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hou did not sleep the rest of that night. He toyed with attempting a summoning ritual to force Threnody’s return but Xiang Yi and Ebony discouraged him. The nature spirit had shown them no ill will and asked little in return. Instead, he stayed near the prow gazing off across an endless horizon of shimmering water. The moon set and for a time only the stars etched his surroundings in a tracery of shadows and silvery light. Mog stirred from sleep and clambered stiffly to his feet. His lanky frame was ill-suited to the boat’s cramped spaces and Zhou could only imagine the kind of pain he was in from being propped against the gunwales all night.
He felt gratitude for the tall mesmer and wished Lemony had come with him. He found the inseparable pair of friends soothing and there was far too much tension crackling among the people on the boat. All of them were beginning to fray at the edges, particularly Brigit and, therefore, Armand. Kitka’s crew were also anxious, and had been from the moment Threnody had given them the wind and current to sail swiftly. Now that they were abandoned in open water, it was as if everyone around him were braced to scream at the slightest provocation, some in rage and others in fear or sorrow. It did not help matters that Armand’s raw and undisciplined mind was inadvertently stirring the others up.
“Armand, I require your assistance,” Zhou said, still gazing off to sea. The man lifted his head amid of the wild flare of his golden mane.
“What do you want?”
“Armeh, no need t’ take tha’ tone w’ Master Bei,” Mog said, his patience also worn ragged. Zhou found it strangely amusing that the cramped quarters of a boat could aggravate a situation.
“I just asked a simple question,” Armand retorted.
“You have familiarity with Kryta that I lack,” Zhou said, “During the Guild Wars, I only had reason to enter Lion’s Arch and its surroundings once while I was enroute to Ascalon.”
What he did not say was that he had also been a prisoner of war and he was not given much opportunity to see the sights. In fact, moving his guild to the island off the coast had been oddly disconcerting given his past history. He still felt uneasy setting foot in Lion’s Arch despite all the years that had passed since he had come there in chains. Armand glared at him as if to imply Zhou had darker reasons for questioning him. He stood at Zhou’s side and nodded.
“What do you want to know?”
“I have an old map of the region. It was drafted before Orr was destroyed. I thought perhaps you could look it over and note where there are towns, possible portal locations, and what types of creatures might be encountered in the wilder regions.”
Armand hesitated, seemingly shocked that he might be asked to do something useful.
“I suppose I could do that,” he replied, the anger fading from his voice.
“Good, I think it will prove useful before we reach the end of this journey. If you could ask Kitka to mark where we are relative to her navigation charts, I would be most grateful.”
Zhou moved toward his bags and rummaged around within a sealed coffer where he kept his current journal and the box containing his brushes, quills, and inks. He gave Armand the best of his quill pens and the small bottle of sepia, then drew the old map from its scroll tube. The two of them knelt on the deck to spread it out with ornate map weights. He handed Armand a sheaf of clean papers and rose.
“Feel free to ask the crew if they have any additional items to contribute.”
Armand nodded, staring fixedly at the complex lines and textures that represented coastlines and forests. The first pink light of dawn made the dark sepia lines stand out from the aged parchment. Zhou left him to it, grateful he had found a useful means of keeping the man preoccupied. Already he felt a little of the tension among those around him diminish. Even Brigit relaxed and sat down beside Armand to hold his left hand while he scrawled industriously with his right.
Mog was watching him, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips as if to acknowledge that he knew what Zhou had done and appreciated it.
“I don’ know what’s eatin’ ‘im lately.”
Zhou shrugged.
“One can run for many years before the carrion birds of the past come home to roost,” Zhou said quietly as he went toward the prow with the tall mesmer.
“Aye, ye would know, I fancy.”
Zhou nodded.
“Should I play me pipes fer Threnody, then?”
“Yes, it may be worth a try. She answered to you first. My hope is that she will return when she is done with Teleri’s errand.”
“What d’ ye reckon happened t’ th’ lass?”
Zhou gazed out over the sea, silent for a time.
“I suspect we will know soon enough. I do not wish to speculate.”
“Aye, Master Bei, I understan’.”
He was glad when Mog busied himself with the strange musical instrument and found the man’s calm, methodical assembly and tuning of the pipes soothing. Then the music began, an old tune from the heart of Ascalon about a man who had been taken away and murdered by bandits. It was a tale of simple grief and failed vengeance and he found his throat tightening in grief. Given what he knew to be the truth of Pendaran’s situation it was uncomfortably apt and perhaps that was why Mog had chosen the song, a gentle offer of catharsis and a sign that he did understand.
The song trailed off as the sun rolled above the distant purple hulk of land. The becalmed sea stirred and the rhythmic clicking and splash of breeching dolphins encircled the boat. The sailors jumped to their feet to trim the sails as the wind suddenly caused them to billow and rustle. The boat shuddered to life and in an instant they were away.
“Can you see her?” Zhou asked Mog as the man nudged the bellows under his arm and refilled the bladder in preparation for another song.
“Aye, she swims below them, below us.”
Zhou leaned over the prow and gazed down into the translucent depths. The water was crystal clear and he could see the graceful forms of the dolphins weaving and bobbing in the wake. The sounds of their breaths punctuated the stillness and once more a few leaped clear and sailed through the air. Closing his eyes he reached out for her with his mind and sensed her immense, ancient presence like a hand poised to strike him down. She remembered him and not favorably.
“Will she talk to you?”
“Aye.”
“Does she know what befell Teleri?”
Mog set aside his pipes and clutched the railing, bracing himself as he reached out to her with his mind. His face grew strained and his blue eyes flashed open. A stricken expression replaced his initial alarm and emotion caused his face to grow ruddy.
“No, it cannot be,” Mog whispered, “She were asleep n’ Penny lad is holdin’ her. He looks a terrible sight… but it’s ‘im. Threnody is hurrin’, says we will fin’ ‘im in th’ hour… but it’s wrong.”
Zhou frowned.
“Wrong? What does she mean?”
“She won’ talk now. She’s grievin’.”
As if to emphasize this, the very timbers of the boat shuddered with an unearthly cry from the waters beneath them. The keening wail rippled through the pod of dolphins and the creatures leapt free of the water before peeling off in many directions and vanishing below the waves. Now Zhou saw Threnody at last and trembled. Her serpentine body curled effortlessly through the crystalline water, her opalescent scales shimmering with rainbows and captured starlight. Dragon-formed, she moved as if in flight, grim and sinuous, her form inspiring awe.
One of the crewmen knelt on the deck and made supplications to the dragon, a primal gesture that was soon followed by the others, even Kitka. After the initial panic was spent, Xiang Yi and Ebony came to the prow and looked upon their mystical guide. Mog began to play as if shaking free from a spell and his music served to soothe them all.
The distant gray shore darkened and became lush with vegetation. Pale waves and sand etched a shoreline. Threnody slowed her pace and soon the swells brought them gently to rest on the golden sand as they made landfall. Threnody curled amid the breakers, her movements reminiscent of the waves striking the shore. Her keening cries rent the air once more and she seemed frantic, unable to leave the sea but desperate to go ashore.
“It is not far,” Mog said, translating Threnody’s cries for she no doubt spoke into his mind now. Zhou nodded and instructed everyone to bring light burdens so that they could move quickly. One by one they jumped over the gunwales and landed in the shallows, wading ashore stiffly.
His legs felt weak as he worked his way up the beach to the threshold of the steaming jungle. The air was rich with moisture and the scent of decay. Misty rays of sunlight pierced the dense canopy, highlighting the rich translucent green carpet of freshly emerged ferns.
“What is that?” Armand murmured, having ventured into the forest to pause at the top of the rise so that he could gaze down into the woodland. Brigit lowered her axe and knelt.
“Druid,” she breathed, “Do not show it your anger or weapons. They are guardians of the forest, human souls who have shed their bodies and given themselves wholly to Melandru.”
Zhou moved quickly to stand beside them and look upon the translucent spirit for himself. The hunched figure had features of both animal and plant and towered over the forest floor as if it had grown there. It shimmered and a damp wind curled up over the thick forest duff as if it breathed upon them. Slowly it turned, its four legs rooted to the soil and its wedge-shaped head tilted toward them.
It was then he saw the druid guarded something and he drew closer, his steps slow and measured. He did not sense any malevolence from the being, only a sad relief that they had arrived and its duties would be done. His throat clenched in revulsion as he smelled decaying flesh and a cloud of flies erupted from a corpse. Then at last he saw Pendaran lying on his back, the still form of Teleri having fallen against his side so that her golden hair spilled out over his breast. Her face was ashen and peaceful as her head rested upon Pendaran’s shoulder, her arm across his belly in a last embrace.
“I have healed him,” said the strange whispering voice of the druid, its eyes like moons as it gazed down upon Zhou, “I have given him sleep that he might not dream for many days.”
“Teleri?” Zhou whispered.
“That was once my name. Do not be sad, I am free of pain and sorrow. I will serve now until the wind and rain wash away my memory and I may be reborn anew.”
He knelt at Pendaran’s side, looking upon him in mute horror. His flesh was defiled by strange scars and burns, dark symbols that were terrible and familiar. Though his gaunt face was at peace, the fact that he had known intolerable suffering was etched all over him in lurid violet sigils that scored his legs and breast.
“Pendaran,” he breathed, his words choked off by emotion, “I’m so sorry. Gods, I am sorry.”
Xiang Yi was beside him and Ebony had taken charge, quietly directing the others to gather up Teleri’s body so that they could bear Pendaran away. The moment he was unburdened, Zhou gathered him up into his arms and held him, weeping as he imagined all the grief and horror his beloved friend had known.
“I’ll do whatever I can,” he whispered, “I will not rest until you are whole. Please do not die on me. Not now. Not after everything you have endured.”
Xiang Yi gently squeezed Zhou’s shoulder, indicating that he wished to see to Pendaran. The monk drew a light sheet around Pendaran’s tormented form and the resemblance to grave cloth renewed Zhou’s anguish. His friend looked dead, and by all visible signs, lingered upon Grenth’s threshold. Teleri had anchored him to the material plane, but her sacrifice could still fail if he did not receive care soon.
He watched the drama unfold, faintly aware that Mog and Brigit had found some poor wounded creature among the rotting corpses. Overcome with grief, he numbly watched the two of them take supplies from Xiang Yi’s pack to attend to the forlorn figure of a centaur. The creature was dull with shock and pain, barely responding as they saw to its wounds and tried to bring it succor.
“There is a portal across the channel,” Armand said, kneeling down beside Zhou. He could not see the man’s expression through the blur of tears but for once there was gentleness where only anger and resentment had resided between them, “Here, I’ll show you on the map. If Threnody is willing, we might be able to reach it by noon and you can take Pendaran home that way.”
He followed Armand numbly back to the boat, forcing himself to move past Xiang Yi and Pendaran. He felt useless and helpless. And he could not shake the feeling that he was to blame.
Armand provided a welcome distraction once they were back on the boat. As he watched the Tyrian mesmer show him where they were on the map and trace out the little specks of islands that resided off the coast, he recovered his composure.
“How do you know there is an old guild hall there?” Zhou asked when Armand finished his description of the largest of the islands.
He shifted uncomfortably and shrugged.
“I… lived there for a while.”
“It’s abandoned now?”
“It was when I left,” he murmured, his eyes downcast. Zhou sensed a mixture of pain and anger welling up within the man.
“I can go ashore and find the sigil with Xiang Yi if you can give me a rough idea where it is on the island. There is no need for you to follow.”
He sensed that Armand had not wanted to tell him about that place, had feared going near it, that even being in its vicinity was difficult.
“Thanks,” Armand said, “and I mean that… I know I’ve been horrible to you. I’m sorry. Here, I’ll draw a map.”
“Thank you,” Zhou replied, “That means a great deal to me.”
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