The Darkness Of The Deep

By Shaun Kilgore

A witness to the murder of a fellow apprentice, Caulen Mathersby is forced to flee for his life. In a desperate bid for safety, he sneaks aboard the Morning Star, a merchant vessel departing the city of Luthenaris. Branded a runaway servant and then a stowaway, Caulen must evade capture at the hands of the bounty hunter Val Benlock while also coming to grips with strange powers he can barely understand. He is confronted by Eradshi, a sea goddess, and offered freedom from the magical shackle that binds him if he retrieves a priceless artifact of power for her. What choice will he make?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Founders House Publishing LLC
• Release date: Jan 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311190529

Shaun Kilgore

Shaun Kilgore is the author of various works of fantasy, science fiction, and a number of nonfiction works. His books appear in both print and ebook editions. He has also published numerous short stories and collections. Shaun is the editor of MYTHIC: A Quarterly Science Fiction & Fantasy Magazine. He lives in eastern Illinois.

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THE DARKNESS OF THE DEEP

Shaun Kilgore

Copyright Information

The Darkness Of The Deep

Copyright © 2014 by Shaun Kilgore

Published 2014 by Founders House Publishing, LLC

Cover art © Philcold/Dreamstime.com

Cover Design Copyright Founders House Publishing

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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For more information visit www.foundershousepublishing.com

Other Books by Shaun Kilgore

Cries Of The Faithless

A Kingdom Of Shadows

Helioclypse

The Cursed King

Table of Contents

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Copyright Information

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

Caulen held on tightly as the coach struck another series of deep ruts in the road. He was small for his age which made keeping his seat on the worn seat that much harder. He looked across at his father who seemed none the wiser to his thirteen year old son's plight. Once they had passed the mess, Caulen straightened up on the leather seat, craning his neck to see out the window. He watched the scenery pass by. He had gotten used to the motion of the conveyance, the steady clop-clop of the horses moving them closer to Luthenaris.

Father, when do you suppose we will arrive at the city?

Corren Mathersby lifted his eyes from the newspaper he was reading. The older man's hair was already turning silver just above his ears. Laying the newspaper down, straightened the spectacles on his nose. Caulen glanced down at his plain brown coat and worn, black boots. He was dressed in his best, which wasn't saying much. Caulen was dressed in the best that he had too, the jacket with the least amount of wear and his best pair of boots. He was fit to attend the temple meetings. Yet, it was a different sort of meeting that awaited him in Luthenaris.

Caulen, you asked me that less than twenty minutes ago. Son, keep your eyes on the horizon. His father pointed out the same window, even as he was jounced as the coach continued to roll over the uneven surface. To the west, you will be able to see the waters of the Narian Sea. Luthenaris is on the coast. It's a port town. You should even see a few of the larger ships from some distance outside. Their masts can rise above the tallest tops of the city's buildings.

Caulen nodded absently. He was staring out the window again, trying to get that first sight, that glimpse of brilliant blue, and the sound of waves crashing into the beach. He had been told a hundred times but had never visited the coast of the colony.

The coach continued to rattle along. Occasionally, Caulen heard the practiced shouts of the driver above the ceaseless noise. He certainly heard when the man cracked his whip. The sudden sound startled Caulen numerous times during the long journey down from their home in Duvailand, on the hinterlands of the colony Ashekaran.

Caulen's thoughts turned to the matter at hand, to the reason for their long journey on roads barely passible in the best of conditions, let alone in the waning days of autumn, when the rains came more frequently and tended to cause mudslides in the Shenath Hills. Caulen knew that his father planned to leave him in Luthenaris with Master Hugh Aberlain. He was going to be the man's apprentice. He would be indentured for seven years in exchange for a generous allowance that would keep his mother, his brothers, and his sisters fed come winter. His father had no other choice, especially with eight small children to care for.

Caulen was the oldest left at home. His brother Andrin was five years older and had left home some time ago. No one knew where he had gone though Caulen suspected he had joined the Red Guards. Since his mother had given birth to little Mia, there were just too many mouths to feed and not enough to go around. Caulen knew his father worked hard, supplied the landowners in Duvailand with the best metalwork he could. He couldn't help the fact that his work was no longer as sought after as it once was. Those customers that stayed with him helped, but their coins were not enough.

Caulen had been told a number of times since they had left home that it was because of their generosity they would be able to travel to Luthenaris in a gentleman's carriage instead of on horseback.

All of his father's words did not change the fact that he was not going to see home or likely his family for a long time. He had made sure to give everyone proper goodbyes, taking a few extra minutes to get one of mama's special squeezes before he boarded the borrowed coach.

Caulen did not say anything more. Instead he kept watch out the side window, let the rolling of the coach and the slightly blurred landscape lull him closer to slumber. He didn't see the sad look on his father's face or the delicate way he leaned his sleeping boy back against the leather seat and draped a cloak over the top of him.

Caulen Mathersby slept while the great city of Luthenaris slowly came into view as the coach crested a hill. The broad bluish expanse of the ocean, its surface shimmering in the sunlight, instantly drew the eyes. Even after so many years, the sight of it quickened Corren Mathersby's pulse. He looked on as the tops of tall masts then rigging peeked up from behind two and three-story brick buildings, and the ubiquitous presence of seabirds filled the skies with their shrill cries. The sound of the waves breaking echoed softly in the distance.

Welcome to Luthenaris, my son. Welcome to your new home.

* * *

Caulen was awakened by the sound of the horses' hooves striking the cobblestone of the street. Stretching and yawning, he became aware of other sounds. The noises of the city were growing louder as the coach slowed to accommodate the growing traffic. Caulen's eyes went wide. There had to be hundreds of people out on the street, many of them walking on foot. Patrons were moving in and out of the flow of coaches, wagons, and handcarts that choked up the road. Luxurious smells permeated the air, the mingled aromas of a thousand different vendors. Caulen had never smelled the like.

Fresh fish here. Fresh fish from the sea!

Step up gentlemen, step up and get some of the finest ironware from Eranara. It's the latest design.

Fruit here. Only the best from the southern colonies.

The vendors pitched their voices to be heard over each other, adding to the general clamor and din. Caulen shook his head, and pulled himself back inside the coach. He drew the curtains to muffle the sounds. Across from him, his father scribbled away on the papers draped on his small lap desk. He paused to look up at Caulen.

It's quite impressive isn't it?

Father, there are so many people here. How will we know where to go?

His father chuckled. The driver has the address already. He knows exactly where to go.

Caulen frowned. Father?

Yes, Caulen.

Are you sure I have to stay here?

Son, we have discussed this haven't we? You know the reasons why. It is an opportunity for you to improve yourself, to learn a trade. Master Aberlain has been very generous to give you a place among his other apprentices. You know your duty to this family.

Yes, father, said Caulen.

The progress of the coach through the street was slow, and at times, it was stopped entirely when vendors or other carriages moved across their path, emerging without warning from intersecting streets. Luthenaris was a growing city flush with gold from sea trade. It had become the largest, most prosperous port in Ashekara—maybe in all of the middle colonies. As they lurched into motion again, Caulen recalled other facts that his father urged him to learn so he would be prepared once they reached their destination.

The driver negotiated the crowded thoroughfare carefully, jockeying for the right of way when necessary. After several minutes, Caulen felt the shift in the motion of the coach as it rounded a corner and left the main street. Pulling the curtain again, he looked as they past shops of all kinds. There were so many craftsmen and artisans plying their trades. The traffic here was different, less chaotic, and more purposeful. Rolling by, he watched as several mean in plain-spun coats loaded carts with crafted chairs, tables, and other furniture he didn't recognize. He was excited by the bustle in Luthenaris. Near the end of the street, the coach slowed down and then stopped in front of a front of a two-story brick building with a metal sign protruding from the face of it that read: Aberlain Printing Company.

We've arrived, Caulen. Come let's start gathering your things, said his father.

Corren Mathersby gathered his coat and cane and opened the coach door. Caulen buttoned his jacket and scooped up his satchel and woolen cloak and followed his father out onto the street. The smell of salt in the air and the gulls floating above the fray reminded Caulen of the nearness of the sea. Perhaps they would have time visit the wharves before his father left the city.

The coach driver deposited Caulen's travel trunk on the cobblestone walk. It was small but it held all of his worldly possessions. The trunk was his father's gift to him. Now that he was out of the jouncing coach, he just stood there letting his legs get used to the firmness of the ground again. Caulen was short for his age and standing there beneath the awning of such an imposing building made him feel smaller. His father walked the shop door and opened it. The tinkling of the doorbell alerted those inside to their arrival.

Caulen waited with the coach driver. The man had remained mostly to himself, only exchanging a handful of words with his father the entire trip. Now he leaned closer to Caulen, tipping his oversized cap.

You best keep your wits about you in a place like this, lad. Cities and the people in them are strange and different than them that you knew in Duvailand. Mark me, you would do well to heed old Noram.

Caulen realized his eyes were bulging from his head. Oh...uh, thank you sir. I appreciate the advice.

While he thought about the driver's words his father reemerged followed closely by brown-haired man wearing a grungy apron. His longish hair was bound in the back with a string. Caulen noticed a dark smear on his chin.

Caulen, this is Master Aberlain. The man's gaze was severe. Caulen shivered beneath it.

Good day to you sir, I am thankful for this opportunity to become a printer. I— Aberlain cut in.

Yes, fine then. That's all well and good. Your father and I have discussed the terms of your service to me. I take it you do understand your place in this contract. If you don't, I will be reminding you shortly. You're here to become a printer. I aim to get that much out you and hopefully a bit more. Is that clear, boy?

Caulen's father coughed, but did not say anything. Caulen saw his father's face, the hot anger beneath the surface he had to squash.

Aberlain came out onto the sidewalk. He approached Caulen and removed a metal bracelet from a pocket. You will wear this.

What is it? Caulen asked.

It is a servant's bond, young Mathersby. The bracelet is enchanted. Once you wear it you can be tracked at any time. It is used to keep servants in line and working. Don't try to run, boy. That's the plain truth of it.

Caulen? said his father.

Yes.

Son, I am leaving. Master Hensford asked me to complete a few errands on his behalf while in the city. I am sorry I cannot stay longer.

Aberlain reached out and took Caulen's left arm in his callused hands. He wrapped the bracelet on his arm and secured the clasp. There was a brief chilling sensation that washed over Caulen's body followed by a flush of warmth.

Aberlain frowned. Go on, boy, say your goodbyes then come inside so I can get you settled in with the others. The man entered his shop, leaving the Mathersbys alone.

Caulen, I want you to have this.

His father pulled out a small pouch. When Caulen took it he felt the weight and heard the clinking of the gold coins inside. Opening it, he counted five gold seals. He felt like a wealthy nobleman.

Where did you get so much, father?

I set it aside when I realized that I had to do this, he replied. I want you to have it in case you need something. Master Aberlain will provide you with a small allowance for your basic needs, but I want to make sure you get enough. Caulen, this will be hard work, but I know you can do it. You have a capable mind. Use it. Improve yourself and do me proud. Do our family proud.

His father reached out and clapped him on the back. Caulen embraced him, burying his face in his coat, letting the familiar scent of his father's favorite tobacco root in his memory. Corren Mathersby pulled him back. Be brave, my boy. Remember to write us when you get the opportunity. Your mother and sisters will look forward to them. Goodbye Caulen.

Goodbye father, replied Caulen. He wiped a stray tear from his cheek. His father stepped back and turned to climb aboard the coach. Old Noram helped him inside and secured the latch. His father gave him one last nod of encouragement.

Caulen watched the coach pull away and remained on the brick walk until it disappeared in the flow of traffic. It was then that he turned around and looked at the print shop. Stains from wood smoke mired the slate-roofed building. He thought the bricks had a reddish yellow cast but it was covered in grayish grime. Adjusting the satchel on his back, Caulen took a firm grip on his travel trunk and drug it towards the shop door.

A new life awaited him inside. The whole of Luthenaris was open before him. Caulen smiled eagerly and opened the door.

CHAPTER TWO

The first thing Caulen noticed was the strong odor of ink. The front room of the print shop was plainly furnished with wood benches lining the walls and a long counter divided the space. On the opposite side, Master Aberlain sat behind a black-painted desk. Caulen thought maybe it was stained with the same ink the printer used on his presses. The steady thrumming of the machines continued unabated further back. The intervening wall muted the sound. Setting aside his satchel and dropping his travel trunk, Caulen went through the gate and approached the desk. He removed his hat and waited for Aberlain to acknowledge him.

Aberlain scratched away on the paper in front of him, filling columns with numbers and other figures. A small lamp glowed on the desk further illuminating the tabletop. The printer was hunched over the page. He wore small wire-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose. Minutes went by. Caulen waited a few paces in front of the desk, not uttering a sound. A small fire smoldered on the hearth behind Aberlain's desk.

Take a seat, Mathersby.

Caulen rushed over to a plain chair that set to one side of the desk. Aberlain dropped the pen in the ink well and simply stared at him. His gaze was severe and unwavering.

You understand the particulars of your service, I trust?

Yes sir, Caulen replied. My father made sure that I understood the terms. I am your apprentice. I am obligated by the law to work in your print shop and to learn the trade of printmaking. The length of this term is seven years.

Aberlain grinned, though the expression made Caulen uneasy. Yes, that is the sum of it. You're mine for seven years, boy. Indentured and bound by the laws of the Crown to render me labor. Aberlain stood up. How old are you Mathersby...Caulen, your name is Caulen, yes?

I am a week short of fourteen years, Master Aberlain. Yes, it is Caulen, sir.

Aberlain reached down and picked up a small glass filled with brown liquid. Caulen noticed the bottle. It was the same liquor his father drank on special occasions. He drew back his head and emptied the glass.

Mathersby, come with me. And bring your things with you, if you please.

Caulen jumped up and ran to his travel trunk and started dragging it across the wood-paneled floor. He followed Aberlain back, moving between crates and giant reams of uncut paper. The weave had a distinctive scent that mingled with dust and a hint of mildew. Here and there, Caulen noticed handcarts loaded with wrapped bundles of what he assumed were pamphlets, flyers, booklets, and maybe books too. The printer did not slow enough for him to read the labels affixed to the packages so Caulen rushed on, the scraping of his travel trunk following him. Casks labeled 'ink' rested on platforms off the ground. There were easily fifty casks visible in the scant light of the lanterns. Caulen strained to keep up with Aberlain, adjusting his grip on the trunk so he wouldn't drop it. The sound of the presses churning new pages was much louder now. A large door appeared ahead and they were walking directly for it. Aberlain stopped.

Mathersby? he said. Leave your belongings there for a moment. I want you to come inside and meet your fellow apprentices.

Yes, Master Aberlain, said Caulen.

The noise of the presses, no longer muffled by the thick doors, was both higher and sharper. Caulen winced, but followed printer into the larger room. Three men each were operating two large presses while a dozen more roamed the floor performing other tasks. The presses were marvels of mechanical engineering. The operators themselves were dressed in gray workmen's smocks that were covered by ink-stained aprons like the one Aberlain wore. As he watched the presses continue their steady motions, he noticed that they were driven by a series of levels and pulleys that somehow used both natural motions of the workers and gravity to move the enormous rolls of paper through while also lowering the print plate down to impress the image or text.

Everyone continued working despite the appearance of Aberlain. Caulen followed