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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Lifting the bandage, Jarae winces from the pain. Her wound is crusty, with off-yellow ooze within. Puffy red flesh surrounds the tear.

“I'm sorry." Valan apologizes.

“It's alright."

Looking over at the wound, the hired magician begins speaking to her hands. Her Halcyon magic causes them to glow like a shooting star. Resting a hand beneath Jarae's arm, and another above it, she gently presses against the obviously festering wound. Gritting her teeth, Jarae bares her sharp canines, wincing as she turns her head away. After a moment, the magician's hands cease to glow and she carefully pulls them away. Jarae's wound has healed, and her rich, brown fur even covers the place where the gouge once was. Lifting her arm, Jarae feels no pain, grinning wide.

“Thank you!" She exclaims, looking toward the elderly, human magician.

“Don't thank me, dear. Thank your man-friend. He's the one who went door to door to find and commission me. Now, about my fee?" She turns to Valan.

“Right..."

Opening a coin purse, Jarae feels a rush of guilt as he pours out hundreds worth of vasariks. The small silver coins worth ten, and large silver coins worth twenty, he places back into the purse. He retrieves a considerable amount of small gold vasariks, worth fifty, and his only large vasariks, worth one hundred. He pays the magician four hundred vasariks, enough to buy quality armor, an arquebus and several good horses. Rising from the seat beside Jarae, she looks between the human and the Jaliscan woman, a strange, almost disgusted look on her face.

“Thank you." Valan speaks softly.

“Yeah." She sighs, clicking the coins in her palm. “Next time, be more careful with your pet." She snickers, taking her leave.

“... Bye..." He says after a pause, watching her walk through the hotel's front door.

Tying the coin purse onto his belt, Valan takes a seat in the chair beside Jarae. The Jaliscan turns her head away, clearly flustered by the old healer's words.

“I'm sorry about her."

“It's alright..." Jarae murmurs.

“Well?! Are you feeling better now?" He asks with a warm smile.

“I do, thank you. I really should've insisted on a doctor, though. Doctors are so much cheaper." She says apologetically.

“True, but doctors heal slowly with their tonics and salves, if they work at all, and then you might have unsightly scars! I wouldn't want to leave you with bad memories." He replies.

Stroking her formerly injured arm with his fingertips, Jarae softly giggles.

“I appreciate that, mister."

“You know, you can call me Valan. That is my name, remember?"

“I do..."

“Do you mind if I call you 'Jarae'?"

“Why would I? It's my name, remember?" She coldly replies.

Looking her over, Valan can see the tension rising within her. It appears as if the old magician's words have deeply cut the Jaliscan girl. Her shimmering pink eyes only faintly glow in the front room of the hotel, which is dimly lit by the morning light that filters through the stained-glass windows.

“If you're worried about what she said, I-"

“What do you want from me, Valan?!" Jarae interrupts him, turning her eyes toward him.

“Well, aren't we a tad ungrateful?" He raises a brow.

“I've yet to meet a man who'd do something for nothing... Especially spend four hundred vasariks to heal a stranger." She replies.

“Well, I'm sorry to hear that. There's a first for everything, I guess." His smile returns.

“... You don't want anything in return? You aren't looking for...?"

Valan cocks his head, perplexed by her questions. Jarae's brow suddenly rises, as if stricken by a horrible realization. Turning her eyes away, her chest heaves as she takes a deep breath.

“I didn't mean to imply! I mean! ... I'm-"

“Hey, it's alright!" Valan replies. “I paid for the healer because I genuinely believed that a doctor couldn't stave off that infection; you don't deserve a slow, painful death from blood poisoning."

Turning her head toward him, the pair lock eyes. Gazing at each other, Jarae's brow softens, as if she's ashamed of something. Their expressions change, becoming solemn, even somewhat melancholy.

“I'm not mad, you didn't offend me, and I don't want anything from you. You did something for me last night, and it meant a lot... But if you want to go, you can go." He continues.

“Oh... Okay... Still, though... I feel indebted to you." She speaks softly.

“Well, maybe you can make it up serving in our little crew?"

“So, you do have a ship?!" She asks with surprise.

“Well... A ship-like object." He smirks.

Sharing another gaze, their expressions change again. Little smiles curl over their lips, and Jarae flashes her sharp, canine teeth. Suddenly, she seems to become nervous, turning her head away and obscuring her face. Valan clears his throat.

“Tell me, Jarae... Why did you risk yourself like that?"

Turning her shimmering, pink eyes toward him, she merely shrugs her shoulders.

“Why did you help me?" She asks, swiftly turning in her seat.

“Because you did." Valan answers, without missing a beat. “What you did... I won't forget that... Come on." He says, rising from his seat and hold out a hand to her. “The others are probably at the dock. I can feel their impatience growing."

Pacing back and forth, Kirsta looks toward the town several times over.

“Where the hell is he? We have to go." She grumbles.

“He'll be here." Irzain replies, sitting atop an old fish barrel.

Turning his head, he slides off of the barrel and waves to Valan and Jarae as they traverse the boardwalk.

“He can't be serious..." Kirsta grumbles.

“Do we have a new pet?" Mairlynn cocks her head.

“Just relax, you two. Let him be. We are using almost all of his stuff, and she did save his life. Maybe we should give her a chance?" Irzain speaks softly to the girls.

Approaching his companions, Valan hops down and into the dainty fishing vessel. Jarae stops in her tracks, a little smirk on her face as she raises a brow.

“A ship-like object, eh?" She softly chuckles.

“We'll find better." He quickly retorts.

“Speaking of! What'd you two find out yesterday?" Irzain asks.

“Well, Mernak has two major towns. This is the smallest, and none of the people we talked to were willing to even entertain the thought of selling us a ship or bartering passage." Kirsta begins.

“I was under the impression that they thought we'd have better luck in the other town, on the other side of the island." Mairlynn adds.

“Well, at least we can make a trip like that in this raft." Valan remarks.

Climbing into the craft, Jarae appears nervous, keeping her cloak closed and pulling up her hood, taking a seat at the far end of the boat.

“It's too bad none of us know that town... Do we?" Irzain asks.

“I-I do..." Jarae speaks softly, holding up a clawed hand.

“Really?!" Irzain takes a seat beside her. “What can you tell us about it?"

“Just that the docks are considerably larger, with more willing captains... And that my people aren't welcome there." She speaks the second line softly.

“Why wouldn't they be?" Irzain raises a brow.

“I don't know. Maybe it's the glowing eyes, the fangs, or the tails?" Kirsta snickers.

“That's all?!" Irzain asks with surprise.

“Poor, naïve Irzain." Kirsta pats him on the shoulder.

“My people were fleeing a uh... Recent development there. Jaliscan and Falmun aren't welcome." Jarae continues.

“Falmun, too?!" Mairlynn gasps.

“Wear a hood. You'll be fine." Kirsta interjects.

“You play a child quite well!" Valan adds.

“Thanks..." Mairlynn grumbles.

“I can't go, though." Jarae murmurs.

Sitting beside her and across from the shocked Irzain, who has no recollection of, and has yet to see true racism, Valan takes ahold of her hand. She turns her head, looking deeply and fearfully into his eyes.

“This is the best option for us to get off of this island. We sure as hell aren't going anywhere far in this bathtub! I don't want to leave you here, so if you want to come with us, I'll wait with you in the boat; they can go inland and see what they can find."

“Y-you'd do that?" She sheepishly asks.

“I'm not going to abandon you, Jarae. Not after what you've done for me." He says with a little smile.

Comforted by his words, she faintly smiles and nods her head. Untying the craft from the docks, the others become comfortable as Kirsta and Valan, the two most experienced with boats, prepare to set sail. With a bit of wind in the right direction, and help from Irzain, who mans the oars, they lumber along the shoreline, keeping a safe distance from the island as they make their way around. Throughout the ride, Mairlynn glares jealously at Jarae, her red eyes watching the Jaliscan closely. It's mid-day when they finally see the other town.

As they'd heard, it's far larger than the one they'd left. The docks are partially constructed of stone, with several galleons of the crown moored there. Finding a smaller set of wooden docks, the crew bring their tiny fishing boat in, mooring at the furthest end. Climbing out, Kirsta and Irzain are met by a man who operates the docks, charging them a minimal fee. With her cloak draped loosely over her body and closed at the front, her tail tucked in, and her hood pulled up of her head, he doesn't seem to notice the Jaliscan in the boat.

As he leaves, Kirsta and Irzain walk along the docks, eager to find a ship and captain willing to help them. Turning to leave, Mairlynn holds up the hood of her own cloak, keeping the breeze from blowing it over. She pauses, glancing back at the pair who sit patiently inside of the faithful craft.

“We'll be right back." She assures them.

“And we'll be waiting." Valan smiles and waves.

Walking along the docks, Mairlynn looks at the various ships in the stone harbor. The magnificence of the galleons, and even the somewhat dainty frigates, which anchor along the rows of water scored granite, is beyond comprehension. So ornately decorated and finely crafted are the vessels, she can only fathom the sheer cost of their construction and maintenance. They must employ hundreds of sailors. Reaching Kirsta and Irzain, who stand at the opening of the primary harbor, the trio notice one ship in particular. It's an odd vessel, which stands out amongst her peers. They walk the docks, moving closer and examining the craft out of sheer curiosity.

The ship flies no flags, and is obviously not a military vessel, as she has no visible guns. Strangely, there are no nets or cranes for fishing visible on the upper deck. A nameplate appears to be detachable, and reads 'Arona-Dahl'. Smaller than any of the others, at sixty feet long, she's a rather meek looking craft. Two sailing masts bear square sails, as well as a forward triangular sail. A strange protrusion emerges from the upper deck and between the masts. Made out of metal, it looks like some sort of pipe, but it's unusually large. What could be the purpose of such a structure?

Staring at the unusual craft, a Vizhek man emerges from the cabin of the upper deck, which is designed similarly to those of the nearby galleons. The six foot and five-inch-tall elf has faded and somewhat wrinkled, medium-blue skin, and his silver hair has lost much of its sheen, appearing more like fine pewter. He's visibly older, at least in his hundred and sixties. Stretching out his arms and back, he notices the trio who curiously examine his craft. Turning his head, the old Vizhek waves at them.

“She's something special, isn't she?!" He asks, yelling to the three who stand on the adjacent dock.

“I've never seen a ship like that before!" Mairlynn chirps.

“I know." The old elf chuckles.

“Where's your crew?" Kirsta asks, leaning on the railing.

“Heh... I don't need a crew." He smirks.

“Really?!" Irzain asks in disbelief, looking over the ship.

“That's an awful lot of ship for one man." Kirsta remarks.

“I can handle it. I've been handling her for more than twenty years now."

“Then, you don't work for the crown?" Irzain asks.

The old, elven captain's silver eyes narrow. With an angry scowl, he spits over the side of his ship's railing and into the water.

“Damn the crown, and that little shit of a king." He growls.

Glancing between each other, the trio crack little smiles.

“I think we might've found a captain." Kirsta sighs with relief.

Sitting in the small boat, Valan leans against the edge. He stares into the shimmering, deep blue water, watching the distorted images of the nearby ships and his own face. With her cloak fluttering in the cool breeze, Jarae stares at her own boots, which cover her human-like feet. She listens to the subtle sloshing of the waves against the craft, relaxed by their familiarity. Her tall ears pick up every sound, even though they're pulled back, underneath her hood, to conceal her race. Turning her pink eyes toward the human, who sits across from her, she watches him for a moment.

“Valan?" She calls out softly.

He turns his head, his body leaning over and forearms crossing each other atop the edge of the boat. The human doesn't speak, merely smiling warmly at her. A gust of wind blows his long hair across his face, entangling it in his substantial goatee, which also sways with the unseen force.

“You look like the barbarians that once ravaged the mainland." She giggles.

“Is that what you wanted to say?" His smile grows as he grabs his hair and moves it away from his face.

“No... I, uh... I don't really know what to say." She admits, turning her eyes away. “I feel so strange."

“Are you sick?!" He sits up, a look of worry on his face.

“I didn't mean it like that." She swiftly retorts.

“Oh... If you're worried about them, I-"

“Why are you helping me? What did I do to deserve it?" Jarae interrupts him.

“Saving my life wasn't enough?" He chuckles.

“That debt's been paid, remember? You don't owe me anything."

“True... I guess it does beg the question, doesn't it? Why are you so concerned, though? What's it to you?"

“I want to know what this is." She retorts in a stern voice.

“Fair enough. Call me naïve, but I see something in you..."

Jarae stares at Valan with an innocent gaze, her ears lifting and subtly raising the hood of her cloak.

“I see strength, honesty, loyalty, and integrity. I watched you stand up to your own people, and Radiz, the idiot that he was. You saw us for who we are; decent people who were caught up in a bad situation, against our will. You did the right thing, trying to talk our way out of that warehouse, even when they pointed weapons at you." He continues.

“I didn't think you deserved to die; Radiz had a bit of a temper. Even if you had a ship, he still probably would've killed you, to make up for the trouble you caused him. I didn't want that on my conscience." She replies.

“And I respect that. Had I not pulled you out of the way, you might've died for your convictions... But then I woke up this morning, and I heard you in your room."

“Y-you heard me?" Jarae raises her brow in surprise.

“Mhm." He nods his head. “You mumbled in your sleep. I knew you hadn't run off in the night, like most probably would've, and I could tell that you were troubled."

“Really?!" She cocks her head.

“Mhm. I'm just glad you were able to sleep at all, with that gash in your arm. I had a hard time, myself."

“Oh?"

“Yeah. Our room only had one bed, and Irzain snores... Anyway! After I heard you, I realized that you could use a helping hand. I guess after what happened, it seemed fitting if it was me who held it out to you, you know?"

“Yeah, I think I do... So, what did I say?!" She leans closer.

“It doesn't matter." He replies, moving across the little boat and sitting beside her. “The point is that I've already learned everything that I need to know about you. I saw who you really are... I glimpsed your heart, so to speak. I knew that I needed to give you a chance, because if I didn't, it's likely no one else would."

Reaching out, he takes hold of her hand.

“You deserve a chance. Everyone does." He says with a warm smile.

She gently strokes his hand with the soft flesh of her fingertips. Though she's been nervously averting her eyes from him, Jarae leans closer. Pressing herself against his side, he drapes an arm over her. Furling his brow, he pulls her in closer and rubs her furthest arm with his hand.

“Are you cold?"

“No." She sheepishly replies.

“Are you sure? You're trembling."

“I-I'm alright."

Worried that she's having trouble adjusting, Valan continues to rub her arm, comforting her. After a quiet moment, the human turns his head. Looking over at him, Jarae realizes that he's distracted by something. Sharing his gaze, her eyes follow a group of men who storm across the dock. Most wield pikes, but a few hold arquebus rifles. All are wearing breastplates, bearing the mark of the crown. Looking back at Valan, Jarae can see the sheer terror on his face. Why is he so afraid of the king's soldiers? She looks back, watching the warriors as they head directly for a particular ship.

Her vision is partially obscured by the stone harbor, but the sails are small, and it doesn't appear to have an impressive footprint. Only the top of a diminutive cabin sticks out. Turning a corner, the soldiers soon disappear from view. Taking his arm away from Jarae, Valan approaches the ropes that moor the little craft to the wooden dock. He turns back, looking at the Jaliscan woman, seeing the confusion on her face.

“Maybe I'm not the only one who wants to get off of this island?" She asks, cocking her head.

Valan looks back, trying to see where his other companions have gone. Fearful that they may be in danger, he climbs the small mast of the little fishing boat, holding onto the thick bundle of the lowered sail.

“Then you do accept passengers, Captain Trellan?" Irzain raises his brow.

“I didn't say that... I just didn't rule it out, either."

“Then perhaps we can reach a mutually beneficial arrangement, sir." Mairlynn interjects.

“Heh... Cute kid. Well, ma'am..." The old elf looks down at Kirsta. “If your family really needs to be somewhere, perhaps I could-"

“In the name of the crown, you're under arrest!" A voice yells.

Standing near the gangplank, Trellan looks toward the voices, who quickly command the trio's attention as well. Kirsta, Irzain, and Mairlynn are left horrified, a dozen soldiers standing at the ready only twenty feet behind them. With a handful of humans and over a half dozen Helngar, the powerful warriors wear armor that glistens in the sunlight. All of them over six feet and four inches, they're imposing creatures, who dwarf their human leader as he looks over the group. The human's eyes land on Irzain's face for a moment.

“By order of the king, you are to surrender yourself and accompany us, or face further penalty!" He continues.

“Well, now!" Trellan chuckles, walking slow backward along the gangplank. “We wouldn't want further penalties, would we?"

“Look, we can explain." Irzain nervously begins.

“Stay away from that ship!" The soldier growls.

Inching backward, Kirsta, Irzain and Mairlynn move away from the soldiers. With the gangplank now immediately to their left, they look to Trellan, who stands aboard his ship.

“If you come with us, they might go easy on you." The soldier warns.

“Whatever this is about, we can-"

“Hah! Go easy?!" Trellan interrupts Irzain. “So we'll only get two days of torture, instead of a week? Will be beheaded instead of strung up, or shot instead of starved in the pirate cage?"

“I do not choose the punishments; I merely enforce the laws, now get over here!"

Glaring at Trellan, the soldier turns his fiery eyes toward Irzain.

“Right now..."

Resting a hand on the railing of his ship, Trellan nods his head. Kirsta, Irzain and Mairlynn all raise their hands.

“Alright..." Trellan begins, reaching behind the railing. “We'll just GET DOWN!"

Yanking a lever, the Arona-Dahl's rearmost mast, the largest of the two, spins under its own power. The sounds of a sturdy mechanism are heard as the wooden beams swirl around. Dropping to the ground, Kirsta, Irzain and Mairlynn are spared as the lower beam slams into the soldier's backs. Their armor clanks as they're push over, with most of them falling into the water. They sink like rocks, weighted down by their gear, which they tear frantically at as they disappear beneath the waves.

“Climb on!" Trellan orders, pulling another lever.

The ropes that hold the Arona-Dahl to the harbor are instantaneously loosened, held by mechanical jaws which free the cordage. Dashing across the gangplank, the trio make their way onto the ship as Trellan pulls yet another lever. Kirsta can see a strange box near the opening for boarding, which the old Vizhek operates. With the pull of the next lever, the gangplank retracts itself, a thick beam swinging out and closing the opening, completing the railing. Racing away from the railing, Trellan ducks down as two rifle shots are heard.

Climbing to their feet, only three of the human soldiers remain on the harbor, including their leader. They stand well over forty feet away. One soldier frantically begins reloading his arquebus. Opening her cloak and taking aim with her crossbow pistol, little Mairlynn swiftly shots the rifleman in the face. Screaming in agony, he drops his weapon and stumbles, before falling over the edge and sinking to the bottom of the sea. As Irzain lifts his own crossbow pistol, the other rifleman drops his unloaded weapon. He turns around and flees.

“Hey! Come back here, damn you!" The leader shouts.

The lone soldier glares at the three as they stand on the deck. Suddenly, the ship begins to move. Kirsta and Mairlynn look at the sails, which are still lowered. How can a ship move without sails?! A puff of black smoke rises from the metal structure, which they now realize is a massive chimney. Irzain pays no attention to these wonders, focusing instead on the lone soldier, who rallies others to his cause. Scores of men prepare a nearby galleon, while many more race along the stone walkways with loaded rifles. The ship, however, moves faster and faster, emerging from the harbor and leaving it behind.

“What is that?!" Jarae asks, standing to her feet.

“I've never seen a ship like that before!" Valan remarks in awe.

The smoke billows from the stack as the ship leaves the harbor.

“It's kind of like a corvette... Or maybe a galleon..."

“A corvalleon?" Jarae quips.

“Heh... Well, whoever they are they're kicking up quite a bit of-... Is that Irzain?!"

Looking closer, Valan struggles to see the figure in the growing distance. Turning toward his oaken chest, he lifts the lid of the trunk and digs. Pushing items aside, he frantically searches for something. After a moment, he retrieves a small box, opening the lid and pulling out what appears to be two telescopes that are mounted to each other. Pulling on the bodies and extending them, he brings his custom-built binoculars to his eyes.

“Oh no..."

“What is it?!" Jarae asks in a growing panic.

“That's them! They're leaving us behind!"

Passing her the binoculars, Jarae peers through them as Valan quickly removes the anchoring ropes from the dock. Pushing them away from the structure, he raises the sail as quickly as he can, allowing it to catch the wind. Placing the oars in their swivel mounts, he turns the craft and begins paddling.

“You think we can catch them?" She asks.

“What else are we going to do?" He replies, looking back at her.

Setting the binoculars aside, she moves around him and manipulates the sail, turning it to better catch the wind. A gust helps push them along, moving them behind the fleeing vessel. They both pause, however, when they witness a fully manned galleon lumbering out of the harbor. It looms over their little craft like a god, with loaded cannons and nearly one hundred soldiers aboard. It's clear that the galleon is chasing after the strange little ship, which leaves them all in its wake.

“Fire!" A faint voice cries out.

With modest cannons loaded onto swivel mounts, they shoot a barrage, dead ahead. The cannonballs race to catch the fleeing ship, and the tiny fishing boat that sits between them. The cannon balls zoom by, striking the water and sinking with great speed.

“Hold on. This is going to be a little intense." Trellan warns the others as he mans the wheel. “Thank the Seraphs in Heaven that I filled those tanks before bed."

Pulling on a lever that sits mounted on a pedestal, a needle runs over and across a series of notches. Beside each large notch is an accompanying word. He pulls the lever until the needle covers “cruise". The Arona-Dahl lurches somewhat, as the strange whirring of a machine grows louder. The smoke billows from the chimney as the ship moves faster and faster. Soon, the galleons are nothing but distant specks on the horizon. Sitting on the floor of the upper deck, Kirsta and Irzain breathe a sigh of relief. Mairlynn paces the floor, looking back again and again.

“I think we're safe now." Kirsta remarks, watching the little Falmun.

“What have we done?" Mairlynn whimpers. “This is so bad."

“What's wrong?" Irzain asks.

“Have you forgotten already?! ... We left them behind..."

Kirsta and Irzain glance toward each other, only now realizing what has transpired. In their fear, the adrenaline pushed it from their minds, but as they become calm, they remember that Valan and Jarae were left behind in the fishing boat. As if that wasn't bad enough, Valan's oaken chest carried most of their supplies, including spare parts and ammunition for their custom-built crossbow pistols, and all of the vasariks not already on their person. They share a guilted conscience and equally shameful looks as Trellan emerges from behind the wheel.

“Well! ... That was a nice bit of excitement, wasn't it?"

Approaching his passengers, Trellan sits across from them, crossing his legs as he leans back on the upper deck. He looks between the three, seeing Mairlynn's elven ears. Her face is reminiscent of a child's; at a glance, she appears to be one, especially to non-elves. Looking closer, however, he can see that she isn't a child at all. Her face is too developed, as is her tiny form.

“... Or maybe they weren't after me this time?" He asks.

The trio look towards each other, before turning their eyes to Trellan.

“... What's going on?"