Prologue
Chesher
For two years Chesher had visited the docks of Brahma many times to look out at the sea. Staring into the distance, she’d picture an island. The place her parents had told her about, where they’d been planning on going next when she’d seen them last. Where they might find answers to their research.
Since losing them, the days she’d spent on the docks made her feel closer to them and yet further all at once. The island was no more than two days journey by charter, but every time Chesher stared in its direction, it felt unreachable.
As Chesher sat on her favorite bench, swinging gently beneath the archway covered in vining roses with the blossoming orange trees shading her from above, she didn’t see the sprawling lawn of her uncle’s home in front of her. She pictured the view of the sea from the docks in town. She breathed the air in deeply and the sense of ease it used to provide was absent, leaving her as restless as when she’d walked into the garden that morning. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face.
It had been two years since she’d lost her family, hiding away at her uncle’s illustrious mansion in the port city of Brahma. Two years of trying to feel better, to feel alive again. Her days and weeks spent with a private tutor or under the orange trees in her spare time. Chesher appreciated her uncle’s desire to have her properly educated considering the unorthodox manner her parents had treated her and her brother’s tutelage. But for every scrap of joy she felt learning more about the world, she felt an equal desire to run away. Most days, the furthest she ever got was her bench in the gardens.
Her aunt and uncle were different than what she’d grown accustomed to with parental figures. They cared for her, for all their myriad children, most of them adopted. But their kind of care looked more like the best education, with leanings heavily on economics and money management. It had quickly become apparent that those were the most common topics of conversation in their house as well. Investments, profits, futures…
Chesher had taken to it well enough, but she had no interest in pursuing a career in any kind of finance. It had disappointed her aunt and uncle, but she could tell it was only because they didn’t know anything else about the world. They had no other way to relate.
Chesher sighed, opening her eyes once more to look over the rolling landscape of perfectly tended lawn that stretched across the majority of the Lavicount’s property. Chesher’s little swing sat nestled against high hedges that blocked out the rest of the world around the perimeter. The hedge had seemed a bit much to Chesher, considering they also owned the land around their manicured grounds for acres in every direction, but once she’d found her spot in the gardens, the isolation had provided a kind of peace she’d never known before.
On the occasions Chesher wandered into town only to find herself at the docks, looking out to the sea, she paid no mind to the ships and sailors that moved about, instead searching for the mysterious and dangerous land that remained uninhabited in the distance. Everyone knew about the island of Molloy. Seemingly cursed, it bore the brunt of the storms coming up from the southern seas and at one time, it had been the dumping ground for the dangerous big cats brought over from the first settlers. But the rumors didn’t end there, including everything from poisonous snakes to deadly insects and monsters that came calling in the dark of night. It seemed, the more people one asked, the more clouded the island became.
The journey itself was simple, and one she’d marked out several times. She had the funds to commission the excursion. She’d checked her accounts repeatedly with that precise thought in mind over the past months, but the time hadn’t seemed right. Upon turning sixteen and receiving her official title with the Explorer’s Guild as ‘Seasoned Traveler,’ all thanks to her parents, she was finally eligible to commission her own expedition. Everything was in place, the opportunity loomed over her daily. And yet, she remained on her cozy bench, smelling the roses. Day by day feeling more out of place.
She looked down to her notebook beside her on the seat. She always had one with her and in her time in Brahma, she’d used it for notes on her studies, her feelings, and her plans. With a sigh, she picked it up and opened it to the next fresh page.
It was time.
Three letters. That was the first step to truly moving forward. One to her aunt and uncle, one to her childhood friend, Nicholas, and one to the guild. As she wrote, her apprehension slipped from her shoulders, replaced by an exhilaration that she hadn’t felt since she’d been exploring with her family.
She was going somewhere again. A place she knew nothing about and where her parents had meant to go as well. She was picking up where they left off and something like pride trickled into her heart. Smiling to herself as she finished the letters, she resolved to start packing for her trip.
***
Making the journey certainly had been as easy as Chesher had expected and not three days after her resolution, she was setting foot on the not-so-trepidations island of Molloy. Her charter ship dropped her and her supplies off on the beach along the inner coast, set to return in three days, when she would decide whether to go back or remain on the island. Chesher set up her camp on the edge of the tree line and spent the first day walking up the coast and back once more, checking for tracks or signs of activity from the local fauna.
With little in the way of events, she settled into her tent and made notes in her new leather-bound diary. She recounted the ship ride and the bit of coast she’d walked. Feeling more compelled to draw than write, she spent the remaining hours of light sketching the palms, the beachside, and the general view she’d had of the coast from the ship. She’d make more detailed and accurate representations later, but letting her creativity flow, covering the pages in the sights of just the past two days gave her such a sense of freedom, she didn’t stop until she could barely see her pen in the dusk.
As night fell, she put away her journal and laid down, leaving her head out of her tent so she could stare up to the skies above. Her parents had taught her how to survive, how to keep a neat camp, and be responsible for herself. The confidence of all that training remained high as she relaxed, listening to the sound of the waves and ambience of the jungle behind her.
The stars shone brightly down on her, the same ones she’d seen all her life, but somehow, they felt entirely different and new. Before she knew it, her eyes burned with tears. With a shaky sigh, she paid them no mind. Chesher hadn’t gone anywhere since her family had died. Her body had been shuttled about before landing in Brahma with her aunt and uncle, but she felt unmoved. Like life had simply stopped.
And now she was trying to start it again.
She reassured herself that she was ready and the comfort of that thought eased her to sleep as a warm breeze blew in from the water.
***
A dreamless rest had been a welcome reprieve, but one that was cut short as twigs cracked in the distance behind her.
Chesher’s eyes flew open, but she kept herself still.
More steps sounded softly in the brush.
A big cat? She wondered what else it could be as her heart began to race. She hadn’t thought that the tigers reportedly dropped off on the island would venture to the beaches, and she’d made no fire to attract any other unwanted visitors.
The brushing of leaves sounded from the other side of her tent.
Two of something.
She gripped her blanket tightly, cursing herself for never having gotten her sword out, for not setting up her protective ward. Her parents would have killed her for being so careless. She was far too rusty. She cursed to herself as the movement neared. The sound of whispers reaching her ear, sending a chill down her spine.
No one lives on Molloy. Her whole body froze.
That’s what everyone says, even the government. All the Havalan government did on Molloy was build lighthouses and then leave. They only sent soldiers to the island for maintenance. Everything she’d read and researched about the island made her certain no one lived on it, no one visited it, and anyone who was forced to set foot on it, left as soon as they could.
Her breathing grew uneven and the sounds around her halted.
No crunching of underbrush or leaves being pushed aside. No whispers.
Her heart dropped to her feet right before her tent was ripped away from above her and tossed aside into the dark.
She gasped and turned to the two dark silhouettes looming over her.
“Please!” She managed to say, through the fear gripping her.
One of them snickered and swung out toward her.
Closing her eyes and turning from them was the only thing she did before an intense pain in the side of her skull made her vision go white right before everything faded to black.
***
Chapter 1
Teague
Seven Years Later
The sea breeze carried mist over the docks of the capital, through the city, and up the ridge where Teague stood on the train platform. Looking out over the capital and to the ocean beyond, Teague resented the fact that this is what it had come to. After seven months of constant, sleep-depriving effort, he was leaving.
The station had been placed on the low end of the mesa that rose above the Havalan capital city of Kasoji and extended inland. Straight from the docks to the station, it was a journey of several hundred steps. Luckily the barracks were situated somewhere in the middle of that journey. He’d gotten up early to make sure he could get there before anyone else to have a chance to see the Dalliance make way from the bay down below.
The prospect of watching his old ship and crew leave the port, maybe for the last time, elicited several conflicting emotions within him. All of which he wanted to be alone for. As he’d arrived and set his pack down, the only other people around were a few individuals interspersed along the platform, the station manager, who was watching the ticket master and Teague at the far end.
The train hadn’t arrived, so everyone was simply in a waiting pattern.
Teague turned to the morning sun in the east and let it warm his face. Knowing he’d have to deal with his new companions for the foreseeable future made little moments alone even more precious. He had been undercover in the government for months, hiding his true identity and intentions from everyone around him, but at least he’d had his room in the barracks house. One place where he could be alone with his thoughts and catch up on the work of his peers at the archives.
He sighed. It had been a safe place until it had been ransacked two days before.
Teague touched the travel journal tucked into the back of his pants. His room had been torn apart the morning after he’d found a masked stranger in the archives late at night. The guy had obviously been in the routine of sneaking in even after Teague had left and was carefully studying one text in specific.
Teague chuckled to himself bitterly, glad that he’d kept the journal on him since taking it, despite everything. It had been easy enough to snatch it in the darkness of the archives when the stranger had hidden during the regular checks run by the night guards. But the amazing part had been that the stranger, whoever he was, knew who Teague was, and what he was doing in the capital.
Teague’s own notebooks, usually hidden under his bed, had been torn through, with one page left open on his bed with the words ‘Travel Magic’ circled and an ominous warning scribbled below.
I know what you’re after
Suffice it to say, Teague had decided right then that he’d be finding a way out of town, at least for a little while. He rubbed at his face with a soul-deep sigh. On top of everything else, his old captain had passed along a worrisome warning. Culpepper was back in the Havali. A man, that for all intents and purposes could be described as Teague’s nemesis. At least from Teague’s perspective. He knew better than to consider himself more than a thorn in the man’s side.
An older, far more skilled, experienced, and menacing man than Teague. Whether in the Havali, the Kysh to the east, or anywhere in between, Culpepper was wanted dead rather than alive. Exiled by the League, the unofficial ruler of the seas of the Havali, he was worse than a pirate. He slayed innocents and criminals alike, in the name of whatever his current goal happened to be. He’d been gone for years, and now…
“Teague.” Valverde’s voice came out from beside him.
Teague turned and gave Valverde a nod. He was one of the escorts assigned to the mission Teague had managed to put together. A barracks guard that could be spared for a mission to a nearby island.
The man was taller than Teague by a couple inches but was far lankier. An odd mix of bland disinterest and unwavering loyalty to their island nation of Havalivala, Valverde seemed to make the ideal soldier. One that never stood out and always obeyed. With medium brown hair and matching eyes, the classically deep tan skin tone common in the Havali; not much stood out about him other than a strong nose.
“Can I call you Teague?” Valverde asked, looking off over the city. “Titles and last names are a bit uptight don’t you think?”
“I suppose. What’s your first name again?” Teague asked, idly pushing his own overgrown black hair out of his face. He’d wanted to cut it days ago, but then everything went to shit.
“Simon.”
“Simon.” Teague confirmed and looked back out to the ocean as the train let off its horn in the distance behind them. He glanced toward it, chugging loudly and filling the air with steam. The people strewn about began to stir, with more filtering in through the gates.
Teague looked back to the sea and caught a glimmer of red sails among the ocean’s reflection. The Dalliance. They were heading out to sea. He could practically hear Bahjee barking orders and Candoo making jokes.
“The ocean sure is beautiful today.” Simon said, tapping the sides of his legs idly.
“Hm.” More small talk. What’s with this guy? That’s all he’d done since they’d met the day before.
“Also,” Simon turned to him. “I checked with the station guards when I got here, and they said some shady looking sorts were hanging around, but they lost track of them. So, just keep an eye out.”
“Good to know. Will do.” Hm. Shady sorts. Teague let the thought go. If it was the mysterious stranger from the archives, then Teague welcomed confrontation. He needed to know who else was looking for the travel magic and if they knew more than him. And why they were so intent on reading that specific journal. Teague hadn’t had much time to read it, but it seemed like it was just a normal travel guide to the island of Molloy, just south of the mainland. The book had been categorized as a travel guide, with notes about warding magic and a healing herb, nothing that seemed to point to the travel magic that had been the stuff of legend all Teague’s life.
Teague thought back to the day Captain Bahjee had told him that he’d be going ashore, using his own name, to research one of the most prominent legends among all seafaring folk. The magic that had been rumored for decades, maybe even centuries…a magic that allowed the practitioner to travel vast distances in the blink of an eye.
Teague smiled to himself. The kind of magic that could turn the tide of a war, make someone very rich in trade, or more importantly, keep the League in power in the Havali.
“Gentlemen.” Bakshi called to them.
They both turned, Teague pulling himself out of his daze.
Bakshi, their female counterpart for the mission, waved their tickets at them. “All of the cargo has been loaded, let’s get to our cabins.”
Valverde made to follow her, throwing his duffle over his shoulder.
“Do we need cabins? It’s not that long of a ride.” Teague asked.
She gave him a look like he was daft. “We’re guards of Havalivala. It’s a courtesy.”
Teague nodded and looked back to the bay, trying not to roll his eyes. He couldn’t make out the Dalliance as it mixed in with the other ships mingling at the edge of the bay.
His eye was drawn to a puff of steam on the inside of the bay. A steam engine boat going up the river. Just another sign of the Kysh’s influence encroaching on the Havali, as Bahjee would say. Teague was still unsure how he felt about the changing tide of progress in his home. New technology didn’t seem like a bad thing, but the Kysh gaining a foothold in the Havali likely meant that the League would be forced out. Or worse, they’d all be considered criminals and pirates to be hung or shot for their way of life. It likely wouldn’t matter that the League had been the only thing keeping the neighboring kingdom of Driskell at bay for centuries. Once the Kysh and their massive navy gained access to the Havali, the League and all their efforts would be forgotten.
Teague looked back out to the bay, a part of him sad to see The Dalliance leave once more without him, but this time felt different. He didn’t long to join them so much as he just wanted to be at sea again. He laughed to himself, “Seven months on land…I suppose any ship will do at this point.”
“What was that Teague?” Valverde asked, from the edge of the crowd lining up to get aboard the train.
Teague turned and picked up his bag. “Nothing. Just looking forward to the trip.”
Valverde nodded.
Bakshi looked back to them. “Let us remain professional and call each other either by our titles or last names.” She eyed them both. “No need to get familiar.”
Valverde nodded again.
Teague pat him on the back and boarded the train behind Bakshi. As they all entered the tight walkway, she turned and handed them each their tickets with listed destinations and cabin assignments.
“They gave us the only cabins available, so we’re separate. Let’s get settled and then meet in the dining car. I’ll expect you both there in no more than half an hour.”
Before either could respond she gave them a curt nod and left.
Valverde made to pass him, “Looks like I’m this way and you’re back that way. See you in a bit.”
Teague half waved and started down the other way. People were shuffling to seats for shorter trips and stuffing their bags on the over-head racks. He was paused by a group of five young men that were huddled in the walkway as one was trying to put a small crate on the rack above their seats. One of the others bumped into him making him tumble to the side. The crate fell out of his hands and Teague dropped his bag in time to catch it before it hit a woman in the head.
She spun, looked at the crate, mortified, and shuffled off. A seemingly extreme reaction, until Teague looked at the top of the crate to see it was a cage… a white snake with pointed scales.
Teague inhaled sharply and held it away from himself as the young man recovered himself and apologized profusely, taking the crate back.
“Don’t worry about it.” Teague assured him tightly. “I thought it was illegal to transport Janguli snakes on public trains.”
The young man’s face went as white as the snake he held, barely encased considering its capabilities. He stuttered a reply, trying to say it wasn’t what it looked like.
Teague smiled and leaned toward the boy, “I know what they look like. The trials tend to imprint the image in one’s mind.” As Teague straightened to let someone by him, he added. “Just make sure that thing stays in there.”
The boy nodded emphatically.
As someone else made to squeeze by Teague, he apologized and started off into the next car, glancing at his ticket until he made it to one of the cabin cars. Seeing that snake had brought back memories best forgotten, but which arose, nonetheless.
Bahjee taking Teague deep into the La Marais swamps on the north end of the Havalan mainland flashed through his mind. No explanation until they’d arrived at an isolated tribe where the Janguli Trials took place. A rite of passage that the Havalan government had been trying to shut down for decades where young men would submit themselves to be found worthy. Or die trying.
A ceremony where young boys would be dropped into a pit with a single white, Janguli Viper, provoke it into striking if necessary, and then hope that they survive the poison. Three days of lucid nightmares later, Teague had woken to discover he’d been found worthy.
Bahjee, the man who’d adopted Teague as a young boy and the captain of The Dalliance, had been pleased to say the least. Finally, he had someone on his crew that was immune to every venom and poison known to man. Teague had certainly found it to be handy multiple times but still did not enjoy recalling the trials. He just hoped the young man would keep the snake under control.
Teague reached the first cabin car, cabin ‘A.’ His ticket was for cabin ‘B,’ so he continued, pausing halfway through cabin car ‘A’ as an old woman made her way in Teague’s direction. She bumped into a middle-aged man as he tried to get his bag into his room, his jacket opening with the struggle.
Teague had a sense of what was to come so he stood to the side and waited.
The man excused himself, threw his bag into his room, losing his patience with it, and held out his hand to help the old woman pass. She leaned into him with the sweetest smile. The man didn’t notice as she swiped her hand into his jacket breast pocket and retrieved his bill fold.
Having a trained eye, Teague caught it, smirking.
She feigned a stumble and as the man reached for her elbow, she tucked his money into the folds of her shawl.
They parted ways and she started once more in Teague’s direction. He took a few steps as the train lurched slightly, about to leave the station.
She stumbled tragically to Teague’s side of the hall.
He stepped forward, smiling. “Is there something I can help you with ma’am?”
She gave him that same sugary smile and held out a hand.
He took it and let her pass him by, careful to hold her out away from himself.
Her smile faltered and she gave him a sharp look.
Teague grinned. “Lovely seeing someone still at it at your age.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and took another step by him. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
He nodded and adjusted his bag on his shoulder as she continued down the hall. “Of course not.” He stepped on back to the middle-aged man’s cabin door and knocked while still looking after the woman.
She turned her head at the sound of the knock.
The man opened the door and smiled politely at Teague.
“Hello, sir. I was just passing by here and I noticed this.” He held up the man’s billfold. “Is it yours?”
The man’s eyes went wide, and he pat his jacket. “Oh my, yes. Thank you so much.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t know what I would have done, it has my ticket in it.”
Teague nodded congenially. “I’m just glad it worked out. You have a nice day.”
“Yes. Thank you. You as well.” He shook Teague’s hand emphatically and shut the door again.
Teague looked back down the hall and the old woman was glaring at him. He tipped his head to her.
If looks could kill he’d be a dead man.
He chuckled to himself as she spun on her heel and continued out into the passenger cars.
Shaking his head, Teague continued to the next cabin car. Once he found the door that read ‘3B’ he opened it to find a pocket of a room with barely enough space for him to stand. The room itself made him think of a cigar, long and skinny, with a fold out table on one wall and a fold out bed on the other. Both could be folded up into their subsequent walls to make the room appear utterly empty save for a bench along the side opposite the table. He supposed it made it easier to clean.
He threw his bag on the far end of the bench seat, got out the journal and found where he’d left off. His first few sessions with it were mainly a fact-finding mission, trying to gain his bearings. But now that he had a good stretch of time in front of him, he decided to take a good look at the binding. If that cloaked stranger had been studying the journal for multiple nights as he seemed to have been, there might be an indication as to what section. With the book open, it showed no signs, so Teague closed it and saw there was a slight gap three quarters of the way through. Using his pencil from his bag, he split the pages and opened it to the page in question.
He then flipped a few pages back until he found the section head reading, ‘My Camp.’ He started reading, rubbing his chin to feel the stubble that had grown since the day before. He grabbed his knife from his bag and shaved as he read.
My Camp
After making my way into the main valley of the island, I found the perfect spot just a mile or so from the cliffs that mark the edge of the valley proper. I chose this location for my camp as it was unmarred by rocks, easily cleared of debris, and had a slight hill. The hill was important to me as I knew that Molloy was prone to mudflows during the storm season, which, considering that the island takes the brunt of the storms from the Ramotar Ocean to the south, is quite a long season indeed.
In all honesty, it would have been smarter to make camp on the actual rockface as that area tends to be completely unaffected by mudflows. I have learned better since.
Once I finished clearing the brush and chopping down a few trees to help build my hut, I had a good pad. But before I built my proper hut, I went to work on the ward around my camp.
I used a ward that I have seen my parents use many times with much success. It is simply executed if a bit time-consuming. Its purpose is to keep you guarded from the elements while inside of its dome-structured field. Though the air temperature of the area is the same, you don’t have to deal with wind, rain, or any other obtrusive weather phenomena.
Luckily, it held up against mudflows that were not a rare occurrence. Should I ever return to the island, I will certainly have my camp in a different location.
As for my hut, I went with a simple design utilizing bamboo harvested from the surrounding jungle…
Teague skimmed until he found something more about the ward.
After a few weeks of small ventures around my camp, I noticed some rain getting through the ward, so I examined the sigils on the perimeter of my camp and found an animal had smudged one with its paw. Unfortunately, this is how I had my first encounter with the big cats of Molloy.
I have warned about them already, so I’ll just skip to the fact that I survived, and I have the scars to prove it. Please, if not for yourself, do this one thing for me and memorize my map marking the nests and hunting grounds for these animals. I don’t need anyone else’s blood on my hands.
Anyone else’s? Teague smiled, checked the time, and went back to the title page of the guide.
A Series of Incomplete Travels:
Vol. 47
The Island of Molloy
By
Chesher Tello
The condensed and organized collection of my time
and
Exploration of the Island of Molloy
The funny way the spacing had been done made him want to keep reading, just as it had the night he’d stolen it. Smiling to himself, he continued to the introduction.
Introduction
To start things off, in my year on Molloy, I didn’t get to explore the whole island. In fact, I mainly focused my efforts on an inland valley I have named the Elkanah Valley.
Here I found enough to explore for what seems like a lifetime. Aside from this, I did walk the entire circumference of the island along the shoreline. I have thus made a greatly improved map for sailors to reference.
Before compiling this travel guide, I have submitted the map to my guild, and it should be applied to modern maps that come about moving forward.
Teague went back and looked at the map at the beginning more thoroughly. It was just how Molloy had always looked as far as Teague could remember. He looked closer and something about the inner bays on both the inside and outsides of the island struck a memory. When he was young and learning the basics of the history and geography of Vemados.
Something from that time tugged at his mind. The maps back then had been less defined. And the largest bay, Anker Bay, on the side facing mainland Havalivala had barely been defined at all.
Whereas on this map, this Chesher woman had marked out every divot and curve, with little shipwrecks and even a hint of jagged, rocky seabed illustrated. The modern maps of course didn’t have this morbid commentary on fallen vessels, but her updates had certainly been included, as every map he’d seen since becoming a navigator for The Dalliance had these details.
“She must have been quite respected by her guild.” He mumbled to himself, wondering where else she’d gone in her explorations, what else she’d done. Begrudgingly, he closed the journal to stuff it into the back of his pants and prepared himself to trudge to the dining car, some five cars away. He knew the guide was important somehow, but he still couldn’t tell what it had to do with the travel magic.
The uncertainty ate at him, but he knew he wouldn’t be separated from the guide if his life depended on it.
Teague’s hand stilled as he was about to open the door from his cabin to the hall. His conversation with Bahjee ran through his mind. It had been right before Teague had gone back to the archives and found that stranger reading the guide.
***
Two Nights Before
Teague swung the door open to be greeted by the musk of human filth, sweat, and booze which overtook any breathable pocket of air outside the shack someone called a bar. Regardless, he didn’t miss a single sticky step as he headed to the restrooms at the back. Remaining casual while eyeing every individual and group as he passed had become habit long ago, and as Teague went through the Shamrackle Pub, the effort seemed wasted.
Teague recognized most as regulars or simply sailors passing through. As scattered and cobbled-together as the many mis-matched tables and chairs. Broken and missing limbs were no surprise among the chairs and patrons alike.
Teague’s unusually heavy steps were muffled by the din of several groups of sailors hoarding the booths. Spotting Bahjee was easier than normal as he was sitting at the bar, scarfing down a bowl of something curried. He didn’t seem to notice the raucous deckhands beside him, sloshing their pints at their feet as they recounted a battle at sea they’d just won.
Foolish to boast, especially in a dive known to house pirates and privateers, along with every other form of miscreant of the Havali. But that wasn’t Teague’s concern anymore.
Teague walked on by them to the back restrooms and rinsed his hands in the sink-water that wasn’t quite clear and smelled of the sea. As he straightened himself, he read the sign posted above the trough meant to be a urinal, on the wall opposite the sinks that read, “All ye who enter here, if yer at half-mast or lean portside, step closer.”
Shaking his head, he exited and saw Bahjee had taken possession of the back corner booth and already had a half-empty pint for himself, and a steaming cup of what Teague hoped was coffee. Taking another cursory glance around the pub, Teague took the seat across from Bahjee, facing the front door.
“How was your curry?” Teague asked, settling his satchel on the seat close to the wall, out of reach of passers-by.
“Ah,” Bahjee shrugged his massive shoulders and sank into his seat, taking a swig of his pint. “Not as good as in Zeki but I figured I’d give it a try while I’m in town.” He pushed Teague’s cup toward him across the table.
“Thank you.” Teague took a swig of what was indeed coffee and set it aside. “Nothing beats the spot we found on Weatherkind, though.”
Bahjee belly-laughed, jostling the trinkets on the leather strap across his chest. Little bits of this and that from across the world, whatever crossed his path. “True. But that could be due to the waitresses, eh?”
Teague grinned and nodded.
Bahjee downed the rest of his pint and slid it to the side of the table, waving at the waitress across the bar. She nodded and continued what she was doing.
“So, any progress, boy?”
Teague took a deep breath. “We knew this wouldn’t be a quick assignment, but I haven’t been able to find anything of real use.” He pat his satchel on the bench next to him. “I do have a few new texts that I saw the other archivists cataloging today. We’ll see if there’s anything in them.”
“Today? I thought you had a whole list of back-logged texts and scrolls that you were working your way through?” Bahjee picked at his coarse, black beard, flicking debris away every now and then.
Teague nodded, “I caught up. Hence my need for more coffee.” He lifted his cup in salute and took another swig.
Bahjee chuckled, rocking forward as the waitress appeared beside their table with a full pint.
Giving her a nod in thanks as she disappeared once more, Teague looked to Bahjee to find him grinning, a funny look in his eye.
“What?”
Bahjee just shook his head, his smile turning grim. “You’ve been reading into the night to catch up, correct?”
Teague nodded. “It seemed appropriate. I’d hate to waste time sleeping when I could instead be getting us nearer to our goals.”
“And you’re sure you haven’t missed anything important? Lacking sleep and being impatient is more likely to lead to slip-ups than progress.”
Teague sat back, rubbing the back of his head, rolling through the blur of nights spent reading until he passed out, only to wake up at dawn and start his shift on watch in the markets. “I don’t believe I’ve missed anything pertinent to this supposed travel magic we’re looking for. But…”
Bahjee nodded. “Don’t forget my boy,” He began, taking off his hat to scratch at his balding head. “People lie, and worse than that, they don’t always know what it is they’re seeing. Ignorance can be far trickier to decode than deception. Especially in cases like this.” He settled his hat back over his head. “The League can’t afford you overlooking something essential to our survival just because you’re looking for a direct mention of this magic.”
Teague nodded, going over everything he’d read, every book he’d dismissed because it had been catalogued under an unrelated genre. He’d been relying on the competence of his peers. Big mistake. His heart sank with dread.
Bahjee took a long drink, dribbles escaping the glass into his unkempt beard.
Teague handed him a napkin absently, not noticing the waitress dropping off a refill of his coffee.
It was true that the other archivists could be reading the texts incorrectly or that the authors themselves might not have known what they were looking at to begin with.
Deception was easier to detect than ignorance.
A heavy sigh escaped Teague, making him sink further into his seat.
“I can see you have new work to get to,” Bahjee’s gruff voice drew Teague out of his mind, “But we have a few other things to go over before you run off. There have been developments in my absence.”
Teague sat up; the encroaching coffee buzz quickly stamped out by the prospect of re-doing all his work from the past seven months.
“Are you sure you’re the last one to leave the archives every day?”
Teague straightened. “I’m always the last one to leave. That’s by design.” He leaned in. “Have you heard something?”
Bahjee sighed, leaning in and keeping his voice low. “We’ve been getting information from League scouts, and it looks like someone else is on the same trail as us.”
“How? What are the chances? Is it Driskell?”
Bahjee chuckled and sat back again. “Perhaps. But remember, son, there are plenty of rumors about this magic. There have been for decades. Maybe longer. Just because we started looking doesn’t mean others haven’t been looking for longer, or that someone didn’t get the same idea we did when all of this Kysh Alliance business came out.”
Teague leaned back, taking it in. “Well at least the Prime Minister’s focus has been drawn to his daughter and her sudden illness. He’s not pressing everyone so hard, and the archivists have naturally taken their work more slowly.” Teague shook his head, “What do we know about these other people?”
“Not much. Just that there have been questions.”
“Where did these questions get asked?”
Bahjee smiled with bitter humor, showing his gold-capped canines. “Mainland Havalivala.”
“Here in the capital or-“
“Calm down, Wally.” Bahjee’s low voice silenced him. “I have something more important to tell you tonight.”
Teague held his tongue and sipped his coffee as Bahjee pulled something out of his coat.
With unusual solemnity, Bahjee set a compass on the table. The face was cracked but it was the unique scrolling along the side of the gold body that sent a chill down Teague’s spine.
Teague reached out and turned it over, revealing the League’s motto inscribed, just as he’d expected.
Astra inclinant, sed non obligant. The stars incline us, they do not bind us.
It had been years since Teague had seen that compass. His hand went to the sword at his belt reflexively. Without looking from the compass, Teague whispered. “What about Culpepper?”
“He’s here. In the Havali.”
Teague’s eyes shot up to Bahjee’s. “Here in Kasoji?”
“Not yet. At least, not when he left this with a note addressed to Alambi at the Banestar Sanctuary.”
“Direct to the second-in-command.” Teague wondered why Culpepper didn’t choose the League Commander himself but shook it off. “How long ago was this?”
“About five weeks.”
“He could be anywhere by now.” Fighting a wave of sweat, Teague asked. “What did the note say?”
“It taunted the League.” Bahjee waved his hand. “Apparently Culpepper had stayed in Banestar for a whole week without the notice of any League agents. He was just rubbing their noses in it. But he mentioned that he would soon be in search of an archivist in the capital. A turn-coat foolish enough to use his own name on the mainland.”
“He’s coming for me.”
“And who knows what else.” Bahjee nodded.
Teague ran his hands through his hair, coming away as greasy as he felt. He didn’t know whether it had been four or five days since his last bathing. He shook his head, he needed to get back to the barracks and think things over. After another deep breath, he opened his eyes with summoned clarity. “Using my legal name was a risk, but…”
“No, don’t worry about it, I’ll leave one of the boys in town to keep watch for you. Maybe Candoo.”
“You’re leaving? New orders?”
Bahjee nodded. “Secret too, Alambi wouldn’t tell me what it was about.”
Teague’s brows rose. “Alambi came down to tell you himself? It must be big.”
Bahjee laughed, “Seems so. He gave me the compass and said to stay alert. Could be any day now.” He tilted his head with a rueful smile, “And apparently Culpepper has made some new friends in his years away. He seems to be traveling with a relative armada. Pirates and rogues from Onaona.”
Teague nodded and stashed the compass in his satchel. A villainous armada on its way to cause untold damage on the hunt for Teague. Of course, Teague wouldn’t be the main goal, but he didn’t like being any part of Culpepper’s plans.
“Keep Candoo.”
Bahjee started to object but Teague held up a hand.
“You’ll need the full crew if it’s something big. I’d go if I could manage.” Teague peered around the pub, dreading the days ahead, knowing nothing would be the same. “Maybe I’ll head back to the archives tonight and see if anything is out of place.”
“Walden.”
Teague looked to his captain, a small part of him pleased to hear the name Bahjee had given him when he was young instead of the one given by the Havali orphanages.
“Keep an eye out, and don’t trust anyone. Just until you know more about Culpepper’s whereabouts.”
Teague nodded.
“I may not be able to come ashore again, so…” Bahjee stood and nodded to Teague.
Teague stood and shook his hand. “See you by the Wayside, Captain.”
Bahjee grinned and slapped Teague’s shoulder. Without another word or look, he lumbered out of the pub.
After Teague finished his coffee, he made for the exit. It would be easy to sneak back into the archives in the middle of the night. Throwing the pub door open, the crisp night air cooled him, and the scent of fish was a welcome change. Breathing deep, Teague adjusted the strap of his satchel, feeling far heavier than before, and headed for the building on the hill overlooking the city. The grand building where he spent his days. The Hall of Archives.
***
Present
Teague was brought back to the train as it jostled. He put his hand on the hilt of the blade at his hip. The heat that bloomed at his touch grounded him in the moment. He’d made it out of the capital, and he was still on his captain’s mission. He reminded himself over and over until he felt that he could keep the façade of the dutiful archivist in place once more.
Teague straightened and took a breath. Before leaving, he’d gone around to all the darkest corners of Kasoji and confirmed what Bahjee had said. Teague’s name, his real name, was floating around. Being whispered in all the wrong ears, all the wrong questions being asked. Culpepper was looking for him, but more importantly, Culpepper wanted Teague to know it.
He hadn’t let himself think it yet, but he wouldn’t be going back to the capital. It was only a matter of time before someone made the connection between Teague Dubois, the archivist, and Walden Teague, navigator of the League ship The Dalliance.
With a groan to silence his thoughts, he threw open the door to the hall. No matter what came next, he would face it.
***
Prologue Chesher For two years Chesher had visited the docks of Brahma many times to look out at the sea. Staring into the distance, she’d picture an island. The place her parents had told her about, where they’d been planning on going next when she’d seen them last. Where they might find answers to their research. Since losing them, the days she’d spent on the docks made her feel closer to them and yet further all at once. The island was no more than two days journey by charter, but every time Chesher stared in its direction, it felt unreachable. As Chesher sat on her favorite bench, swinging gently beneath the archway covered in vining roses with the blossoming orange trees shading her from above, she didn’t see the sprawling lawn of her uncle’s home in front of her. She pictured the view of the sea from the docks in town. She breathed the air in deeply and the sense of ease it used to provide was absent, leaving her as restless as when she’d walked into the garden that morning. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face. It had been two years since she’d lost her family, hiding away at her uncle’s illustrious mansion in the port city of Brahma. Two years of trying to feel better, to feel alive again. Her days and weeks spent with a private tutor or under the orange trees in her spare time. Chesher appreciated her uncle’s desire to have her properly educated considering the unorthodox manner her parents had treated her and her brother’s tutelage. But for every scrap of joy she felt learning more about the world, she felt an equal desire to run away. Most days, the furthest she ever got was her bench in the gardens. Her aunt and uncle were different than what she’d grown accustomed to with parental figures. They cared for her, for all their myriad children, most of them adopted. But their kind of care looked more like the best education, with leanings heavily on economics and money management. It had quickly become apparent that those were the most common topics of conversation in their house as well. Investments, profits, futures… Chesher had taken to it well enough, but she had no interest in pursuing a career in any kind of finance. It had disappointed her aunt and uncle, but she could tell it was only because they didn’t know anything else about the world. They had no other way to relate. Chesher sighed, opening her eyes once more to look over the rolling landscape of perfectly tended lawn that stretched across the majority of the Lavicount’s property. Chesher’s little swing sat nestled against high hedges that blocked out the rest of the world around the perimeter. The hedge had seemed a bit much to Chesher, considering they also owned the land around their manicured grounds for acres in every direction, but once she’d found her spot in the gardens, the isolation had provided a kind of peace she’d never known before. On the occasions Chesher wandered into town only to find herself at the docks, looking out to the sea, she paid no mind to the ships and sailors that moved about, instead searching for the mysterious and dangerous land that remained uninhabited in the distance. Everyone knew about the island of Molloy. Seemingly cursed, it bore the brunt of the storms coming up from the southern seas and at one time, it had been the dumping ground for the dangerous big cats brought over from the first settlers. But the rumors didn’t end there, including everything from poisonous snakes to deadly insects and monsters that came calling in the dark of night. It seemed, the more people one asked, the more clouded the island became. The journey itself was simple, and one she’d marked out several times. She had the funds to commission the excursion. She’d checked her accounts repeatedly with that precise thought in mind over the past months, but the time hadn’t seemed right. Upon turning sixteen and receiving her official title with the Explorer’s Guild as ‘Seasoned Traveler,’ all thanks to her parents, she was finally eligible to commission her own expedition. Everything was in place, the opportunity loomed over her daily. And yet, she remained on her cozy bench, smelling the roses. Day by day feeling more out of place. She looked down to her notebook beside her on the seat. She always had one with her and in her time in Brahma, she’d used it for notes on her studies, her feelings, and her plans. With a sigh, she picked it up and opened it to the next fresh page. It was time. Three letters. That was the first step to truly moving forward. One to her aunt and uncle, one to her childhood friend, Nicholas, and one to the guild. As she wrote, her apprehension slipped from her shoulders, replaced by an exhilaration that she hadn’t felt since she’d been exploring with her family. She was going somewhere again. A place she knew nothing about and where her parents had meant to go as well. She was picking up where they left off and something like pride trickled into her heart. Smiling to herself as she finished the letters, she resolved to start packing for her trip. *** Making the journey certainly had been as easy as Chesher had expected and not three days after her resolution, she was setting foot on the not-so-trepidations island of Molloy. Her charter ship dropped her and her supplies off on the beach along the inner coast, set to return in three days, when she would decide whether to go back or remain on the island. Chesher set up her camp on the edge of the tree line and spent the first day walking up the coast and back once more, checking for tracks or signs of activity from the local fauna. With little in the way of events, she settled into her tent and made notes in her new leather-bound diary. She recounted the ship ride and the bit of coast she’d walked. Feeling more compelled to draw than write, she spent the remaining hours of light sketching the palms, the beachside, and the general view she’d had of the coast from the ship. She’d make more detailed and accurate representations later, but letting her creativity flow, covering the pages in the sights of just the past two days gave her such a sense of freedom, she didn’t stop until she could barely see her pen in the dusk. As night fell, she put away her journal and laid down, leaving her head out of her tent so she could stare up to the skies above. Her parents had taught her how to survive, how to keep a neat camp, and be responsible for herself. The confidence of all that training remained high as she relaxed, listening to the sound of the waves and ambience of the jungle behind her. The stars shone brightly down on her, the same ones she’d seen all her life, but somehow, they felt entirely different and new. Before she knew it, her eyes burned with tears. With a shaky sigh, she paid them no mind. Chesher hadn’t gone anywhere since her family had died. Her body had been shuttled about before landing in Brahma with her aunt and uncle, but she felt unmoved. Like life had simply stopped. And now she was trying to start it again. She reassured herself that she was ready and the comfort of that thought eased her to sleep as a warm breeze blew in from the water. *** A dreamless rest had been a welcome reprieve, but one that was cut short as twigs cracked in the distance behind her. Chesher’s eyes flew open, but she kept herself still. More steps sounded softly in the brush. A big cat? She wondered what else it could be as her heart began to race. She hadn’t thought that the tigers reportedly dropped off on the island would venture to the beaches, and she’d made no fire to attract any other unwanted visitors. The brushing of leaves sounded from the other side of her tent. Two of something. She gripped her blanket tightly, cursing herself for never having gotten her sword out, for not setting up her protective ward. Her parents would have killed her for being so careless. She was far too rusty. She cursed to herself as the movement neared. The sound of whispers reaching her ear, sending a chill down her spine. No one lives on Molloy. Her whole body froze. That’s what everyone says, even the government. All the Havalan government did on Molloy was build lighthouses and then leave. They only sent soldiers to the island for maintenance. Everything she’d read and researched about the island made her certain no one lived on it, no one visited it, and anyone who was forced to set foot on it, left as soon as they could. Her breathing grew uneven and the sounds around her halted. No crunching of underbrush or leaves being pushed aside. No whispers. Her heart dropped to her feet right before her tent was ripped away from above her and tossed aside into the dark. She gasped and turned to the two dark silhouettes looming over her. “Please!” She managed to say, through the fear gripping her. One of them snickered and swung out toward her. Closing her eyes and turning from them was the only thing she did before an intense pain in the side of her skull made her vision go white right before everything faded to black. *** Chapter 1 Teague Seven Years Later The sea breeze carried mist over the docks of the capital, through the city, and up the ridge where Teague stood on the train platform. Looking out over the capital and to the ocean beyond, Teague resented the fact that this is what it had come to. After seven months of constant, sleep-depriving effort, he was leaving. The station had been placed on the low end of the mesa that rose above the Havalan capital city of Kasoji and extended inland. Straight from the docks to the station, it was a journey of several hundred steps. Luckily the barracks were situated somewhere in the middle of that journey. He’d gotten up early to make sure he could get there before anyone else to have a chance to see the Dalliance make way from the bay down below. The prospect of watching his old ship and crew leave the port, maybe for the last time, elicited several conflicting emotions within him. All of which he wanted to be alone for. As he’d arrived and set his pack down, the only other people around were a few individuals interspersed along the platform, the station manager, who was watching the ticket master and Teague at the far end. The train hadn’t arrived, so everyone was simply in a waiting pattern. Teague turned to the morning sun in the east and let it warm his face. Knowing he’d have to deal with his new companions for the foreseeable future made little moments alone even more precious. He had been undercover in the government for months, hiding his true identity and intentions from everyone around him, but at least he’d had his room in the barracks house. One place where he could be alone with his thoughts and catch up on the work of his peers at the archives. He sighed. It had been a safe place until it had been ransacked two days before. Teague touched the travel journal tucked into the back of his pants. His room had been torn apart the morning after he’d found a masked stranger in the archives late at night. The guy had obviously been in the routine of sneaking in even after Teague had left and was carefully studying one text in specific. Teague chuckled to himself bitterly, glad that he’d kept the journal on him since taking it, despite everything. It had been easy enough to snatch it in the darkness of the archives when the stranger had hidden during the regular checks run by the night guards. But the amazing part had been that the stranger, whoever he was, knew who Teague was, and what he was doing in the capital. Teague’s own notebooks, usually hidden under his bed, had been torn through, with one page left open on his bed with the words ‘Travel Magic’ circled and an ominous warning scribbled below. I know what you’re after Suffice it to say, Teague had decided right then that he’d be finding a way out of town, at least for a little while. He rubbed at his face with a soul-deep sigh. On top of everything else, his old captain had passed along a worrisome warning. Culpepper was back in the Havali. A man, that for all intents and purposes could be described as Teague’s nemesis. At least from Teague’s perspective. He knew better than to consider himself more than a thorn in the man’s side. An older, far more skilled, experienced, and menacing man than Teague. Whether in the Havali, the Kysh to the east, or anywhere in between, Culpepper was wanted dead rather than alive. Exiled by the League, the unofficial ruler of the seas of the Havali, he was worse than a pirate. He slayed innocents and criminals alike, in the name of whatever his current goal happened to be. He’d been gone for years, and now… “Teague.” Valverde’s voice came out from beside him. Teague turned and gave Valverde a nod. He was one of the escorts assigned to the mission Teague had managed to put together. A barracks guard that could be spared for a mission to a nearby island. The man was taller than Teague by a couple inches but was far lankier. An odd mix of bland disinterest and unwavering loyalty to their island nation of Havalivala, Valverde seemed to make the ideal soldier. One that never stood out and always obeyed. With medium brown hair and matching eyes, the classically deep tan skin tone common in the Havali; not much stood out about him other than a strong nose. “Can I call you Teague?” Valverde asked, looking off over the city. “Titles and last names are a bit uptight don’t you think?” “I suppose. What’s your first name again?” Teague asked, idly pushing his own overgrown black hair out of his face. He’d wanted to cut it days ago, but then everything went to shit. “Simon.” “Simon.” Teague confirmed and looked back out to the ocean as the train let off its horn in the distance behind them. He glanced toward it, chugging loudly and filling the air with steam. The people strewn about began to stir, with more filtering in through the gates. Teague looked back to the sea and caught a glimmer of red sails among the ocean’s reflection. The Dalliance. They were heading out to sea. He could practically hear Bahjee barking orders and Candoo making jokes. “The ocean sure is beautiful today.” Simon said, tapping the sides of his legs idly. “Hm.” More small talk. What’s with this guy? That’s all he’d done since they’d met the day before. “Also,” Simon turned to him. “I checked with the station guards when I got here, and they said some shady looking sorts were hanging around, but they lost track of them. So, just keep an eye out.” “Good to know. Will do.” Hm. Shady sorts. Teague let the thought go. If it was the mysterious stranger from the archives, then Teague welcomed confrontation. He needed to know who else was looking for the travel magic and if they knew more than him. And why they were so intent on reading that specific journal. Teague hadn’t had much time to read it, but it seemed like it was just a normal travel guide to the island of Molloy, just south of the mainland. The book had been categorized as a travel guide, with notes about warding magic and a healing herb, nothing that seemed to point to the travel magic that had been the stuff of legend all Teague’s life. Teague thought back to the day Captain Bahjee had told him that he’d be going ashore, using his own name, to research one of the most prominent legends among all seafaring folk. The magic that had been rumored for decades, maybe even centuries…a magic that allowed the practitioner to travel vast distances in the blink of an eye. Teague smiled to himself. The kind of magic that could turn the tide of a war, make someone very rich in trade, or more importantly, keep the League in power in the Havali. “Gentlemen.” Bakshi called to them. They both turned, Teague pulling himself out of his daze. Bakshi, their female counterpart for the mission, waved their tickets at them. “All of the cargo has been loaded, let’s get to our cabins.” Valverde made to follow her, throwing his duffle over his shoulder. “Do we need cabins? It’s not that long of a ride.” Teague asked. She gave him a look like he was daft. “We’re guards of Havalivala. It’s a courtesy.” Teague nodded and looked back to the bay, trying not to roll his eyes. He couldn’t make out the Dalliance as it mixed in with the other ships mingling at the edge of the bay. His eye was drawn to a puff of steam on the inside of the bay. A steam engine boat going up the river. Just another sign of the Kysh’s influence encroaching on the Havali, as Bahjee would say. Teague was still unsure how he felt about the changing tide of progress in his home. New technology didn’t seem like a bad thing, but the Kysh gaining a foothold in the Havali likely meant that the League would be forced out. Or worse, they’d all be considered criminals and pirates to be hung or shot for their way of life. It likely wouldn’t matter that the League had been the only thing keeping the neighboring kingdom of Driskell at bay for centuries. Once the Kysh and their massive navy gained access to the Havali, the League and all their efforts would be forgotten. Teague looked back out to the bay, a part of him sad to see The Dalliance leave once more without him, but this time felt different. He didn’t long to join them so much as he just wanted to be at sea again. He laughed to himself, “Seven months on land…I suppose any ship will do at this point.” “What was that Teague?” Valverde asked, from the edge of the crowd lining up to get aboard the train. Teague turned and picked up his bag. “Nothing. Just looking forward to the trip.” Valverde nodded. Bakshi looked back to them. “Let us remain professional and call each other either by our titles or last names.” She eyed them both. “No need to get familiar.” Valverde nodded again. Teague pat him on the back and boarded the train behind Bakshi. As they all entered the tight walkway, she turned and handed them each their tickets with listed destinations and cabin assignments. “They gave us the only cabins available, so we’re separate. Let’s get settled and then meet in the dining car. I’ll expect you both there in no more than half an hour.” Before either could respond she gave them a curt nod and left. Valverde made to pass him, “Looks like I’m this way and you’re back that way. See you in a bit.” Teague half waved and started down the other way. People were shuffling to seats for shorter trips and stuffing their bags on the over-head racks. He was paused by a group of five young men that were huddled in the walkway as one was trying to put a small crate on the rack above their seats. One of the others bumped into him making him tumble to the side. The crate fell out of his hands and Teague dropped his bag in time to catch it before it hit a woman in the head. She spun, looked at the crate, mortified, and shuffled off. A seemingly extreme reaction, until Teague looked at the top of the crate to see it was a cage… a white snake with pointed scales. Teague inhaled sharply and held it away from himself as the young man recovered himself and apologized profusely, taking the crate back. “Don’t worry about it.” Teague assured him tightly. “I thought it was illegal to transport Janguli snakes on public trains.” The young man’s face went as white as the snake he held, barely encased considering its capabilities. He stuttered a reply, trying to say it wasn’t what it looked like. Teague smiled and leaned toward the boy, “I know what they look like. The trials tend to imprint the image in one’s mind.” As Teague straightened to let someone by him, he added. “Just make sure that thing stays in there.” The boy nodded emphatically. As someone else made to squeeze by Teague, he apologized and started off into the next car, glancing at his ticket until he made it to one of the cabin cars. Seeing that snake had brought back memories best forgotten, but which arose, nonetheless. Bahjee taking Teague deep into the La Marais swamps on the north end of the Havalan mainland flashed through his mind. No explanation until they’d arrived at an isolated tribe where the Janguli Trials took place. A rite of passage that the Havalan government had been trying to shut down for decades where young men would submit themselves to be found worthy. Or die trying. A ceremony where young boys would be dropped into a pit with a single white, Janguli Viper, provoke it into striking if necessary, and then hope that they survive the poison. Three days of lucid nightmares later, Teague had woken to discover he’d been found worthy. Bahjee, the man who’d adopted Teague as a young boy and the captain of The Dalliance, had been pleased to say the least. Finally, he had someone on his crew that was immune to every venom and poison known to man. Teague had certainly found it to be handy multiple times but still did not enjoy recalling the trials. He just hoped the young man would keep the snake under control. Teague reached the first cabin car, cabin ‘A.’ His ticket was for cabin ‘B,’ so he continued, pausing halfway through cabin car ‘A’ as an old woman made her way in Teague’s direction. She bumped into a middle-aged man as he tried to get his bag into his room, his jacket opening with the struggle. Teague had a sense of what was to come so he stood to the side and waited. The man excused himself, threw his bag into his room, losing his patience with it, and held out his hand to help the old woman pass. She leaned into him with the sweetest smile. The man didn’t notice as she swiped her hand into his jacket breast pocket and retrieved his bill fold. Having a trained eye, Teague caught it, smirking. She feigned a stumble and as the man reached for her elbow, she tucked his money into the folds of her shawl. They parted ways and she started once more in Teague’s direction. He took a few steps as the train lurched slightly, about to leave the station. She stumbled tragically to Teague’s side of the hall. He stepped forward, smiling. “Is there something I can help you with ma’am?” She gave him that same sugary smile and held out a hand. He took it and let her pass him by, careful to hold her out away from himself. Her smile faltered and she gave him a sharp look. Teague grinned. “Lovely seeing someone still at it at your age.” She narrowed her eyes at him and took another step by him. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.” He nodded and adjusted his bag on his shoulder as she continued down the hall. “Of course not.” He stepped on back to the middle-aged man’s cabin door and knocked while still looking after the woman. She turned her head at the sound of the knock. The man opened the door and smiled politely at Teague. “Hello, sir. I was just passing by here and I noticed this.” He held up the man’s billfold. “Is it yours?” The man’s eyes went wide, and he pat his jacket. “Oh my, yes. Thank you so much.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t know what I would have done, it has my ticket in it.” Teague nodded congenially. “I’m just glad it worked out. You have a nice day.” “Yes. Thank you. You as well.” He shook Teague’s hand emphatically and shut the door again. Teague looked back down the hall and the old woman was glaring at him. He tipped his head to her. If looks could kill he’d be a dead man. He chuckled to himself as she spun on her heel and continued out into the passenger cars. Shaking his head, Teague continued to the next cabin car. Once he found the door that read ‘3B’ he opened it to find a pocket of a room with barely enough space for him to stand. The room itself made him think of a cigar, long and skinny, with a fold out table on one wall and a fold out bed on the other. Both could be folded up into their subsequent walls to make the room appear utterly empty save for a bench along the side opposite the table. He supposed it made it easier to clean. He threw his bag on the far end of the bench seat, got out the journal and found where he’d left off. His first few sessions with it were mainly a fact-finding mission, trying to gain his bearings. But now that he had a good stretch of time in front of him, he decided to take a good look at the binding. If that cloaked stranger had been studying the journal for multiple nights as he seemed to have been, there might be an indication as to what section. With the book open, it showed no signs, so Teague closed it and saw there was a slight gap three quarters of the way through. Using his pencil from his bag, he split the pages and opened it to the page in question. He then flipped a few pages back until he found the section head reading, ‘My Camp.’ He started reading, rubbing his chin to feel the stubble that had grown since the day before. He grabbed his knife from his bag and shaved as he read. My Camp After making my way into the main valley of the island, I found the perfect spot just a mile or so from the cliffs that mark the edge of the valley proper. I chose this location for my camp as it was unmarred by rocks, easily cleared of debris, and had a slight hill. The hill was important to me as I knew that Molloy was prone to mudflows during the storm season, which, considering that the island takes the brunt of the storms from the Ramotar Ocean to the south, is quite a long season indeed. In all honesty, it would have been smarter to make camp on the actual rockface as that area tends to be completely unaffected by mudflows. I have learned better since. Once I finished clearing the brush and chopping down a few trees to help build my hut, I had a good pad. But before I built my proper hut, I went to work on the ward around my camp. I used a ward that I have seen my parents use many times with much success. It is simply executed if a bit time-consuming. Its purpose is to keep you guarded from the elements while inside of its dome-structured field. Though the air temperature of the area is the same, you don’t have to deal with wind, rain, or any other obtrusive weather phenomena. Luckily, it held up against mudflows that were not a rare occurrence. Should I ever return to the island, I will certainly have my camp in a different location. As for my hut, I went with a simple design utilizing bamboo harvested from the surrounding jungle… Teague skimmed until he found something more about the ward. After a few weeks of small ventures around my camp, I noticed some rain getting through the ward, so I examined the sigils on the perimeter of my camp and found an animal had smudged one with its paw. Unfortunately, this is how I had my first encounter with the big cats of Molloy. I have warned about them already, so I’ll just skip to the fact that I survived, and I have the scars to prove it. Please, if not for yourself, do this one thing for me and memorize my map marking the nests and hunting grounds for these animals. I don’t need anyone else’s blood on my hands. Anyone else’s? Teague smiled, checked the time, and went back to the title page of the guide. A Series of Incomplete Travels: Vol. 47 The Island of Molloy By Chesher Tello The condensed and organized collection of my time and Exploration of the Island of Molloy The funny way the spacing had been done made him want to keep reading, just as it had the night he’d stolen it. Smiling to himself, he continued to the introduction. Introduction To start things off, in my year on Molloy, I didn’t get to explore the whole island. In fact, I mainly focused my efforts on an inland valley I have named the Elkanah Valley. Here I found enough to explore for what seems like a lifetime. Aside from this, I did walk the entire circumference of the island along the shoreline. I have thus made a greatly improved map for sailors to reference. Before compiling this travel guide, I have submitted the map to my guild, and it should be applied to modern maps that come about moving forward. Teague went back and looked at the map at the beginning more thoroughly. It was just how Molloy had always looked as far as Teague could remember. He looked closer and something about the inner bays on both the inside and outsides of the island struck a memory. When he was young and learning the basics of the history and geography of Vemados. Something from that time tugged at his mind. The maps back then had been less defined. And the largest bay, Anker Bay, on the side facing mainland Havalivala had barely been defined at all. Whereas on this map, this Chesher woman had marked out every divot and curve, with little shipwrecks and even a hint of jagged, rocky seabed illustrated. The modern maps of course didn’t have this morbid commentary on fallen vessels, but her updates had certainly been included, as every map he’d seen since becoming a navigator for The Dalliance had these details. “She must have been quite respected by her guild.” He mumbled to himself, wondering where else she’d gone in her explorations, what else she’d done. Begrudgingly, he closed the journal to stuff it into the back of his pants and prepared himself to trudge to the dining car, some five cars away. He knew the guide was important somehow, but he still couldn’t tell what it had to do with the travel magic. The uncertainty ate at him, but he knew he wouldn’t be separated from the guide if his life depended on it. Teague’s hand stilled as he was about to open the door from his cabin to the hall. His conversation with Bahjee ran through his mind. It had been right before Teague had gone back to the archives and found that stranger reading the guide. *** Two Nights Before Teague swung the door open to be greeted by the musk of human filth, sweat, and booze which overtook any breathable pocket of air outside the shack someone called a bar. Regardless, he didn’t miss a single sticky step as he headed to the restrooms at the back. Remaining casual while eyeing every individual and group as he passed had become habit long ago, and as Teague went through the Shamrackle Pub, the effort seemed wasted. Teague recognized most as regulars or simply sailors passing through. As scattered and cobbled-together as the many mis-matched tables and chairs. Broken and missing limbs were no surprise among the chairs and patrons alike. Teague’s unusually heavy steps were muffled by the din of several groups of sailors hoarding the booths. Spotting Bahjee was easier than normal as he was sitting at the bar, scarfing down a bowl of something curried. He didn’t seem to notice the raucous deckhands beside him, sloshing their pints at their feet as they recounted a battle at sea they’d just won. Foolish to boast, especially in a dive known to house pirates and privateers, along with every other form of miscreant of the Havali. But that wasn’t Teague’s concern anymore. Teague walked on by them to the back restrooms and rinsed his hands in the sink-water that wasn’t quite clear and smelled of the sea. As he straightened himself, he read the sign posted above the trough meant to be a urinal, on the wall opposite the sinks that read, “All ye who enter here, if yer at half-mast or lean portside, step closer.” Shaking his head, he exited and saw Bahjee had taken possession of the back corner booth and already had a half-empty pint for himself, and a steaming cup of what Teague hoped was coffee. Taking another cursory glance around the pub, Teague took the seat across from Bahjee, facing the front door. “How was your curry?” Teague asked, settling his satchel on the seat close to the wall, out of reach of passers-by. “Ah,” Bahjee shrugged his massive shoulders and sank into his seat, taking a swig of his pint. “Not as good as in Zeki but I figured I’d give it a try while I’m in town.” He pushed Teague’s cup toward him across the table. “Thank you.” Teague took a swig of what was indeed coffee and set it aside. “Nothing beats the spot we found on Weatherkind, though.” Bahjee belly-laughed, jostling the trinkets on the leather strap across his chest. Little bits of this and that from across the world, whatever crossed his path. “True. But that could be due to the waitresses, eh?” Teague grinned and nodded. Bahjee downed the rest of his pint and slid it to the side of the table, waving at the waitress across the bar. She nodded and continued what she was doing. “So, any progress, boy?” Teague took a deep breath. “We knew this wouldn’t be a quick assignment, but I haven’t been able to find anything of real use.” He pat his satchel on the bench next to him. “I do have a few new texts that I saw the other archivists cataloging today. We’ll see if there’s anything in them.” “Today? I thought you had a whole list of back-logged texts and scrolls that you were working your way through?” Bahjee picked at his coarse, black beard, flicking debris away every now and then. Teague nodded, “I caught up. Hence my need for more coffee.” He lifted his cup in salute and took another swig. Bahjee chuckled, rocking forward as the waitress appeared beside their table with a full pint. Giving her a nod in thanks as she disappeared once more, Teague looked to Bahjee to find him grinning, a funny look in his eye. “What?” Bahjee just shook his head, his smile turning grim. “You’ve been reading into the night to catch up, correct?” Teague nodded. “It seemed appropriate. I’d hate to waste time sleeping when I could instead be getting us nearer to our goals.” “And you’re sure you haven’t missed anything important? Lacking sleep and being impatient is more likely to lead to slip-ups than progress.” Teague sat back, rubbing the back of his head, rolling through the blur of nights spent reading until he passed out, only to wake up at dawn and start his shift on watch in the markets. “I don’t believe I’ve missed anything pertinent to this supposed travel magic we’re looking for. But…” Bahjee nodded. “Don’t forget my boy,” He began, taking off his hat to scratch at his balding head. “People lie, and worse than that, they don’t always know what it is they’re seeing. Ignorance can be far trickier to decode than deception. Especially in cases like this.” He settled his hat back over his head. “The League can’t afford you overlooking something essential to our survival just because you’re looking for a direct mention of this magic.” Teague nodded, going over everything he’d read, every book he’d dismissed because it had been catalogued under an unrelated genre. He’d been relying on the competence of his peers. Big mistake. His heart sank with dread. Bahjee took a long drink, dribbles escaping the glass into his unkempt beard. Teague handed him a napkin absently, not noticing the waitress dropping off a refill of his coffee. It was true that the other archivists could be reading the texts incorrectly or that the authors themselves might not have known what they were looking at to begin with. Deception was easier to detect than ignorance. A heavy sigh escaped Teague, making him sink further into his seat. “I can see you have new work to get to,” Bahjee’s gruff voice drew Teague out of his mind, “But we have a few other things to go over before you run off. There have been developments in my absence.” Teague sat up; the encroaching coffee buzz quickly stamped out by the prospect of re-doing all his work from the past seven months. “Are you sure you’re the last one to leave the archives every day?” Teague straightened. “I’m always the last one to leave. That’s by design.” He leaned in. “Have you heard something?” Bahjee sighed, leaning in and keeping his voice low. “We’ve been getting information from League scouts, and it looks like someone else is on the same trail as us.” “How? What are the chances? Is it Driskell?” Bahjee chuckled and sat back again. “Perhaps. But remember, son, there are plenty of rumors about this magic. There have been for decades. Maybe longer. Just because we started looking doesn’t mean others haven’t been looking for longer, or that someone didn’t get the same idea we did when all of this Kysh Alliance business came out.” Teague leaned back, taking it in. “Well at least the Prime Minister’s focus has been drawn to his daughter and her sudden illness. He’s not pressing everyone so hard, and the archivists have naturally taken their work more slowly.” Teague shook his head, “What do we know about these other people?” “Not much. Just that there have been questions.” “Where did these questions get asked?” Bahjee smiled with bitter humor, showing his gold-capped canines. “Mainland Havalivala.” “Here in the capital or-“ “Calm down, Wally.” Bahjee’s low voice silenced him. “I have something more important to tell you tonight.” Teague held his tongue and sipped his coffee as Bahjee pulled something out of his coat. With unusual solemnity, Bahjee set a compass on the table. The face was cracked but it was the unique scrolling along the side of the gold body that sent a chill down Teague’s spine. Teague reached out and turned it over, revealing the League’s motto inscribed, just as he’d expected. Astra inclinant, sed non obligant. The stars incline us, they do not bind us. It had been years since Teague had seen that compass. His hand went to the sword at his belt reflexively. Without looking from the compass, Teague whispered. “What about Culpepper?” “He’s here. In the Havali.” Teague’s eyes shot up to Bahjee’s. “Here in Kasoji?” “Not yet. At least, not when he left this with a note addressed to Alambi at the Banestar Sanctuary.” “Direct to the second-in-command.” Teague wondered why Culpepper didn’t choose the League Commander himself but shook it off. “How long ago was this?” “About five weeks.” “He could be anywhere by now.” Fighting a wave of sweat, Teague asked. “What did the note say?” “It taunted the League.” Bahjee waved his hand. “Apparently Culpepper had stayed in Banestar for a whole week without the notice of any League agents. He was just rubbing their noses in it. But he mentioned that he would soon be in search of an archivist in the capital. A turn-coat foolish enough to use his own name on the mainland.” “He’s coming for me.” “And who knows what else.” Bahjee nodded. Teague ran his hands through his hair, coming away as greasy as he felt. He didn’t know whether it had been four or five days since his last bathing. He shook his head, he needed to get back to the barracks and think things over. After another deep breath, he opened his eyes with summoned clarity. “Using my legal name was a risk, but…” “No, don’t worry about it, I’ll leave one of the boys in town to keep watch for you. Maybe Candoo.” “You’re leaving? New orders?” Bahjee nodded. “Secret too, Alambi wouldn’t tell me what it was about.” Teague’s brows rose. “Alambi came down to tell you himself? It must be big.” Bahjee laughed, “Seems so. He gave me the compass and said to stay alert. Could be any day now.” He tilted his head with a rueful smile, “And apparently Culpepper has made some new friends in his years away. He seems to be traveling with a relative armada. Pirates and rogues from Onaona.” Teague nodded and stashed the compass in his satchel. A villainous armada on its way to cause untold damage on the hunt for Teague. Of course, Teague wouldn’t be the main goal, but he didn’t like being any part of Culpepper’s plans. “Keep Candoo.” Bahjee started to object but Teague held up a hand. “You’ll need the full crew if it’s something big. I’d go if I could manage.” Teague peered around the pub, dreading the days ahead, knowing nothing would be the same. “Maybe I’ll head back to the archives tonight and see if anything is out of place.” “Walden.” Teague looked to his captain, a small part of him pleased to hear the name Bahjee had given him when he was young instead of the one given by the Havali orphanages. “Keep an eye out, and don’t trust anyone. Just until you know more about Culpepper’s whereabouts.” Teague nodded. “I may not be able to come ashore again, so…” Bahjee stood and nodded to Teague. Teague stood and shook his hand. “See you by the Wayside, Captain.” Bahjee grinned and slapped Teague’s shoulder. Without another word or look, he lumbered out of the pub. After Teague finished his coffee, he made for the exit. It would be easy to sneak back into the archives in the middle of the night. Throwing the pub door open, the crisp night air cooled him, and the scent of fish was a welcome change. Breathing deep, Teague adjusted the strap of his satchel, feeling far heavier than before, and headed for the building on the hill overlooking the city. The grand building where he spent his days. The Hall of Archives. *** Present Teague was brought back to the train as it jostled. He put his hand on the hilt of the blade at his hip. The heat that bloomed at his touch grounded him in the moment. He’d made it out of the capital, and he was still on his captain’s mission. He reminded himself over and over until he felt that he could keep the façade of the dutiful archivist in place once more. Teague straightened and took a breath. Before leaving, he’d gone around to all the darkest corners of Kasoji and confirmed what Bahjee had said. Teague’s name, his real name, was floating around. Being whispered in all the wrong ears, all the wrong questions being asked. Culpepper was looking for him, but more importantly, Culpepper wanted Teague to know it. He hadn’t let himself think it yet, but he wouldn’t be going back to the capital. It was only a matter of time before someone made the connection between Teague Dubois, the archivist, and Walden Teague, navigator of the League ship The Dalliance. With a groan to silence his thoughts, he threw open the door to the hall. No matter what came next, he would face it. ***