Wayward Spirits - A Prelude to The Dawning of Power, Page 2

  "Let's get back before this torch goes out completely."

  The torch soon burned out, and only the light of their dwindling campfire guided them back to shore. After pulling the raft from the black water, they lifted one end and leaned it against the cavern wall.

  Taking a closer look at the supplies Nat had packed for them, hoping for something tasty to eat, both were disappointed to find hard travel biscuits, which Wendel said tasted like rocks even if you boiled them.

  Still hungry but tired enough to sleep on bare rock, each curled up with little more than dry leaves to rest their heads on. When the sun rose and a beam of light poured in through the hall, it seemed as if they had gone to sleep only moments before. Eyes squinted and their minds thick with sleep, they washed in the chill waters of the subterranean lake. Benjin pushed back his fears from the night before but was glad to be away from the shoreline when he had finished.

  Wendel stood at the doorway, his bag slung over one shoulder. "You should probably head back from here."

  Benjin stood speechless. This was a moment he had been dreading, the moment when he would have to say goodbye to his friend. Even if he didn't always agree with Wendel, and even if they seemed to find no end of trouble together, Benjin could not picture his life without his best friend.

  "I need to get moving and take advantage of the daylight. I want to reach the desert by nightfall if I can."

  Benjin could still find no words. When Wendel turned to leave, Benjin forced his tongue to speak, "Couldn't we stay here and explore the cavern? That would be an adventure, wouldn't it? And imagine what they'll say when we come back and tell them about this place. We'll be heroes."

  "What good will that do if Matteo is right?"

  "You actually believe what he said? Did you see the look in his eyes? I'm not sure he's all there."

  Wendel just shrugged. "The world needs a hero, and I'm going."

  Benjin followed without another word.

  * * *

  Along a stretch of meandering shoreline, golden sands disappeared beneath ice-blue waves, gulls skittering along the receding water and coaxed a meal from the tide. Two sets of footprints drew a seemingly endless path after days of walking. Even the travel cakes were gone, and hunger added to the heat and lack of good sleep made it seem as if Benjin was walking in a dream. Wendel walked alongside him, uncharacteristically silent and sullen. The reality that Matteo Dersinger might just be a crazy old man and that they had walked to the coast of a hostile desert for absolutely nothing must have hit him.

  "I thought for sure that they were just waiting farther east, but how far do I walk before giving up?" Wendel asked.

  Benjin tried to mention that finding the underground lake alone was worth the trip, but it seemed to only embarrass Wendel more, and his friend retreated further, his mood darkening. By both of their counts, the ship should have been there three days before. When it didn't come on the appointed day, Benjin had suggested they go back, but Wendel had grown angry at the idea and insisted they keep moving. Now, days later, it seemed he might be ready to face reality.

  The calls of gulls still filled the air around them, but new noises were intertwined, and at first Benjin didn't notice them, but they grew louder until they were no longer drowned out, and he heard a voice across the waves, "Ho there!"

  The sound of it caused him to stumble, and with one knee in the sand he turned to see a tall-masted ship in shallow water. Tanned and tattooed men worked to lower a boat into the water, and it was soon moving toward shore, six men working the oars. Moments later one of them stood on shore, looking most uncomfortable.

  "I'm Kenward Trell, captain of the Slippery Eel. I suppose one of you strapping lads is seeking passage to the Greatland?"

  "It really exists?" Benjin asked without thinking, and Kenward cast him a sideways glance.

  "Would I offer to take you somewhere that doesn't exist?"

  "Of course you wouldn't. Many apologies," Benjin said under the weight of Kenward's stare. The man was plain looking and not physically imposing, yet there was a deadly threat in his lithe movements that made Benjin certain he wouldn't want to cross the good captain.

  "Please tell me you're the one looking for adventure, and not your slow friend here."

  "I am indeed," Wendel said.

  "Good. You look like you might guard the railing for a few days, but you should make it. I wouldn't give your friend a week at sea."

  "I can hold my stomach. I'll bet you can't get this boat back out through those waves." Wendel said, pointing to a place along the beach where waves as tall as three men rolled into deadly breakers.

  "I bet I can!" Kenward said with a grin, his eyes lit with that same fire Benjin recognized from Wendel.

  Before he could say anything else, Wendel and Kenward were headed back to the boat. Watching his friend leave, Benjin felt as if he were being torn in two, and he ran along behind them. "Wait! Don't go. Wait!"

  Kenward waded into the surf, and Wendel awkwardly boarded the boat. Unable to make them stop, Benjin did the only thing he could think of and climbed in behind Wendel. His friend pulled him in. "I knew you'd decide to come."

  Benjin wasn't certain what he believed in that moment. Rolling breakers loomed ahead, and he swallowed hard. The surf would soon bar him from his past, his home, and all that he loved. Only his friendship with Wendel kept him from swimming back, and then it seemed the breakers would toss them all into the water. Kenward and his men kept them from capsizing, but it was a close thing. When they boarded the Slippery Eel, Benjin's guts were already churning.

  "Is that all the faster this thing will go?" Wendel asked once they were underway. The deck fell silent, the crew waiting to see what their captain would do.

  Taking a step toward, Kenward barked a laugh. "Full sail! Make for speed!" Then he pointed at Benjin. "And I'd not stand downwind of that one. He's gonna blow."

  Benjin swallowed hard, partly from feeling sick and partly because he was certain Wendel and Kenward were competing to see who could get them killed first. Little did he know that this journey would see his world forever changed, and that everything he had ever known would be at risk. A wiser man would have recognized the truth in Matteo Dersinger's words. A wiser man would have been better prepared.

  Be sure to check out Call of the Herald, book one of The Dawning of Power trilogy. It's free!