Karolus and Stella talked back and forth on the divinity involved in keeping ones soul going in their bodies. Yes the halfling could do it but it took a lot out of her and would cost a piece of herself to do so. 

He had calmed and understood, before apologising for his outburst. The stresses on his body and mind had him frustrated. 

The cleric had also reminded him several times in the conversation that Glen isn't strictly dead, more that their soul was imprisoned to a horrible bastard. Stella’s poetic nature had made him smile.

Karolus spent most of his time at the aft of the ship. Looking forwards made him feel steady, no more twisting paths through the highland forest. Just a straight line across the sea.  

Tarik had offered a lesson but the highlander refused. In truth he was still embarrassed at the ease the warrior had defeated him. Not a blow landed and hardly a breath had. Saying Tarik was skilled was an understatement. 

Maybe spending some time with the Nabbatan fighter would help. Galwyn had always told him that every aspect of life was a lesson. 

Out of his periphery he saw a squirrel on the railing staring at him. Smiling he stroked it, the creature leaned into it. 

“Yina.” he said gently.

All of a sudden the squirrel grew and changed into the halfling druid, now sitting on the same railing. Light green dress looking like a crumpled leaf.

“How’d you know?” her hazel eyes sparkled with youth and curiosity. Which made a change from them showing her true age.

“We are out at sea, I'm no druid but I don’t know of many sea squirrels.” he laughed.

“A very fair point. Are you going to swim today? It will be good for those big muscles you are trying to get.” she said with a bouncing mockery in her tone. 

“Thanks for the confidence boost, and unlikely, I prefer dry feet.” his gaze panned to their guest warrior.

“What do you think of Tarik?” Karolus asked sincerely. 

Claiming the simple statement of Galwyn had asked him to travel along with them was thin.

“I think he is a shadow in the light.” Yina balanced walked on the railing. 

“Dramatic don’t you think? I don’t see any light about him.” the highlander watched him sitting with a bowl of broth.

Yina now sat on the railing and Karolus saw sadness in her eyes.

“I doubt many do.” she sighed softly, shaped back into a squirrel and ran off down the railing.

A shadow in the light? No one had thrown him overboard yet, despite his warm fuzzy personality. Maybe it was he who was being judgemental. 

“Can I help you?” Tarik asked, looking up from his meat stew at the approaching Karolus. 

“This I should have done sooner.” Karolus held out his hand.

Tarik put the bowl down at his side and spun to his feet smoothly. 

Several heartbeats passed. Tarik took the hand and shook it. The pair looked into one another's eyes. The bright red of rubies locking with the ethereal green of the sea. Both were trying to get a read on the other. 

“My apologies for early. I didn't mean to provoke.” Tarik gave a polite bow.

Karolus watched and listened to the words and knew they were false, that Tarik was acting for his benefit.

“Which part did you fake the most? The apology or the provoking?” Karolus asked but kept any unintentional aggression from his voice.

Tarik smiled and seemed to drop the posture of arrogance and sat back down to finish his meal. 

“You were injured, and spent a lot of time on your back. We sail to Calvaria, the ancient city of dragons, heart of their lost empire, so on and so forth. You are in terrible shape and lack the skill you are going to need.” Tarik said matter of factly.

“Wow.” Karolus couldn’t help but see the funny side of Tariks stoicism.

“We should train, I will teach you what I can. We are easily the passing of a moon away from Calvaria. You should do nothing else.” Tarik swallowed the last of the stew and drank the gravy remaining.

“You don’t have many friends do you?” Karolus added sarcastically.

“Neither do you. The druid is here because she seeks her memories, the cleric out of guilt and our Neroliath captain has a soft spot for, well.” he gestured at Karolus.

Karolus felt the warmth of anger rising and growled through clenched teeth.  

“When do we start?” he had to keep the conversation going, the less time dwelling on the slicing spoken words of Tarik the better.

“Eat more than you think you need and return. We shall go from there.” Tarik made his way over to the single mast.

Karolus had a few questions but shelved them for later. 

After eating two bowls of the thick broth and failing to get halfway through a third Karolus was before Tarik again. Who hit him in the stomach with a lightning fast punch. He immediately hit the deck and vomited everywhere.

Cheers from the crew, and a long sigh from Tarik were the only other sounds beyond his retching. The blow had not been hard but it dug deep and he was unable to absorb it. 

It was a minute before he could stand, feeling drained from the vomiting. He had paled and felt shaky on his feet. It was as if his world had ended in that single strike. The railing was a safe haven he leant on. 

“When the moon is out we will go again.” Tarik folded his hands behind and walked away.

A now vomit free deck played host to Karolus and Tarik who stood opposite one another. The ruby eyed teacher made the highlander demonstrate his knowledge of fighting. 

Tarik was not insulting but factual in talking through the pros and cons of how Karolus moved, attacked and defended. It was clear that his learning so far had leaned into being armed with a weapon.

The following days were the same. Karolus vomited every one of them. His fitness and strength were not only returning to the normal but improving. 

Often, as long as they were free, the crew would be dragged into as sparring partners. Those that spent a life at sea definitely knew how to fight and in some of the most unorthodox ways. 

On occasion Tarik would be his opponent and wipe the deck with him, and with ease. Karolus would get frustrated and fall into wild swings. 

The conditioning Tarik was putting him through made a day in the hills with the Douén feel like a gentle walk. It was gruelling.

“You need to remember why you are on this ship.” stated Tarik.

“What?” Karolus panted as he moved through new patterns

“Why are you on this ship?”

“You know why. Connor.” he wiped the sweat from his eyes, a little confused.

“Who might be dead.”

Karolus' heavy breathing stopped, like a reflex. He was well aware of Tariks' way with words. But it still gut punched him every time. Something he would learn to parry.

“A possibility you keep reminding me of.” the highlander said, pushing down his frustrations.

“Then why dwell on it? Your friend Glen, also gone. Yet you dwell.”

“Get to the point Tarik.” holding back was taking more than the training did.

“You need to focus. On nothing else other than right now. I teach, you learn. Nothing else matters.”

“They are my focus, I am doing this for them.”

“There is a difference between focus and distraction, they are the latter. The Samos are creatures of raw strength, the most powerful will tear a tree from its roots and end your life with it. Survive them and you face the Tharros, skilled practitioners of the arcane arts, imagine your skin melting at your feet” Tarik moved and gestured as he made his point. 

“Ok, ok. I get it!” Karolus half shouted.

“You have too much heart.” Tarik stated.

“And you have none.” Karolus countered.

Tarik paused and contemplated.

“We are done for the day.” the Nabbatan did his trademark, walking away routine.

Stella and Caedmon had watched every day. Both taking mental notes of Tariks’ movement and words. One looking for chinks in his physicality and the other eyeing weak spots in his arrogance.

The halfling cleric was still untrusting. She had heard the words Tarik spoke of her guilt. He wasn’t wrong. A Cleric devoted to both peace and protecting it, was supposed to be her path. Too long had she relaxed with her clan.

Her family all grown up and having their own wee ones to deal with. They kept far to the south avoiding conflict with the Calvarians. Knowing this protected her heart in battle. Stella had retired to Bluewyn, a place to relax and bake with the rest of them, her happy place. 

When the boys had come to the village she felt the fires in her belly once more. Those needing the protection of the mighty bear, of Shiorraidh Cadal. She couldn’t help herself, she had to help the brothers. 

But instead of protecting, she had failed. Connor had been taken and Karolus wounded so deeply his soul had taken a wound. Her own desire to get back in the thick of it had cost so much, Yina, Aden, and Roland. 

Karolus knew not of the oath she had taken on the day she got her scars. She would honour it with her last breath. The brothers would be reunited.

“He is incredibly talented. This Garen Rook must have been some tutor.” Caedmon stood with his massive arms folded.

“Aye. Yina remembers the name from the Kyanite Wars. A big name she tells me.” the giants words snapping her out of it.

“Her family fought in the Kyanite Wars?” Caedmon asked with honest curiosity.

“Something like that aye.” Stella not willing to share her friends secrets with strangers.

“I wasn’t..” before he could finish the sentence Stella had left his side and joined in the training. 

Lending her hammer and shield to Karolus with bellows of encouragement and advice. She could see it irritated Tarik, which only drove her on.

Caedmon watched with hunger in his eyes, he wished Karolus would take him up on his nightly offer but alas the highlander was distracted with sailing to his death. Such a shame, thought the sea giant. 

As soon as they set foot on the dry land of the dragons he would be sailing back to Hordean. Maybe find a little trade job that took him further inland. 

They were two weeks away from their destination. The sea was stern, a strong wind filled the sails of the ship. It was a day of rest for Karolus, a welcome one. 

Tarik had him constantly stretching when they weren’t training, and had Yina checking on him. Examining any minor wounds he might have picked up and soothing them.

He noticed that on occasion when he and Tarik were topless that the Nabbatan was both incredibly athletic and and covered in scars. The highlander had learnt not to ask, as did the rest of the ship.

Karolus felt ten times stronger and fitter than he had when he woke in the camp of Yina. Before that even. 

Tarik was a taskmaster and had an unbreakable dedication to the art of fighting it seemed. He spoke sparingly about his mentor, Garen Rook, told of how he was shown how to fight, using only his body as a weapon. 

There had been more to it thought, Garen had also educated Tarik in different areas of academia. Ensuring he was more than just a warrior. He was an intellect and combined with his physicality it made him deadly.

Karolus mocked his people skills and even managed to get a smile out of him. The more they trained it was obvious to the others that a friendship had manifested. 

Yina smiled every time she walked by in whatever animal form she had chosen for the day. Seeing a badger tumbling across the deck with a sharp toothy smile kept spirits high.

“Do you know why they took him? Why they chased us?” Karolus hadn’t been able to scratch the question from his mind. It gnawed at him every night. 

Tarik tossed one of the two spears he had borrowed to Karolus. He gestured with the iron point to take up a fighting stance. Once the two were facing one another he sighed and went into a slow sparring match. 

“Form seven. Begin.” Tarik moved forwards and the spears clashed. It was a slowed down version to perfect the movements.

“Well, do you know?” Karolus repeated as he stepped left bringing the spear high and horizontal.

“You brother has a unique spirit. One considered valuable to the Calvarian’s." The spear spun easily in his hand.

Clattering of the wood and high pitched parry of the iron spearheads could be heard across the whole ship as the pair sped up their movements and strikes. Neither looked in danger of hurting the other as it was a near perfect dance. 

Karolus stopped for a moment to take in that brief bit of information but had to quickly adjust as Tarik saw no reason to stop.

“Unique how? We’re just farmers and shepherds.” confused, the highlander adjusted his feet to carry on the form.

“It’s nothing to do with your family blood. Unfortunately for your brother at the time of his first breath, the eyes of dragons were upon him..” he threw a combination of feints and strikes that weren’t part of the form.

Karolus instantly adjusted and parried quickly before the last hit managed to trip him. Tarik was silently impressed.

The highlander groaned, looking skyward. 

“Dragons...” taking a deep breath and the hand in front of him.

“The short version is if we are lucky, your brother still draws breath.”

Karolus stared for longer than would be socially acceptable into the eyes of Tarik. He was seeking any hint of deception, of mocking. He saw nothing but truth.

Before he could question anymore something muted the noise about him, only his heartbeat was audible. Beating faster than ever before. Then a growl came through, from him. He felt thirsty, a need to be in the water. Then the Douén started to appear about him, circling him as they had in the ritual.

Next he was on his hands and knees, scratch marks in the wooden planks of the deck. Yina was at his side whispering in druidic, he knew some of the words. Breathe, focus, spirit, water. The highlander passed out.

To no one's surprise Karolus was standing at the aft of the ship. A place he had taken as his own. It had been a day since passing out.

Tarik passed him the water skin. It had been a gift from a Glacian. After smiling at the look on Karolus face, Tarik had gone on to explain that the Glacian are a people with elemental hearts of ice.

“You speak of things as if you have travelled the world.” Karolus took a long drink of the arctic water. It refreshed like never before. Even the weeks out at sea couldn’t spoil the drink with overwhelming saltiness.  

“Garen’s teachings have had me travel yes.” Tarik also took a drink.

The highlander smiled, there was an aura about Tarik. One that he was no longer minding.

“You said Connors alive?” Karolus was clinging to those words.

“I said if we are lucky, he might be. Don’t crutch on hope, focus on now.”

Karolus held for a moment then let out a laugh.

“You should have been a bard.” the highlander continued to laugh.

“I can’t sing.” this time even Tarik dropped a smile. 

“So…” Karolus begun.

“As I said his spirit, soul, life force. Whatever words you see fit to use. Calvaria is a place of ancient knowledge and pride.”

“That did not come close to answering my question.” Karolus couldn’t hide the bafflement of Tariks response.

“It was also one of the mightiest empires to have existed. Hurt pride leads to much bloodshed.”

“Ok, so they are what, going to use Connors spirit for?” Karolus let the question hand with his arms out wide.

“They are going to make him a..” Tarik looked at the druid appearing in front of them.

“Vendari.” said Yina coming out of her squirrel form. 

Tarik treated her differently to the rest. There was respect, one of an elder. She had earned the right. He could see it behind those hazel eyes.

“Vendari?” Karolus gave her a polite questioning nod.

“Those of Calvaria seek to bring the blood of dragons back into Colossus. But only a few are able to be a vessel for such things. Connor has the spirit of such a being.” Yina took Karolus by the hands and made him crouch to hold eye contact.

Her voice was soft and caring, as if she were sharing bad news.

“Connor is still alive because the ritual to do such a thing has not taken place yet. He is looked after, fed, dressed in expensive clothing. He has tutors. He has grown since last you saw him. He will be tall and strong.” Slowly tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“You speak as though you have seen.” Tarik pointed out.

“I scryed for him. Reached out to the magic in between magic. He does not know how to stop me from seeing.”

Karolus stood pulling his hands away.

“Are you seriously telling me that all this time you have been able to confirm my brother is alive! That you have looked upon him and shared nothing!” anger and disappointment swelled in his gut.

“I needed to be sure that he was safe, that it was not a false seeing. The Calvarians are skilled practitioners.” Yina stepped towards him and stared up into those deep sea green eyes.

“Yina..I..How could you not tell me.” it wasn’t a question.

“There is more.” She held eye contact.

“We won’t make it in time.” said Tarik as he read between the lines of the conversation.

Karolus stumbled before vomiting over the side of the ship. The words were like hammers slamming into his core. He shook as he held himself upright. 

Yina was at his side rubbing the back of his hand. Making shushing noises through his sobs. He stared at the water. It's reflecting blue, white where the ship cut through it. 

Tarik was close but had not come closer. Yina continued to act as mother hen. Connors face showed in his mind. It was different somehow. Older, his jaw more defined. He was indeed taller and broader.

He wanted to shrug Yina away but something had pulled at him. 

His brother stood in an ankle length tunic of beautiful mint green. A golden rope belt at the waist. A young Calvarian stood at his side. Her scales were the smoothest of onyx. 

She too wore a stunning long black dress tunic with silver glitter. There was an aura radiating from her, a powerful one. She was older than Connor, with a physique that would suit armoured battle. Her emerald eyes were like green stars blinking, she turned from Connor to walk away. 

Karolus reached out in front of him, trying to grab at his brother. He could hear Yina and Tarik shouting at him, but it wasn’t loud enough to snap him out of this day dream, this vision. Connor was right there, just a step or two away.

Then the voice, one he knew, one that rushed through his memories. The Calvarian on the bridge. Amber scales came into view, and the piercing rose gold eyes.

“Hello Karolus, I must admit I am impressed you live. At least for now. Please accept my thanks, Connor is a delight to have around, he is very excited for the future. Now if you don’t mind please die” with a wave of their hand the scene began to blur and fade.

Karolus only remembered leaping forwards in a attempt to tackle his brother from the Tharros in front of him. But his leap was only met with air before he slammed into the water painfully. He was sinking. 

He could swim but the sea was different, especially with a ship cutting through it. He bashed against the wood being dragged under, spinning in the depths. A few painful seconds passed before the ship spat him out behind.

Breaking the surface and gasping for air he could hear the shouts and sounds of fighting coming from the ship. At the sides creatures of a serpent-like physique with short arms and legs climbed the sides. Blue green scales soaked and shimmering. Dozens of them.