Chapter 4
Krytien leaned against the railing at the bow of the galley as it sliced through rolling waves. In the distance, gulls circled Estul Island, diving for their meals. Krytien found peace in the mundane nature of the scene, a break from the worries of the task ahead of him.
His gray robes flapped in the cool wind, and despite the warm sunlight, goose-bumps sprouted across his skin. If he had half a brain, he'd be below deck and out of the crew's way, but his growing anticipation wouldn't allow it.
The school of Cadonia's mages held such a mythical place in Krytien's mind that he doubted it could live up to his expectations.
His shoulders bunched.
A short, wiry man came up beside him. Kroke whipped out a blade and picked at his nails. "You look a little tense."
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."
"You ain't scared of a bunch of upstarts are you?"
Krytien chuckled. "These are more than a bunch of upstarts. They were trained by one of the greatest mages in recorded history. Even their weakest should be well-versed in the basics from a technical standpoint."
Kroke sheathed the blade and pulled out another, switching hands. "So you are scared?" He grunted. "I'll have to remember this day."
"I'm not afraid of spoiled brats whose parents had the money to pay for their education," Krytien snapped. "I've faced off against mages who had twice their talent. They aren't better than me."
Kroke cocked his head. "Never said they were. Just giving you a hard time is all."
"I know. Sorry."
Kroke sheathed the dagger and folded his arms. "So, what's it about this place that bothers you so much?"
Kroke usually wore such an indifferent attitude that the intensity in his stare took Krytien aback.
"It isn't just the people who live here, it's the place itself," said Krytien. "I was once someone with a natural talent and no means to cultivate it. An old mage named Philik befriended me and eventually gave me the robes I wear to this day. He had been schooled on this island and planned to write a personal letter that would have guaranteed me entrance."
"And what happened?"
"He died before he could write the letter. When he died, so did my dreams. This place," said Krytien, gesturing to the ever-growing island before them. "has haunted me ever since. The great unknown of what could have been."
Kroke bobbed his head. "So, that's why you tried to get out of coming?"
Krytien nodded.
"And I thought it was because of Kaz."
"What do you mean?"
Kroke pulled out a knife again as the mood of the conversation changed. "I just find it odd that he sent us both along. I mean, I can see why he wanted you to come. Still, Jeldor has a couple of black robes who actually trained here. Why not send them instead?"
"Kaz said it was important for me to come."
"And me? What purpose do I serve here?"
"To watch my back I assume." He smiled. "And to listen to my sob stories."
Kroke flashed a rare grin. "Perhaps."
"What about Drake? Kaz was adamant about him coming along too."
"Somebody has to spy on us."
"What?"
"I don't blame the kid. I doubt he even knows. But I bet Kaz asks Drake his version of what went down to see if we hold anything back."
