Keir followed Daniel and Veren from the caves down to the docks along the craggy shoreline of Grima. Their situation was nothing short of catastrophic. It was barely perceptible, but the fire plains expanded more each day. At this rate, there would be nothing left of Lenya soon.
“Stop it. You’re stuck on the worst-case scenario.” Declan elbowed him as they walked down the endless steps, with their confusing switchbacks and tiered offshoots to different parts of the village. He feared he would never find his way back to the caves without a Grimian escort.
“We are living in the worst-case scenario, aren’t we?” Keir’s shoulders and spine tensed at the reminder of their predicament. Even now, this bountiful village that lay along the busy wharf would cease to be in a few short months. How long could they keep moving out of the burning path that would lay waste to every corner of Lenya? How long before there was nowhere left to flee?
“There’s always a way out.” Declan gave him a pat on the back and an uplifting smile. But that was Declan. He was always the more optimistic one. “We just have to find a new plan.”
“The docks are where everything in Grima happens,” Veren explained, an impatient look on his face as he waved them forward. “We will find a solution to our problem. Keep an open mind and it will come to us.”
“Here?” Keir frowned at their surroundings. Fishermen were coming in with the late afternoon tide, hauling their nets in behind them. The catch seemed to be failing more and more every day as the boats headed out farther into the most dangerous parts of the seas in search of fish to feed their families and those displaced from the palace.
That had been a blow Keir had not bounced back from yet. No one had. They’d had such high expectations of sailing the great ship the queen had commissioned. The one Keir never got to see. Now, only the charred remains sat in the cove they could no longer access, just a half-day’s ride up the coast. There, the waters still churned with the heat of the fire plains, chasing all the fish from the shores into the cooler waters of the deep sea.
That ship was supposed to save them all. And it had taken them months to build it. Months they no longer had. They couldn’t wait for another to be built. Which meant they might not be able to reach Iskalt by sea. They might have to find a way across the plains. Perhaps around them, where the temperatures weren’t as intense. But could they sustain the putrid air and harsh temperatures for long lengths of time?
“The people of Grima live along the coastlines, where the air is clear of the smoke from the fire plains and life is much easier than in Vondur.” Veren marched along the boardwalk, waving to captains and first mates from various ships he seemed to recognize by name. “We’ve been able to trade easily with those in the west. They send us fresh produce, and we send fish and shellfish. But it’s getting harder now as crops are failing and the catch is drying up. If food shortages continue, we’ll starve before the plains reach us.”
“You have trade vessels?” Keir asked. “With large cargo holds?” He’d only ever seen small fishing boats in Grima. Not that he was ever in a position to pay much attention to such things when inside their borderlands.
“We do, your Majesty.” Daniel walked beside Veren, his hands clasped behind his back. “Coastal trade has been our livelihood for many generations. We even have flat-bottomed vessels that sail up the rivers inland to deliver supplies to the estates in rural areas. We trade with them for grains and sugar.”
“I suppose it is easier when you have safe sea routes to navigate from one side of Grima to the other.” In Vondur, they had no such routes, and trade caravans over land never fared as well in the face of thieves and highwaymen eager to plunder what they could. It was always harder in Vondur, where the land was unforgiving. They survived on the things they could produce at hand. If they couldn’t grow it or make it, they often did without.
Keir watched the sailors unload their cargo holds, which seemed to yield very little these days. He imagined another time when this harbor would have been prosperous with trade. He wanted to give that back to them. And to his own fae. Perhaps when this was all over, they could open up trade routes between Grima and Vondur. That was a future he would love to see.
Though, Keir didn’t imagine he would ever get to experience such a thing.
Several young children ran past, hurrying along to the docks to greet an incoming ship.
“Papa!” a little boy screamed, waving scrawny arms in the air as his older sister tried to keep him from falling into the harbor.
“Mind your sister!” a voice echoed across the water.
Keir smiled when he saw a man not much older than himself, standing at the ship’s bow as it sailed closer to the docks. The man waved at his children, clearly eager to get his feet back on land so he could hold his family.
They were just fae. Like those who lived throughout Vondur in the villages and towns he knew so well. For many years, he’d fought in a war against the brutal Grimian soldiers. He’d seen slaughter and bloodshed. Warriors to a man. But they weren’t the lifeblood of Grima. These fae were. Just as the common folk of Vondur were the lifeblood of his kingdom.
They were all Lenyans. That was all that mattered anymore, and he had to do something to save them from the fiery end they all faced.
“Captain Michel!” Veren called as they approached one of the largest ships currently docked at the far side of the harbor, where the waters ran deeper.
“Ahoy there, Master Veren.” A weathered and wrinkled face peered down at them. “How’s that fine ship of our lady queen’s coming?” The old man scaled down the side of the ship like a wiry young sailor.
“You haven’t heard then?” Veren’s voice dropped to a funerary tone. Of everyone, Veren had taken the loss of the ship the hardest. He’d worked with the queen’s finest builders to bring that vessel to life. All for naught.
“No.” Captain Michel’s eyes widened in surprise. “Caught by the fires?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“She was a fine ship, Master Veren. But she was too big to make it across the Vale of Storms.”
“Too big?” Keir stepped forward. This was the first negative account he’d heard of Veren’s perfect ship.
“Aye, sir.” He turned adoring eyes on his own vessel. “The Wind Runner is light and fast. She rides high in the water and takes a beating from the torrential rains and surging seas. Even when she’s weighed down with a full cargo in her belly, she holds steady through any storm. I’ve taken her out farther than any other captain in this harbor. She handles the rocky seas to the south without incident. I’ve brought in some of the largest hauls of the most beautiful fresh red sea bass you’ve ever seen. They only swim around the Grima Shoals. Got a king’s ransom for that haul, you better believe it.” His eyes shone with delight at having the rapt attention of a new audience.
“The Queen’s Maiden was equipped with oversized sails that could capture the winds and keep us moving through a gale,” Veren argued. “She was bigger and heavier to keep us grounded in rough seas.”
Captain Michel shook his head. “Any shipbuilder would tell you such.” He tapped his nose. “But a captain spends his life on the seas. He knows things. Things a builder will never understand about the wiles of the waters.”
Keir smiled, the first semblance of hope flickering in his chest. “Captain Michel.” He clapped the man on the back. “What do you say to an ale?”
“I’d say lead the way, sir.” The captain swept his hat off his balding head, running his hands through what little hair he had left.
“What are you up to, Keir?” Veren walked behind him toward the tavern on the wharf. “The old coot’s full of stories, but that’s all it is. Tall tales and boasting.”
“I have some questions for him.” Keir shrugged. “We still need to find a way across the sea or around the plains, but before we do that, I’d like to know more about our options. And now that we don’t have the ship built for the voyage, it’s going to be a lot more dangerous.”
Declan held the door open for them as they entered the musty old tavern that looked to have been there since the beginning of time itself.
Daniel and Declan found a corner table and ordered them each a tankard of ale from the pretty barmaid.
“Captain Michel.” Keir sat down at the sticky table, grateful for the dark corner where they could talk freely. “I’d like to ask your honest opinion.” He leaned forward, forearms resting on the splintered wood. “What would it take to navigate the Vale of Storms? To cross the maelstrom and reach the shores of whatever lies beyond?”
The captain’s face paled. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Keir Dagnan.” He didn’t see any reason to lie to the man when asking such an important question.
The captain nodded, looking like someone had walked over his grave. “I see. We must be in dire straits indeed if the King of Vondur sits across from me asking for advice.” He moved aside for the barmaid to set his tankard in front of him. Taking a long drink, he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.
“Can I get you, gentleman, anything from the kitchen?” the barmaid asked, making eyes at Veren.
“No thank you, but I imagine we will need a second round before long.” Declan slipped her a coin and sent her on her way.
“Surely there must be another way.” Captain Michel took another long swig.
Keir tested the ale for himself. He expected a dreadful sour stout, but it was delicious and refreshing. It seemed everything in Grima was of better quality. Even in a wharf-side tavern full of dirty old sailors who just might hold the answers to the questions plaguing Keir’s mind.
“If there was, I would not be here.” Keir raised his tankard. “I would know your opinion on the voyage we must make if we are to save Lenya.” By now, all Lenyans were aware of the ever-encroaching burning lands that had turned their fresh water rancid, stolen their lands, homes, and whatever security they might have possessed in this war-torn land.
Captain Michel nodded, staring at the contents of his tankard. “It’s a foolhardy journey. But a ship like the Wind Runner could do it.” He finally spoke, all boasting gone from his voice. “She would have to be outfitted for it. Larger sails, taller, stronger mast. Empty hold, packed with sandbags secured to the port and starboard sides to keep her from rolling. She needs a good, strong crew with experience, quick minds, and sharp wit.”
“Michel, you bloody fool, you cannot pass over the Vale of Storms with an empty hold.” A wizened old man with a long, braided beard slapped him on the back. “You need to weigh her down.” He pulled up a chair and joined them without invitation, a pipe clutched between his yellow-stained teeth. “Let her ride low in the water. She’ll have better balance, see.” His eyes sparkled with interest at the very idea of sailing across the maelstrom most would avoid at all costs.
Michel shook his head. “Hyde, you old charlatan, she’ll roll for certain if she’s weighed down too much.”
“Not if her crew knows how to handle her.” Hyde turned his attention to Veren. “You let her have her head as the winds pick up, gather her speed, like so.” His hand moved across the table, mimicking the movement of their theoretical ship. “Keep her on the outer edge of the vortex, moving fast with the wind in her sails. No fear. You cannot hesitate when you’re on the cusp.” His toothy grin lit up his weathered face. “Ride the edge as long as you can, and when the winds turn, you start to break away, let her momentum push you out of the eddy little by little.” He gave a loud clap of his hands. “And when you break free, she’ll have carried you to the other side, bound for lands unheard of outside the old storybooks.”
“You’re both dodgy old fools.” Another captain approached, clutching his tankard of ale. “It’s impossible. The vale will carry you down to the bottom of the sea, and then we’ll all be lost to the fire plains.” He grabbed his hat off his head. “Begging your pardon, sirs, but you’d be better off circling the Rocky Seas to the south to reach the other side of the plains. It’s a far stretch and slow going, but with the right flat-bottomed ship, it could be done. Successfully so, if you don’t mind me saying.”
It seemed Veren had told anyone who would listen about the great ship that would save them all. Now that it was gone, they all had an opinion. And Keir wanted to hear every last one.
“Wouldn’t she break up if she hit the wrong shoal?” Keir tilted back in his chair, eager to hear his answer. The Rocky Seas were dangerous but not quite as terrifying as the Vale of Storms.
“Not if you’re running with an experienced crew who knows how to navigate a small vessel through the narrow passes.” The man leaned against the filthy wall, his eyes intent on solving this conundrum. “It’s dead stressful out there, but you likely won’t drown so much as have to turn back and look for a better pathway a time or two.”
“The lads don’t have time for that, McCoy.” Hyde waved the barmaid over for another round. “The vale is deadly but fast. It’s your best bet for reaching help in time for it to actually arrive before we’re all fried to a crisp.”
“And if they die before they pass through the vale, then we all die. The shoals are the safest route.” McCoy turned to Veren. “My crew has gone as far as anyone living. The fishing there is plentiful, and the weather is fine. We’ve mapped out the best routes.”
“And what happens when we try to go farther than you have?” Declan asked. “What sends you back home when you’ve gone as far as you can?”
“Aye, we’d have to find a new route around the far reaches of the shoals. We’ve run into nothing but sandbars and coral reefs we’ve not yet ventured past. We haven’t had reason enough to find a way, but it’s there.”
“Sandbars?” Hyde frowned, turning to share a look with another captain who’d pulled up a chair in the crowded corner Keir thought would have been a private place to discuss the matter.
“Aye, you could move across the sandbars with the right equipment and crew. Can a man stand on them and keep his head above water?”
“The last time we sailed that far, it was only ankle deep.”
“Ropes and pulleys would get you across with a flat-bottomed boat. Especially if she was small and lightweight.” Keir didn’t even recognize where some of these opinions were coming from, so many had joined the lively discussion.
“It’s not far from land.” McCoy sighed. “It’s possible the temperatures have risen; it was already hot with steam rising and geysers spewing from between rocks. We’d have to plot a new path farther from the shores.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I still say it’s the best option for actually reaching your destination, but maybe not the fastest if time is of the essence.”
“You could be out there wandering around for months while the rest of the world burns,” Michel muttered, clearly unhappy the others had butted into their conversation.
“It is an impossible choice to make,” Veren finally spoke. “Either way could yield success, or we could all die in the attempt. What matters now is that we make a decision and see it through.” He stared at Keir across the table.
“He is right. We must make an informed decision and give it our all.” The captains all launched into another round of debate on which was the best route and how it could be done.
“You don’t think we can trust any of this conjecture, do you?” Declan leaned in. “They’ve traveled these sea routes all their lives, and I know they have much wisdom to offer, but this is a life-or-death voyage, Keir. We need this to work.”
“It will.” Keir lifted his tankard, draining its contents with a smile on his face.
“What am I missing?” Declan scowled. “You look too happy to have heard the same conversations I’m hearing.”
“The point, Declan, isn’t in deciding which one is right. They all are.”
“How many of those ales have you had?”
“Listen to what they aren’t saying.” Keir grinned.
“What do you mean?”
“All these men.” Keir gestured at the room filled with captains and their crew, all discussing the dangerous journey they would soon make. Because they would be going. Soon. “Not one of them has said it isn’t possible.”