The Leviathan -chapter 1

Synopsis

Hi everyone, I've started a novel that's been bouncing round my head for months now,
and would really appreciate some feedback.

In the ocean world of Bestirret, populated with hundreds of floating islands, The Leviathan emerges from the depths once per year to drag a lone island to its doom. Monopolising unbound political power, The Order prophesise what island is fated for death.


Brother and sister, Tay and Brienna live on Aven, this year’s fated island. Abandoning their home, each must make their way in a world striving to survive.

Tay must struggle to ride the hedonistic and cruel games of the royal court of Illan with Aven’s Queen Diora, as The Order and Royal Family battle for control of the Republic. But can a Vagabond Queen and his Royal Guardsman really endure the political battles that rage all around them?

Brienna will lose everything, captured by pirates and sold into slavery to the wasteland nation of Fiernag, this new money aristocrat will have to endure and scratch a living for her and her child daughter. With only the brothels offering a good living, can Brienna discard her morals to save her daughter?

Magus Legena. Acute, Crafty and Brilliant – the paramount wizard of his generation, Fails a test. Discarded and exiled by the Order, Magus seeks the help of his old mentor Utopias on the New Continent. But is there more than meets the eye, is there a conspiracy at the heart of the Order. Can Magus uncover this corruption that rules the Wizarding body, before he meets a strange (and fatal) accident?

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CHAPTER 1

The salty tang of the harbour air crept forlornly through her loose garments, spreading the sea’s mourning almost like a shroud for her forest home.

Savouring a lengthy breath of the morning air, brought refreshment and a rekindling of old memories from the once busy harbour side. Normal market days had had an almost physical weight of noises and smells; the bustle of the workmen; the pungent aromas of fishmongers hawking their wares; the constantly heated arguments of the Merchants - lords in their own little realms. Not since her days as a girl, when Brienna had scouted the Northern crags for filer crabs had she breathed the sea air this clean.
Surveying the empty stalls and vacant waves rushing against the harbour wall, Brienna sighed. There was little chance of a decent breakfast today. Rows of abandoned stands, some still sporting the forgotten goods of the fleeing townspeople ran the entire length of the wide harbour shoreline. In happier times the preliminary source of Aven’s commerce, until the noon winds could come to carry the suffocating warmth out of the town proper. Then the heart of the town, with its cafes and shops would open for the afternoon rush. Today was a true rarity for Brienna. To walk the early markets was something she was always glad to have given up; she’d always preferred her more sedate shopping trips, followed by long afternoon tea with her friends. The harbour was for the more uncouth customers to haggle and barter in their loud and ungracious ways.

But now that the last of the Trades ships had evacuated, anyone with skills or work on the island were gone. Brienna’s old lifestyle was meaningless now. What did it matter when and where she walked. Some final beggars from the streets, the Queen and her royal guard, and poor naive Brienna presented the last inhabitants of Aven Island. Rumours bantered amongst the destitute and abandoned that the Queen would flee tonight. A last chance at safe passage for Brienna and her daughter Dana, but it would be some hours yet until the Queen presided over her court this one last time. Time Yet for Brienna, time yet to put her plans into motion.

Pushing past the veil of sorrow that seemed to accompany the deserted Market stalls, Brienna resumed her hopeless search for any signs of life. She had awaked early to explore her dying town. One of the first to be colonised, Aven had had a long and successful history, if never achieving any greatness. Known in local waters for the best fishing grounds and a source of boundless quality timber, Aven had always fetched a strong market from opposing islands while attracting a diverse selection of products for the populace to enjoy. She felt like one of the Tutors from over at the Fosters’ school. The Histories and social and economical values of Aven came unbidden to her tongue wither she wished them or not. “...Luxurious in setting if not in export, Aven has all the pleasantries of upmarket society, but remains rural enough in trade routes and population such that its avoids the darker pitfalls of a more cultured settlement.” Brienna’s faint voice, calm as a whisper echoed disregarded into the empty streets. Here in the quiet, Brienna was finally alone - With only her memories of lesson gone by, as company to hold off her fears of the days to come.

“The cities are like a long dead tree. Strong and admirable once, but peel back that bark and you’ll see the beetles and woodworms munching underneath. Now Aven is still just a sapling. Beautiful in the now, and with gentle care, she’ll continue to grow straight and true, you listen to Me.” the past words rising unbidden, to Brienna shock at their clarity after so long.

Her father had taken great care to imprint from an early age, his Daughters’ great pride in the Forest Isle of Aven. A disgusting lesson at the time, but Brienna couldn’t help but smile at her father’s crude lecture. The faint wisp of the memory even returned the forgotten ending. Of father’s exemplary beetles and their unfortunate interest in Brienna’s youngest sister May, and the ill-fated floral headband she’d happened to don that day. Then Mother had banished Father back to his work, with “no more lessons till you learn to teach without making May cry!” 
Father’s lessons seemed so pointless now, but in the endless silence of the harbour, there was nothing to hold them back.

“They couldn’t cope without us, girls”, fathers continual lectures always started. “Best Timber in the Republic. Solid Garvi trees, hard as rock.” he’d say that and smile, banging the wooden handle of a random tool. Each handle glistening from its expert care that could only come from the hand of a master craftsman.

Brienna gave a dry snort into the empty harbour marketplace, her memories temporally elevating her mood on this dour morning. Her sisters had always gone along with anything father preached, a gaggle of trained geese her mother teased. Brienna as the oldest sister had considered it her duty to bicker back at her Father. Only fair - Keeping her locked in his sweltering forge while her ‘friends’ stalked the pick of Aven’s social gentry. A small warm smile crept into the corners of her mouth.

“If trees are so important, why do you work a Blacksmiths?” she retorted

Father had stilled, then pondered overlong, and when finally Brienna had opened her mouth to shout back,
“We all have our skills Brienna. Metal calls to me, like wood speaks to the carvers up Forst Lane. You’ll find a passion someday”. His tone was calm and carefree, but his eye carried his glint of amusement, while Brienna’s cheeks the rouge red of embarrassment and her suppressed anger at rising to the bait.

“If you weren’t repeating your daily sermon, I’d be out charming some rich Lord”, Brienna snapped. “When I’m the Lady of my own house, you can give all this up and come live with my Darling Husband and I. You can have the west wing”, Brienna stated formally, in the way she knew wound her father and Brother up to no end.

“My own wing, that’s right generous dear, but I’ll never leave my forge. I’ve two passions, my forge and my girls. You might change your mind too. Fancy dancing and your pretentious dinner’s sound fun now, but People crave more substance from their Lives”

Funny how he could be so right and so wrong all at once, Father’s forge lay cold a mere ten minutes from Brienna’s current path, a coldness matching only the ice now plaguing Brienna’s heart.
Her husband had left her here
No, that hopeful voice overruled, there’s a reason, there has to be. I’ll survive this and Jona will find me, he’ll explain everything and we’ll be so happy again. How could she even contemplate that her Husband could abandon her, she was getting so silly these last days. Jona would find her, He had to. She just had to escape. Nervous hands reaching in, Brienna clutched for her silver necklace - a constant pressure against her bare skin - reaffirming her resolve. Her wedding gift from Jona, it always brought a strong sense of her debonair Husband. She just had to escape, leave the only home she’d ever had, leave Aven. The wooden structures of Aven town were considered quaint on larger islands and on the continent, but Aven was an urbane, sophisticated society, abound with upmarket tea houses and pursuits of the arts. Was, she reminded herself - Aven was soon to be a memory, a past tense. Brienna couldn’t fight the renewed draw of despair at the knowledge all of this would be rubble. In years to come, if Aven was remembered at all, it would be a short reference at the bottom of some Wizard’s history book listing isles sunk by the beast.

This last week had really brought the truth home to her. With supplies and citizens depleting on a daily basis, each day had saw another shop or cafe close forever. She’d near cried the afternoon Tania’s tea house got boarded up before her very eyes. Tania’s house - always the freshest and juiciest gossip on stock, not to mention the most delectable strawberry pastries to be sampled in all of Aven.

“Please! You can’t!” Brienna had wailed. Her decorum shocked for a rare moment into sedation by yet another dreadful turnaround in an already despondent day. Her family gone, her friends fled or rebuking in nature. Her Husband...   

“Calm yourself Girl. What’s got into you?” Tania declared, with Brienna all but grovelling at her feet. The portly Hostess aggravated, her face taking on a greater rosiness as she jerked round to shake off pleading Brienna, while at the same time shuffling a crate of silverware further up under her well-built arm.

“I’d expect something like this from the riff-raff that hound that old scarlet’s Bar, but you girl. You more than any of your flittering ladies, I’d expect etiquette. I’d expect peace while I trundle all my worldly possessions off this ill-fated isle” 

But she wasn’t listening. Her mind was addled at the time “You can’t close, stop it. Stop it!”
She’d proceeded to throw herself at the pitiable waiter poorly trying to board up the once charming window sides. Looking back, she couldn’t even begin to decipher her logic that day. As she’d rushed - fingers clawing wildly at anyone in her path - trying to restore the houses possessions back to their former setting. 

“You’re not leaving. I won’t... I can’t...I...”

In the end, she’d been bodily removed. The waiters and kitchen boys having to drag Brienna over the graceful cobblestones of the town centre and ultimately dump her like the house’s waste. Screaming like a madwoman, only the splash of the unfortunately formed puddle of grimy rainwater that caught her disgrace brought any sort of sense back to her. That had been a bad day. The argument with the nanny had started it all - her rambling on about her own brood and family comes first- but she still couldn’t comprehend how she had fallen so low. It was a minute grace that no one well-heeled had witnessed her humiliation. Even still, Brienna had locked herself in her empty mansion for a day and a night before she’d dared remerge during the light of day - Only to find the town in an even greater source of turmoil. 

All this last week crowds of citizens had flooded the shopkeepers still in business. Brienna had found most often than not the shelves empty and the counters bare, by the time the masses spread and allowed her access. But the crowds had grown smaller sooner than the shops closed. More and more people had found routes off the island and Brienna had hoped her chances of acquiring the very basics would increase. The crowds gone, the town empty, she should be able to find food, plain simple food. She was really hungry. Having grown up well-off and then marrying above her station, Brienna just couldn’t comprehend simple hunger. It was a foreign sensation emerging from her stomach now, and she didn’t care for it one bit. How could it be that not one shop was still operating, one shop in the early hours of dawn still selling. Silence had claimed her town, as noisy grumbles had her abdomen.

Reaching the end of the pier, Brienna concluded there was definitely no one, not even the vagrants and the beggars were haunting the harbour. A fact Brienna never thought to hold any regret for. It was a strange sensation silence; even the natural sounds like the waves against the stone blocks of the harbour and the rustle of air through the distance trees seemed muted. Or maybe Brienna was just sulking in her gloominess, sucking what little colour still remained to her surroundings. Looking out at the final board ways, Brienna didn’t blame the underbelly of Aven’s populace for hiding inland. One last slave ship ghosted the edges of the pier, a final parasite, latched on and sucking the last drops of life from Aven.

She shuddered in the warm ocean breeze, recollections of the day her family left rising from a shared revulsion of the last ship skulking at the harbour quay. Her father had pleaded for her to join them that day, saying he’d pay any debt as long as she and his granddaughter came with them. It was the first time Brienna could ever recall her Father nearly spurned to rage.

“You Must! Don’t make me leave my precious girls here all alone. Please I beg you, come with us. There’s nothing left here for you. You must see it! He’s not coming Back!” her father pleaded, his desperation dragging him to his knees as he appealed yet again. His muscles tight with suppressed emotion as his fists clung to her dress.

Brienna had felt so proud turning him down. The gossips had been lamenting about the Blacksmith’s turn of fortune all week, shunning her in their tittle-tattle like her own status was diminished by simple family connection. Brienna knew well his circumstances.
 
Baring everyone’s burden, her father was a proud old foul. She had to stay and wait for Jona, but Brienna would have found the money to evacuate her family, if he’d only asked. As far as she knew, her father had marched onto the first of the Trades ships to dock in Aven and signed away his livelihood in an unnaturally quick deal. An apprentice or journeyman should expect several years of servitude and a pre-agreed Levi debt to book passage on one of the Trades ships, but a Master tradesman like her father should have been able to write his own ticket. Overheard News in the tea houses had stated Master Borus and Tern had got away with only six months a piece and a chance at a partnership with their Illanian Debt holders after their term was up, but Father had a lot of daughters, not to mention Aunt Olla and her brood. In the end to book passage for the whole family, Father had settled for years of service and a debt he’d never work off. Her mother had confided her worries one dreary afternoon, while father and Tay had manhandled the workable parts of his forge onto the ships. Father would work for a Master Oxen in the port city of Korra on the continent.

“...I don’t know how we’re to cope Brienna, I really don’t. Your father’s going to be working from dawn to dusk just to pay off our passage. How are we going to pay rent and buy food and clothes? What about your Sisters schooling and Holly’s suitor. Oh what’s to become of us?!” she’d wailed. Her mother tirade had battered on Brienna until the warming sun had crept unforeseen over the garden trees, finally ending the once morning talk with her Mother collapsing into her chair and crying into her shawl.

Brienna had tried to calm her down and talk things out rationally. Her sisters were too young to be any real support for her mother, but Brienna had wanted to do something for her parents. Personally she had never had to know her incomes and expenditures, what with Jona handling all his business accounts himself, but Brienna had still wanted to help. In the end she’d had to leave her mother to sort out her emotions on her own. That evening after a rushed search of her mansion, she’d hid all the spare coins and credits of referral she’d found in one of her mother’s spice jugs, somewhere her mother would be sure to discover. Father was too proud, but mother would make sure her family wasn’t begging on the streets of Korra before the end of the year.

They’d left soon after. Her family marching up the rails onto the ship, Father making sure he was last. He’d begged and begged as everyone boarded the ship, but Brienna couldn’t add to his chains, she refused to see her father work himself to death for her, and she had been so sure Jona would be back by now. But all the resolve in the world couldn’t stop that slice of fear through her heart, watching the bulky Trades ship ooze out into the darkening ocean, all her family but one disappearing from her life.

It was that night, with Dana already asleep. Her house had been so quiet. All her fears had beat upon her. Her father was gone, her brother busy attending in the castle and her husband still trading on the seas. There was no one, Brienna was all alone, not even a servant remained to help her. In the surreal shading of the monotone Midnight hours, her hope had faltered. In that dark world of her bedchamber, she could no longer envision her dashing Merchant Captain coming to the rescue like in the fables she told Dana. In the cold of night, she’d wrapped her and Dana in thick robes, panic causing her to leave everything behind and they had ran, ran to the sound of waves, to the dark silhouette of a slave ship. The snidely man that greeted them on board had ushered the two females down the stairs and into the hold. An uncomfortable pressure on her waist, as his grubby hand squeezed her flesh with crude abandon and his body leered vulgarly close to her own. It was dark, only thin beams of light from between the planks above allowing Brienna to see anything at all.

“An here we have the ‘guest’ quarters. Sorry there’s no sea view, but you’ll have plenty of friends to talk with. I know you classy ladies love you’re gossiping. And if your good, you can come visit me anytime”, his laughter grated through Brienna’s head, so cold and detached.

What would a man like this do to her, with no laws to hinder his whims? Shuffling forward, leaving Brienna to her dark musings, he drew into the dark and remerged with cold chains of grey. Shards of rust overlay remains too horrid to imagine. They rattled with such an unnerving chill in his callous hands, “Look how good you’ve got it; you even get some sparkly new jewellery.”

It was the smell more than the sights though, that brought Brienna back to her senses. Unwashed flesh and the accumulated odour of human waste mixed together and assaulted Brienna’s sanity. The stench was bad, but then it swelled so strong, like walking into a sea of decay. Sweat lined her clothes, her skin growing clammy, trying almost to repulse the heavy air all around it. She could taste it on the back of her throat – rotting and fetid. What was she doing, could she sign away her freedom, to live? She believed she could, for her daughter’s sake. For her sake Brienna would enslave herself, but not like this. The slaves, people of Aven too poor or useful to barter passage on the rich merchant ships or sturdy Trades ship had willingly handed their civil liberties over to these slavers, and here they were. Ragged shapes chained to the sides of the hold, most shied away from the sudden light of the Slaver’s lantern. Something turned deep inside her. Brienna pushed out with terror coursing down her arms. The slaver plunged into the blackness of the hold, which followed with muted grumblings of the nearly-human, as bodies tangled together in the void beyond Brienna’s sights. Bolting back up the ramp, half way out of her hell, only then did Brienna acknowledge the piercing sound all around her as her own screaming. Panic propelled her further through the ship, clutching the shivering hand of her daughter with a grip like death. The pounding of her heart matched the panicked beat of their feet against the solid wood. Darkness reached all around her and she couldn’t draw breath, her mind hiding terrors at every turn. Why had she done this to herself? Reaching the open, clean air of freedom, she didn’t stop, she couldn’t. Only when the familiar cobbles of the harbour and the soft warmth of the public lanterns brushed against her skin, did Brienna pause and tend her racing heart. 

“You’ll be back my lovely, some Brothel Madams going to give her left teat for hips like yours” the Slaver’s voice echoed out into the harbour night, his horrid laughter following after, driving Brienna further into the night.

Figures stepped out into the early morning light on the deck of the last slave ship. Brienna quickly shrugged out of her lurid past - brushing the cobwebs of past horrors from her mind - and came rushing back to the present, and then quickly dashing into the relative cover of the town proper. It wasn’t unheard of for Slavers to stop waiting for volunteers and just take what they wanted. Her brother Tay and the rest of the Royal guard would still enforce the laws of Aven, but on today, Brienna fears were they’d be too busy organising their escape. Shielded by the sturdy front of the buildings of Seaside Street, Brienna reduced her pace to a more sedate one. Walking back through the deserted lanes of Aven, her appetite now departed with her course of sweet and sour memories, Brienna detoured to visit her Family home. If all went as planned this would be her last day on Aven, one last day to soak in as much of her past as she could. With a pang of regret, Brienna wished she could travel once more to the Node, but deep in the island forest, Brienna had never managed without a guide. And today of all days was too important for her to get lost.

Opening the gate into her Family’s cottage, Brienna could already see the signs of abandonment. Her mother would have all sorts of delicious smells rafting through into the gardens and her sisters would be gossiping through the now empty windows. The door was locked. She had a key at her own home, her husband Jona’s Merchant Mansion in the new district of town, but she just didn’t have the will to go. Sitting down on her childhood porch, Brienna prepared to wait. Tay would save her. Brienna sat in the early morning light and reviewed her plans.

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The castle was pandemonium. Tay rubbed his head in this blessed moment of quiet he’d found. It was tight in the alcove, especially for a man of his build, but he was reaching his limits. He’d just never realised how much the pampered clerks actually did at court. With most of the servants already gone, the highest ranking official was General Horst. Horst predictably maintained the laws to the letter and guarded the Queen as she rested. That placed Tay, as second in command of the Royal guard at the eye of this maelstrom of dandied Dukes and fluttering court Damsels, as they flapped and crowed a multitude of commands. How did the upper class manage to dress themselves in the morning? Then remembering the elderly Lord Casker, Tay realised most couldn’t even manage that, without a horde of emotionless servants on constant call to fulfil every menial task.

The endless demands, most so simple but impossible with the limited resources Tay commanded, were slowly driving Tay insane. He was a soldier; he wasn’t built for work like this. They all wanted to take every priceless item they possessed and expected the parties and dinners to continue as usual, whilst in the background the workers dealt with the minor annoyance of the total destruction of Aven. Why wouldn’t they listen to him? There was only one ship; the queen’s own vessel ‘Racing Aven’, only one ship. The loyal supporters - backstabbers when it suited them - thought that waiting behind for their Queen was so noble. Tay had already had to endure a Ballard last night in honour of Lord Pol for his great sacrifice. It had something to do with losing out on a batch of wine or something like that. With Aven so close to its doom, the Dockmasters had stripped Aven off all official trade routes. All import had stopped with a suddenness which threw the pampered nobility. Fish and timber, Aven’s main exports soon became bland when they were all that was available. Now that the town had emptied and the Queen had been convinced to flee, all these extra pampered nobles were making it impossible for anything to be done. Tay hadn’t even had time to see if his family had gotten away. He’d received a letter last week from his father, outlining his deal to take his mother and all his sisters to Korra. Tay had just had to trust his father wouldn’t fail him.

“Second Taymous, Sir”

They’d found him. Looking up, Tay reviewed his latest tormentor, one of the few servants still here. Tay thought he was a treasurer’s assistant, but as a guard he generally looked for the enemy beyond, than within, so he couldn’t be sure. Horst would criticize him to no length if he found out. He always stated how a good leader must know each and every man under him,

“How can you know a man’s actions, if you know nothing of the man himself”

Of course, now with every sector of court life reporting directly to Tay, how did Horst possibly expect him to cope? 
The assistant looked haggard; black outlined underneath the man’s eyes matched the crumpled black uniform that marked him a servant in the castle of Aven. Tay was probably as weary in appearance as the drained servant so he didn’t press the issue.

“Sir, Lord Derris is reporting missing wardrobe from his rooms”,

The servant continued to supply Tay with every detail of this most serious interlude word from word from Lord Derris. This was ridiculous, not only was yet another dense noble creating a tempest out of a little squall, but here was a man, probably several times more qualified than Tay, reporting to a guard for orders. Sometimes the Republican laws could be so...

“Stupid!”, Tay barked and shot into a standing position.

He towered over the now clearly shaken servant, his black locks swaying back and forth across his eyesight. Tay had spent the last ten cycles of his twenty-six on this world, training as a guardsman. It was with this muscle and strength he pulled the terrified servant down the halls. The laws were going to get them all killed. If they progressed at this lengthy pace they’d still be dismantling the court by nightfall and then they’d have to wait for morning to set sail. Tay guessed there was more than a day until the Leviathan rose from the depths and dragged Aven down to its watery hell, but the Heralds had proclaimed Aven’s death before the next full moon. That was only five days away. Tay wasn’t going to die, knowing he died looking for some pansy noble’s evening jacket. 

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Magus was furious. It had been weeks, but the fury had only burned stronger. How could they do this to him? He was a progeny, all his teachers said so. Magus Legena, The youngest Wizard living to successfully bind a landship, and yet they’d failed and banished him. At ‘History’ of all subjects - his favourite focus, even after Professor Utopias had left to unearth ancient ruins in the New Continent, over a decade ago. His Landship skipped through the waves even now. That made three days of constant travel, another sign of Magus’s ability. The node was closer now, about another day by landship. Magus could already feel the mounting signs at the tip of his senses.

Aven, The Doomed Island- but the fastest route for Magus If he wanted to reach the New Continent before the cold cycle. Good job Magus would never have to travel these waters again. After Aven is lost, there would be an empty space on the south-western water routes of Illan. No Wizard would be able guide a landship over the distance, not even Magus. Serves the Order right, let them lose trade and have to go begging to the Merchants and their ‘wooden tubs’ as they so often sneered. Magus looked out into the blue of the day, as if he could push through the emptiness of sky and water and view the island beyond his sight. It was going to be close though, Aven had days left if that.

This was his first extended sea journey, he understood clearly now, how the madness could claim the unwary. Between islands, the waters just went on and on, fading into a bluish mist at the ends of Magus’s vision. He was a mighty wizard, but a shiver still travelled down his spine, he’d spent too long fuming out at the empty ocean. Magus left his peninsula and walked with the ocean breeze back into the heart of his island. Forest covered most of his landship, bringing a sudden feeling of security to banish the barrenness of the sea. Many of his Wizard colleagues preferred to clear their landships and build towers or other pretentious nonsense on the space. Magus had enjoyed the affinity with nature he felt sitting in his private forest, so had only cleared a small space in the centre for the node stone and a few basic residences. That left only one area, the rocky peninsula tip at the front of his island, for when Magus wanted ocean views and fresh salt air. Brushing through the wooded growth of the trees and shrubs, unchallenging with the path that was slowly forming from each journey, he appraised how to offset his island before Aven. The magic worked Node to node. With the large fully formed Nodes of the Islands as fixed points, Magus had already forged a travel link to Aven from its neighbour island of Devon. Wonderful things Nodes, unfortunately once finished their auras created dead zones for Magic, but also importantly fixed the islands in place. But that was basics, unlimited levels of building allowed numerous other abilities to be created. Magus had had no issue choosing Node-building as his speciality at the Order. Once again Magus wondered what the first wizards had wanted when they created the original nodes. Had they meant to create prisons to weaken and trap rebel Wizards, or did they always want to lock the islands in place, to prevent earth shakes and land breaks and other problems of old.
Magus’s status as a progeny had been born the day he created his own Node. Magus’s node was then fused with his island - one of many the Order acquired for their busy node-builders - but the final steps, forever repelling magic and forever locking the island in position were never done. If would have been a waste. His island was larger than a standard merchant ship, but not great enough to house a population.

Just as well, now that he’d been exiled, it was something at least that Magus could leave of his own means. Magus had used his node to move the Landship through the oceans, linking from Island to Island all the way down the coastline. Even a wizard as strong as he, couldn’t force the great mass of rock and ground that was his Landship to defy the laws of nature for long journeys. Wizards linked Node to node and their landships sped with great speed through the island cluttered oceans, to the envy of sailors everywhere. That was what he was taught in the Order. Since Aven was about to be a broken ruin of rock floating in the waves, Magus thought it wise that his island didn’t dock but came to a stop only in viewing distance of Aven.

The last shrubs parted and Magus stepped into the epicentre of the island. His node, a fragment of black onyx floated and turned serenely at the heart. Stepping onto the outer ring, Magus cautiously balanced over the concentrate circles of carved rock that focused the magic of the onyx into the island rock. Gingerly reaching for the stone, Magus swore and struck his hand back. The onyx burned with a cold fire. What was the node on Aven? It must be an onyx or something close for such a bond to have grown, Magus thought. The imminent destruction of a node was known to sometimes bring out rogue ‘emotions’ from the stones. He’d believed it was mostly nonsense, the idle work of Order researchers trying to get a grant at the academy. But Magus couldn’t deny that his own node had been strange these last couple of weeks. Reaching out both hands, making sure neither got too close to the black rock, Magus reached out with his mental eye and in through the onyx he reached out far across the ocean. Magus could see all the islands in the area, Devon three days back now, Aven just on his horizon and Ovan further on. Keeping the picture in the back of his mind, Magus developed a new image, where Aven was an hour north of the real Aven, then overlaying the two routes; Magus highlighted the fake and withdrew. The Onyx glowed an eerie green then returned to its rotation above the innermost circle of rock. If Magus was lucky he’d be long past Aven before the Leviathan stuck, if not he’d get one hell of a show - from a safe distance of course.         






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CHAPTERS 2, 3 & 4 + Prologue also available