Sons of Ironstorm - Book 4: Griffon's Stand

Chapter 15: Sailing into the Unknown

"As surely as he raced towards his destiny,

Destiny raced towards the Wielder of the Tree

Demanding his undivided attention and devotion.

Willingly the eldest of the sons of Ironstorm gave them,

Knowing that any less would doom them all."

- from druidic writings chronicling the path of the Wielders 

The sloop's sails filled with a rough 'crack' of expanding canvas and it once again leapt forward, pushed towards the distant west by wind and tiller. And by Lawrence Ironstorm's ever hardening resolve.

Frowning with both thought and frustration, he once again unfurled the heavy but supple tanned leather map the sloop's captain had in his keeping, detailing the western seas beyond the Muraan coastlines. Which, considering how much the Muraan didn't know about the Vertisa'al Expanse, meant it was mostly blank. And that was what Lawrence found most frustrating about it. 'If I don't know where I'm going, how am I going to know when I get there?' he mused darkly, staring hard at the pale fabric with its dearth of information barely marring the tanned tunda skin.

- I can, of course, let you know when you're close, my wielder, - the Tree's avatar reminded him with a little tartness in her voice. Lawrence sighed; apparently the Tree was still unhappy about his growing relationship with Aine Tod.

- Indeed you can, Tree. But you can't give me a direction to go in and that's frustrating me the most at the moment, - he replied into the silence of his mind where the avatar dwelt.

"Looking at that thing every day, with a harder and harder expression on your face isn't going to make this magical island suddenly appear there, you know," Will dryly pointed out, the young lord coming from below decks to join his friend at the sloop's bow, where Lawrence often found himself, staring into the distance ahead of them as he tried to figure out where to go next.

Lawrence grunted noncommittally without looking up from the map as Will leaned against the railing beside him, back to the sea as he looked over at his friend.

"Aye, that's what I figured you'd say to that," the young lord of Tal Janux deadpanned at Lawrence's lack of response to his quip.

"Burn me, Will, it has to be out there somewhere," Lawrence abruptly hissed, catching the bemused Will somewhat off guard. The big prince looked up from the map to once again stare off into the distance. "The stories of an island of mirrors can't be merely a legend; I feel the truth of it in my bones."

"Like you did in Morgan's library; I know, my friend," Will recovered to return with a nod. "I believe it's out there too. A direction other than a relatively vague 'to the west' would've been nice, though."

Lawrence glanced over at his long time friend and companion. Aye, it would've been. But all the big man had to go on was the vision he had while in Morgan Galus' library nearly a moon ago now. And all it had shown him was a view running between the island and Galental City, a straight line that only had the Rift and the ruined sa'anish city on its edge as markers of any sort. In fact, if he closed his eyes he could see the vision in his mind's eye, as clear as it was that day, each detail chiseled into his memory like a mason carved it into the stone of his mind.

It was as he once again looked over the weather beaten island, with its heart of crystal and power, that Lawrence caught sight of something that momentarily made his heart pound loudly in his ears. Was that ... was that a shadow being cast by one of many stoney crags? Focusing his mind's eye, Lawrence let his viewpoint move in close to the crag. Yes, yes, it was a shadow! A upward swing of the viewpoint confirmed the placing of Ri'im in the cloudless sky. Then a thought made the vision rewind until he was on the great Horus Delta.