“Come on!” he yelled, securing his hold on the bars with one hand and the other reaching far out over the distant street below.
“Sweet Aria!” she moaned. She glanced over her shoulder, saw the three mercenaries climbing through the window. She ran and then flew through the air—just in time as a mercenary behind her skidded and plummeted over the side. His two companions teetered on the edge of the divide and then watched helplessly as the Ari’atór collided with the balcony. Fel’annár’s fist latched onto her pauldron, pulling, enough to get a hold on the fabric of her other shoulder. Her legs fought for leverage, found the ledge and stood on her own two feet. She blew out, cheeks puffing and then ducked into the room behind Fel’annár.
They came face to face with a naked, gaping elf. With no time for explanations, they wrenched the door open and sprinted down a corridor, coming out onto an inside balcony that ran the entire way around the building. Below were the cold marble floors of some inn. People screamed and scattered as they ran around the balcony in search of the stairs.
An arrow whooshed past Fel’annár’s head. He swerved sideways and thumped into three men carrying bales of wool. They crashed to the ground, and Tensári skidded to a halt. She pulled Fel’annár up, turned and came face to face with a mercenary. He bore down on her with his sword but was no match for an Ari’atór Blade Master. They were soon running again, out of the house and down the crowded streets. They ducked into a dark alley and waited.
Nothing.
Fel’annár turned to Tensári. She frowned, straightened his cuirass and nodded. He let out a strangled breath that was more of a hiss and righted his crooked form. He smoothed down his cloak and pulled his hood back up over his head, aware of Tensári’s persistent stare. Together, they merged into the crowds and walked towards the docks. Soon enough, they spotted the Pelagian Queen and continued towards the ship, ducking in between the bustling crowds.
Sailors ran up and down the quay in strange breeches and hats, under which a stretch of material was tied around their hair. There were ropes everywhere, some tense, some slack. Thick ropes, thin ropes, and Fel’annár looked up to the tall masts. He marvelled at the elves he saw sitting high above the decks, as comfortable as squirrels in a tree.
“We’re surely being watched. Our pursuers may even be on board.”
Tensári nodded, eyes searching as they advanced. Just ahead, they could see wide gangways breeching the gap between the quay and the ship. There were streams of elves coming and going, carrying sacks, crates and boxes, pushing barrows and carrying chests and caskets. One such group passed them by, and Fel’annár slipped behind a merchant with a tall bundle on his head. With Tensári behind him, they made it over the gangway and onto the ship, darting into a small gap between a cabin and the stairs that led to the upper deck.
Blowing out a breath, Fel’annár observed their surroundings, weighing their options. “We could slip into the cargo hold, hide amongst the crates. I can find the rest later, when night falls,” whispered Tensári.
“And what if they don’t open the hold?”
It was an unpalatable thought to them both, so they continued to observe. “The cabins on this deck are inside the ship, but see the lords? They take the stairs to the upper deck. That must be where the more expensive accommodation is.”
“You think they will be up there?” asked Tensári.
“Well, there’s no shortage of coin. That chest is full of it. Besides, we need to be together, and we need privacy. It makes sense.”
“After you.” She gestured to the stairs.
Fel’annár nodded. He waited for the next stream of passengers to board and fell into step with them, shielding his presence as best he could. On the upper deck, they crouched behind the railings. There were far fewer places to hide here, but what a sight it was. Fel’annár gaped at the open horizon; Bulls Bay on one side and on the other, the open sea.
“Aria,” mumbled Tensári. She had never sailed the seas. She was accustomed to open spaces—Araria was sprawling and desertic in many places, and the moving sands were similar to the water—but here she felt detached, severed from some birthing cord she had never felt, until now.
Fel’annár turned to her. He wondered what she was thinking, whether she liked what she saw.
“It’s like Araria, only blue,” she said.
Fel’annár had never been there, but he had heard the stories of the Xeric Wood from Idernon. A sea of sand instead of water. Still, he was curious. “Don’t you feel … detached?”
She turned from him. “Yes, I do.”
A whistle blew and a practised voice called out over the din of the crowds. “Fifteen minutes!”
“The others will be searching for us. The Company won’t stay on board if they can’t find us, despite Pan’assár’s orders.”
“Agreed,” said Tensári. “I could reveal myself—”
“No. You are Ari’atór. There are humans here.”
She nodded. Fel’annár was Ari, too, however much he didn’t look like one. Still, he was right. The Ari’atór were scorned and feared by humans. Scorned because they killed mortals; feared because they were capable of killing children. No matter they were Incipient or Deviant, they were still children, they said.
“Then we join the crowds on the deck. They must be there somewhere, watching for us.”
Standing slowly, they made for the side. There was no space left for a good view, and Fel’annár stood behind a shorter elf who was waving and shouting at someone on shore. Tensári’s eyes were everywhere, hand on the pommel of her sword, hidden under her black cloak.
“Nice view.”
Both heads whipped to the side and to Idernon’s profile, sharp nose and high cheekbones. On his other side, Ramien and Carodel smiled into the soft, salty breeze. Now all that was left was to get away from the crowds and to their cabin, wherever that was. There was no telling if those mercenaries had followed them, whether they too, were on board. Idernon turned, cocked his head and led the way. Minutes later, they came to a simple wooden door. Idernon tapped on it, the call of a woodpecker, and the door opened.
“About time you turned up.” The apparently disinterested voice of Pan’assár, but his blue eyes shone like fire.
As Fel’annár’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, his muscles sagged at the sight of Llyniel, Gor’sadén, Handir and the rest of The Company. Galdith and Galadan were sopping wet, a story that would have to wait for later.
“Thank the Gods,” said Gor’sadén, while Idernon turned to Fel’annár, eyes on a tuft of hay in his hair. He plucked it out and turned to Tensári, eyes on a white smudge down the side of her face. She reached up, rubbed at it and then brushed herself down. Fel’annár smirked at her, and could have sworn she returned it. There was an overdue conversation to be had, of why she had come, and whether she had forgiven him. But whatever her reasons were, he was simply glad she was here.
Their cabin stood on the top deck. It was one of four that were equally distributed down the centre of the ship. There were windows on both sides, and through one, Bulls Bay covered their entire line of sight, extending back into the hills beyond and the mountains of Tar’eastór. When next they stepped foot on land, they would be in Thargodén’s forest realm of Ea Uaré.