Mark of the Fool
Chapter 679: The Siren's Gratitude

“We’re in your debt!” Fan-Dor leaned across the table in the portside taproom as a tall hearth cast flickering light across the selechar’s face. The ship’s captain slid a foaming tankard of ale to Alex. “Three cheers, for Alex Roth! The best wizard that ever set foot on the Red Siren!”

A roar of approval erupted from a grateful crew now filling the taproom to bursting.

“Uh,” Alex muttered. “Thanks!”

“‘Uh, thanks’, he says?” Gel-Dor laughed. “The hero of the hour says ‘uh thanks’? That’s all?”

“Humble man!” Fan-Dor said. “Let’s see if we can’t get this humble man so drunk, he won’t be able to walk again!”

Another cheer ran through the tavern, one so infectious, its few patrons and the barkeep grinned, seeming ready to join in.

After the harrowing trip through the stormstruck Prinean, Captain Fan-Dor with help from Claygon, and Alex’s summoned monsters, managed to dock the Red Siren in Generasi’s port. Waves battered the ship during the docking, preventing Fan-Dor from dropping the gangplank, so Alex obliged the crew by taking them ashore in threes and fours until everyone was safely on land.

A very grateful Fan-Dor had thrown his arms around the broad-shouldered wizard and half-dragged, half-carried him to the nearest dockside tavern.

And that’s where—still high on living through their wild battle with the storm—the crew of the Red Siren celebrated, seemingly intent on emptying every cask in the place.

Alex nursed his beer, his mind still mulling over everything that had happened.

There he’d been, alone in the sky, practising teleportation while mentally preparing for his appointment with the wizard council. The next moment, he was on the Red Siren with first mate Gel-Dor and Captain Fan-Dor—two people he hadn’t seen in ages—fighting an angry lightning and thunder storm.

Through magic, might, Claygon’s power, and everyone’s will…they’d beaten it. He was still excited when he’d teleported Claygon back home to tell Theresa and Selina what happened, and even now, sitting around the table with the Red Siren’s crew, he felt ready to burst with pride.

‘This is magic!’ he thought, taking a long sip of ale.

All around him, the crew whooped and cheered his name as the beer flowed.

‘This is what being a wizard is all about!I saved people and beat a bloody storm! How amazing!’

His chest and shoulders began shaking with giddy laughter as he replayed the events in his mind: the lightning, the wind, the summoned monsters, the magic…Claygon.

It was all straight out of tales that bards told about wizards, the type of stories he used to love as a boy.

But now?

He was the wizard doing incredible deeds.

It felt good.

If he was going to be pushed out of the city tomorrow, and this was his last act in Generasi…well, it was an act he was proud of.

“You did well!” Fan-Dor laughed. “You saved all our lives! And our livelihoods too!”

“Oh, come on,” Alex said, being humble. “I’m sure you’ve run into storms before.”

“We have,” said the selachar captain. “But every single time was a trial right from Ek-u-Dari,herself. Before I owned the Siren, there were two other vessels I sailed on that sank in bad weather. We’ve even had close calls on the Red Siren. We probably wouldn’t have wrecked,but I doubt we woulda made it out of that storm without damage. And I’m not too keen on a word like ‘probably’ when we’re talking about the health of my ship and crew. So, there you have it!”

His calloused ham of a hand clapped on Alex’s shoulder. “You and your fancy magic saved us in my book, which means, my friend, it’s time to drink!”

Another cheer spread through the bar, followed by guzzling noises as dozens of sailors chugged back steins of foaming ale. Alex drank, slamming his empty tankard on the table.

“You can really put it away,” Gel-Dor slapped him on the back. “Pretty impressive for some fancy wizard.”

“And he’s still a student to boot!” Fan-Dor roared with laughter, waving at the barkeep. “Another beer for our friend here! Didn’t know they taught drinking in that damned university, but if he needs extra lessons, let’s make sure he’s got the right teachers!”

The barkeep nodded.

Alex laughed. “My good captain, of course the university of Generasi doesn’t teach us how to drink…but how in all hells do you think we relax between classes?”

“Hah! Fair enough! What’s that old expression? ‘Work hard and play hard’?” the selachar captain said.

“Something like that.”

“Well, we can see you have the ‘working hard’ part down.” The first mate said, moving aside so the barkeep could drop another sloshing tankard in front of Alex before hurrying back behind the counter. Gel-Dor snorted. “I remember the first time we took you and your family aboard the Siren. That was a bit more than two years ago now, wasn’t it? You were this gangly young fella with two left flippers and a little bit of magic.”

“Thanks, Gel-Dor,” Alex said sarcastically. “That makes me feel great.”

“Well, it should!” Captain Fan-Dor gestured at him. “Look at ya now. You’ve completely changed! It’s like you’re a different man! You look like you could lift a great white shark like it was nothing—” Fan-Dor flexed his own arm. “—you’re as sure of yourself as any admiral, just from the way you threw around all that magic. You didn’t even hesitate!”

“It was something,” Gel-Dor agreed. “You were flying around like some blasted seabird, you saved our man’s life, and you had those monsters doing what you needed like a general from an old sea tale.”

Alex felt his face flush as red crept up his cheeks. He was getting used to being praised, but hearing it from Fan-Dor and Gel-Dor—the two adventurous, experienced sailors who’d taught him the the Spear-and-Oar Dance—made him feel a little self-conscious.

‘I look up to these two,’ he thought. ‘They pretty much took us under their wings on the Red Siren, especially when that mana vampire tried to kill me. And here they are, treating me like I’m some conquering hero. It’s wild.’

He smiled, draining another half a beer while looking around the taproom.

His thoughts drifted to tomorrow and what the day could mean, what the council could say.’

“Now hold on, why do you look like a seaside widow all of a sudden?” Captain Fan-Dor said. “You got a look on your face as deep and dark as that storm…and it came on faster, by Ek-u-Dari! I won’t have it! The hero of the hour can’t be down or I’m gonna be down, and there’s no sense in being down when someone just saved your life!”

“Sorry,” Alex said. “It’s just…”

He paused, looking at the first mate, the captain and their crew.

Most were leaning forward, foreheads creased with curiosity.

‘The hells with it,’ he thought. ‘My secret’s gonna spread soon enough, so I might as well be the one that tells it.’

And he did.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Alex told his story.

He told them of the Ravener, the Mark and his destiny as decided by the god of his people…he left out the part about that god being dead. He shared what his family’s life was like in Generasi; he spoke of the friends he’d made, the challenges he’d faced, and the battles he’d won and lost.

Almost unconsciously, he channelled the Mark, using it to improve his storytelling; it guided his voice, tone, and volume, helping him reveal his tale so grandly, that he actually felt like a bard holding an audience spellbound with a story. His friends, mentors, family and cabal mates became as captivating as any legendary figure told of by bards who’d travelled through Alric when he was younger.

He told of the Traveller, singing her praises in a voice that echoed through the rafters. From Hannah’s story, he revealed how she’d dedicated her life to ending a cycle of endless violence. It was the joining of myth and truth; it was a tale worthy of a goddess, and he told it not just with words, but with his heart, his body and his soul.

The sailors seemed spellbound, their attention held to the end of his story when he spoke of the battle that lay before him:

“—and so, at noon tomorrow, it’ll all be decided: they’ll tell me whether I’m allowed to stay in Generasi, or have to leave to go fight Ravener-spawn. I won’t be doing that, no matter what, even if I have to teleport jump by jump to the ends of the earth. And if I have to run again? I won’t stop trying to end the Ravener forever. Something like that doesn't belong in the world.”

As his last words rang through the bar, Fan-Dor abruptly tossed back another tankard of ale, slamming down the empty mug, then pointing at Alex. His hand shook. “Now that was a story, my friend! But, tell me, was it all true?”

“Every word,” the young wizard nodded, hardly believing it himself. Every word was true, yet felt like somebody else’s life. In many ways, the tale seemed like it couldn't be his; the story of an orphaned baker’s assistant from Alric, and the incredible people he’d shared journeys, battles, magical studies and more with.

And yet, Alex, the baker’s assistant from Alric—Alexander Roth—was exactly who it was about.

He shook his head, his thoughts wandering. “I can hardly believe it now that I’ve told the whole story—front to back. But the question isn’t whether you or I believe it, the real question is whether or not the ruling council of wizards will believe it, and will they value me enough not to try to turn me over to priests.”

“Well, they’re gonna hear from me!” Captain Fan-Dor suddenly shouted, tankards of ale making his volume rise. “There’s no way that my bloody saviour’s gonna be cast out of his home like some flotsam after a storm. No bloody way! I’ll tell your story to every tavern rat, scow sailor, and fancy captain all over the docks.”

In the rear of the bar, the silent barkeep was nodding in approval.

It seemed that even he had been pulled into Alex’s tale.

“The telling won’t be as good as yours—but, we’ll tell it all the same!” Fan-Dor declared.

Gel-Dor rolled his eyes. “Brother, the meeting’s tomorrow at noon. Even if we went around all day and all night, there’s no way our story’s going to make a difference…but maybe what we could do is go to city hall and submit a petition to speak up on your behalf, Alex. If the wizard council are the ones deciding your fate, they should know what you did for all of us. A man shouldn’t save as many lives as you did and not have that recognised!”

“Here! Here!” Fan-Dor cried, raising another glass. “I mean, that way of doing things is more stodgy than I’d like, but probably more useful. I hate you when you’re right, brother.”

“Then you must hate me every moment you’re awake,” Gel-Dor said evenly. “And when you’re asleep too.”

“Hah! Cheeky bastard!” Fan-Dor grinned, slapping his brother on the shoulder before turning to the rest of their crew. “Looks like we’re going to the fancy city hall, right?”

“Aye, aye, captain!” the crew agreed as one.

Alex put a hand on his chest, moved by the sailors’ support. “I…I’m touched, I truly am. Normally, I’d say something like ‘you don’t have to do all of that for me,’ but—honestly—I think I need all the help I can get.”

“And get it you shall!” Fan-Dor cried. “Now, then. Enough talk. We’ve got a lot of drinking to do, followed by a lot of petition—” The captain paused, his eyes narrowing. “—wait, it won’t look too good showing up at city hall drunk. Maybe, this calls for a change of plans then! One more round for us, and then we go make sure that Alexander Roth is a name that stays in Generasi!”

“Alex! Alex! Alex!” the crew of the RedSiren chanted the young wizard’s name.

He stood up, going around the bar, shaking hands with every single person there in appreciation; recognising that even at this dark time, he was lucky. Feeling more hopeful, he returned to his seat, sipping his last beer for the evening with the crew of the Red Siren, exchanging stories and laughter before going their different ways.

There were sailors who’d asked him to tell them more about the Traveller and her miracles.

Even First Mate Gel-Dor was curious. “Listen, my loyalty will always be to Ek-u-Dari, but if there’s another goddess of travel—a kind one who we can pray to as well? Damned if I won’t include her in my prayers and sacrifices.”

The Traveller’s followers grew in number that evening.

All in all, the day had actually turned out to be a good one for Alex. He’d learned how to teleport through a raging thunderstorm, practised fifth and sixth-tier summoning spells and directed the conjured entities, saved lives, spent time with old friends, and gained allies eager to speak on his behalf. He would be better armed than he’d expected to be for his battle at noon the next day; for the next storm he’d be facing.

But that storm—and his trial—was going to begin earlier than he expected.

And in ways he had not accounted for.