A Mischievous Tale of Magical Mayhem

18 | Reunion and a Well-Earned Rest

Tallon paced the deck all through the night, waiting. Even though Ben had told him it wouldn't be another day, anxiety made itself a constant companion.

Ben was close. Tallon could feel his Etali's presence the way he could feel his toes and fingers. But Ben wasn't well either; not well at all.

His voice had been feeble, losing strength the way Tallon's had when Volaer leeched his life force through his magic.

On the top deck, beneath a field of stars, the ship creaked quietly over calm waters. Aeslin had retired to her quarters more than an hour ago, and only a light patrol walked the upper decks and the beach.

Tallon could easily slip away. By the time he reached the northern gate, it would be too late for the queen or her people to follow. As long as he didn't use magic, he could reach Ben and bring him back in no time.

Tallon crept towards the spot from which the gangplank lowered. It was raised and fastened alongside the hull, but the water in the bay was still as a mill pond, and the ship wasn't far from shore. He could swim that distance in a dozen strokes.

His childhood home, Sage Keep, had a sizeable lake. One side was all high black rock sinking into dark depths. As a boy, he'd perfected a splashless dive from those heights, which only Liari had surpassed in grace. He couldn't quite manage such finesse fully clad, but he had no choice. Stepping to the edge of the deck, so the toes of his boots hung over, he took a breath and swung his arms to the side, testing his momentum.

I'm coming, Ben, he projected. I'm—

"What are you doing?"

A low, cool voice spoke at his back, smooth and dark as the midnight sea, and Tallon spun to find Aeslin not an arm's length away, watching him with star-bright eyes.

Startled, he stepped back into thin air, arms flailing and mouth opened in surprise. He would have fallen, but the queen reached out, gripped the front of his shirt, and pulled him back.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, regarding him evenly. "Do you think you can reach him before the curse takes you?" She shook her head. "Waiting is difficult; I know. But reckless impatience is how you lose everything."

Like a scolded dog with its tail tucked between its legs, Tallon hung his head. "Forgive me, my queen. Ben is ill. He keeps forgetting the mind doesn't lie, but he's exhausted and bleeding magic."

Aeslin nodded. "Indeed. I have sensed his power hemorrhage as well. Fortunately, his magic does not seem to be affected by the curse, and nothing draws it from him against his will. Volaer is like a giant tick; he would have drained you dry if not for your little faeling. Ben, on the other hand, is like a leaky tap, dripping magic with every step. Its source is limitless, but his physical body isn't meant to contain and harness this much energy. We must hope he reaches us before it fails him. Wait for sunrise; then we shall see. Trust me, Tallon. I have lived far longer than you in these lands."

Her tone told Tallon the conversation was finished and he would be wise to heed her words.

Respectfully taking his leave, he made his way to the stern where someone had set up a woodworking station for his benefit. Taking his stool, Tallon grabbed a knife and a long, thin birch branch, setting to work removing the knots and uneven skin.

Just because he was stuck aboard the Gatekeeper and couldn't participate didn't mean everything ground to a halt. Regular hunting parties made short forays along the shore. Small as his contribution might be, Tallon hoped they would make good use of his artisanally crafted arrows; he could only stand so much fish.