Voyage
Dana's POV
"It's a Shadowmire!" one of the sailors screamed, running back as the travellers scrambled for safety. The ship shuddered under the panic, but I stood there frozen, trying to make sense of this "thing" that was flying towards us. What did it want?
Kumbuye ran to my side, dragging me toward cover. I saw the fear in his eyes — he was someone who rarely flinched at anything, but this time he was actually scared.
"Come on, Dana! We need to hide!"
People shoved and pushed, falling, and screaming, trying to run to safety. I hit the wooden floor as Kumbuye turned back, pulling me to my feet. Behind him, the Shadowmire twisted and passed through a sailor who screamed with wide eyes before going limp. The life drained out of him, leaving his body still, like he'd been dead for days.
My breath caught. I wasn't ready to die today. I grabbed Kumbuye's hand and struggled toward the lower deck but it was already packed. I tried to channel my powers, but it faltered. Oh great, what a time to be useless.
The Shadowmire fixed its gaze on me, charging to my direction. Kumbuye lunged in front of me, and raised his spear, striking at the Shadow. The form split in two, then reformed, twisting toward me once more. Kumbuye swung again, forcing it back, only for it to circle behind, attacking from another angle. The Shadowmire ignored him, keeping its focus solely on attacking me. Kumbuye kept swinging his spear driving it back but he could not stop its advance completely. Finally, the dark fog around it began to disappear. The Shadowmire shrieked so loudly, twisting its shape and fled on its own.
I was still in shock from the experience. I was literally shaking.
"What... what's a Shadowmire?" I asked, trembling.
Kumbuye didn't answer me. His eyes still held that same look — shock mixed with disbelief, looking to the fog ahead.
"It doesn't come out during the day," he shuddered. "How did this even happen?"
Perhaps he hadn't heard me. I gripped his shoulders and shook him, asking again, "Kumbuye. What is a Shadowmire?"
His turned to look at me.
"It's a living darkness," he said quietly. "Once it touches you, it... it paralyzes you, and can drain the life out of you." His jaw clenched. "They only come out at night. In deep forests or... or abandoned places."
As he spoke, the travellers who had fled below began climbing back onto the deck.
The sailor that the Shadowmire had passed through lay exactly where he'd fallen. His eyes were wide open, that same shock still evident in his face, before the Shadowmire had drained his life.
Someone screamed as they passed him. Another turned away, retching and throwing up into the sea.
Kumbuye leaned closer to me, his voice dropping to a whisper. "That wasn't a normal Shadowmire."
I looked at him, "What do you mean?"
"It was a Riven Shade," he said. "Someone summoned it. And they sent it for you."
My stomach dropped. "What's a Riven Shade?"
"It's a... It's a type of Shadowmire," he said slowly. "But this one feeds off fear. And is more dangerous than regular Shadowmires. It is faster and—and smarter too." He paused as his eyes darted back to the fog. "Other Shadowmires fear it. A Riven Shade is an omen of destruction."
"Could this have been the Forsaken?" I asked in a hushed whisper. "Did they summon this thing?"
"I don't know for sure," Kumbuye replied. "All I know is that dark magic did this."
The ship had reached open sea during the attack. We stayed on course, surrounded by water and fog.
"You said they don't come out during the day," I muttered.
"They don't," Kumbuye answered. "Light is their weakness. They only roam in darkness."
I looked out at the fog again. "Then how did it even appear?"
His eyes followed mine as he lowered his voice. "I believe the magic that summoned it must have used the dark fog as a shield from the sun long enough for it to attack."
The sailors brought out a big cloth and wrapped the fallen sailor in it, then threw him into the sea, making people gasp.
"The magic couldn't hold," Kumbuye continued. "Once the light reached it, it became exposed."
I clutched myself tighter, shivering from the shock. "So it fled."
"Yes," he said.
My hands still shook as I leaned against the rail, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.
The first day on the sea passed. Our travel lasted days while we ate the rations the sailors handed out — dried fish, hard bread, watered ale.
Sleep was a stranger to us. The cold grew worse with every passing hour, and the nights were practically freezing. When the sea swelled, there was no resting at all. Every wave tossed and slammed us against the rails. I counted breaths, trying to remember something normal. But as it seemed, there was nothing normal about my life anymore.
By the eleventh morning, I was sitting on the wooden floor with my eyes closed, weak from my lack of sleep when the Shipmaster screamed, "Ready the anchor!"
My eyes snapped open as I stood up to see properly.
Land.
Finally.
The ship approached the northern docks. Many of the travelers sighed in relief as we arrived our destination. Eleven days at sea were terrible, and it didn't help that I had been seasick for ten of them. Winter was coming, it showed in everything. The air was really cold, biting at my skin. The waters had begun to become icy, with chunks of floating frost.
I grabbed Bali, and Kumbuye grabbed his horse too. We moved down the gangplank.
"Finally, some solid ground, huh?" the Shipmaster called out.
I shot him a glare. He had been unbearable all the way here.
"You've got a fierce look about you, girl. I like it." He stepped closer, leaning in, that same horrible breath."I can show you to a proper warm meal, and add a little bit of comfort to beat this harsh cold."
"Get out of my face," I snapped.
"Oh, feisty, I love it. Come on, I could be a proper man for you," he pressed.
Kumbuye slammed his hand against the man's chest. "Step back," he growled. The Shipmaster smirked, looking at Kumbuye as he moved back. He muttered something about "having a little fun" and finally walked away to help with the ropes, leaving us alone.
I exhaled. "He is annoying."
My stomach growled. We mounted our horses and rode deeper inland until we reached a settlement. The place was loud and busy. We stopped in front of the first tavern we saw. The men inside did not look friendly. Their stares followed us as we walked in all the way to the tavernkeeper.
"Can we get two bowls of pork stew?" Kumbuye asked.
I would swear that every eye in this room was on me. There were no women here except the tavernkeeper and her apprentices, and the way the men treated them made my skin crawl.
One man slapped the backside of a passing server and then threw ale at her, laughing as the cup shattered against the floor. Disgust twisted my stomach.
"That'll be four coppers," the tavernkeeper said, batting her eyes at Kumbuye.
He reached into his pouch and dropped the coins onto the counter. "And two cups of your best brew." He added.
"That'll be another six coppers," she replied, then looked at me, eyeing me down, then back at Kumbuye and she smiled at him, collecting the coin he had dropped on the counter in a flirtatious way.
Ugh, unbelievable.
We found a table and sat, waiting for the tavernkeeper to bring our food and drink. The stares on me from the men in the tavern were too much. I wanted to leave, badly, but the hunger screaming inside my stomach kept me glued to the bench. I just needed to eat first. Then we could go.
When the food finally arrived, the tavernkeeper brought it herself. Kumbuye muttered a quiet "thanks" as the steam rose before us.
She smiled at him again, "If you need more," she said, pressing a hand against her chest, "I can satisfy you." Her voice was soft. She leaned into him, and used her other hand to brush his muscled arm.
The cloth she wore barely covered her body. It was honestly too revealing for the cold that was brewing.
"I'm not interested," Kumbuye said plainly, not even looking up at her.
I didn't know whether he truly meant it, or if he said it because I was sitting right there. The tavernkeeper was undeniably beautiful, the kind of beauty meant to draw eyes and keep them. Perhaps that was how this place survived.
With the way he responded to her, she scoffed and walked away.
"She's obviously interested in you," I said with a small smirk.
Kumbuye huffed. "Who wouldn't be?"
We both shared a brief laugh, turning our attention to the food.
I had just started eating when a chair scraped loudly against the floor, drawing everybody's attention.
One of the men from another table staggered toward us, reeking of ale.
"Oy, lassie," he slurred, his eyes crawling over me in a way that was predatory.
I stayed quiet. Any attention was the last thing I wanted.
"I'm talking to you," he said again, louder this time. "Don't act like... like you can't hear me." He stuttered, struggling to keep his balance.
"What do you want?" Kumbuye growled.
"Ohh," the man laughed, turning his head toward the room. "The boy speaks."
A few others joined in, laughing loud and ugly.
"Come on, lassie," he said, grabbing his crotch and thrusting it forward. "Won't you like some of this?"
Disgraceful.
"Let's leave, Dana," Kumbuye said quietly.
I nodded. I had barely eaten, but my appetite was gone. I stood up quickly, turning toward the door—
The man grabbed me, pulling me against him, grinding himself forward.
I screamed and shoved him, slapping him across the face.
Kumbuye's fist connected with the man's nose, breaking it in the process. Blood sprayed as the man stumbled backward, clutching his nose and howling.
Chairs scraped the floor again, the laughter had stopped.
The other men stood, one by one, forming a loose circle around us.
One of them threw a chair at us, giving the others a signal to attack, as they all rushed in on us.
Kumbuye moved fast as he swung his spear. I hardly had time to draw my sword before one of them lunged at me. I stepped aside and slashed him across his arm with one of my daggers. He screamed, holding his arm, staring at the blood. Another came from behind. I turned, sliding my other dagger free from my waist, got on my knee to dodge his attack, and drove the dagger into his thigh.
My bag bounced on my side. I clutched it tighter, protecting what was inside. Someone reached for it, but I slammed my elbow against his ribs. He came at me again, then I buried my dagger into his chest. He gasped and fell to the floor.
I looked at Kumbuye. The men around him weren't trained. They had no chance, even in numbers.
Those still standing hesitated, looking between us and the bodies on the floor. One by one, they stepped back.
"You hurt?" he asked.
I shook my head, swallowing hard. "No."
"Good... let's leave."
As we moved for the door, I glanced back and saw the tavernkeeper staring at Kumbuye in awe. Like she actually enjoyed watching him fight.
We were about to mount our horses, ready to leave, when we saw some men dressed as guards, approaching fast on horses.
What was happening?
They were so many, circling us, pointing their blades.
"You have violated the law of our land and have been found guilty," one of them said.
"What?" I whispered.
"You will come with us to the castle to answer for your offense."
Kumbuye stretched out his spear, pulling me back and shielding me.
The guards went into the tavern and returned with the drunk fool from earlier — the one who had started the fight — dragging him by the arms. The other fools, already beaten, were also brought out.
I shook my head, bewildered. My first day in the North, and I was already in trouble. True to my nature. Gods damnit!
I held Kumbuye, and as if he had read my mind, he slowly let down his spear.
We didn't want another fight, not with the entire village watching. So, without resistance, we followed the guards.
After walking a far distance, a large castle slowly came into view. To say that I was exhausted would have been an understatement. The hunger I had felt earlier growled in my stomach again.
When we finally reached the castle, they took Bali from me, seized my weapons and shoved us through a massive iron gate into a dark hall, that smelled of piss and shit.
The guards seized me again and separated me from Kumbuye. I struggled, clawing at their grips, kicking and screaming, but it was useless. They dragged me across the hall and shoved me into another room that had a balcony above. The room was lit by two torches, mounted on the wall on opposite sides.
My bag was ripped from my shoulders, spilling my belongings across the floor. My head sparked as I felt my control slipping, and before I knew it, power erupted from me, slamming the nearest guard against the wall.
The other guards moved back in fear.
A voice bellowed from the balcony, "Bring her to me!"
A tall man stood there, clad in plate and chain.
The guards who had hesitated earlier pushed me forward, dragging me across the cold stone floor. My bag, my compass, the golden box, and every other thing that was scattered, remained on the floor. I wanted to snatch them back, but my powers failed me again. Typical.
At last, they stopped before the man and shoved me on the ground, making me look small and weak.
"Bring her closer," he commanded.
My eyes darted to my bag and its contents. He followed my gaze and smirked. "There's something about that bag," he said. "Bring it to me too."
Oh gods!
One of the guards moved quickly, scooping up the bag and hurrying it over. I kept my eyes on it as the man checked the bag and held out the golden box.
"What are you?" he whispered.
I was still on the floor, staring at him, hoping so hard that he wouldn't dispose of my belongings.
"You will bring me much joy at the arena," he said, smiling as he walked away, taking my bag with him.
Arena?
What was that?