Valadel

Chapter XXXII

"Ranger, get up, we're here." Said a cockney sailor voice. Tytus felt his knee being tapped. He opened his eyes to the sunlight pouring through the window. He rubbed his tired eyes with his index finger and thumb.

"Did you hear what I said, ranger? We're here."

"Yes, yes...I heard you. Thank you." Said Tytus, sitting up in his hammock. He stretched his aching back and twisted his neck. The sailor had gone above deck, nudging the feet of other sleeping members.

Cristomir sat up and stretched in his own hammock.

"I honestly can't believe we're in Jorden. It seems so...unreal."

"Yes...but nothing is without a price." Said Tytus, rather grimly.

Cristomir nodded sullenly in agreement. "They will not be forgotten, Tytus. None of them. Not Edwin, not Darius, Not Gallador....not even....not even Danticus."

Tytus nodded. "You're right. Gods above, how long has it been?"

"Five days," said Miles, who had been listening to their conversation.

"Well, we're home now, and that's all that matters. Let's get off this ship, I feel a little sick." Said Tytus.

"What about the elves?" Said Cristomir, grabbing his arm.

"Damn...I near forgot about them..." Said Tytus.

Cristomir looked around the storage for anything of use. He pulled two long sheets from a trunk.

"These...we'll wrap them up in these."

Tytus nodded in approval. "Good idea." He took the sheets from Cristomir and went to where Aryanne and Valyn were sleeping. He shook the twins awake.

"We're here..." He said.

They rubbed their bleary, tired eyes and both grudgingly sat up.

"Are we in the place you speak of?" Asked Valyn.

"We are indeed. Here, put these one. Make sure you cover your ears. We don't want any superstitious citizens getting antsy." Said Tytus, tossing them the sheets.

The elves awkwardly handled them, wrapping the sheets around their slender frames. Tytus help adjust the makeshift hood to make sure their ears would not be exposed.

"There...ready to go?" Tytus asked everyone. They all nodded. "Okay then. Lets go."

He led them to the hatch that led to the deck. The sailors were unloading and transporting their claimed sea life from their ship to awaiting merchants. Tytus was overwhelmingly happy to see the familiar docks again. Sailors, merchants, fishermen, teenage loves all wandered around the bay, unknowingly welcoming them home. They stepped down the big ramp that led to the wooden dock.

"Where should we go first?" Said Cristomir.

"The king. We need to speak with him immediately, all of us." Responded Tytus.

*****

Joras had concluded his memorial speech a day and a half ago, much to his reluctance. Part of him still believed the expedition team was alive. But by word of Whitelocke, the only survivor, claimed them dead. He had no choice but to swallow the terrible truth. He again sipped his goblet of wine. His wife had scolded him about his constant drinking that started once he found out the news of the expedition. It seemed like he always had a goblet in his hand, his wife had told him. She wasn't lying either. In just the few hours of the morning, he already felt a buzz most would feel during a night at the tavern. For the sake of his better judgement, he pushed his goblet out of his reach. He sighed and sat back in the centerpiece of the King's refuge that was his chair.