The Great Darkening (Epic of Haven Trilogy) (37 page)

“For whatever comes on the heels of the darkness,” Yasen replied.

Chapter Forty

A
s
the last of the silver light mingled with the brighter amber of morning, the party-spent and weary men of the first colony were awakened from their drowsy stupors by the bright brass of the Capital guard. With morning came the long-anticipated moment of departure. The company of woodcutters and guardsmen would leave through the Southern Gate, and, by way of the Talfryn Pass, make their way towards the ships docked at Bright Harbor in the Bay of Eurwen.

At the southernmost point of the Kingdom of Haven was the ship wharf in Bright Harbor. This harbor town neighbored Abondale, and though the cattle and horses of Abondale had garnered prestige throughout the whole of the kingdom, the bounty of fish and shellfish pulled from the bay of its sister community was the main fare of its people. So renowned were the tales of the fishermen and mariners of Haven’s past that the Citadel itself had constructed a harbor residence at the entrance to the bay, in an effort to ensure that the royal families would have the first tastes of the fresh catches. The residence also afforded a full view of all the daily operations and festivities happening there on the docks and in the black water.

Rónán, the fabled hero of Abondale, had been the first to make a bright mark for the humble people of the southern kingdom. His acts of bravery and generosities are still celebrated at Bright Harbor with the annual Feast of the Giant Crab. His tale is reenacted each year on the great floating stage, and its telling evokes memories of the golden days of Haven. All of Abondale gathers about on the ship docks of Bright Harbor to watch the brave mariner defeat the giant crab that laid waste to the royal ship, the great
Virva,
that once carried the two sons of King Cascarie in the days long before the felling of the first branches. The people gathered each year, partly to watch the drama and relive their brief glory, but mainly to drink and to feast on the finest and freshest crab in the entire kingdom.

In the early days of the great walled city, the Bay of Eurwen was largely unguarded and unincorporated into the Kingdom of Haven. For generations, citizens of Haven and outliers alike had fished the waters and berthed their vessels at its blessed shores. It was not until the tragic murder of Talfryn, the daughter of King Kaestor, that a safe passage was erected from the walled city to Bright Harbor.

For in those dark days, Talfryn’s envoy had been waylaid by a band of highwaymen waiting in the unguarded southern outlands, which lay between the safety of the South Wall and the harbor town. The princess and all her entourage had been brutally murdered, but the King never felt the peace he hoped his justice would bring for such a heinous crime. In his grief, King Kaestor commissioned a land bridge to begin at the entrance to the Southern Gate and span the five leagues between the harbor and Abondale. It rose thirty-seven hands into the air, providing protection to all who would travel the distance to the sacred shores of Bright Harbor.

The Talfryn Pass, as it was called, took nearly seven years to complete. It was constructed out of the same white stone as the great city walls of Haven. Though it was designed to ensure safe passage along the exposed territory, it soon became a symbol of the might and the vengeance of the still-grieving Citadel. Seven guard bastions were built into the overpass, and soon it became hazardous for any non-citizen of Haven to come within bowshot of the Talfryn Pass. At the center point of the highway, one could look to the east and see the small, red tomb of Kaestor’s daughter, there atop a high hill.

As the amber of the morning grew slightly brighter, the men of the first colony filed into columns, fully prepared for their departure. Jhames and a small company of his advisors and personal guards rode at the vanguard; Seig and his officers followed behind. Yasen and his woodcutters mounted their horses and took up the rear of the party.

Cal sat atop the timber cart, waiting for the line of men to move in front of him, when he heard his name being shouted from behind. “Cal! Cal, wait for me, brother!”

“Have you decided to ride with me now?” Cal teased Michael, surprised to see his friend again.

“No, horse face,
we
have decided to ride with you,” Michael said as he pointed to the old Arborist who had been staring at him during yesterday’s ceremony.

“Well, alright then,” Cal said, hurrying them up onto the seat of the cart. “But I am not promising that you will have such a luxurious passage back to the city as this one here.” Cal spoke good-naturedly, but couldn’t quite keep his uneasiness from resurfacing. Michael still did not seem to grasp either the significance of the coming darkness or the reality of his fantastical encounters, and Engelmann was still a bit of an enigma to him.

“I will take my chances, young groomsman, for the answers to my questions would be worth the blisters and aching feet of ten such journeys,” Engelmann shot back.

“Very well,” Cal responded, determining that perhaps this Arborist may be worth trusting after all.

Cal gave the reins a twitch and called to the heavy horses to make their move forward, following the line of men that began to progress along the heights of the Talfryn Pass towards the ships anchored in the bay. The ground beneath the pass had been made inhospitable to horse or cart, as the angry and grieving king had ordered its once smooth and rolling countryside to be littered with huge shards of rock.

Though the Talfryn Pass was a monument to Kaestor’s murdered daughter, and a marvel of the engineering minds of Haven, it was by no means the prize of the south. From high atop the pass, and even from as far away as the windows of the Citadel, the star of the sea could be seen shining her unfailing lamp from the peak of her great tower. Maris, the beacon tower of the south, burned without fail as a guiding light for all the mariners and fishermen alike.

It has been said that since the departure of Illium and his ten upon the bow of the great ship
Wilderness
, the beacon tower Maris has not once extinguished her flames. At the pinnacle of her height, nearly two-hundred hands high, the white stone tower was capped in a bronze, ten-pointed star, whose metallic points reflected and were illuminated by the enormous, burning lamps inside its great form. Maris was perhaps the last sight of Haven that King Illium, the light seeker, had ever seen. Tradition held that if the star of the sea continued to burn without a moment’s relief, it may catch his eye again and guide his lost ship along the darkened and dangerous shoreline back home.

The hooves of the company’s horses knocked and clopped along the high stone passage, and the creaking of Cal’s timber cart sang in rhythmic harmony to the music of their departure. Off in the distance, the cold, dark waters of the bay came into view. The lamplight of Maris danced upon the lapping waves, revealing the two magnificent ships anchored off of the port there in Bright Harbor.

“There they are, brother!” Michael shouted. “Have you ever seen such a sight?” he excitedly asked.

“I have seen things, my friend, that no man-made vessel could dare compare to in beauty,” Cal mused out loud.

“Oh?” Engelmann chimed in. “Do tell us, groomsman, just what are these spectacles of beauty that have dulled your senses in such a way as to brush off this handcrafted magnificence as nothing more than commonplace?”

“I tried to tell Michael earlier, but he wouldn’t listen,” Cal said with a touch of sadness to his words. “I know that I let my imagination do quite a bit of the talking sometimes, and perhaps I have been known to get lost in the fantasies of legend. But all I want now is what I have always wanted, Michael—to be able to tell you of the things that truly matter. For it seems to me that beauty horded and unshared is sure to wither the fastest of all.”

“Hmmmmm …” muttered Engelmann with an intrigued stare in Cal’s direction.

The two young men waited for Engelmann to elaborate, but he just sat there, a small grin on his face and a slight twinkle in his eye.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Michael said finally, “but you have to admit this all sounds a bit too fantastic to believe. Oweles and Sprites and—”

“Now!” Engelmann interrupted his pupil mid-thought. “Are you saying that you don’t believe him, Michael? Are you saying that your mind is so damn flint-like that you can’t for a moment imagine that there are magics in this world that go beyond the scope and experience of a life experienced behind the safety of these jeweled walls?” Engelmann scolded him.

“Wait, what? Are you telling me that you
do
believe these tales of Oweles and Sprites?” Michael asked, incredulous.

“Indeed I do, groomsman,” Engelmann replied. “I may be long in my years here on this world, and I may have seen too many kings come and go, and I may be the oldest remaining witness to the perishing branches … but I will never presume to know all the depths or mysteries of the mind of the THREE who is SEVEN.”

Cal studied this Arborist here in his timber cart, high on the Talfryn Pass, and something in his heart knew that Engelmann too had heard the voice of some great Magic.

“Even if this were true, even if there are Oweles and Sprites in our world, what does it matter to me?” Michael reasoned with irritation.

“Perhaps, young groomsman,” Engelmann spoke, “perhaps the same door that brings the wonderful and magical mysteries that we have yet to see, may also bring unknown evils that we cannot begin to imagine?” Engelmann looked to Cal to see if his presumption hit near the truth.

Cal’s eyes met Engelmann’s, and he knew he had found a trustworthy ally. He nodded slowly to the green-haired Arborist, willing him to accept his next words. “You two must listen to me now, for if you will not, then what hope does the rest of Haven have of learning the truth before it’s too late?” Cal ran his hand over his face and pressed his eyes with his fingertips. “There is a great evil lurking in the shadows of the fading light. Iolanthe, the Queen of the Sprites herself, warned me of such dangers—”

“Iolanthe?” Michael mocked, unable to help himself. “They have names now? And queens, too!” He laughed. “How can you expect me to take these lies seriously?”

Suddenly, Cal’s long cloak flew open in a rage of wind and wings as a small figure moved as a luminescent blue blur, shooting out from his hiding place. The creature hovered with his sword drawn and his face contorted in a grimace of offense, poised to strike at Michael’s throat.

“Lies, are they? I will only ask you one time, and this grace is given to you
only
because of your friendship to Calarmindon Bright Fame!” Deryn shouted. “Recant your insults and your ignorant words and I will let you go on breathing! Do not, and this Arborist will need to search for a brighter student than the likes of you.”

Michael stared, wide-eyed in pure amazement. “Are … are you … are you what I think you are?”

“You will take back your ill-tongued words at once!” Deryn ordered, his voice bubbling with rage.

“I … I am sorry, please … forgive my ignorance. I had no idea,” Michael begged the Sprite.

“Then I will keep my promise, and offer you grace,” Deryn said, sheathing his miniscule blade into his tiny, blue scabbard. “But disrespect my Queen again and you shall not be so fortunate.”

Cal smiled ear-to-ear at the look of astonishment on his friend’s face. “Perhaps you will trust my
ridiculous
tales a bit more now? Huh?” Cal said with a satisfied laugh.

Michael stared quizzically at the sight before him, and then looked back to his friend who was driving the timber cart. “How have you kept him a secret all this time?”

“Cal has kept nothing, groomsman,” Deryn corrected him. “I have chosen to stay hidden, and it wasn’t until your insolent blasphemy against my Queen that I chose to reveal myself and right a grievous offense.”

“I am sorry, I promise, I meant no offense! I, well … I didn’t even know your kind existed,” Michael apologized sincerely.

“I was not aware either, my dear Sprite friend,” Engelmann said enthusiastically. “For I thought that the treachery of the sorceress Šárka had destroyed all of the ancient Jacarandas, and with it the whole of your kind.” Engelmann shook his head. “I never supposed that I would live to see the day when the Sprites of the violet trees flew freely in this greying world of ours again! Ha, ha!” He let out a boyish, excited kind of laugh.

“Michael, Engelmann,” Cal met both of their gazes. “This is my friend Deryn, a sentinel of the house of Iolanthe, Queen of the Sprites and keeper of the secret grove.”

“The secret grove,” Engelmann mused, his words conveying his giddy astonishment. “Oh what sort of great tale have we stumbled our way into? What sort of tale, indeed?”

“Stumbled, you say?” Cal asked, a gleam coming into his eyes. “I am learning, rather quickly, that there is no stumbling into the story or the will of the THREE who is SEVEN.”

Engelmann thought about it for a moment, then conceded with a nod to the wisdom found in this young groomsman.

Deryn bowed before the two men, then came to rest his wings upon Cal’s lap before he spoke. “Your friend has been given a most important and perilous assignment, and I have been assigned the task of aiding him in its completion.”