Chapter 10

Mathias slumped against the wall, breathing in the hot air as he tugged at the collar of his robes. The engine hummed in the centre of the small room, bronze piping coiled around it before rising to the ceiling and then spreading like the branches of a tree, to thread through the ship.

He squinted, looking the machine over critically, reading the bright runes that ran endlessly around its body. Those runes were the words of the spells that allowed the engine to function, and powered by mana, it kept the ship afloat.

Copper wires ran from the engine's base into the deck, spreading out to the seventy-two nodes affixed to the ship's hull. There was a complicated set of levers and buttons in the control room of the ship that allowed the crew to control the power to those nodes, allowing the ship to rise and fall as they willed it.

Mathias had checked each and every one of them, repairing several that had overheated from the strain as the ship had crossed over the edge of the island and the crew had tried to too rapidly decrease the weight of the ship before the island's pull could smash it against the shore.

It was they that had been the source of the smoke and fires throughout the ship and it had taken every ounce of magic he had to keep the engine running.

And it had exhausted him.

With a groan, he picked up the wand from where it lay on the floor beside him. A few runes glowed dully, but there was not enough charge in the wand for him to bother attempting another spell.

He slid the wand into its sheath, and with another groan, pushed himself to his feet. The body of a sailor lay on the wooden floor on the far side of the engine. One of those ships 'engineers' whose task it was to keep the machine fed with mana and relieve pressure as needed.

By the burns that covered most of his body, he'd neglected his safety gear before touching the engine.

"Not my concern," Mathias told himself, though he grimaced at the thought.

Moving slowly, he made his way through the bowels of the ship and up through the levels until he came out onto the centre deck. He paused there, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air, heedless of the rain.

His robes were filthy, scorched. His skin blackened by soot and ash, and his throat was dry and raw. Too much smoke below decks, he knew.

Sailors were clustered by the rail, rope coiled in their hands as they lowered a stretcher with the body of a man wrapped firmly in blankets lying upon it. Not the first, nor the last, Mathias noted.

The sailors looked as exhausted as he felt, and while they had their work to do, he had business of his own to see to. He ignored their black looks as he brushed past them to the rope ladder affixed to the rail.

He climbed down, hand over hand, legs trembling from the strain. Safely at the bottom, he stood with hands on hips and surveyed the chaos.

Lamps had been lit, bathing the area in a flickering orange glow, and the ship had crushed two small houses beneath it as it landed. Men were digging through the wreckage, searching for survivors while a woman in plain white linen was crouched beside a man on a stretcher as she talked with the ship's surgeon.

Everyone seemed to be talking or shouting at the same time, a cacophony of voices that overlaid everything. Mathias couldn't work out individual voices or words as it all blended into one.

There was mud underfoot, worsening with every minute of rain, and men carried stretchers bearing the wounded off into the maze of streets between the ramshackle houses. The stink of burned oil was everywhere as men and women fought the darkness with lanterns.

Mathias sneered, lips twisting at that. A sure sign he was as far from civilisation as he would ever hope to get.

A stern looking man with bloodied hands and clothes, stood amongst a group that included two of the ship's officers. He was listening to them speak, interrupting to issue orders that sent some of the settlers running to obey.

Lord Browett, Mathias decided. The man he needed to speak to.

Fighting back the weariness, he set his jaw and made his way through the crowd towards the young lord.

When he reached the group, Officer Ballard was speaking. A sour looking woman with a lazy eye and a scar across her lip from some pirate's sword that had given her a permanent sneer. She was the only officer on the crew who had not purchased her commission, and it showed in her manner of speech and attitude.

"Nay!" she snapped, waving a hand up at the hull of the ship that towered above the settlement. "The ship is grounded until the captain says otherwise."

"Then have your captain come down here and tell me that himself," Lord Browett answered, calmly.

"My lord," Officer Letterford said before Ballard could speak. She clamped her mouth shut angrily, cheeks heating. "That is something we must discuss in private. For now, be assured that Officer Ballard, and myself, speak with his voice."

Elias studied the two officers for a long moment, lips pursed, before he came to his decision. A quick bob of his head, and he said, "Very well. Later then, when matters are calmer. We have time at least for that."

The wizard frowned, not understanding the meaning behind the lord's words, but held his tongue. Timing would be crucial if he wanted the lord's ear. He would have but the one chance to make his case, and he needed to choose that moment carefully.

Ideally, he thought eyeing Letterford, when the ship's officers weren't around.

"Your wounded are being taken to the House of Healing," Elias continued. "Prepare a list of your needs and bring it to me. I shall ensure they are taken care of."

"Our thanks, my lord," Letterford said, bowing his head. "That will be appreciated."

"I will expect a full report of your journey," Elias added sternly. "But first, I must speak with Wizard Carlyll."

The two officers exchanged a look that Elias noticed immediately, hir brow furrowing and eyes flashing with sudden concern.

"My lord," Mathias said, pushing through the small crowd around the young lord. "Adept Carlyll perished on the journey."

Elias's gaze snapped onto the apprentice wizard, as his face lost what little colour had been there. For a moment, he looked utterly bereft, before he quickly forced his face to stillness.

"You are?"

"Her apprentice, Mathias Thorne." He attempted a small bow, needing to elbow some of those closer people out of his way to do so. "While she is lost to you, in truth the task you commissioned was to be completed by me, and I humbly offer my services."

"Here now," Officer Letterford said, reaching to grab the wizard's arm. "Away with your nonsense."

Elias held up a hand. "Let him speak." He fixed Mathias with a stern look. "You would do well to be truthful with me. If you are not capable of this task, speak now."

The apprentice pulled his arm from Letterford's grasp and rubbed his bicep where he'd been gripped. The officer's grip had been like iron!

"I can, my lord." He lifted his chin, pridefully. "Six years as an apprentice, four of those learning from Adept Carlyll, of the Order of Arcanum. My final apprentice piece to be completed before I could ascend to the Order, was your commission."

"If she were here, she'd be overseeing me, as I did the work. But she's not, and I can still to the job." Mathias smiled grimly. "I will not fail you, my lord."

****

Elias Browett was not a foolish man, nor one given to flights of fancy. He was grounded in the day-to-day care of his duties and the people who relied upon him. That task took up every moment of his waking time, and it was a task he did not take lightly.

There was entirely too much depending upon it.

Hearing of the death of the wizard had dashed his hopes of the settlement succeeding. With the ship damaged and in clear need of repair, there was no telling when it would be ready to make the return journey to Ratan.

A journey that would take three months, six for it to pick up a new wizard and make the long trip back to Rockshore.

That was many months more than the settlement had left.

He was out of options, and hope was a resource long depleted. He saw that every day in the faces of his people and heard it in the night when they cried out in fear as the Shadowbeasts prowled.

Elias was bone weary, the weight of his responsibilities, his duties, crushing him. But despite that, he would not set them aside. He refused to give up, because duty was all he had left to cling to. Everything else was gone.

The young wizard before him was arrogant, and prideful, he knew. He could see it in the way he stood, the way he held himself. The dark looks the ship's officers were giving the wizard told Elias that he was a man who cared little about being liked.

Which might be enough.

Someone arrogant enough to believe he could do the impossible.

"Very well," Elias said. "You understand the task."

"Yes." Mathias's hand tapped the canvas bag as Letterford's lips pressed in a tight line when he caught the motion. "I have everything I need."

"Those are not his, my lord," Officer Letterford said, stepping forward. "They are the personal belongings of Wizard Carlyll and, as such, we are required to return them."

Elias nodded thoughtfully, eyes flicking between the two men. There was history there, and distrust, along with a great deal of dislike.

"I am the arbiter of the queen's laws in these lands," Elias said, speaking clearly and loudly. "I will take responsibility, and you can consider yourself, and your ship, released of the burden of returning these items."

Officer Letterford stood stiffly, expression sour, but he made a crisp salute, hand flat against his temple and stepped back, seething. Mathias flashed a grin, and it was Elias's turn to step in close, lowering his voice.

"Do not think that I do this for any reason other than necessity. Compose yourself and remember your position."

Mathias's smile slipped away, and he forced his face to stillness. Elias eyed him for a moment before giving a curt nod. He looked around the crowd, taking in the dark looks being passed between the sailors and the officers both.

Whatever the wizard had done, he'd managed to anger them all. With tensions high, that could lead to an accident he couldn't risk happening.

"You will be my guest tonight," he said, stepping back. "We have much to discuss before you begin."

"I shall prove my worth, my lord."

"You will have to," Elias said. "You have three months to complete it."

Mathias's mouth hung open as he stared, wide-eyed at the young lord. Three months was a ridiculous timeframe. He would need five at the very least, eight at most.

"My lord…"

"In the morning," Elias said, turning his attention to the next man seeking it. "Get some sleep, you will need it."

Mathias just stared. He didn't see the smirk that flashed onto Letterford's face, and he wouldn't have noticed if he had. His mind was awhirl, the lord's words swimming around his mind endlessly.

Even Adept Carlyll would have struggled with such a task. Three months? Impossible. Unless… there was a reason.

Whatever it was, it was grave enough to ask the impossible.

Mathias turned and glanced up at the ship. He thought back to the stern deck, the sudden panic of the crew as the island came into view and they realised they were off course, their altitude too high.

Something that should never have happened. Not with an experienced crew.

He tapped his lip with one dirt-streaked finger and began to hum, his mind working through the problem.