Saga of the Twin Suns

Book 2 - Sojourn

T.G. Parsons

Chapter 1

Far out of the sight of land, a ship sailed across the beautiful Azure Sea, sending sprays of blue water over the bow as it crested the waves. Overhead, a yellow sun burned brightly, while the warm eastern winds pushed against the vessel’s unfurled white sails.

The blue sky above was cloudless. A rare sight in the Azure Sea, where storms were common, making the trip perilous for all but the most experienced sailors. Luckily, the crew hadn’t spotted any sign of bad weather, something everyone was thankful for. The ship was designed to withstand the worst the crossing had to throw at them, but no one looked forward to experiencing it.

They had predicted that they wouldn’t encounter anything severe, not this far from the center of the Sea, but even a common storm in this journey could be disastrous.

At the prow of the ship stood a man, dressed in fine, black leather armor, a white fur cloak draped across his shoulders, billowing in the warm sea wind. From under his cloak, a sword hilt stuck out, strapped onto his back in the style of northern warriors.

Tall, the man could be considered extremely handsome if his face wasn’t twisted in an expression of disgust as he hunched over the side railing, heaving his guts out from sea sickness. Starting with lunch, he vomited everything in his stomach, eventually making his way towards breakfast, until he was left with nothing but dry heaves.

His stomach settled for a moment, he looked out over the Azure Sea, watching as the yellow sun shimmered on the waves. From where he was looking, he could see a pod of dolphins, breaching the water’s surface, before diving back under. They had been following the ship since they had left port at Elbing. The sailors thought it was a sign of good luck and an easy crossing.

“God’s Bones, Junior! You’re still seasick? Do you want me to rub your little tum tum better? Make the sickies go away?” A voice boomed out from behind him. Turning slightly, Wil looked at his companion.

Garman was easily standing straight on the rocking ship. He had taken to sea travel like a fish to water, gaining his sea legs almost as soon as they left the dock. He hadn’t been fazed in the slightest at the sight of endless ocean, with no land in sight.

Wil still had trouble looking at the horizon, he always expected to see…something. It was unnerving and unnatural to have nothing around you, no landmark by which to orient yourself.

Garman, however, had marched on the ship and started drinking with an intensity to easily match Bell. The two men were becoming nearly inseparable on this voyage, finding common cause in alcohol, and amusement in Wil’s affliction.

“Would you? Don’t get any ideas while you do it. I like you, but just as a friend.” Wil teased, falling back onto the deck and leaning against the railing. He could feel every pitch and roll of the ship, despite its size and the gentle waves, it was still enough to unsettle him.

“Cheeky bugger. Maybe a swim would bloody do you good?” Garman threatened, cracking his knuckles as he approached, his Rank 6 mana rolling off him, pressing down on Wil.

Laughing, Wil waved the other man off, trying hard not to throw up again.

“It’s been nearly a week, you would think I could get used to it. I’m going to be on my arse for the entire voyage. Why am I the only one suffering?” Wil complained.

“Because you’re a weak little lordling. Look at Bell and me, iron constitutions, the both of us.” He laughed, slapping himself in the stomach with his palm.

“I think you’re both too drunk to even notice you’re on the ocean. What are you doing up here anyway? I haven’t seen you leave your room in days.” Wil asked, taking a small sip of water from his flask, before tucking it back into his ever-present bag of holding.

The leather satchel, prominently displaying a set of stags locking horns, was a gift from his brother. Capable of holding thousands of pounds of items in a pocket space contained within, the bag rarely left his side.

Already he had filled it with his supplies, magical components, spells books and other necessities of his mage trade.

“The young miss is looking for you. They need your help with the weather diviner, said something about the gods damned contraption shitting the bed.” Garman cursed, before walking next to his young charge and helping him to his feet.

Like a man on his death bed, Wil leaned heavily on Garman as the pair made their way to the rear of the ship, where their boss’s cabin was located.

“Why do they need my help? They have a mage on the crew that knows more about it than me.” Wil said, struggling to walk upright, despite Garman’s assistance.

“Rank 1 pissant can barely light a match. They need the big boy to have a look, I figure. You may be a sorry excuse for a man, but you make a half decent mage.” Garman said, grumbling as Wil tripped over a length of rope.

Wil was a Rank 5 mage, one of the most powerful people on the ship. Only Garman, at Rank 6, was higher. But Garman focused on close combat and splitting skulls with his axe, while Wil was a mage. He was fairly decent with a blade, but magic was his true specialty.

The pair arrived at the doors to the boss’ cabins at the rear of the ship. Large double doors, with engravings of sea birds were closed. Not even bothering to knock, Garman kicked open the doors before tossing Wil into the room.

“Here!” He shouted, a Wil crashed, boneless, onto the cabin floor, before turning and leaving. No doubt heading back to Bell and their daily task of trying to drink the ship dry.

Lying on the ground, his stomach turning from the sudden fall, he noticed that, aside from Annabelle, the cabin held nearly a dozen other people, making the cabin feel crowded and small. He spotted Mara and Martin, both standing next to Quentin. The rest present were the captain, first mate, some crew and the young mage they had hired for the voyage.

A rank 1, the mage was skilled in predicting the weather, but utterly lacking in any other magic. He was looking terribly nervous, standing and fidgeting, peering hopelessly at the weather divining device resting on a Quentin’s desk.

“Wil, glad you’re feeling better, we need you to have a look at the weather glass. Mister Gale here seems to be…confused, regarding its usage.” Annabelle said, ignoring the fact that Wil was still lying on the ground, groaning weakly. At a nod from Quentin, Mara stepped forward and hauled her sick friend to his feet, helping him walk over to the desk.

Leaning heavily against the beautifully engraved wood, Wil tried to keep what remained of his stomach’s contents on the inside as he peered at the glass resting in front of him.

Some skilled mages could predict the weather by a complex spell, divining the future. Reading the stars, the clouds, the flight path of birds or the smell of the wind were methods for druids, talented in nature magic. For the rest, a weather forecasting tool was used.

The most common prediction device was resting on the desk in front of him, a glass vase, filled with water taken directly from the Azure Sea just moments before the divining. Floating in the water were stones, each etched with runes and glyphs that, when mana was channeled into the water, provides a connection to the sea around them, forecasting the weather.

A clear bead of glass, a grey stone, a black volcanic rock, a snowflake of pale blue ice, and a jagged blue shard of crystal, all floated in the middle of the water, swirling gently with the rocking of the ship.

“Mister Gale! Perform the forecasting again.” The captain ordered from where he stood, arms crossed as he peered down from next the Gale.

He was scowling at the divining tool, which wasn’t a good sign, Wil thought to himself. Although, to be fair, he couldn’t recall a time when the man wasn’t angry at something. Wil had heard him yell at the cook two evenings ago about the way the potatoes were peeled.

The nervous Gale placed a fingertip against the glass, channeling his mana into the sea water within. The water shone with light, before the swirling within gradually slowed to a halt. The glyphs and runes on the floating objects glowed as Gale formed a link between it and the Azure Sea.

Breath held, he watched as the black stone slowly rose from the middle, floating on top of the water. It began to spin, slowly at first before quickly gaining speed, until it was a blur of motion, swirling the water in the vase violently.

“See Wil? It’s done that the last three times. We’ve tried freshly drawn water and cleaning the stones, but it keeps doing it. Do you think its broken?” Annabelle asked, peering down at the forecast.

Closing his eyes, Wil rested his head against the cool wood, his arms over his head to block the light. Not responding to the question, Quentin nudged him sharply in the ribs.

“No Annabelle, it’s not broken. It’s working perfectly fine.” He muttered, his voice muffled.

“Then what does it mean? Gale said that he’s never seen the black stone do that before. Black means a storm is coming, but it’s not supposed to spin. Even Captain Edvard’s doesn’t know. Gods, it nearly broke the glass the first time he did it.”

She pushed him for an answer. The captain agreed with her statement, nodding his head at the words as he held his scowl at the spinning stone.

Tired, resigned to his fate, Wil wearily answered her question.

“That’s because anyone who’s seen it do that is probably already gone. It means we’re all going to die.”