Uncharted

By Justine Alley Dowsett and Murandy Damodred

Destiny is not matter of chance, it is a matter of choice.

Fated to be a Priestess of Saegard, Meredith dreams of leading a normal life with a family and a home of her own, something she’ll never have if she swears her life to the Order.  A chance encounter with a stranger in the sacred Celestial Chamber sends her pre

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mirror World Publishing
• Release date: Mar 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781987976274

Justine Alley Dowsett

Justine Alley Dowsett is the author of eight novels and one of the founders of Mirror World Publishing. Her books, which she often co-writes with her sister, Murandy Damodred, range from young adult science fiction to dark fantasy/romance. She earned a BA in Drama from the University of Windsor, honed her skills as an entrepreneur by tackling video game production, and now she dedicates her time to writing, publishing, and occasionally roleplaying with her friends.

Book preview

Uncharted

Justine Alley Dowsett

Murandy Damodred

Also by Justine Alley Dowsett and Murandy Damodred

Unintended

The Mirror Series

Mirror’s Hope

Mirror’s Heart

Neo Central

By Justine Alley Dowsett

The Crimson Winter Trilogy

Ruins of Sapphire

Lands of Jade

City of Ruby

All of these titles are available from

logomwpub

www.mirrorworldpublishing.com

FIRST EDITION

Uncharted © 2017 by Mirror World Publishing

Cover Art © 2017 by Sara Biddle www.salizabeth.net

Edited by: Robert Dowsett

All Rights Reserved.

*This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locales, events or persons is entirely coincidental.

Mirror World Publishing

Windsor, Ontario

www.mirrorworldpublishing.com

[e-mail]

ISBN: 978-1-987976-27-4

To Hunter,

for truly making my life uncharted from this point forward. Happy that fate brought you to me.

~M. Damodred

The Kingdom of Ismera

Prologue

Noiseless on slippered feet, Meredith darted swiftly to the oversized double doors of the Celestial Chamber. She glanced once quickly over each shoulder to make sure she was still alone in the Great Hall before she gave the wide gilded handle a tug and felt the latch give way. With a grimace of effort, she pulled the heavy door open just enough to allow herself to squeeze into the chamber beyond.

Expecting darkness, moonlight dazzled her senses. The silvery light pooled in the middle of a wide and perfectly round central platform, serving to bring focus to the reason for this room’s existence: an ethereal-looking blue bowl lined with silver and filled with glittering water.

The Celestial Bowl beckoned to Meredith from its place on the solitary stone pedestal in the centre of the chamber. The sound of rushing water from the underground river that surfaced briefly in this room filled her ears as she let the heavy door fall quietly shut behind her.

I shouldn’t be in here, a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her, even as she took a step toward the glittering artifact. It’s only that I just can’t help but question if this life is for me. I want a family, a home…and a husband. I owe the Order for what they’ve done for me, but if I stay here and become a Priestess, I can’t have any of those things.

If I can just have a look at my destiny tonight, then maybe the path I should take will become clear. Besides, she countered the nagging sound of her conscience, if I wait until tomorrow’s ceremony to see my future, it will be too late to change it.

Her decision made, Meredith closed the distance between herself and the bowl with purpose, crossing the small, railless stone bridge spanning a gap over the rushing water beneath. As she neared the bowl, she kept her eyes fixated on the calm, reflective surface of the water within, not wanting to chance missing even the slightest bit of whatever vision it might grant her. Moonlight glinted off the silver interior of the bowl, making the room seem brighter than it actually was. As if in a trance, she lost herself in the beauty of the dancing light and that was when she saw it.

A man, no…only his torso, wearing a dark grey suit coat buttoned over his left breast. He stood with pride in his bearing, but beyond the grey coat and a single purple flower in his lapel the image cut off at the neck and didn’t show his face. Meredith leaned forward, trying to get a better angle.

The vision, if that’s what it was, continued and she saw herself from behind, unmistakeable with her lengthy waves of chocolate brown hair cascading over the hood of her light grey Priestess cloak. The vision of herself flung herself at this man and his arms reached up to hold her. Engrossed now, Meredith leaned directly over the bowl, determined to get a glimpse at the face of her mystery man when the image in the silver-lined water abruptly disappeared.

What? No! I wasn’t finished. I didn’t see his face!

Meredith stared into the reflective water without blinking, willing the vision to return or resume. The reflection of her own face stared back at her, but beyond it she thought she saw something else. Focusing on the anomaly, she realized it was a reflection of the bowl itself, seated as it was in real life atop its stone pedestal in the centre of the Celestial Chamber.

What does that mean?! she exclaimed in the silence of her own mind. How can the bowl show an image of itself? It doesn’t make any sense.

She looked back down at the bowl and its stubborn reflection of itself, then turned her head upwards to the moonlight as if to make sure it was still there when it dawned on her. Ugh, I put my head in the way! I interrupted the vision!

She tried several times to recreate the circumstances which brought her the cryptic glimpse of the future, but nothing she did seem to bring the bowl’s power back to life. I guess that’s it! Meredith threw her hands up in defeat. I should get out of here before I get caught.

Turning from where she stood on the small bridge that led from the pedestal’s platform to the double doors she’d come in by, Meredith made to sprint for the exit, only to smack bodily into a dark shadowy figure she hadn’t known was there until it was too late.

She let out an ‘oomph’ as the wind was knocked out of her and she was flung backwards a few steps.

Over the by now familiar sound of rushing water, Meredith noted a somewhat metallic clatter moments before her ankle rolled over something round at her feet. Set off balance, she stumbled and spent a few steps trying to right herself. She might have succeeded, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that she’d gotten too near to the edge of the narrow bridge. She cartwheeled her arms a few times, trying to right herself, screamed in hopes that whomever she’d run into would see her plight in time to catch her, and then unceremoniously went off the side of the stone bridge into the cold rushing water below.

Water quickly replaced the air in her lungs as she continued to try to scream for help. The thoughts in her head rushed and spun like the water that held her captive. She found that she couldn’t do much more than flail her arms against the swirling current and hope that she was moving vaguely upwards. Despite her head breaking water a time or two, she soon found out that she wasn’t. Her fear mounted as she felt the current that held her grow swifter, more reckless. For one brief second she surfaced and caught sight of the vaguely arch-like opening that marked the place in the chamber where the rushing river of water escaped and moved on to who-knows-where.

I’m going to die! Meredith panicked, flailing harder and trying by sheer force of will to bring herself to where she could grab hold of the rough rock wall. This is what happens when you break the rules! I should have just stayed in my room and gotten a good night’s sleep like I was told!

Despite her efforts, she was swept along into the low, dark mouth of the the cave and her screams were swallowed with her as a small dip in elevation submerged her once more in the icy rush. By the time she resurfaced again, all was dark around her and the air seemed as cold as the water she was in.

The water was still speeding her along, that much she could tell, but in the pitch blackness she couldn’t see the width of the cave she was in or whereabouts she was within it. Feeling like she had finally gotten enough of a hang of this whole ‘swimming’ thing to keep her head above water, Meredith reached out with her arms to either side still hoping to grab hold of something, anything would do at this point.

She grasped at nothing. Disconcerted, she tried calling out. Hello? Can anyone hear me?

Her voice echoed in the cavern over the sound of rushing water. She had hoped that the sound would help her gauge something about her circumstance, but it didn’t, really.

Ahead, moonlight glinted on the water, drawing Meredith’s eye. Suddenly her sense of direction returned. There! Freedom!

At first the glimpse of the outside world caused hope to surge within her, but very quickly that hope turned to fear as Meredith realized the light could mean a hole of any size that could lead to almost anywhere. For another thing, the water was carrying her towards that light and the unknown it represented far too quickly for her liking. As she drew closer, she also realized that the opening, for that’s what it was, was covered by a grate of metal bars placed too close together for a human being to fit through, no matter how slender they were.

Meredith braced herself for impact, there being nothing else she could do. Son of a b–

She slammed bodily into the metal grate, but instead of being caught between the bars and the rushing water, the grate gave way under the force of the impact. Bitingly cold wind ripped through the soaking fabric of her cloak and shift as she was suddenly flung free of the river that had brought her this far.

Oh my…Meredith made the mistake of glancing downwards and realized abruptly that she was some distance in the air. Far below her, innocent-looking moonlight glittered atop still water as if mocking her plight with its picturesque serenity. For a moment she felt as if time had slowed, but then, as if making up for the lapse, it sped back up again and she crashed into the surface of the icy pond, sinking rapidly into its cold embrace.

Chapter One

Sam! Reginald exclaimed, making a point to sound jovial when addressing the sour-face postmaster. How’re the kids? How’s Frank?

Har, har, Sam replied in a flat monotone, barely looking up enough to glance over the edge of his half-moon glasses. Like you care. I don’t even know why you bother to stop in here, you’re just going to throw out the letter from your mother without even reading it.

You’re reading my mail now? Reginald raised a quizzical brow in Sam’s direction.

The postmaster shrugged lazily instead of answering, reaching below his desk to pull out a familiar-looking manilla envelope to hold it out to Reginald. He did all of this without taking his eyes from the newspaper article he was reading. Leaning forward, Reginald took note of the headline: Kevlan Warship Spotted Off the Eastern Coast - Coincidence or Portent?

Reginald shook his head. Kevlans, our modern day boogeyman. Sure, relations with Kevla aren’t great, but one ship in our waters is hardly a declaration of war.

Regarding the man suspiciously now, Reginald took the proffered letter and ignored the wastebasket this time in favour of stuffing it into the breast pocket of his sailor’s jacket. Sam didn’t seem to notice the change in Reginald’s routine, or if he did, he simply did not care.

So if anyone comes this way looking for passage, you’ll direct them along then, right, Sam? Reginald fought to get Sam’s attention one last time even as he backed away, intent on the door. Especially a–

A Priestess, Sam finished for him without looking up, yes, yes, I know.

Right, because Priestesses are leaving here all the time, heading out to perform weddings, act as diplomats, healers–

Reginald, Sam stopped him, I live here. I know more about Priestesses than you do. I’ll send them to you if anyone is coming to book passage.

Thanks, buddy. I knew I could count on you. Reginald forced a smile in the off chance that Sam should look his way.

You mean you knew you could count on your coin buying my discretion, Sam commented drily, directing his words to the paper in his hands more so than to Reginald as he turned the page.

That too, Reginald mumbled half to himself as he let himself out of the trading post and into the early morning sunlight. Rat bastard.

The street was bustling, at least for the Temple District in early spring. It wasn’t cold out, and perhaps that was the reason, this having been the first real nice day since winter broke. Kids laughed as they ran in the street, chasing one another, and Reginald nearly tripped over one of them as they got near enough to be underfoot.

Hey! Watch where you’re going! he called out, but the little girl with twin ponytails and a smudge of dirt on her freckled cheeks just laughed at him and kept on with her friends.

You’re the one walking the wrong way on the street, mister! one of her friends, a boy, yelled at him as he, too, ran past.

Reginald looked up and realized belatedly that the boy was right. Everyone else on this side of the street was headed away from the docks and he, like an ignorant fool, was trying to head in the opposite direction.

And this is why I hate the Temple District, Reginald reminded himself. All their stupid rules and superstitions…why can’t they just walk on both sides of the road like regular people?

Without trying to be too obvious about it, he ducked his head and scurried to the far side of the street where he swiftly merged with foot traffic. He soon blended inconspicuously with the crowd, and before long he was back where he’d docked The Clover.

Just seeing his majestic ship made him feel better. All right, he admitted, it’s not ‘majestic’ by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s mine, as so few things are in this world.

Of a smaller than average size and with an even smaller than average crew, The Clover was still a proper ship registered with the Saegardian Navy. Painted navy blue and grey, Saegard’s colours, it sported a strip of white paint across the middle with a brightly painted green four-leaf clover. Reginald had inherited the ship from his father, who had only become a Captain in the Navy in the first place because he had won the ship in a poker tournament and had the misfortune of needing a job at the time. The Clover was supposed to have been named after the winning card in that poker game, Le Roi de Trefle, but a misunderstanding with the English-speaking painter at the shipyard had resulted in the current design, and as Reginald’s father had been a man who believed strongly in luck and fate, he had simply laughed at the mixup and called it his ‘lucky ship’.

Reginald didn’t care what the ship was called. It was his and he was the Captain now, and that was what mattered.

A loud booming sound split the air. Reginald jumped, caught off guard, but his panic deepened as he realized that the thunderous sound reminiscent of an explosion or a cannon, only not quite as deafening, was coming from his ship. Before he knew it, Reginald was running full speed up the gangplank.

His boots thudded against the wooden gangplank, but the sound they made was nothing compared to the second round of cannon fire, or whatever it was he was hearing. Why in the world would anyone be using their cannons here of all places? I can’t imagine there are any Saegardian Priestesses that need to be fired upon!

No sooner had he reached the deck than he identified the source of the noise. His private charter turned business partner, Grey Rhodes, stood near the centre mast, his left arm extended with what looked like a miniature handheld cannon. As Reginald watched, Grey lit the end of a short fuse and did his best to hold his arm steady as the booming sound filled the air once more.

Reginald watched open-mouthed in horror as the ball bearing thudded into the wall of the Captain’s Quarters, splintering wood already weakened by his first few shots.

Êtes-vous fou?! Reginald’s French roots escaped him, despite his best efforts.

Ah, there you are, Grey responded, smiling as if taking notice of him for the first time at his exclamation. How did your trip to town go?

Reginald spluttered, his face going red with the effort needed to contain himself. He forced his next words out painstakingly one by one, being extra careful to make sure each one was in English. "Why. In. The. World. Are. You. Firing shots at my boat!?"

Well, you don’t need to get all up in arms about it, Grey answered, calmly cleaning out the barrel of his contraption with a scrap of cloth. He waited until he’d gently placed the mini-cannon on a nearby barrel next to what looked like the rest of his shooting supplies. I’ve taken precautions.

Reginald looked from the splintered wood of his boat to the calm expression on Grey’s face and then back again before crossing the deck to the scene of the crime. He pointed at the evidence. "You call this taking precautions?! What precautions? You may technically be sleeping in the Captain’s Quarters because you pay more to keep this boat afloat than I do at the moment, but they’re still the Captain’s Quarters and the last time I checked I’m still the Captain!"

Of course you are, Grey agreed in that same infuriatingly calm tone, and I told you that I’m more than happy to take the First Mate’s cabin or any other cabin you choose to give me. I didn’t choose this wall because it was the Captain’s Quarters, I chose it because I could get a clear shot from a decent distance. I can’t very well be firing off shots into the city, and the boats are so close together here on the docks that if I shot out that way I’d risk hitting someone else’s boat.

Oh, I get it, Reginald stated flatly. "You didn’t want to damage anyone else’s boat…"

Right, Grey agreed. Well, now that that is sorted. How’d you make out in town? Do we have any jobs lined up? Any passengers that need a lift?

Unable to contain himself any longer, Reginald opened his mouth, ready to give Grey a piece of his mind, when a familiar voice broke in, stopping his tirade before it could begin.

Did you want me to take it down now, milord Grey? Pierre, the deckhand, addressed himself to Grey, as usual not taking notice of the fact that he was butting into a conversation that was already in full swing. Are you finished with it?

Best leave it up, I think, Grey told Pierre with a smile and a sidelong glance at Reginald. "It seems to me that your Capitaine may want to blow off some steam later and we wouldn’t want to risk him damaging his own boat."

The particular emphasis in Grey’s words made Reginald stop and consider the situation for a moment. He turned and really took in Pierre for the first time and realized that the lanky, red-haired boy had his hand on what appeared to be a large plank of wood mounted to the exterior wall of the Captain’s Quarters. At Reginald’s glance, Pierre dropped the plank and it made a slight clanging sound, like a cooking sheet might make if dropped onto a wooden floor.

It’s really quite ingenious, actually, Grey noted, crossing to take Pierre’s place next to the makeshift target. Pierre’s idea. He’s got a rare mind.

He does? Reginald looked over the awkward teen with the oversized nose and dull-looking brown eyes.

Oh yes, Grey insisted. I told him I needed a place to practice with my new pistol and he came up with this all on his own. And look, he lifted the panel far enough off the wall that Reginald could see what lay beneath it, it works. The wood here is just as smooth as the day it was installed…well, at least as good as it was yesterday.

Reginald instantly felt foolish. He’d made a big stink about nothing. He could see, however, by the twinkle in Grey’s eye, that his reaction had been perfectly anticipated.

Yes, well, Reginald cleared his throat, trying to regain some amount of his authority. "Next time you want to install something on my ship, Pierre, you talk to me."

But Lord Grey, sir –

"Lord Grey, Reginald said, for what he felt was the millionth time, is not the Captain of The Clover!"

"Oui, Monsieur. Pierre hung his head. I mean, yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

All right, Reginald said, feeling a little better, go on with you, then. Keep lookout from the crow’s nest and give a whistle if you see any likely passengers looking to board. Got it?

Pierre sighed as if Reginald had just asked him to swab the deck. Fine…

I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that properly, Reginald commented.

"Fine…Sir?"

That’ll do.

Pierre scurried off, leaving Reginald alone with Grey. I swear I wonder if that kid’s worth the trouble most days.

He’s not so bad, Grey allowed. He still has some growing up to do, but he looks up to you.

Reginald raised a brow. You think so?

Yeah, sure.

Another person may not have picked up on the lie, but Reginald had spent nearly two years in this man’s company and he was beginning to detect when Grey was putting him on. Reginald shook his head. It’s not that Grey thinks that Pierre has the talent needed to do this job, it’s that he doesn’t like to see anyone down on their luck. He knows just as well as I do that if I sent Pierre home to his mother, she’d kick him out on his ear. She’s got too many mouths to feed as it is.

Reginald sighed. Yeah, maybe you’re right.

Grey smiled. Of course I am! He put his arm around Reginald’s shoulder. And speaking of me being right, there’s something else I wanted you to see…

Folded between two barrels and wrapped in damp silks, Meredith woke slowly from an uncomfortable sleep. She didn’t even have the time to stretch the kinks out of her neck before she became aware of the sound that had woken her; two sets of heavy footfalls on the wooden stairs that led to her hiding place in the cargo hold of a ship.

Struck with immediate panic, she reached out for the nightgown she’d draped along the barrel next to her to dry. It was still damp, but she pulled it to her chest anyways and carefully arranged it so she could slip it over her head quickly and easily. It wouldn’t do to have someone find her in the state she was in.

The men’s voices drew nearer and their conversation became clear.

So while you were gone I took it upon myself to do some shopping.

You bought all this without ever leaving the ship?

I know some people.

I’ll bet.

So, like I was saying…

Meredith’s heart stopped in her chest as one of the barrels hiding her from view suddenly slid aside. She was halfway to lifting the shift over her head. Her body was by and large covered by a thin layer of silk, but that was all.

Her eyes met those of two men who couldn’t look more dissimilar. The one on the left wore sailor’s clothes; worn, but of decent quality. His hair was dark brown and cut short, though it had the slightest hint of a reddish tint and an unruly curl. His eyes were blue and warm like his skin which was sun-darkened probably from being on deck most of the time.

The other, the one holding the barrel, looked as if here in the cargo hold of a ship was the very last place he belonged. He was tall and well-dressed in a navy suit jacket over a pressed white shirt with a ruffled collar. His ash-blonde hair fell straight over steel grey eyes and his features were smooth and not those of a sailor or labourer, though he was tanned as if he too spent considerable time outside.

The noble-looking man’s eyes were wide, but his surprised expression was nothing compared to the shock evident on the sailor’s face.

A moment passed where nothing was said at all, and then Meredith started screaming.

Chapter Two

So I suppose the first question is… Grey began, positioning his chair so he could face the woman they’d found hiding between the barrels of gunpowder he’d only had delivered the night before.

With delicately-coloured skin, a rounded face with just the slightest hint of baby fat remaining, and long dark hair, she would be pretty if cleaned up. As it was, her hair was scraggly and streaked with mud, and she had purpling bruises showing here and there underneath the simple thin white fabric of her nightgown. The bruises, combined with the way she wore that nightgown so easily in the presence of two male strangers, spoke somewhat as to her probable profession. Grey held nothing against prostitutes. He’d known more than a few in his time, but depending on what kind of facility she worked in, if she worked in one at all and not simply on the streets as the state of her dirty clothes and bare feet suggested, she might have other unsavoury habits or diseases to be concerned about.

The first question is what the hell was she doing naked in my cargo hold! Reginald exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the table next to Grey.

The woman flinched just a beat too late, cringing like a cornered animal before tearing up and letting out a pitiful sound. His poor gullible friend fell for it immediately and melted like butter left out in the sun.

Oh, I’m sorry, I’m such an ass…

Grey put up a hand to silence Reginald. "Mademoiselle, if you could simply tell us what circumstance brought you to take up temporary residence in our cargo hold."

The woman sniffled, wiping at her eyes. I’m a little hungry…

Oh! Reginald exclaimed, turning to Grey. Do you think we’ve still got some porridge left over from this morning’s meal?

That’s highly probable, Grey answered as patiently as he could. Why don’t you go to the kitchens and see if you can’t get something put together?

You don’t think that Dot’ll mind, do you?

Grey gave his friend a look. Reginald…

Right, right of course, he said quickly. I’ll just be right back, then.

Alone with his target at last, Grey returned his attention to the wannabe stowaway. Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? You have a name, I presume?

Which beginning? She feigned innocence, or stupidity, Grey wasn’t sure which. When I met you or how I came to be here?

You’re neatly avoiding the question, he pointed out. Your name, please.

Meredith.

All right, now we’re getting somewhere. What brings you to The Clover, Meredith?

Meredith’s eyes lit up like she’d just been given a birthday present. This is The Clover?! she exclaimed. I thought I saw… she started to let something slip, but then immediately caught herself. "I wish to speak with Capitaine Laurent, s’il vous plait."

Grey raised a brow, considering her. What is she playing at?

Against his better judgement, Grey decided to let whatever this was play out. Reg, he called out, can you come back here a moment?

Reginald soon appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, laden down with a tray which contained a wooden bowl, a buttered biscuit, and small cup with an yellow flower sticking up out of it. Oh for the love of…

I could only find some of last night’s stew… he noted a tad apologetically.

"Forget the food, Reginald. Our guest’s name is Meredith and she’s asking for ‘Capitaine Laurent’."

Oh? Reginald began and then seemed to realize the implications of what he was saying. Oh. Crossing the mess hall, he set the tray down on the table before Meredith and took Grey’s seat as Grey vacated it for him. I’m Captain Lawrence, Reginald put emphasis on the English pronunciation of his name, as he usually did. What can I do for you, Madam?

No, you’re not, Meredith protested instead of answering Reginald’s question. I’ve met him and you’re not him.

She’s really a fan of redirection, isn’t she? Grey noted.

Once again realization seemed to dawn on Reginald. I’m his son, he told her. I inherited this ship from him some time ago now. When would you have met my father?

To Grey and Reginald’s surprise, Meredith began to cry for real this time. It wasn’t the pitiful sound from earlier; she cried silently, the tears welling up before rolling down her cheeks. Reginald reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, and this time Grey didn’t stop him from trying to show her kindness.

Hey now, he died peacefully at home with his family around him. What man could ask for more than that? Reginald explained. And that was three years ago now, so if it’s me you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ve had the time to get over it.

He…he was the nicest man I’ve ever met, she said through her tears. He let me stay here on The Clover when I was little. He told me he’d take me somewhere safe…I never expected…

How long ago was this? Grey interjected.

I was eight, so it must have been about twelve years now…

"So a man you met once, more than ten years ago, passes on without your knowledge, yet you somehow find yourself on his boat, naked beneath expensive silks in his cargo hold? Something is not quite adding up here, Mademoiselle Meredith."

Watching him like a mouse might watch a bird of prey, Meredith stood stiffly and reached for the tray Reginald had brought her earlier. Taking it in both hands, she turned to face Grey squarely. "It is not my responsibility to make things ‘add up’, Monsieur, but I assure you it’s the truth. You, on the other hand, should learn some manners when talking to a lady!"

With that she flung the tray in her hands straight into the air. The bowl of stew went one direction while the flower and biscuit went another. The entire mess missed Reginald narrowly, but lukewarm stew soon blanketed the front of Grey’s suit coat, some even going so far as to splash in his face.

The girl’s bare feet could be heard slapping on the mess hall’s floor as she ran past them both.

Meredith made for the deck. Now that she