Rock Castle

The next day, under the grey and rainy skies of Ayaton, the islanders gathered on the Rain Coast. Two rafts had been built for the bodies of Barhed and Ian Joe, both dead and ready to make their final journey west. Maynar, wiping the tears from his eyes with a handkerchief, had donned the red cloak they had found on the Stone Dragon, deeming its quality suitable for the occasion. He also held Barhed's short sword, whom he liked. On the shore, the Queen's magnificent ship had also arrived, but she herself had not attended. Nastal was in charge of conducting the ceremony, his countenance grim, his distress and anxiety etched on his face.

"Today we bid farewell to two great islanders. Two friends. Ian and Barhed were part of Ayaton, as much a part of it as the trees and the rocks. The unfortunate accident in the woods that took their lives will forever weigh on our island and our hearts."

Murmurs broke out for a while. The priest had chosen a convenient lie to avoid panic. He had been fully informed of all that had happened and had summoned Darma and Maynar to the castle in the presence of the Queen.

"With these coins, I send their souls far from this world, so that they may find their island among the Rivers of Oblivion. Let us all bid them farewell together."

One by one, the people of Ayaton approached the rafts and left flowers on them, their petals scattered by the wind. The bodies were covered with shrouds. Maynar took out his lute and sang a melancholy song. His voice was high but melodious, and his playing struck the delicate chords of the inhabitants. The song was short, and Maynar burst into tears himself. The last few hours had cost him dearly, both physically and mentally, and he was not built for such adventures. Darma waited stoically for the ceremony to end. He had no feelings for either of them, but he had still tried to save them; at least he had fought. His mind, however, was fixed on only one person, the woman who had appeared in the temple. Who was she? What was she doing there? Was she human? No way, thought Darma. Is she connected to Ian? Definitely. Was she the person behind the double voice that was heard? Was she the one who had caused Ian to rip out his own heart and stick it in the dark wall of a tower? All these questions were curious, and Darma, of course, had no answers. Only desires, and every fiber of his body was aflame with desire to see her again, no matter where he had to go.

After the ceremony, the residents of Ayaton went to Tom's Tavern. There, in a lighter atmosphere, they talked about Barhed and Ian and drank to honor their names. Nastal was also there for a while, answering the various questions that had arisen. Darma and Maynar refrained from talking about the incident and quickly retired to rest until the evening. A few hours later, they were back at the castle, giving their side of the story to the queen.

The throne room was lit by dozens of candles. Moonlight streamed into the great dome and bathed the salt throne in its soft color. Siriafil was dressed in deep green, her long dark hair accentuating her aristocratic beauty. Her responsibilities seemed to have etched a few new lines on her face, weighing heavily on the Queen of Ayaton.

"I have a page here," she said, holding up the bloody page that Maynar had brought from the temple, the one he was afraid to face. "Nastal told me you found it in front of Ian Joe in the middle of a ceremony."

Nastal took the page from the queen's hand. There was fear in his eyes, which he tried to hide.

"For years we've been looking for you," Siriafil said coldly to Darmakaya. "You are hard to find until one day the sea washes you up on our doorstep."

Darma said nothing.

"The crimes you have committed in the seas of the Trident are many and serious. No man would escape with his life after such acts."

"I am not a mere man," Darma said, and felt the atmosphere grow heavy.

"Show respect, Darmakaya," Nastal shouted with unprecedented intensity. "You stand before the Queen of Ayaton."

"I am simply telling the truth. You want to kill me for the past, kill me but spare me the preaching."

Nastal wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. The queen's gaze brought him vertigo.

"You are insolent," said Siriafil.

"I am much more than that," replied Darma.

"Tell me, Darmakaya. Do you value your life?"

Darma went to say something quick and clever, but hesitated. Then he thought for a moment and realized that the question was much harder than he had first thought. Then the woman from the temple came to his mind.

"Yes," he said simply.

"You will have to fight for it."

"I thought I already did."

Anger began to brew inside him. Darma had known too many aristocrats and knew when they wanted something without speaking directly.

"It was a battle. It will take many more to wash away the blood you have spilled."

"I see," Darma said.

Nastal spoke up.

"This page is but part of a book. On its own, it had the power to poison Ian's mind and sow all the evil we have seen unfold before us. This book must be found and destroyed."

Maynar dropped to one knee. "Your Majesty," he said in as clear a voice as he could muster. "We know nothing of this book. Let alone where it came from. How can we find the rest and remain untouched by its influence?"

The queen smiled. "Maynar. It's a miracle, it seems."

Maynar looked up sheepishly.

"From tavern drunkard to seeker of truth. The cloak suits you. All humans have the potential for transformation, it seems."

Maynar was flattered. He decided to conceal the origin of the cloak.

"The most logical conclusion is that this page came from Vaoro. The merchant has been here recently, and we all know the strange things he can bring from the edges of Vitallia."

"It will be easier to catch lightning than Vaoro," Darma threw out, interrupting.

"We're not looking for Vaoro," said Nastal. "His role ends with the page. I have a friend in Lothen. His name is Illandro, and he's a demonologist."

Darma felt a twinge inside him. He remembered the woman. A demon? Could something so beautiful be a demon?

"I want you to travel to Illandro and ask his opinion on the page and the book."

"To Lothen? We?" Maynar said in surprise.

"You," replied the queen. "Illandro resides in Nalia, the port of Lothen. His mansion is located in a region called The Rocks. He will have been informed by message before you arrive."

"Your Majesty," Maynar said again, dropping to his knees. "How is it possible that we are your choice? Without questioning your wisdom. Darma here is a warrior, a great seafarer, a skilled one. I..."

He hesitated to continue and Darma took his place.

"What the poet means to say is that I, as a criminal, am obliged, or you'll have my head, right? He didn't do anything. So, why are you making him so uncomfortable, is his question."

Maynar was petrified with fear. The anger was evident in both the queen's gaze and in Nastal's.

"Ayaton is threatened," Siriafil said softly, but the tension in her voice was unmistakable. "Nastal told me of mysterious forces under the sea. He told me of strange connections to the past. He also told me of strange synchronicities and situations that seem more mysterious than what usually happens in the world. There are movements here, the wills of gods, that we in our minds cannot judge. I, the Queen of Ayaton, am not going to risk defying the will of the gods. We all have a part to play in this story, and you will play yours. It is a royal command."

Maynar simply bowed and accepted his fate. He looked at Darma and felt his disdain.

"I will lend you a ship and a crew to take you to the port. Darmakaya, I believe you know how to operate a ship."

Darma just nodded. In fact, things had come together better than he could have wished for. Soon he would have the means he needed to leave the island.

"Maynar, I want you to help Darmakaya on this journey. I want you to record the information you find in a way that is understandable to everyone."

"You want the story to be known?"

"When the time comes and the danger is dealt with, I want the world to know that Ayaton did her duty. Illandro will guide you, and you will obey his orders. He will know what must be done next. Do this for me, and you will have not only your freedom but also the gratitude of Ayaton."

"How does that gratitude translate?" asked Darma cheekily, something Siriafil expected.

"By wealth, Stone Kraken. Not drenched in blood. Wealth earned honestly, for once in your life."

Darma said nothing. The queen turned to Nastal.

"You have a part in this story, too," she said, startling him.

"My queen, would you like me to travel with them?"

"No, my good Nastal. I want you to go to the Cross, to seek what lies in the depths of the ocean. I want you to know what happened there."

Darma was shaken by these words. Nothing he had experienced was to be dug up. He feared such knowledge more than anything else. A trip to Lothen instead of where Nastal was going seemed ideal now.

"Yes, my queen," Nastal said and bowed.

"I will order a small and fast ship to be prepared for you as well," she told him.

"The ship will be waiting for you in the Narrow Port," said the queen. "Rest and get ready. Your adventure has just begun."

And with these words, she sent them away. Darma was happy. He would find the woman from the temple again.