NINETEEN

 

END OF THE ROAD

 

Another wave of doubt washed through Lorg Brank as he shouldered his pack the following morning. They had decided to leave their horses behind, the jungle too dense for riding.

Lorg desperately wanted to go home, but not with a group of people who had no idea how to sail a ship. It didn’t seem to matter how often he told them that many more sailors were required, they remained determined to travel to the Pavlo Inlet on their own. Lorg was convinced they were making the trip for nothing. Alecsis had never climbed rigging, let alone set a sail. The old man looked ready for the grave, and the youth wasn’t even old enough to shave. He had yet to meet the two women, but what would they know about sailing?

Even if they did find the ship when they got there, they would have to return for more men. Why then was he wasting his time accompanying them? Because he genuinely liked Alecsis. It still amazed him at how well Alecsis had adjusted to life on Avion. Not only had he mastered the language with proficiency, but he’d made some valued friends, a lot more than Lorg had achieved. Sure he could be classed as wealthy from his pearl hauls, but he lived alone. No one would miss him if he left town.

Nobody missed him in Crystonia either. He’d once had a wife and two young children, but his love of sailing had soured their marriage long before he’d signed up with The Cystal Rose. Betta had wanted him to become a farmer, but all Lorg knew was the sea. His adventurousness had intrigued her in the beginning, not whether he could grow crops and mend fence pailings. Her family were wealthy enough to provide for her, so he had left, vowing to leave women and their emotional demands alone. From that day on he only consorted with those who demanded payment for their services. At least he knew where he stood with whores. Alecsis and Lorenso hadn’t been able to understand that side of his nature. When he called one of the pretty dames over, the two men had stared at him with barely concealed disdain.

“It’s all right for you, young Alecsis,” he muttered to himself. “You have a damsel that loves you enough to travel the oceans with you.” She must be special indeed, he thought, and a pang of jealousy twisted his lonely heart. “Hellfire and damnation!” he grumbled. Why should he begrudge the young man some happiness? Just because his marriage fell apart didn’t mean Alecsis would have the same problem.

Despite his youth Alecsis had that special something that drew women like moths to a flame. Lorg had met a few men with such charisma. At first he’d placed Captain Rose is that category. The way he’d commanded his men had initially won their respect. Lorg supposed it was a mixture of charm and persuasion, coupled with good looks. He had never possessed either.

His self-flagellation compelled him to make a vow to himself. If I do make it home, I’m going to be a father to my children, he decided. I’m going to make up for all those years away at sea. He doubted his wife would take him back, but he could at least try and do the right thing by the little ones.

The rain had washed the sand from the streets, and the cobbles glistened in the early morning sunshine. Lorg didn’t even look back at his home of three years as he headed for the Oceanview Inn. Laden with supplies, his pack already felt heavy. Lorg knew how dense the jungle could be, and nourishing food wasn’t always easy to find. He hoped the stories about its vicious predators were just that. Heck! The Avion people were so primitive they still believed in magic. Not only believed, but feared it as well. Some were convinced that a sorcerer had aided the pirates in their raids.

Lorg wouldn’t demean himself by asking Alecsis where that particular rumour came from. Lorg Brank had to see to believe, and he had seen much in his thirty-three years. But nothing could beat Captain Rose’s cruelty. Everyone on board knew what he’d done to Alecsis in his cabin. They had all felt sorry for the lad, but their captain thought of inhuman punishments for anyone who dared interfere with his plans. The men kept out of his way as much as possible, Lorg included. He made his reports to the first mate, a fawning individual who doted on his captain like a dog.

Lorg had thought of leaving at every port of call, but dread of never returning home compelled him stay with The Crystal Rose. The further they traveled, the more unlikely it seemed, and by the time they were ship-wrecked upon Avion’s shores, he’d given up on ever seeing his homeland again. Considering himself lucky to still be alive, he decided to make the most of his new life as a pearler. The attack of the pirates had almost been his undoing…

On seeing The Crystal Rose round the cove that fateful day Linkana was attacked, he’d made for the jungle in terror, fearing that Captain Rose had returned. He urged as many people as he could to hide with him. Most of the townspeople followed him, believing the rumours about the massive pirate ship that could appear out of nowhere.

That day Lorg realized how truth could be distorted into myth. Avion had never seen such a vessel, and no doubt her speed made her appear magical. To have survived such a vicious storm meant she was obviously made of sturdier timbers than he’d thought.

Lorg found his new travelling companions outside the stables at the Oceanview Inn. Alecsis introduced him to the two women. Lorg saw immediately why Alecsis had fallen for the auburn haired beauty. Even though they both wore boy’s clothes, Karina’s feminine curves could not be disguised. Her relative paleness intrigued Lorg. She could have passed as a half-breed, making the sailor wonder if he’d be the cause of some light-brown children. Taking Karina’s fingers in his, he inclined his head and gently kissed the back of her hand.

“Is that the way you greet everyone in Crystonia?” she asked, her cheeks flushing prettily.

“No, only lovely damsels.” Then he inclined his head to Nira. Even though Lorg knew he would never find dark-skinned women truly beautiful, Nira possessed a vivaciousness that danced in her lively brown eyes. Lorg had never been able to resist a sensual woman, and Nira struck him as the passionate type. She boldly extended her hand, and Lorg took it, lightly kissing her warm, soft flesh. Then she cast an uncertain glance in Antano’s direction, but he merely looked back at them with a bored expression on his face. Were they lovers? Lorg wondered. The youth didn’t appear to be interested. Something about him had irked the sailor since their initial meeting. A soldier should show some degree of enthusiasm for his trade, but Antano seemed full of indifference to everyone and everything.

It’s not your place to reason why, Lorg told himself, and released her hand.

“I think I like this custom,” she said, smiling up at him. Antano’s neglect had begun to irk her too. He had gone from one extreme to another, turning from an amorous lover to a man who did not even look at her. She had tried to interest him in love-making several times since coming across the dead soldier, but he always come up with one excuse or another. “The others might find us,” “I’m tired,” to a turned shoulder and blunt, “Leave me alone.”

His rejection wouldn’t have hurt so much if it had been accompanied with an explanation. So much for thinking him a gentle, warm-hearted young man. Lorg’s tender greeting lifted the heavy weight in her heart. Although she had never found Alecsis appealing, Lorg, being older and more mature, knew how to flirt with the ladies. This journey might not be so dreary after all, she thought hopefully as they set off.

 

Night came early in the jungle, and the six travelers curled up in their bedrolls long before anyone in town would have. The nightstones had faded, their glowing lights no longer able to lead the way. Sleep didn’t come easily. Eerie night-noises tormented their ears, and biting insects kept them scratching well into the small hours. Alecsis’s and Lorenso’s soothing thoughts kept the camp safe from the more dangerous predators. The rank dampness made lighting a fire difficult, and keeping it burning virtually impossible. Rationing the dried meats and bread, they supplemented their diet with jungle fruits.

Krystos, now Antano, was always the last to fall asleep. He had much on his mind, and his writhing, hate-filled thoughts kept him staring listlessly up at the dark canopy of palms. On the third night, after tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, he scrambled out of his hot, damp bedroll. In the cool, still air he sat staring angrily at the pale oval of Alecsis’s sleeping face. He lay on his back beside him, his breathing even and relaxed. No dark thoughts tormented his nauseatingly pure soul.

That face should have been mine by now, Krystos thought in frustration. Although leaving Moreshe and slipping into the young soldier’s body had been no great hardship, he cursed that damned enchanted sword Alecsis always kept at his side.

Krystos’s eyes fell on it now. Although Alecsis had removed the scabbard and belt from around his waist, it lay within easy reach, its jeweled hilt glittering faintly in the moonlight. If only I could get it away from him somehow, Krystos thought, hurl it into the undergrowth, then take over his mind without its interference.

What’s stopping you? You a coward, or something? a snide voice inside his head taunted him. Alecsis lies blissfully unaware. Just reach out and grab it. Go on, I dare you to. But Krystos kept his hands clenched tightly by his sides.

You mean you’re afraid of a simple weapon, the same as the one you once wielded as Krystos? the voice went on.

That was different, Krystos snarled mentally in response. And it still lay in the ocean cave where he had placed it as Moreshe. Funny how Leonado had forgotten all about it. But then the sorcerer hadn’t needed artifacts to aid him in battle. He’d managed to get killed all by himself. That thought soothed Krystos a little. The one with all the power of magic at his disposal had perished, while Krystos finally had the opportunity to return home.

Go on, take the sword. Krystos had never been able to resist a challenge, particularly one he issued himself. He reached out across Alecsis, but as his hand hovered over The Avenger’s hilt, he thought he saw a faint glow emanate from the weapon. You’re imagining it, his inner companion taunted.

Shut up, he hissed back. He had heard the voice a few times since becoming Antano, but it had always been distant and faint, something he could overrule at will. Was it his conscience, or one of the souls he had evicted from their bodies? Had one of them joined him inside his new host? That thought was too monstrous to even contemplate, and he defiantly grabbed The Avenger’s hilt.

The metal turned bright red under his touch, sizzling his skin.

Cursing venomously, Krystos snatched his hand away, pain searing through his palm. Damn thing had burned him. Even in the gloom of night, he saw his flesh start to blister.

Krystos thought he heard laughter through the haze of pain. He moaned, clasping his injured hand to his chest. The laughter intensified, and he stared around wildly as the camp came awake.

As he scrambled to his feet, he realized that the taunting noise was coming from inside his own head. “Shut up!” he cursed. “Shut up!”

“Antano! What’s wrong? What happened?” Alecsis’s concerned voice broke through his pain and confusion.

He turned to his life-long enemy, and somehow managed to get the words out. “Something bit me, but I don’t think it’s poisonous.”

“Why don’t you let me have a look at it?” Alecsis asked. Sitting up, he extended his hand to him.

“Nay, ‘tis nothing. Go back to sleep,” he gritted out, knowing that he would have to wear his gloves for some time to come. If any of them saw he had been burned instead of bitten, they would want to know why, particularly as all their attempts to light a fire had failed.

Krystos stepped over Alecsis’s legs, and scooped up a water-flask lying on the ground. He ducked into the bushes with it. Mercifully nobody followed, and the jungle enveloped him in its dark folds.

 

They plodded through another day, the same as the one before. Although they had a route to follow, forged by Alecsis’s army several months earlier, it was already overgrown, so they were often forced to wait while the younger men hacked away clinging vines.

Lorenso stood watching, wishing he could aid them magically, but he had promised Alecsis not to use his powers unless absolutely necessary. Because Lorg did not believe in magic, Alecsis hadn’t wanted to frighten him with its intensity, particularly as he had become a valued member of their party. But the time would come for him to use of his powers. The spell rendering the ship invisible had to be lifted. Unraveling a spell cast through evil means was never easy, sometimes even impossible, and Lorenso was glad to conserve his energy.

With all this time to think, he had also come up with a theory about the change in Antano. The old magician knew that Alecsis and Jenkano had once communicated with thoughts instead of words. His concern about Antano was growing, and he needed to discuss his fears with Alecsis. Surely he had noticed the change in the youth as well.

What do you think is wrong with Antano? he asked, sending his question directly into the young man’s mind.

Alecsis cast a surprised glance over his shoulder. You’ve never done that before, he thought back.

I’ve never needed to. I’m concerned about your friend. He hasn’t been himself since we came across that dead soldier. What do you think could be wrong with him? Alecsis’s empathy was excellent, but if he wanted to become a good magician, he needed to learn to look deeper into people’s souls.

The two men had fallen behind, but Alecsis could still see Antano trudging along ahead of him. Although he knew the youth could not tune into their silent discussion, he nevertheless felt uneasy talking about him behind his back. I fear the spirit that attacked me may have done something to him. Antano touched me during the battle. It could have affected him, tampered with his mind, even infiltrated it.

Very perceptive, Lorenso thought back. That was precisely what I was thinking.

But what can we do about it? Alecsis asked.

One of us should talk to him to ascertain how he now thinks and feels. You know him better than I... Make a note of the changes. I may have to intervene magically.

You fear it is as serious as that?

I only hope there is something I can do.

 

Krystos was so deep in thought he barely noticed the damp vines and palm branches brushing against his face. The other travelers stopped to push them aside or cut them down, but Krystos was too troubled to bother. All he could think about was how to keep pretending he was the young soldier, Antano.

So far he had failed dismally in this task. He simply could not bring himself to become intimately involved with the young maid, his first mistake. Luckily Lorg, his traitorous navigator, seemed to have captured her interest, so he doubted he would have any more problems with her. What really bothered him was Lorenso’s suspicion. The mage kept glancing at him with doubting eyes, and Krystos knew as well as anyone that one only crossed a magic-user if they had suicidal tendencies.

But his greatest concern was the voice inside his head. It jabbered away almost constantly now, taunting him, calling him names. It sounded like his own, or rather Antano’s, once again making him wonder if something of the young soldier had remained behind.

“No!” he snarled out loud for even daring to have such a thought. Antano is dead. It’s your own voice, your own worries and doubts coming to the surface. And Krystos had a great deal to worry about.

That’s right. Be worried. Be very concerned. I’m going to drive you mad. I will see you suffer like you made Alecsis suffer.

Krystos clamped his hands over his ears, knowing full well this wouldn’t drown out the voice.

You can’t shut me up as easily as that. You’re stuck with me. I’m not leaving you until you repent for all your sins... All of them.

“Who are you, damn it?” Krystos demanded in a hoarse whisper.

The voice merely laughed... and kept on laughing.

Krystos tore at his tangled hair in an attempt to drown out the noise. He started moaning softly, the mournful sound managing to still the laughter a little. Then he began to hum, a tuneless melody that relegated the taunting voice into the background.

“In a good mood today, are we?” Lorg remarked. The tall, wiry navigator had come up behind him, making Krystos realize he had stopped. He resumed walking, not bothering to answer. He realized that he had made another mistake before Lorg even began speaking.

“Nice, friendly young fellow, aren’t you? Alecsis should give you a good hiding for your insolence.” He brushed past Krystos, no doubt heading straight for the ex-knight to complain about the youth’s rudeness. But Krystos found it virtually impossible to kow-tow to anyone.

So used to being the one in control, he found it difficult to deal with being little more than a child. His relief at leaving the ugly Moreshe behind had waned, and now he cursed his slender stature. Even Moreshe had possessed more stamina than the slight Antano.

Having Alecsis issue the orders was the most difficult burden of all. No matter how much Krystos tried to console himself with fond memories of the past, the simple fact that Alecsis now had the power to order him around, filled him with vicious hatred.

Those big, brawny arms had once been like little sticks, trying but failing to fight Krystos off. Alecsis’s pain and tears had once given him great pleasure. He had enjoyed the feel of his slight body helpless beneath his, reveling in his humiliation. He had almost succeeded in destroying him.

But then the storm had struck, separating them, sending their lives along different paths. Somehow the sniveling child had become a great warrior who commanded an entire army. And Krystos had become the child, now at Alecsis’s mercy. If he wanted to get home he would have to acquiesce to his lifetime enemy. The thought made him tremble violently with loathing.

As for Lorg, he felt like running the useless navigator through. How in the name of Serpon did that incompetent barnacle think he could find the way home? If Krystos never made it back, how could he claim what was rightfully his?

He remembered his flight through the dark city as though it happened only yesterday.

The preparations had been made weeks in advance, his carefully selected crew ready to sail at a moment’s notice, but he’d never expected his final act of vengeance to be discovered so soon, and by the one person who had everything to gain by it. It seemed comical to him now that they had both been blamed for the deed.

“I don’t care which of you did it,” the slim woman at his side whispered, as they hurried down the dim alley, their shoes sloshing through slime and debris. “But only one must return, the innocent one.”

Krystos glanced angrily at the boy clinging to her other hand. Yes, only one will return. Krystos vowed. Me.

“Where will we go, Mama? What will we do?” Alecsis had asked fearfully.

“Do what you’ve both always dreamed of. Discover wondrous lands. Listen and learn. Grow with wisdom, and return only if you’re strong enough to face Roseana’s judgement.”

“Antano. I want a word with you.”

Torn from his reverie, Krystos’s eyes darted up see Alecsis fall into step beside him. If it hadn’t been for the green eyes and the curling blonde locks, it could have been his own face he was staring at.

“What about?” Krystos asked, trying to dredge up a smile. It felt more like a grimace, and Alecsis’s frown made him realize it had probably emerged as such.

“The way you have been acting lately,” he answered. “Everyone has noticed you haven’t been yourself. Ye’ve turned your back on Nira. That hurt her feelings, ye know. Have any strange thoughts and feelings been bothering you?”

“I was confused... “ Then Krystos had an idea. “To tell you the truth, I was not sure about her right from the beginning. She’s an experienced girl, and tutored me well in the ways of love, but...well... she makes me feel uncomfortable... A lot of girls have that effect on me. Ye’ve heard about men who cannot love women, men who love other men... I... I fear I might be one of those.”

For a moment Alecsis looked stricken. He went deathly pale, and Krystos felt a small jolt of exhilaration. He still had the power to make Alecsis suffer.

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” he asked softly.

“Well, it kind of makes sense,” Krystos answered, trying to look like a sheepish youth.

“I do not know of the laws in my homeland, but here homosexuality is punishable by death.”

“I know that,” Krystos snapped back.

Luckily Alecsis misinterpreted his testy response. “I’m sorry, Tano. Your confused thoughts and feelings must be causing you great distress. I have never had such doubts, but I’ve heard that many boys go through a stage where they fear they might be infatuated with another man. He’s usually someone older, someone they look up to...” Alecsis scratched the side of his head, at a loss as to how to continue.

“Someone like you,” Krystos said, knowing that would really make him squirm.

Alecsis’s features hardened, but his eyes revealed the torment within. Oh sweet salvation! Krystos thought maliciously. I’ve found the key. Now I can regain control.

Don’t be so sure, you arrogant bastard, his inner voice taunted, but Krystos refused to listen. “I have always felt something special for you, right from the moment we met... I think it must be - ”

Alecsis stepped back, raising a hand. “Ye’re misinterpreting that emotion, Tano. Ye’re only seventeen. We’ve been through a great deal, you and I, always together, in close proximity. But that doesn’t mean ye care for me in that way. Nira might have confused you. I admit she’s probably not the right girl for you. She is better suited for Lorg. Ye’ll find that special someone when the time is right...”

But Krystos wasn’t listening any more. Alecsis was only trying to convince himself. Krystos was comfortable with his homosexuality and the joys it brought him, but it was time to resume the doting best friend act. “Fear not, dear Alecsis. My love for you will remain pure. I would rather die than risk losing your friendship. I will deal with this myself. No doubt ye’re right, and ‘tis just a phase I’m passing through.”

“We have a long and arduous journey ahead of us. Perhaps we can talk this through whilst on board.”

“Perhaps,” Krystos murmured in response.

 

And you believed him? Lorenso asked Alecsis, once they were alone again.

I have no reason not to, he answered. He’s confused and no doubt feeling guilty... I’m glad now I never told him what happened to me. It would only make him feel even more miserable. It is a crime here, after all.

You’re so quick to see the hurt in others that you miss the darkness. If what he says is true, why has he not voiced this concern to you before? You have known each other for over two years. Why would he speak of it now?

Because of Nira. He needed to experience a woman to realize the truth. How else would he have known? Alecsis threw his hands in the air in frustration. You think I’m happy about this. I’m the one he desires.... Surely you must realize how that makes me feel.

Lorenso laid a soothing hand against his shoulder, and Alecsis felt some of the tension lift like a morning fog.

Maybe you’re right, and it is not the spirit inhabiting his body. Lorenso said. But we must keep a close eye on him. I no longer trust him, Alecsis. Perhaps I should search his soul for evil.

“Nay!” Alecsis said out loud. He couldn’t bear the thought of his dearest friend inhabited by darkness. It’s merely his confusion tainting his soul. He knows such desires are wrong. His conscience will show him the right path, that and a more suitable woman.

Lorenso grimaced, showing his displeasure. It didn’t take her long to climb into your countryman’s bedroll. You would think they would be more discreet.

Nira discreet! She knows not the meaning of the word.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the others crunching through the undergrowth ahead of them. Twilight was approaching. Already the sun failed to penetrate the thick canopy of palms, and the path grew dim. Alecsis touched his jeweled belt, and activated the red stone that allowed him to see in the dark. His surroundings instantly brightened to midday intensity.

And how fares it with Karina? Lorenso eventually asked.

Alecsis waited for his eyes to adjust to the sudden change in lighting before answering. He still hadn’t dared venture beyond the chastest of kisses and gentle caresses. The fact that he longed for more meant he was healing. But he had no idea how Karina fared.

Slowly, very slowly, he answered eventually. I wonder if she will ever get over what that monster did to her... Sorry. I know he was your son, but what he did was unforgivable.

I agree with you wholeheartedly, my friend. Leonado has a lot to learn before I accept him back as my son... As for Karina, only time will tell. Be patient... as I know you can be...

Patience is my middle name.

And talk to her about it, Lorenso continued. Show her how much you love her. That will heal the wounds within quicker than anything.

I will, Alecsis promised solemnly.

 

The following afternoon they reached the end of the road. Leaving Lorg and Antano to tether the horses, Alecsis and Lorenso strolled to the edge of the embankment overlooking the Pavlo inlet. The gusty sea spray stung their faces, and whipped their braided hair about their shoulders.

Below them, the pirate camp lay in ruin. Most of the tents had collapsed from wind and rain. From this distance the bodies of the dead pirates were mere bundles of cloth tainted with blotches of reddish-brown, the marks of the wounds that had killed them.

Carrion birds wheeled and settled on the corpses. Luckily the wind brew the stench of decay away, but Alecsis dreaded having to confront his army’s carnage close up. This was the first battle he had ever returned to, and it brought home the cruelty of war. For two years he had done his duty, killing the king’s enemies without question. Now the carnage revolted him, making him feel physically ill.

Never again! he vowed. My warring days are over. Whatever my destiny, may it not include fighting another man’s battles.

What is it, Alecsis? Lorenso asked in concern. You’re sending a whole manner of negative emotions my way.

These cursed wars. I never want to fight again, Lorenso. From now on, consider me your apprentice. He looked at the magician, his gaze grave, but Lorenso merely smiled.

Then let the lessons begin. Where do you suppose that ship could be?

“Ye’ve already scried her out, haven’t you?” Alecsis said aloud.

“‘Tis plainly obvious. I’m surprised ye did not see what was right under yer noses.” He pointed to the water in front of the sandstone cliffs marking the other side of the inlet. Foaming white waves attacked its base, snarling and gnashing like hungry hounds. “See that indentation in the water. Does it look natural to you?”

Alecsis shielded his eyes against the sun, and followed Lorenso’s pointing finger. “Well, I’ll be!” he gasped on seeing the hollow in the choppy swell. “‘Tis the hull of the ship, of course. How could I have missed it?”

“Too busy annihilating pirates, by the look of it. Ye created a fine mess, my friend...” He thought better of going on when Alecsis frowned at him. “‘Tis behind us now... I have to think, work out how that spell was cast.”

Alecsis fell silent beside him, giving Lorenso the time and space he needed to concentrate. For a few minutes he sat there focusing inwards, occasionally muttering something under his breath.

“Aha!” The mage snapped his fingers. “Watch, my young apprentice. Your transport home will shortly be revealed.” Alecsis didn’t want to look, and cast his eyes away as the magician began chanting and making his hands dance. As Alecsis glanced around, he saw Lorg and Antano come up behind them. With no time to warn his countryman of what Lorenso was about to do, he motioned them both down. They sank onto all fours in the swaying grass, and stared into the bay.

Alecsis turned to do the same. He saw a swirl of colour, very much like low-lying cloud, shimmer into view over the unnatural indentation. It grew thicker, denser, and the vague shape of a ship formed in its midst. Lorenso chanted louder, forcing The Crystal Rose into existence.

It might have been one of the most magnificent ships to sail the oceans, with its sleek lines, and beautifully polished timbers, but Alecsis would always associate her with pain and torment.

As he fought against the shudders of revulsion, he heard a gasp, followed by a soft thud. Glancing around, he saw that Lorg had collapsed in a faint. Antano suppressed a giggle, and Alecsis muttered an oath under his breath.