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Description
The Gull (7c)
Over the three days that followed their departure from Barakeesh, The Gull made good progress southward through the Eirish Sea and towards the narrow stretch of land between the Ten Inlands and the Nehuin Wastes of Denwarf-Hurgon.

The temperate climate of the world, at least for that region, should not have supported a desert, and yet the Nehuin Wastes were not only vast, but they were also the hottest region of the world. During the Mage War, the armies of Domania had driven back the defending forces of Denwarf-Hurgon and depleted them so much that the sorcerers of that Nation had attempted to create a magical barrier around their whole territory. Spies from Domania had infiltrated Denwarf-Hurgon and, when the moment came to enact the spell, they struck. The casting was disrupted, but the power had already been summoned. The remaining mages lost control, and the result was an explosion of such magnitude that everything in a five hundred mile radius was destroyed. No, not destroyed… obliterated.

It was said that the miscasting of the spell created a rip between Rengarth and the Plane of Death, and that somewhere within the heart of the Nehuin Waste, at the epicenter of the blast, that rift was still open. The Nehuin Wastes had indeed grown since that fateful day, and had even spread across the border between Denwarf-Hurgon and the Ten Inlands. On its easternmost side the Wyrdling Forest used to stretch for hundreds of miles, but was now only a fraction of its size. In the west a tree line that stretched close to the land border was now nothing more than a narrow wood of dead trees – the Unliving Forest. With little viable land remaining in Denwarf-Hurgon, the Domanian Empire abandoned its campaign to claim it and left the decimated population to its fate. The spread of the Nehuin Wastes had slowed over the years but some suspected that it still grew perhaps an inch or so every year.

During those three days of their journey, Raj spent a lot of time with the crew of The Gull. His initial sense of being an outsider was soon quashed when word of his skill with a needle and thread spread between the sailors and, one by one, they all came to him with something that needed to be repaired. It made Raj happy to be of some use as a member of the crew, and it was enjoyable to listen to the men’s stories while he stitched their torn clothes. But the one thing they never seemed to talk about was their homeland. Even when Raj told them that The Sultana had shared with him the secret of where they come from they were still reluctant to speak of the mysterious Wraithmist.

On the evening before their arrival at the narrow strip of the Nehuin Wastes, Captain Morley asked Raj to join him, along with Walcott and Gladwin, for an evening meal. Up until then Raj and Gladwin had always eaten their meals together so, to Raj, dining at the Captain’s Table was an honour. At least, that was how he felt until the food was served, and he discovered that the captain ate the same food as the rest of the crew. Still, he enjoyed the opportunity. With the four of them seated at a table near the rear of the ship, Raj decided to ask his burning question again.

“Can you tell me about your homeland?” Raj asked the group. “I’m sure it is a beautiful place.”

Gladwin’s expression turned wary. “I’m not sure we can,” he replied, “we tend to keep ourselves to ourselves…”

“It’s alright, Mr. Brent,” Trevin spoke in a reassuring tone, “The Sultana Yasmeena’s already told Raj where we’re from.” Gladwin’s eyes widened on hearing this, but Trevin waved a dismissive hand. “He needed to know the truth, lad,” he added. “He swore he’ll never speak of it to anyone.”

“Not merely sworn,” Raj corrected, “I willingly accepted an enchantment from The Unliving Caliph himself… I cannot – literally cannot – speak of your homeland to anyone but you, so whatever you tell me is safe. If anyone tries to force me to talk about it, I simply can’t, even if they force sharpened spikes into my…”

“Raj,” Trevin raised his voice with a soft laugh in his throat, “We’re eating!”

“Sorry,” Raj lowered his head. Walcott gave Raj a gentle pat on the shoulder while Trevin turned to Gladwin.

“Mr. Brent, why don’t you tell us a story. Raj might enjoy the Saga of the Lorestones, and how Wraithmist came to fly?” he suggested. “I’m sure he’ll find that tale entertaining, at least.”

“Indeed I would!” Raj said excitedly, “I’ve never even heard of such a Saga.”

“No-one has,” Walcott spoke around a mouthful of food, “at least, no-one of the Twelve Nations. It’s only ever told on Wraithmist. We saw it happen… at least, our ancestors did.”

“Wouldn’t it be better coming from you, Captain?” Gladwin asked.

“No,” Trevin laughed, “you know I skip the details. You’ve far more learning than I do, lad. You tell it.”

Gladwin gave a nod and shuffled on his chair a moment, then leaned forward with his hands on the table and began the tale.

“The Saga begins near the end of the First Age – the Age of Discord. For almost thirty years the Dragon God Nybavian had rampaged over the world, slaughtering many in his madness. Devotees of the New Gods worked their divine magic to save as many people as they could, but the Devotees were few, back then, and the Dragon God is immortal. Tens of thousands died in Nybavian’s flames, but it wasn’t just the people who suffered. The land itself was scorched and scarred. Eventually, Rengarth could take no more.”

“By ‘Rengarth’, he doesn’t mean the world, lad,” Walcott interrupted, “he means the Old God, the Earth God.”

“Rengarth bore little love for humans,” Gladwin went on. “He saw what many of us did to the First-Born when we came to this world during the Great Conjunction. The Race War was the darkest time of mankind, when the First-Born were hunted like animals.”

Raj shook his head. “I don’t think that ever happened in Shiria,” he frowned.

“You’re right,” Gladwin nodded. “Shiria was one of the few places that saw the First-Born as the true natives of the world, and treated them with the respect they deserve, along with Eireland… and Wraithmist. Some of the First-Born found safety and solace in your lands and others in Eireland, but you have to remember that this all happened many years before they became the nations you know today. Most of the First-Born who escaped the hunting fled to Azan, but their numbers were small. When Rengarth saw the possibility of the First-Born being wiped from the world altogether, he and the other Old Gods summoned Nybavian to protect them and to bring peace. But drawing him back to the world and through the Great Barrier drove the Dragon God insane.

“In a way, it pleased Rengarth to see humans being hunted for once. But when it became clear that Nybavian wouldn’t stop until all living beings were wiped from the world, The Earth God intervened. He reached deep into the world, into a seam of garnet rock, and flooded that rock with his power. The rock was as old as the world itself… perhaps as old as Rengarth himself, because there are some who believe that both Rengarth and the world are one and the same. From the garnet he drew twelve stones. You know them well. You’ve probably seen at least one of them. I’m talking about the Lorestones.”

Raj’s face was an expression of wonder as he listened to the story.

“As Rengarth ripped the stones from the ground, he caused the place he tore them from to break away from the rest of the world. He molded the stones into orbs and hurled them towards the Dragon God. The stones worked Rengarth’s will, and they sent Nybavian into a deep sleep. The Dragon God plunged from the sky and fell to land on the island of Azan. The impact fractured the island into the isles you know today.

“Meanwhile, the place that had been torn from the world began to rise from the sea. The original rock from which the Lorestones were taken still carried some of Rengarth’s power. The island rose into the sky, where it has remained ever since.

“The Lorestones came from Wraithmist?” Raj breathed.

Gladwin nodded. “Wraithmist is the cradle of magic. We still worship the Old Gods there: Parian the Sun God, known as The Three who are One; Illanon the Moon Goddess, who dwells in both light and shadow; Rengarth, the Earth God and the Bearer of Life; and Naiir, the God of Darkness, the Gate-Keeper. Some even offer tribute to Nybavian himself, and pray for The Awakening, when he will rise again, healed and renewed.

“Before Wraithmist left the surface Rengarth tasked his most trusted followers to set sail and seek out the twelve stones he had created. He tasked them to bring the stones to the Dragon God’s resting place. The stones, which they named the Lorestones, were placed around the sleeping Dragon, where they would begin to heal his body and his mind. Then Rengarth wrapped his hands around Nybavian, sealing him away from the world to keep him safe.

“So that his followers could leave that place, Rengarth left behind The Labyrinth, perhaps the most intricate and complex maze ever created, and showed his followers the safe path back to the outside world. Only they knew its secret. Most of his followers took that secret to their graves, but a few passed it on to their descendants. Three of those descendants, though, were driven more by selfish gain than by duty to the Old Gods. They went in search of the Labyrinth, and found it on the Isle of Azan. They followed the path that they had been taught by their forefathers, and found Nybavian’s resting place. They each took one of the Lorestones away and, together, they studied them. When they learned of the kind of power that the Lorestones offered, they returned again, and each of them brought another stone out with them. It was only when they returned a third time that Nybavian stirred, and woke. While one thief fled into the Labyrinth with one of the Lorestones, Nybavian destroyed the other two thieves with fire. Thankfully, the stones they had tried to take rolled back close enough to Nybavian for him to fall back into his sleep.

“With seven Lorestones now in his possession, the last of the thieves left Azan, with the intention of finding somewhere he could settle and make his own. Rengarth had other ideas. His boat capsized in a storm as he sailed through Skalmond’s Strait, the two rivers that flow from a lake on the edge of the Ten Inlands. He and the seven Lorestones they had stolen were lost in the waters. It would be years before they slowly resurfaced, one by one.

“By the time any of them resurfaced, magic was growing in the world. One of the Lorestones was discovered by a wizard of Denwarf-Hurgon called Omyd. The power it gave to him drove him mad. He believed that the stone came from the Shining Moon and reasoned that, if the Lorestone gave him so much power, then the moon itself would make him a God. He travelled to the Frost Rim, the roof of the world, where he used the Lorestone to grow to massive proportions to try to reach for the moon. The endeavor killed him. His lifeless body fell, where it became a part of the Frost Rim. His bones became Frost-Stone, his skull became the mountain called Omyd’s Maw, and the Lorestone he possessed is lost somewhere in that icy tundra.

“One Lorestone found its way to Shiria where it was found by one of your people. Thank the Gods, they brought it straight to your Caliph, who studied it himself. He learned of its nature – that it draws raw magic into the world – and it is thanks to his research that he came up with the notion of the Great Artefact. That Lorestone is still in the possession of the Unliving Caliph.

“It was after the Shikanti came to Rengarth, and after they enacted the Great Ritual to save the world that three more Lorestones were discovered. They were each brought to Arodar where they remain under the joint custodianship of the Shikanti and the Mages of Arodar.”

“That accounts for five,” Raj noted. “What happened to the other two?”

“We don’t know,” Gladwin replied. “Since they all come from the same rock, and the only source of that rock is on Wraithmist, our own Far-Seers can track them, but only if their power is drawn upon. Since their disappearance, the two missing stones have not been used, so their locations remain a mystery. For all we know, they could still be lost at the bottom of some sea or ocean.”

Raj frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “If the Lorestones are made from the same garnet that comes from Wraithmist, does that make the island one massive Lorestone?” he asked. Walcott almost choked on his wine when he heard this. Trevin chuckled and shook his head as he gestured for Gladwin to explain.

“The garnet channels power,” Gladwin explained, “but not in the same way as the Lorestones. In its natural form it kept Wraithmist anchored in the sky, above where the island was ripped from the surface. Maybe it was Rengarth’s foresight that made the island fly, to keep the remaining garnet from falling into the hands of the people. But we discovered it and mined the garnet for a time, for our own use. Our ancestors carved a map of the whole world from a slab of the rock and fashioned it into a scrying table. It allows us to track the positions of the Lorestones in case Rengarth directs his followers to recover them again. We also used smaller pieces of the garnet to create the Helms that allow our ships to fly. The first Helms could take up to five pilots at a time. With five good pilots, a ship with such a helm could fly for more than a month before it needs to return to the water. Some smaller Helms were made too. These days we make very few Helms, on account of the diminishing supply of garnet. You see, we dug too deep and mined too much, and now Wraithmist drifts in the sky. If we drift too far north, as we have now, the cold and rain harms our harvests, which is why we come to Shiria for supplies. The Helms that are made now are one-man Helms that use only fragments of garnet we still have. We daren’t mine for more in case Wraithmist drifts further, or falls from the sky altogether. Ours is a three-man Helm. It dates back to the days when the first ones were made.”

“It’s been in my family for several generations,” Trevin added. We only recently got it back.”

“Got it back?” Raj asked.

“Yeah,” Trevin sighed, “it passed to my uncle when my grandfather died, only he borrowed money against it, and couldn’t repay his debt. He died trying. There are strict laws of inheritance on Wraithmist when it comes to Helms. Technically it still belonged in my family. My father had no interest in it, and bequeathed it to me, but I couldn’t claim it until the debt was repaid. Ownership of that debt passed down to Kilnarax, one of the Conclave – they’re the people who govern Wraithmist – so I cut a deal with him. He leased the Helm back to me in exchange for my service for a year, and on condition that I repay the outstanding debt. We cleared that debt last year, so now it’s mine by right.”

“Weren’t you tempted to simply leave with your Helm?” Raj asked.

“No,” Trevin shook his head. “That damned scrying table that tracks the Lorestones… it can track any ship with a Helm, too. In a way it’s a good thing because we can never lose one to an outsider. Even if a ship is taken, we always know where the Helm can be found. But I don’t like being spied on, even by our own people. It’s like having some pompous ass looking over your shoulder all the time.”

“And then there’s the Master Helm,” Walcott added darkly. “Our ancestors made it in an attempt to try to fly the whole bloody island. They could never get enough pilots to move something so damned big, but what they can do is find a straying ship on the scrying table and take control of that ship’s helm. They can drag it back to Wraithmist remotely.”

“They’ll be hard-pressed to do that now,” Raj laughed as he took another mouthful of food. He chewed happily but, when he glanced back up and saw the three men at the table stare at him with quizzical looks, he swallowed. “The Astrolabe of Madhava,” he explained. “It shrouds any ship it is fitted to from all forms of farsight and foresight.”

“No,” Trevin shook his head, “the scrying table is made from the same stuff as the Helms.” Although he spoke with confidence, his eyes betrayed uncertainty.

“The Astrolabe was made with Shikanti magic,” Raj countered. “Even the Unliving Caliph couldn’t find the ship it was fitted to without using the Lorestone. You did say the garnet of Wraithmist isn’t as powerful, right?”

Gladwin nodded and was about to speak when Walcott raised his hand to quiet him.

“Wait,” the First Mate narrowed his eyes and stared at Raj, “You’re saying no-one can track us while we have the Astrolabe?”

“Not without a Lorestone,” Raj confirmed. “And if, as you say, the garnet from Wraithmist doesn’t carry that kind of power, then the scrying table you speak of will have lost track of you the moment the Astrolabe came on board.”

“Yasmeena never mentioned this,” Trevin said, although now he was looking at Walcott.

“That makes me wonder what else she hasn’t told us,” Walcott added.

“Her Royal Majesty takes after her father,” Raj said around another mouthful of food. “There are many things she does not say, but she would never omit anything that would imperil you.”

Trevin and Walcott turned back to Raj. “So,” Trevin asked as his eyes narrowed, “is there anything else she failed to mention?”

“About the Astrolabe, perhaps?” Walcott added.

“Umm…” Raj hesitated, “it controls the winds and the currents…”

“We know that,” Trevin nodded,

“It can create a shrouding mist around the ship.”

“We know that, too,” Walcott confirmed.

“You can give it a destination and it will plot the safest and most efficient course. And it will adjust the winds and currents accordingly, so a helmsman only has to steer the ship. It will even warn you if you’re drifting off-course.”

“Excuse me?” Trevin asked suddenly. “You’re saying the hours I’ve spent working on our course with those bloody maps and tools could have been better spent on deck?”

“Her Royal Majesty is not a sailor,” Raj defended. “I dare say there are things about the Astrolabe even Her Royal Majesty does not know.”

Gladwin frowned. “So how come you know so much about it that The Sultana doesn’t?”

“I listen,” Raj shrugged. “And I watch. That’s an integral part of my duties at the Palace.”

Trevin suddenly stood up from the table. “Come with me, smart-arse,” he said to Raj. The young man rose tentatively.

“Where are we going?” Trevin didn’t answer. “You’re not going to throw me overboard, are you?”

“He’s not going to throw you overboard,” Walcott sighed, but looked cautiously at Trevin. The Captain walked to the other table in the room where his navigation maps were set, with one already rolled out. When Raj joined his side Trevin pointed to a spot on the coast of the Isles of Azan.

“That’s where we’re going,” he said. Then he pointed to the narrow land between the Ten Inlands and Denwarf-Hurgon. “That’s where you and Mr. Brent are going to take us into the sky for an hour or so and fly us over the land. Follow me.” He didn’t wait for Raj to speak. He opened the door to his cabin and stepped out onto the deck. Raj and the others followed him to the upper deck where the helmsman was holding the wheel. Trevin ordered him to step back and pointed at the glowing Astrolabe. “Tell that thing where we’re going, and show us the fastest route to get there.”

Somewhat hesitantly, Raj reached up to the Astrolabe and spun the glass orb at the centre. As he did so the tiny globe inside spun as well, and the map on its surface seemed to stretch out from the globe. It projected as a sphere of light around the outside of the Astrolabe. Raj reached into the light and turned the rings. A faint line formed on the surface of the glowing projection which showed a course that took them through Skalmond’s Strait. Raj made an adjustment and the glowing light of the projection took on a red hue.

“It’s saying that the course can’t be followed, as it takes us over land,” Raj explained.

“It’s not that clever, then,” Walcott chuckled.

“I can override the warning,” Raj added. He twisted another ring and the red light paled again. “There,” Raj withdrew one hand, turned the glass orb once more, and the projection of the map shrank back to the inner globe. “The course is set.”

The Astrolabe spontaneously tilted very slightly to the right, and the wind shifted with it. Trevin took the wheel and adjusted the course of the ship to match the wind. As he did so, the Astrolabe returned to its fully upright position.

“Well done, Raj,” Trevin said as he kept the wheel steady, “you’re promoted. From now on, you’re our Navigator.”

Raj’s eyes widened with shock.

Description
The Gull (7c)
Over the three days that followed their departure from Barakeesh, The Gull made good progress southward through the Eirish Sea and towards the narrow stretch of land between the Ten Inlands and the Nehuin Wastes of Denwarf-Hurgon.

The temperate climate of the world, at least for that region, should not have supported a desert, and yet the Nehuin Wastes were not only vast, but they were also the hottest region of the world. During the Mage War, the armies of Domania had driven back the defending forces of Denwarf-Hurgon and depleted them so much that the sorcerers of that Nation had attempted to create a magical barrier around their whole territory. Spies from Domania had infiltrated Denwarf-Hurgon and, when the moment came to enact the spell, they struck. The casting was disrupted, but the power had already been summoned. The remaining mages lost control, and the result was an explosion of such magnitude that everything in a five hundred mile radius was destroyed. No, not destroyed… obliterated.

It was said that the miscasting of the spell created a rip between Rengarth and the Plane of Death, and that somewhere within the heart of the Nehuin Waste, at the epicenter of the blast, that rift was still open. The Nehuin Wastes had indeed grown since that fateful day, and had even spread across the border between Denwarf-Hurgon and the Ten Inlands. On its easternmost side the Wyrdling Forest used to stretch for hundreds of miles, but was now only a fraction of its size. In the west a tree line that stretched close to the land border was now nothing more than a narrow wood of dead trees – the Unliving Forest. With little viable land remaining in Denwarf-Hurgon, the Domanian Empire abandoned its campaign to claim it and left the decimated population to its fate. The spread of the Nehuin Wastes had slowed over the years but some suspected that it still grew perhaps an inch or so every year.

During those three days of their journey, Raj spent a lot of time with the crew of The Gull. His initial sense of being an outsider was soon quashed when word of his skill with a needle and thread spread between the sailors and, one by one, they all came to him with something that needed to be repaired. It made Raj happy to be of some use as a member of the crew, and it was enjoyable to listen to the men’s stories while he stitched their torn clothes. But the one thing they never seemed to talk about was their homeland. Even when Raj told them that The Sultana had shared with him the secret of where they come from they were still reluctant to speak of the mysterious Wraithmist.

On the evening before their arrival at the narrow strip of the Nehuin Wastes, Captain Morley asked Raj to join him, along with Walcott and Gladwin, for an evening meal. Up until then Raj and Gladwin had always eaten their meals together so, to Raj, dining at the Captain’s Table was an honour. At least, that was how he felt until the food was served, and he discovered that the captain ate the same food as the rest of the crew. Still, he enjoyed the opportunity. With the four of them seated at a table near the rear of the ship, Raj decided to ask his burning question again.

“Can you tell me about your homeland?” Raj asked the group. “I’m sure it is a beautiful place.”

Gladwin’s expression turned wary. “I’m not sure we can,” he replied, “we tend to keep ourselves to ourselves…”

“It’s alright, Mr. Brent,” Trevin spoke in a reassuring tone, “The Sultana Yasmeena’s already told Raj where we’re from.” Gladwin’s eyes widened on hearing this, but Trevin waved a dismissive hand. “He needed to know the truth, lad,” he added. “He swore he’ll never speak of it to anyone.”

“Not merely sworn,” Raj corrected, “I willingly accepted an enchantment from The Unliving Caliph himself… I cannot – literally cannot – speak of your homeland to anyone but you, so whatever you tell me is safe. If anyone tries to force me to talk about it, I simply can’t, even if they force sharpened spikes into my…”

“Raj,” Trevin raised his voice with a soft laugh in his throat, “We’re eating!”

“Sorry,” Raj lowered his head. Walcott gave Raj a gentle pat on the shoulder while Trevin turned to Gladwin.

“Mr. Brent, why don’t you tell us a story. Raj might enjoy the Saga of the Lorestones, and how Wraithmist came to fly?” he suggested. “I’m sure he’ll find that tale entertaining, at least.”

“Indeed I would!” Raj said excitedly, “I’ve never even heard of such a Saga.”

“No-one has,” Walcott spoke around a mouthful of food, “at least, no-one of the Twelve Nations. It’s only ever told on Wraithmist. We saw it happen… at least, our ancestors did.”

“Wouldn’t it be better coming from you, Captain?” Gladwin asked.

“No,” Trevin laughed, “you know I skip the details. You’ve far more learning than I do, lad. You tell it.”

Gladwin gave a nod and shuffled on his chair a moment, then leaned forward with his hands on the table and began the tale.

“The Saga begins near the end of the First Age – the Age of Discord. For almost thirty years the Dragon God Nybavian had rampaged over the world, slaughtering many in his madness. Devotees of the New Gods worked their divine magic to save as many people as they could, but the Devotees were few, back then, and the Dragon God is immortal. Tens of thousands died in Nybavian’s flames, but it wasn’t just the people who suffered. The land itself was scorched and scarred. Eventually, Rengarth could take no more.”

“By ‘Rengarth’, he doesn’t mean the world, lad,” Walcott interrupted, “he means the Old God, the Earth God.”

“Rengarth bore little love for humans,” Gladwin went on. “He saw what many of us did to the First-Born when we came to this world during the Great Conjunction. The Race War was the darkest time of mankind, when the First-Born were hunted like animals.”

Raj shook his head. “I don’t think that ever happened in Shiria,” he frowned.

“You’re right,” Gladwin nodded. “Shiria was one of the few places that saw the First-Born as the true natives of the world, and treated them with the respect they deserve, along with Eireland… and Wraithmist. Some of the First-Born found safety and solace in your lands and others in Eireland, but you have to remember that this all happened many years before they became the nations you know today. Most of the First-Born who escaped the hunting fled to Azan, but their numbers were small. When Rengarth saw the possibility of the First-Born being wiped from the world altogether, he and the other Old Gods summoned Nybavian to protect them and to bring peace. But drawing him back to the world and through the Great Barrier drove the Dragon God insane.

“In a way, it pleased Rengarth to see humans being hunted for once. But when it became clear that Nybavian wouldn’t stop until all living beings were wiped from the world, The Earth God intervened. He reached deep into the world, into a seam of garnet rock, and flooded that rock with his power. The rock was as old as the world itself… perhaps as old as Rengarth himself, because there are some who believe that both Rengarth and the world are one and the same. From the garnet he drew twelve stones. You know them well. You’ve probably seen at least one of them. I’m talking about the Lorestones.”

Raj’s face was an expression of wonder as he listened to the story.

“As Rengarth ripped the stones from the ground, he caused the place he tore them from to break away from the rest of the world. He molded the stones into orbs and hurled them towards the Dragon God. The stones worked Rengarth’s will, and they sent Nybavian into a deep sleep. The Dragon God plunged from the sky and fell to land on the island of Azan. The impact fractured the island into the isles you know today.

“Meanwhile, the place that had been torn from the world began to rise from the sea. The original rock from which the Lorestones were taken still carried some of Rengarth’s power. The island rose into the sky, where it has remained ever since.

“The Lorestones came from Wraithmist?” Raj breathed.

Gladwin nodded. “Wraithmist is the cradle of magic. We still worship the Old Gods there: Parian the Sun God, known as The Three who are One; Illanon the Moon Goddess, who dwells in both light and shadow; Rengarth, the Earth God and the Bearer of Life; and Naiir, the God of Darkness, the Gate-Keeper. Some even offer tribute to Nybavian himself, and pray for The Awakening, when he will rise again, healed and renewed.

“Before Wraithmist left the surface Rengarth tasked his most trusted followers to set sail and seek out the twelve stones he had created. He tasked them to bring the stones to the Dragon God’s resting place. The stones, which they named the Lorestones, were placed around the sleeping Dragon, where they would begin to heal his body and his mind. Then Rengarth wrapped his hands around Nybavian, sealing him away from the world to keep him safe.

“So that his followers could leave that place, Rengarth left behind The Labyrinth, perhaps the most intricate and complex maze ever created, and showed his followers the safe path back to the outside world. Only they knew its secret. Most of his followers took that secret to their graves, but a few passed it on to their descendants. Three of those descendants, though, were driven more by selfish gain than by duty to the Old Gods. They went in search of the Labyrinth, and found it on the Isle of Azan. They followed the path that they had been taught by their forefathers, and found Nybavian’s resting place. They each took one of the Lorestones away and, together, they studied them. When they learned of the kind of power that the Lorestones offered, they returned again, and each of them brought another stone out with them. It was only when they returned a third time that Nybavian stirred, and woke. While one thief fled into the Labyrinth with one of the Lorestones, Nybavian destroyed the other two thieves with fire. Thankfully, the stones they had tried to take rolled back close enough to Nybavian for him to fall back into his sleep.

“With seven Lorestones now in his possession, the last of the thieves left Azan, with the intention of finding somewhere he could settle and make his own. Rengarth had other ideas. His boat capsized in a storm as he sailed through Skalmond’s Strait, the two rivers that flow from a lake on the edge of the Ten Inlands. He and the seven Lorestones they had stolen were lost in the waters. It would be years before they slowly resurfaced, one by one.

“By the time any of them resurfaced, magic was growing in the world. One of the Lorestones was discovered by a wizard of Denwarf-Hurgon called Omyd. The power it gave to him drove him mad. He believed that the stone came from the Shining Moon and reasoned that, if the Lorestone gave him so much power, then the moon itself would make him a God. He travelled to the Frost Rim, the roof of the world, where he used the Lorestone to grow to massive proportions to try to reach for the moon. The endeavor killed him. His lifeless body fell, where it became a part of the Frost Rim. His bones became Frost-Stone, his skull became the mountain called Omyd’s Maw, and the Lorestone he possessed is lost somewhere in that icy tundra.

“One Lorestone found its way to Shiria where it was found by one of your people. Thank the Gods, they brought it straight to your Caliph, who studied it himself. He learned of its nature – that it draws raw magic into the world – and it is thanks to his research that he came up with the notion of the Great Artefact. That Lorestone is still in the possession of the Unliving Caliph.

“It was after the Shikanti came to Rengarth, and after they enacted the Great Ritual to save the world that three more Lorestones were discovered. They were each brought to Arodar where they remain under the joint custodianship of the Shikanti and the Mages of Arodar.”

“That accounts for five,” Raj noted. “What happened to the other two?”

“We don’t know,” Gladwin replied. “Since they all come from the same rock, and the only source of that rock is on Wraithmist, our own Far-Seers can track them, but only if their power is drawn upon. Since their disappearance, the two missing stones have not been used, so their locations remain a mystery. For all we know, they could still be lost at the bottom of some sea or ocean.”

Raj frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “If the Lorestones are made from the same garnet that comes from Wraithmist, does that make the island one massive Lorestone?” he asked. Walcott almost choked on his wine when he heard this. Trevin chuckled and shook his head as he gestured for Gladwin to explain.

“The garnet channels power,” Gladwin explained, “but not in the same way as the Lorestones. In its natural form it kept Wraithmist anchored in the sky, above where the island was ripped from the surface. Maybe it was Rengarth’s foresight that made the island fly, to keep the remaining garnet from falling into the hands of the people. But we discovered it and mined the garnet for a time, for our own use. Our ancestors carved a map of the whole world from a slab of the rock and fashioned it into a scrying table. It allows us to track the positions of the Lorestones in case Rengarth directs his followers to recover them again. We also used smaller pieces of the garnet to create the Helms that allow our ships to fly. The first Helms could take up to five pilots at a time. With five good pilots, a ship with such a helm could fly for more than a month before it needs to return to the water. Some smaller Helms were made too. These days we make very few Helms, on account of the diminishing supply of garnet. You see, we dug too deep and mined too much, and now Wraithmist drifts in the sky. If we drift too far north, as we have now, the cold and rain harms our harvests, which is why we come to Shiria for supplies. The Helms that are made now are one-man Helms that use only fragments of garnet we still have. We daren’t mine for more in case Wraithmist drifts further, or falls from the sky altogether. Ours is a three-man Helm. It dates back to the days when the first ones were made.”

“It’s been in my family for several generations,” Trevin added. We only recently got it back.”

“Got it back?” Raj asked.

“Yeah,” Trevin sighed, “it passed to my uncle when my grandfather died, only he borrowed money against it, and couldn’t repay his debt. He died trying. There are strict laws of inheritance on Wraithmist when it comes to Helms. Technically it still belonged in my family. My father had no interest in it, and bequeathed it to me, but I couldn’t claim it until the debt was repaid. Ownership of that debt passed down to Kilnarax, one of the Conclave – they’re the people who govern Wraithmist – so I cut a deal with him. He leased the Helm back to me in exchange for my service for a year, and on condition that I repay the outstanding debt. We cleared that debt last year, so now it’s mine by right.”

“Weren’t you tempted to simply leave with your Helm?” Raj asked.

“No,” Trevin shook his head. “That damned scrying table that tracks the Lorestones… it can track any ship with a Helm, too. In a way it’s a good thing because we can never lose one to an outsider. Even if a ship is taken, we always know where the Helm can be found. But I don’t like being spied on, even by our own people. It’s like having some pompous ass looking over your shoulder all the time.”

“And then there’s the Master Helm,” Walcott added darkly. “Our ancestors made it in an attempt to try to fly the whole bloody island. They could never get enough pilots to move something so damned big, but what they can do is find a straying ship on the scrying table and take control of that ship’s helm. They can drag it back to Wraithmist remotely.”

“They’ll be hard-pressed to do that now,” Raj laughed as he took another mouthful of food. He chewed happily but, when he glanced back up and saw the three men at the table stare at him with quizzical looks, he swallowed. “The Astrolabe of Madhava,” he explained. “It shrouds any ship it is fitted to from all forms of farsight and foresight.”

“No,” Trevin shook his head, “the scrying table is made from the same stuff as the Helms.” Although he spoke with confidence, his eyes betrayed uncertainty.

“The Astrolabe was made with Shikanti magic,” Raj countered. “Even the Unliving Caliph couldn’t find the ship it was fitted to without using the Lorestone. You did say the garnet of Wraithmist isn’t as powerful, right?”

Gladwin nodded and was about to speak when Walcott raised his hand to quiet him.

“Wait,” the First Mate narrowed his eyes and stared at Raj, “You’re saying no-one can track us while we have the Astrolabe?”

“Not without a Lorestone,” Raj confirmed. “And if, as you say, the garnet from Wraithmist doesn’t carry that kind of power, then the scrying table you speak of will have lost track of you the moment the Astrolabe came on board.”

“Yasmeena never mentioned this,” Trevin said, although now he was looking at Walcott.

“That makes me wonder what else she hasn’t told us,” Walcott added.

“Her Royal Majesty takes after her father,” Raj said around another mouthful of food. “There are many things she does not say, but she would never omit anything that would imperil you.”

Trevin and Walcott turned back to Raj. “So,” Trevin asked as his eyes narrowed, “is there anything else she failed to mention?”

“About the Astrolabe, perhaps?” Walcott added.

“Umm…” Raj hesitated, “it controls the winds and the currents…”

“We know that,” Trevin nodded,

“It can create a shrouding mist around the ship.”

“We know that, too,” Walcott confirmed.

“You can give it a destination and it will plot the safest and most efficient course. And it will adjust the winds and currents accordingly, so a helmsman only has to steer the ship. It will even warn you if you’re drifting off-course.”

“Excuse me?” Trevin asked suddenly. “You’re saying the hours I’ve spent working on our course with those bloody maps and tools could have been better spent on deck?”

“Her Royal Majesty is not a sailor,” Raj defended. “I dare say there are things about the Astrolabe even Her Royal Majesty does not know.”

Gladwin frowned. “So how come you know so much about it that The Sultana doesn’t?”

“I listen,” Raj shrugged. “And I watch. That’s an integral part of my duties at the Palace.”

Trevin suddenly stood up from the table. “Come with me, smart-arse,” he said to Raj. The young man rose tentatively.

“Where are we going?” Trevin didn’t answer. “You’re not going to throw me overboard, are you?”

“He’s not going to throw you overboard,” Walcott sighed, but looked cautiously at Trevin. The Captain walked to the other table in the room where his navigation maps were set, with one already rolled out. When Raj joined his side Trevin pointed to a spot on the coast of the Isles of Azan.

“That’s where we’re going,” he said. Then he pointed to the narrow land between the Ten Inlands and Denwarf-Hurgon. “That’s where you and Mr. Brent are going to take us into the sky for an hour or so and fly us over the land. Follow me.” He didn’t wait for Raj to speak. He opened the door to his cabin and stepped out onto the deck. Raj and the others followed him to the upper deck where the helmsman was holding the wheel. Trevin ordered him to step back and pointed at the glowing Astrolabe. “Tell that thing where we’re going, and show us the fastest route to get there.”

Somewhat hesitantly, Raj reached up to the Astrolabe and spun the glass orb at the centre. As he did so the tiny globe inside spun as well, and the map on its surface seemed to stretch out from the globe. It projected as a sphere of light around the outside of the Astrolabe. Raj reached into the light and turned the rings. A faint line formed on the surface of the glowing projection which showed a course that took them through Skalmond’s Strait. Raj made an adjustment and the glowing light of the projection took on a red hue.

“It’s saying that the course can’t be followed, as it takes us over land,” Raj explained.

“It’s not that clever, then,” Walcott chuckled.

“I can override the warning,” Raj added. He twisted another ring and the red light paled again. “There,” Raj withdrew one hand, turned the glass orb once more, and the projection of the map shrank back to the inner globe. “The course is set.”

The Astrolabe spontaneously tilted very slightly to the right, and the wind shifted with it. Trevin took the wheel and adjusted the course of the ship to match the wind. As he did so, the Astrolabe returned to its fully upright position.

“Well done, Raj,” Trevin said as he kept the wheel steady, “you’re promoted. From now on, you’re our Navigator.”

Raj’s eyes widened with shock.