Astrophel waves him off, reading it himself.

Dionne shares a glance with Raelyn. “It’s basically a summons. He says the High Mage…”

“The Queen,” the mage interjects.

“Right,” Dionne rolls her eyes at Astrophel. “Anyway, he said she would like to meet us.”

“All of us?” Astrophel asks.

“All of us,” Dionne affirms. “Specifically the Five.”

Astrophel feels surprise prod at him. She wants our leaders to come to her. “Whatever for? Why would Vance single us out?”

“Why indeed,” Raelyn murmurs, her expression falling. Astrophel can see the initial excitement over hearing Vance’s name being replaced with something like disappointment.

Dionne holds the letter out for the others to read; Nox takes it, flanked by Sulien and Khalil. Sulien frowns, but Khalil shrugs, “We may as well go. It could foster good relations between our groups.”

Astrophel opens his mouth, Flykra’s words ringing in his ears as his gaze finds the messenger: You know we do not welcome Mages. He closes his mouth, staying silent. The messenger girl’s sharp green eyes narrow at him, but she dismisses his silence, her attention drawn to Nox when they say, “Eh, why not. Could do with an adventure.”

Sulien shakes his head, “We’re already on an adventure, that should be enough.”

“But it’s not,” Dionne points out, “the people here need more from us.”

Khalil tips his head to Astrophel, “What say you, then? We should go?”

“It’s a group decision,” Astrophel pulls Dionne in for a hug, bracing against his worries over what Vance may have already said to the Mages’ ruler. “But we have been invited.” Summoned, but we can play nice to start with…

“Then it’s settled,” the mage claps her hands together. “Finally. I’ve been waiting ages.”

“Ages?” Dionne asks Sulien, her voice lowered.

Sulien shakes his head, “A day. Two at most.”

So they’re impatient. Astrophel sighs. This should be fun.