The Conjured and the exiles

Porth was a busy port town; Daen had always found it a charming place. Only a few unkempt buildings marred the pleasant town. It was also one of the friendliest places she had ever been. The locals used a constant flow of strangers and travellers were talkative and easygoing. Some of the sailors could be surly, but once you got to know them they were as nice a people as you could wish to meet even if they could be rouges.

Daen headed to the local inn, the first stop for most in any new town. The proprietor welcomed her heartily. ‘Helo Dae haven't seen you in a while. Devilish cold out there!’ Almost reluctantly Daen put two copper bits on the table, but money always brought good will, well with publicans at least. Daen had managed to hitch a ride with some wagonears just out side of Mawnaws but a drink would be more than welcome as would some time spent out of the wind and cold.

‘I hear your brother is all grown up, and now in the arena!’

Daen smiled, ‘well I always knew he would go on to grate things; still it's dangerous I wish he wasn’t doing it.’

‘Men have very different priorities from women. They seek out danger.’ The roaly poly woman said as she poured Daen out a glass of watered down wine. ‘What have you been up to?’

‘That’s and that.’ Daen shrugged. The inn keeper slid Daen’s coppers back to her she winked, ‘There’s no need my dear not after you helped Goha with that cough you’re a real little star you are.’

Daen blinked in surprise, she was surprised that the woman had remembered that she blushed a little not used to the praise. For a while she sat and listened to the innkeeper gossiping about various members of the town Daen making all the right gestures at interval points finally she saw an opening for her own question ‘I don’t suppose there are any ships that would take someone for only two sliver heads?’

The proprietor shook her head. Great, Daen thought, now wishing she had taken on Jac’s offer of help. However she knew that in all honesty a soft city boy like him would be of little use once they began to really get underway. She persisted, hoping to joggle the woman’s mind on something.

‘You might want to try the docks you never know what might turn up, but no reputable ship would take on a passenger for anything less then ten heads. But I suppose you should ask at the Driftwood, but I wouldn’t advise it been a nice girl like yourself. ”

Daen grimaced upon mention of the house of ill repute, hoping to avoid it if she could. “Thank you for your time.”

Outside Daen asked a beggar, who did not have much to add to the innkeeper’s information, save there were some slave ships short of hands and there was talk of press ganging bad business it was. ‘Thanks.’ She mumbled, handing over a copper jot. Money always talked whether the coin loosened tongues or not, it certainly held high esteem to in the future. And the beggars of a city or town were useful to keep on your side; they were a gold mine of useful information for any given place.

Daen stepped through the gates to the harbour as the sun was setting; in the sky delicate herringbone clouds were tinted as pink as the inside of a shell. And the sea itself was a multitude of shimmering purples, pinks and oranges. After questioning more individuals in the dock or shops, Daen realized her task was going to be a real challenge. There was no way that a ship would take her on as a passenger for just two silver heads.

Sighing in frustration, she soon found herself at the entrance of the Driftwood inn, a house, which was reputed to give a tired man more than just a bed. Gritting her teeth, she entered through the door. If any guy so as much touches me…she let the thought fade as she gazed through the dim lighted room before her. The Inn smelt of cheep heavy perfume and stale ale. The young woman eyed the group of men, all of them appeared to be either sailors by their short crew cuts and weather worn faces or theire doxys judging by theire tight low bodices and make up.

Going up to the bar, Daen found the owner, a young Imperial woman with deep brown eyes and full pouty mouth smiling a greeting to her. “Welcome to my Inn, I’m afraid I reserve all my beds for the sailors and I don’t need to hire on any more girls.” She said warmly. Fuming, Daen hoped her blush would be seen coming from the flickering lights of the torches around her.

“We don’t get many women who enter through the door. What can I help you with?” The woman lowered her chin, leaning forward with a wink. “Out to find a wayward husband?”

“I’m looking for someone. Actually I’m looking for a ship.” Said Daen getting to the point and leaving no doubts she had a valid purpose of being here. ‘I want to get on a ship for cheep, I don’t care where its going as long as I get away from here as soon as possible with no questions asked.’

“A ship?” Large eyes blinked in thought, a long finger tapped idly on her chin. She glanced over at the handful of Men already drinking at the tables. “Hmm, let me think-“

“I’m willing to work…” Daen passed a copper jot to help her memory. “I know healing magic.”

The woman’s face lit up. “There is such a one here.’ She pointed towards the far corner where a a stout red bearded man, and a short pepper haired man were sitting. ‘That’s the captain and first mate of the Golden lady, Captain Ron and Mr Hands they have been looking for a healer. They be heading out for the Abithgeld isles tomorrow. But I expect that old red Ron might take you on just for the look of you girl if you ask real nice know what I mean?’

Daen felt her cheeks grow hot at the woman’s bawdiness. Lips pressed into a firm line. Growling in irritation, she stiffened her resolve once again. So be it. This certainly wasn’t the first time she had to undergo a certain level of embarrassment to fulfil a task. And so she approached the table.

Tapping an impatient foot she coughed waiting for the men to look up. Both looked at the other and back at Daen with amusement and a little confusion. Both of their looks said ‘is she yours?’ No doubt they perceived her as the innkeeper did; some angry woman out to beat her squeeze to within an inch of his life. Daen certainly felt as though she wanted to beat someone to an inch of his or her life! This whole situation was ludicrous.

“I want to have a place on your ship.” Daen told her directly, being sure her voice was loud enough to carry over the general hubbub of the tap room.

‘Really and are you going to pay for that little missy?’ The red bearded man smiled.

Daen swallowed. ‘I have two silver heads.’

‘That’s not enough…’

‘I know that, I was going to offer my skills as well, I will work for my passage.’

Red Ron laughed. ‘Work, I can’t see a wench like you running rigging.’

Mr Hand’s leaned in closer, his fingers brushing the edge of her cloak. ‘Ron perhaps she is looking for another kind of work?’

Daen scowled at him. ‘I’m a healer. The inn keeper said that you were looking for one.’

‘Did she now? I don’t know, I don’t like women on my ship as a general rule.’ Red Ron leaned back in his chair. He scratched his beard then counted out the reasons for not taking her on his fingers. 'Bad luck, get sea sick, cry, distract the crew. And how do I know that you’re any good?’

Daen met his watery gaze levelly her green eyes flashing‘Ask Mistress Tanner about me up at the Oak barrel, or at the temple. Ask about a Nheimian named Dae, they will know me. All I want is to get out of here. I won’t ask you to pay me for my services the passage will be quite enough.’

Ron laughed again, obviously impressed. ‘Feisty wench aren’t you.’ He slapped his thigh hard. ‘Tell you what if you do a good job on Reller you can come.’


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The noble stared in to his goblet of wine, looking in its murky depths. He rubbed his temple with gloveless fingers. Veione had only just left; the Captain had been most agitated blaming himself for the girls escape. What Veione had underestimated was that Darcia knew full well that the girl would attempt to escape at least once. It was better sooner than later while she was still powerless enough to be no more than an inconveniance. Darcia himself had left her door unlocked.

‘Are you going to fetch her back?’

‘Soon Bherith, soon. It’s not like you to be so agitated.’ Lord Darcia soothed.

‘It’s not like you to let one get away.’

‘And what makes you think I am?’

The other fell in to a sullen silence. Lord Darcia sighed in annoyance ‘Fine.’ He took his sword down from its mount. He walked up spiralling stairs, up and up to the tower top. The night sky was clear if a little cold.

He drew his blade from its sheath in a fluid motion. He held the sword up so the hilt was level with his face. ‘Go then Bherith raise a storm for me.’

‘A storm where?’

‘Over Porth, make it impossible for any ship to leave the harbour.’

‘What exactly are you up to master?’

‘I’m heading her off.’

‘Its dangerous once I start then nature has to take its course.’ The voice was exited dispute the warning almost frantic with anticipation.

‘I’m aware of that. Now go Bherith raise a tempest at my command!’

The sword throbbed like a heart beat, then there was a flash of red as something was loosed from it in to the night sky.

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Healing Reller had not been an especially hard task. He had some nasty looking oil burns but it was nothing that some ointment couldn’t cure. It would probably take a few weeks to heal completely but by morning he could get back to work on the ship. Ron was duly impressed, and come dawn Daen would be sailing away and hopefully out of the reaches of that noble. She toyed with writing Leoff another letter but decided against it; she wanted to get some more space between herself and Lord Darcia before she left any kind of trail for him to follow. However she did decide to leave a message with the Oak barrel’s owner that way if Leoff came looking he would know where to start.

Mrs Tanner also offered Daen a place to sleep for the night it was just a blanket in the small hay loft above the inn’s stables but it was welcome just the same. Daen was somewhat in two minds about the upcoming voyage. She was glad to be going, but she was not to keen about been on a ship full of rude boisterous sailors, she had a feeling that much of her time would be spent in her cabin. Daen’s dreams that night were of a lone dark figure riding through villages and hamlets his cloak whipping about him chasing a storm, his passage left no trail like the shadows of clouds that pass across the moon.

Morning came with the rattle of shutters and the sound of pounding rain against the wooden roof. It was blowing a gale. With a sinking heart Daen looked out of the barn door. It was so dark it was if dawn had not yet come. A mournful wind blew heavy rain in near horizontal drifts and up above the sky was a cauldron of swirling gray clouds. Daen fought her way down to the docks, she was soaked through by the time she did. Ships rocked restively at their moorings tossed up and down by the swelling sea. Daen had run trough the cobbled streets, since waking she had the feeling of been pursued, the same feeling a rabbit must have when he know that the hawk is watching.

She found the Golden lady. Mr Hands was wearing an oil skin and hood pulled low over his eyes.

‘Helo.’ She shouted to him razing a hand in greeting.

The first mate ambled over to her. ‘The storms to heavy we won’t be going anywhere until it’s passed. You’d best put up somewhere today.’ thunder rumbled ominously. Daen looked at the slate gray sky and steel sea, her face fell.

‘I thought as much. Still I hoped…’

The sailor watched as the girls face suddenly turned white. He followed her gaze up the street to where the road went up the hill to the cliffs above the town. A sudden flash of lightning revelled that on the brow of the hill upon the cobbled road a dark horse man waited.

The girl was suddenly running, fleeing like a dear, twisting and turning though the barrels and crates on the dock side to disappear in to an ally. Up on the hill the horseman laughed, his low rumble of amusement was accompanied by a growl of thunder as if in concord. His horse was already restive he reeled it about and disappeared form view leaving Mr Hand’s alone on the dock to draw his own conclusions.

Daen ran, rain stinging her face blinding her as she fled his mocking laughter following her. She twisted and turned through narrow allyways, climbing over walls and skirting through the gaps between houses any route a horse could not folow. She tried not to panic, so what if he had found her? He could have simply asked around someone probably saw what direction she was heading it didn’t necessarily mean it was some kind of magic tracing spell. Her lungs burned, and her legs ached but she kept running until she reached the edge of town and down on to the beach in the next cove.

Carefully she clambered over the rocks. Fortunately despite the storm the tide was out. If she could keep to the shore she could out run him, as it would take hours to go on horse back on a road that cut inland to avoid cliff edges, ravines and woodland. If she was lucky she could make it to Hake a small fishing town and get a boat to the next big harbour.

Daen jogged as quickly as lose shingle would allow. She soon ran out of beach and realised that she was going to have to skirt the cliff. Daen was initially dubious, it was dangerous, the black rock face was in places lose and crumbling, and if the tide came in she would be stuck between unforgiving rock face and an even more unforgiving sea. However the sense of been pursued won in the end and she began to make her careful way along the cliff foot.

In some places the cliffs gave way to coves but for the most part Daen was forced to make her tentative way along thrice slippery rocks; slippery from years of water eroding and smoothing their surface, slippery from the sea spray and rain, and slippery from the kelp that grew on them. At about noon Daen found some rock pools in which she found some shell fish which she ate raw. They were unpleasant raw, but it was better than nothing. She also found a fresh water stream running down the cliff side.

Tierd and chilled to the bone as her body cooled it was a trail to keep moving. Daen began to wonder how bad it could really be to have stayed with the noble. But she then berated herself for having such week thoughts it was probably just the weather it was making her misrable, the rain and cold wins still had not yet let up. Whenever she began to feel warm she would stumble slipping in to the small tide pools and the chill water, grazing her hands and arms on sharp rocks. Numbed to anything but keeping herself moving forward one weary step after another Daen did not notice that the sea was creeping in until it was too late.

Daen had been skirting around an outcropping, a narrow gorge cut up he cliff to her left. She scrambled over the boulders there concentrating on keeping a decent grip even though the molluscs that clung to the stone scoured her fingers. She was making slow progress but when she looked down at where she wanted to go she saw the sea rushing in beneath her blocking off her path. She glanced behind and saw the same thing the sea pushing forward cutting off her retreat.

Above her the cliff was a vertical wall, and the sea was rising. For a moment she considered swimming, but miles of nothing but unassailable cliff face and pounding waves as big as ships awaited her. So swimming would have to be an absolute last resort. Daen was no inexperienced rock climber and so after a short rest she began to attempt the long hard and probably suicidal climb up to the top of the cliff. The overhang was the hardest part, but fortunately there were some boulders left to give her a boost up on to the rock face.

At first it was not so bad, the eroded rock had flaked off giving her some good places to purchase grip. But she knew as she climbed higher the rock would become looser and more traitorous. Every moment the sea kept rising as the tide encroached upon her. Her every muscle burned with the strain, and she was crying with the effort only just about able to cling on. Looking down she saw with horror that she hadn’t actually climbed that high and the waters seemed to be waiting for her beneath. As small as Dean was she couldent reach the hand holds above her, she was stuck between the water and the sky. Unable to climb higher, unable to climb down, if she was lucky the water was deep enough to brake her fall, and if she was lucky the waves wouldent smash her body against the stone wall. She was going to die.

‘Here get hold of this.’ Some one shouted above her. Daen watched as a rope fell towards her. It took her a moment to realise that there was really a rope and not just her mind cracking under the strain. She reached for the rope, but her limbs week and rubbery almost lost their hold of the cliff face. Terrified now that there was some hope she hastily reclaimed her desperate grip to the rock. She squinted up the cliff, but could not see who her would be rescuer was.

‘Don’t worry just stay there I will come get you!’ It was a man, he sounded anxious. There was a shower of rocks above her, and then someone began abseiling down towards her, he had a somewhat familiar sword slung across his back a ruby set in to the guard looked like a winking eye watching her.

‘Just hold on a little longer.’ The anxious voice said above her, Daen couldn’t answer to busy trying to hold on. She felt a strong arm wrap about her waist. ‘Climb on to my legs.’

Daen half climbed half was pulled on to the mans lap, so that she could warp her legs around his waist. The man grunted with strain but he held firm, holding the rope with both hands, and his feet firmly planted on the rock face. Daen was clinging to her saviours soaking clothing, her hand tightly fisted in the folds of the fabric at his shoulder having used it as her grip to scramble on to his lap. She looked up at his face to be met with a mask, an oh so very familiar mask.

Daen couldn’t even begin to comprehend how he had found her. But since he was the one who was saving her from certain death she didn’t care right now and was secretly thankful for him. It didn’t mean she liked him, it meant she was grateful that she didn’t have to die right now. And so Daen held on to Lord Darcia with all her strength. She could feel the heat of his body through there wet clothing. His muscles stretched and rolled rhythmically beneath and around her as he pulled them up to safety. She pulled herself up a little to give his legs more room to work; they were strong, strong as hot steel, just like the chest she clung to.

His face was upturned concentrating on where they were going. Peeping up Daen saw a small flash of pale skin, a small glimpse of his bare neck, and his Addams apple. It dawned on her that it was the first time that she had actually seen any of his skin revealed.

They made rapid progress up the cliff, and Daen began to feel somewhat warmer for the first time in what seemed an eternity as the Lord’s body sheltered her from the driving rain and the cold. When they reached the lip of the cliff Lord Darcia hefted Daen over, where she then scrambled and scuttled away grabbing handfuls of course grass as if the ground would give way at any moment. Lord Darcia followed her with somewhat more grace. He then helped Daen to her feet.

Daen’s legs were like jelly and she glanced down at where they had just climbed and the jagged rocks below them. All of a sudden it was all too much and she began to cry out of relief mostly now that she was no longer in immanent danger. Daen could barely stand so Lord Darcia caught her in a firm grasp holding her against his hard body Daen berried her face back in his chest so that she didn’t have to look at the long long drop. ‘You foolish foolish girl!’ Lord Darcia chided her when he held her closer. The noble man was surprised by her actions he supposed that her acceptance of him had more to do with the stress of the situation than any form of submission on her behalf.

Daen’s teeth began to chatter with the cold, and her shivering was becoming so violent that it was like a fit. Darcia drew her along in to the thick twisted woodland that grew along the cliff top. Daen followed too exhausted to argue or even to think much.

‘By the will of the God’s, what made you try to go along the cliffs like that?’ Darcia asked, his voice reprimanding.

Daen gave a shaking laugh. ‘I was trying to escape.’

A little further in to the wood and out of the rain Lord Darcia’s horse stood waiting a fine dark brown nearly black animal. The noble man pulled his cloak from his saddle bag and placed it gently over Daen’s shoulders. She stood still and watched as he tightened up the girth and wound up his rope and moved his sword to hang at his hip. Soon they were ready to go and riding double Lord Darcia wove his way expertly through the trees and over the rough ground. Daen was sitting behind the noble, clinging on around his waist, as cold as she was even with both of their cloaks she took the liberty of leaning against his back, laying her cheek upon his shoulder soaking in as much of his body heat as she could.

Right now he smelt of salt water, thunder and horse. The smell was comforting and nostalgic her head felt slightly fussy like been drunk or feverish. ‘How did you find me?’ She spoke so softly it was a wonder that he herd it.

‘I can’t tell you yet you wouldn’t understand, but you will soon enough. Lets just say that it’s no harder for me to find you than an itch on my own body.’

‘So I’m like scratching an itch then?’ Daen sighed wearily, she then smiled. ‘I can live with that.’

He let out a brief hrmph of amusement. ‘I’m still very angry at you.’

‘No, no your not.’ She said softly. ‘You let me escape; you left the door open so I could.’

This time he did laugh but schooled himself to seriousness. ‘Really so what makes you think that?’

‘The wind told me.’ She said simply as a sleepy child then began to cough.

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