Peacefall: Book Two of The Fourpointe Chronicles

Chapter 18

"He's being careful."

"Too much?" Gerry asked.

Symon squinted. "We'll see." What are you up to, brother?

Three flyboats spread about in the water ahead, forming a V before their flagship. A guardship approached them from the opposite direction, bearing a square sail with the sigil of Kin Saliswater. Only vessels directly under the King's command – or at the directive of his steward – could carry the trademark. With such a seal, the flyboat had the authority to allow them to pass or turn them away altogether. The fact the ship took such a precaution against the royal fleet – which both Dawkin and Artus knew well – spoke volumes about their trepidation.

Symon turned his attention from the grouping to the stone monolith watching over them: Arcporte Castle. Still a far way off at the opposite end of the harbor, it nonetheless commanded a presence over the city. It reminded Symon of the folktales he heard as a lad, including one about a giant who had stopped by a pond to stare at his reflection.

"Spyglass." Symon held out his hand to Gerry.

"Where's yours?" Gerry replied.

Symon glanced down at his garb, partly to answer him. He wore the suit of a maritime soldier, composed of light, breathable leather armor and large clasps for quick dismantling should he fall into the water. Not quite the clothing which allowed pockets for storing personal articles.

"Oh, right," Gerry admitted. He handed Symon his spyglass.

Symon lengthened the scope as he turned back to the porthole. He raised it to his eye to scan the coast.

The lone pillar jutting from the strip of land moments before suddenly dominated Symon's view. Every detail magnified, from the straight edges of its crenellations to the polished helms of the soldiers marching its parapets, the number of whom had increased threefold since their departure. With the landmark as his reference point, he panned the tip of his spyglass down and to his right, setting his sights on the cliffs stretching underneath the stone colossus.

Unfortunately, the Sirens' Cavern eluded him. Due to the flagship's current position, simply too many spires and arches stood between them and the cliffside of Terran.

Symon handed the spyglass back to Gerry. "I can't find him. Doesn't mean he can't see us."

"You worried?" Gerry asked.

"Bout, bout what?"

The slurred question came from behind them. Gerry turned, though Symon did not.

"Nothing that concerns you," Symon stated flatly.

"You don't know that," Ely sputtered with a bottle in hand. Though the water had calmed, Ely managed to crash into the wall to his left. He fought to maintain balance as Gerry rushed to his side.

"No!" Ely pointed his finger at Gerry. "No. Not you. You're the reason I'm like this." He raised the bottle to his lips and somehow still managed to spill on his shirt.

"Me?" Gerry stood back, astonished.

Symon sighed. This again.

'You, you took her. You put a baby inside her. So, I put a drink inside of me."

"Twas my right!"