The Clan of Outcasts [Season 3]

Part 20: "Guardianship"

A Distant Harbor, Three Years Prior...

Just keep moving, the young man thought to himself--although such a thing seemed impossible, with more objects and beings to impede their progress than clear paths through it all. Only someone with absolute confidence or no intellect at all would attempt to enter the vicinity of this particular port without an agenda or a destination in mind. All he had was a very specific desire, and a narrow window of time in which to achieve it. He ventured a glance over his shoulder, where one hand held the wrist of a small girl as they threaded their way through wagons, crates, herds of livestock, porters, merchants, and everything in between. Her steps stumbled and a passing cart full of steamer trunks nearly clipped her.
"Keep up!" He cautioned as he drew her in close, throwing his body between hers and danger and surrounding her with his arms. "We're almost there."
"It's no use!" she whimpered as she huddled against him. "They're going to catch us! We'll never be able to run far enough!" Her dark eyes fixed on his chin and her brow knit reproachfully. "Why did you have to sneak me out like that?"
He set his jaw, not trusting himself to meet her gaze. Because that place would have broken you, his thoughts ran. Because if I hadn't come, if we hadn't run... He satisfied himself with a tighter grip on her shoulder as he scanned the crowd for their pursuers. They didn't need to think about what would have been. "Listen to me closely," he whispered in a voice for her ears only, "as long as I'm alive, you are never going back to that manor ever again! We're not just leaving the city--we're leaving this continent."

The pair ducked behind a brightly-colored stream of well-dressed passengers just getting off a pleasure cruise. He kept his eyes fixed on those slouchy woolen hats that roved carefully through the muddle and noise, searching, waiting, combing for the missing servant girl. The farther they could get from those prying eyes, the better.

"Where will we go?" he almost missed her question.

He closed his eyes, shutting out everything but the dim purple glow that settled over the darkness behind his eyelids. The glow brightened, unfolding into the scene from his dream that had prompted the series of actions leading to this point: a glowing figure with a long white beard, and a string of stones glowing blue as brightly as the string of magical energy coursing through his skin glowed purple. He understood; he would know what this magic could do, how to harness the energy that had arisen inside the young boy's body one morning.
"Risyn!" The girl's frantic tone urged him to open his eyes. The purple streak glowed brightly in front of them, an enchanted thread only he could see. He looked down.

"I asked if you knew where we could go!" she reminded him. "Those men are getting closer to us!" She pointed over his shoulder, where the crowd had thinned somewhat, so the slouch-hatters had resumed studying all the heads below shoulder-level. Any moment now...

"This way!" Risyn hissed, guiding the small girl down the pier toward a large ship with plenty of sails, looking outfitted for particularly long journeys. Standing on the dock overseeing the transport of cargo onto his ship was a portly man with thick, grey hair, and a beard billowing down his chest.
"Excuse me!" Risyn called as they approached.

A black shape on the man's shoulder shifted and let out an ugly croak, and the man turned to face the pair. His eyes gleamed, and the sunlight reflected off his glossy red nose.
"Can I help ye, lad?" he asked.

Risyn nodded. "Are you the captain of this vessel?" he asked.

The bearded man nodded, while a burly giant of a man watched them keenly from the deck overhead. "I am--what business is it of yours?"

Risyn tilted his head, watching the purple thread extend down the dock in front of them and up the gangplank. Whatever awaited at the end of that thread, they would reach it with that ship--and somehow, deep inside his psyche, Risyn discovered that he already knew why. "You are destined for The Realm--and that is where I must go, as well."

The gleaming eyes narrowed, and the grey beard bristled. "I don't carry passengers, boy," he growled. "I don't suppose you're going to offer me money for a berth, just because we might happen upon the place you're wanting to go?"