Page 28 of Fate of Echoes and Embers (Heirs of Elydor #3)

MAREK

She was a true sailor now.

As the sun began to rise, I alternated between watching our course as we approached the rocky cliffs of the Gyorian coast and watching my slumbering companion.

Sailing well into the night together, after talking much like we had when I first came to Hawthorne Manor all those years ago, I’d encouraged Issa below deck.

But with the turbulent waters, I couldn’t join her so she opted instead to rest “for a moment” against the ropes where she promptly fell asleep.

I’d considered waking her but couldn’t bring myself to do it. There was a comfort having her up here with me. How often had I sailed alone, never once wishing for a companion? After managing a crew as Navarch of the Tidebreaker Fleet, when not on mission for the crown, I preferred to be alone.

Until last eve.

“I fell asleep.”

“You did indeed,” I said, gesturing, as Issa rubbed her eyes, to have her join me at the wheel. “And just in time.”

“Oh my!”

I watched her expression change from sleepiness to pure wonder. It was like seeing the sun rise over the magnificent Gyorian cliffs for the first time.

“Spectacular, is it not?”

“When you said we were sailing into a stone city, I didn’t realize how serious you were.”

“Grimharbor is unlike any other port. Unlike most coastal settlements, it was built into the rock itself, its tunnels, terraces, and massive stone arches forming a unique infrastructure. It’s a crucial hub for Gyorian trade, particularly in minerals and gemstones.

As you can see, its natural barriers make it difficult to approach undetected. ”

“It will be safe, for us?”

“Safe enough. We’ll be going in through the Black Docks which are only accessible at this time of day. Oftentimes, we’re forced to anchor and wait for morn for entry.”

“What are the Black Docks?”

“I assume they’re named from the black-sand beaches, but it’s a tricky bit of winding inlet carved into the cliffs, favoring… discreet travelers looking to avoid unwanted attention.”

“Discreet travelers.” Issa chuckled. “You have more names for smugglers than a human with a Gyorian bounty on their head.”

“An apt analogy,” I said sardonically as Issa headed below deck. “Gather as many of your belongings as you can. I have little notion how long we’ll be docked here until Kael and Mev send word.”

Issa saluted me—more like a mock salute—as she disappeared from view. By the time she rejoined me, Tidechaser had entered the inlet, towering cliffs rising on both sides. She was quiet, watching me, gasping more than once, until the docks came into view ahead.

“I thought we would surely crash into the mountains,” she said as I navigated the ship to dock. “Why didn’t you use magic?”

“Gyorians have little respect for Thalassari sailors who are unable to navigate these cliffs using magic alone.”

Issa had changed, re-braided her hair, and looked every bit like the human warrior I had first met.

I’d wanted to kiss her all morn, but it wasn’t until the ship was docked and I gathered my belongings that I gave into the urge.

Emerging from below deck, she was waiting for me, leather satchel in hand, staring at the harbor.

It was quite a sight, I would admit. As elsewhere in Gyoria, many were dressed in deep greens and browns, often embroidered with patterns of vines and stone.

Buildings with intricate stone carvings that told stories of past battles and legendary warriors surrounded us.

The scent of earth and damp stone filled the air, mingling with the occasional waft of roasted meats and spiced ale from nearby taverns.

“We’re no longer in Aetheria, aye?”

She spun around at the sound of my voice.

“I’ve only been along the human Gyorian border, in the midlands. This is… incredible. But scary too.”

I reached out and took Issa’s satchel. “You are safe with me.” Leaning forward, I was pleased Issa did not rebuff my kiss. Each time she allowed me close, it felt as if I’d been given a gift. One I had no intention of wasting. Her lips were soft and welcoming, like coming home after a long journey.

“I would say this is unusual for you Marek, but…”

Groaning inwardly at the words, if not the voice, I broke the kiss and stood back from Issa. Not surprising, she gave me a look of disappointment. Encouraged that she cared, but cursing the interruption, I introduced the two.

“Ilyas, meet Lady Isolde of Hawthorne Manor. Issa, this is Ilyas Rho.”

With a fist over his heart in greeting, Ilyas was clearly surprised. Admittedly, Issa was not typical of the women who could be found in this port, or any like it. Even for a human.

“A noblewoman,” he said as Issa greeted him in kind, a sign of respect in Gyoria.

“You evidently received my message?” I asked, picking up my satchel and carrying both off the ship as Issa followed.

The dockworkers had secured the gangplank we walked across, and not surprisingly, we were eyed with suspicion.

It had been some time since I’d visited this port, and though a network existed for me here, it was less used than most others.

I preferred to avoid Gyoria whenever possible, as most Elydorians had begun to do these past years.

“I did. And have alerted Adren to your arrival.”

I watched as Issa look upward in awe at the massive fortress built partially into the mountain.

“The Warden’s Hold,” Ilyas told her. “Local leaders and their families live there.”

“Wardens,” she murmured. “They enforce Gyorian law.”

“And oversee trade here.” His eyes narrowed on her. Though I trusted Ilyas with my life, having saved his once, he was Gyorian. And always had an ulterior motive.

“What is that?” she asked, indicating the market’s entrance to our right.

“The Veiled Market,” Ilyas responded.

With his classic Gyorian traits, dark hair and deep-green eyes, he was unusual in this clan for the approachable warmth in his gaze. Smaller than most Gyorians, he was wily and strong, but not overly intimidating, with exception of the battle scars etched along his arms.

“It continues underground. Rare minerals, magical stones, and earth-infused weapons, among other things, are traded there. Marek can take you but I’d not venture into the marketplace alone. It would not be entirely safe for a human.”

Issa’s grimace was warranted.

“Don’t take offense,” I said. “The Veiled Market isn’t a safe place for any Elydorian not accustomed to its more… unusual dealings.”

Issa opened her mouth but I stopped her, knowing every word we spoke was being overheard. Gyorian smugglers were notorious for their ability to blend with a crowd while gathering information. “I will explain later.”

Gyorians were not normally a talkative bunch, but Ilyas was an exception.

Born into a noble family, he was less war-mongering than his parents and thus an outcast to them.

Preferring to operate on the fringes of society, he had lived more than two hundred years learning, over time, to navigate the tricky business of being a friend to all despite the growing anti-human, and Aetherian, sentiment.

As we walked, he explained the origins of the port to Issa, who seemed equally enthralled and a bit in awe of the town built into a mountainside.

When she stopped to inspect a patch of flowers growing from the side of the cliff, with a wave of his hand, Ilyas doubled the number of flowers, an easy trick for a Gyorian, but one Issa seemed to enjoy.

“Here we are,” he announced as our unusual group that had garnered more than a few sets of stares arrived at our temporary new resting place. If not for Issa, I’d have remained on the ship, but she deserved a real meal, bath, and a bed.

“Virdelan’s Rest,” she read on the wooden sign hanging from the inn nestled into the side of the cliff overlooking the sea below. “A strange name.”

Made from dark stone, with heavy, wooden doors and narrow windows that let in little light, it was set apart from the port town, as private as we could get in Grimharbor.

“It was named after an ancient Gyorian hero,” Ilyas said.

“Known for his diplomatic efforts between the Gyorian clans and humans, he helped to establish safe passage routes fostering rare moments of peace and mutual respect during a tumultuous time. This location was said to have been one of his final stops. After his death, a fading he had long desired after so many years of war, this became a haven for non-Gyorian travelers of a certain… breed.”

“I understand,” Issa said with a glance toward me. She didn’t seem to judge, though. It was a mere statement of fact, as if the friends and network I’d made throughout the years weren’t as appalling to her as they perhaps should be.

We stepped inside, the air smelling of salt and iron. Dimly lit sconces cast flickering shadows across the walls. The floors were worn stone, the furniture sturdy but unadorned. Its main room featured a large hearth and was filled with quiet conversations in hushed tones.

“I leave you here,” Ilyas said. “To await your guest. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Isolde.”

“And yours,” she replied genuinely as the proprietor, a woman said to be a descendant of Virdelan himself, greeted Issa.

“Ilyas,” I said stopping him, whispering a request into his ear.

With a nod, he left us to settle, as comfortably as was possible for a human and Thalassari deep in Gyorian territory.