"I'm beginning to wish I'd pushed for three weeks.  You couldn't get a better boat?" asked Feyla, as she surveyed the rusty railing and scum-covered deck of the small cargo ship.  They'd been stuck on it since before dawn this morning and wouldn't be arriving till tomorrow.

"I wanted to leave as soon as possible, and this ship occasionally takes passengers.  And it's far too late to renegotiate now, Feyla."  He smiled smugly and leaned against the railing.  "We have an agreement."

She rolled her eyes and smiled.  "I still think you should have just talked to Eleyna."

"I have explained why that is not an option," he said as he gritted his teeth.

"You really didn't..."

"Look, it doesn't matter."  Sedgewick waved his hand dismissively.  "I messaged ahead and Lord Beryn has agreed to meet with us.  With any luck, this whole ordeal will be behind us in less than a week."  He looked out over the water.  "Then our lives can finally get back to exactly the way they should be."

Feyla leaned against the railing and snuck a glance at him.  The setting sun reflected off his charmingly similarly-colored hair.  His face was closed off and thoughtful, lost in a world she could never follow him to, and one he would never want anyone to join.  Or at least that's what it felt like.

"Why are you so reluctant to see Beryn?" he asked, coming out of his musings.

Feyla froze.  Had he seen her staring?  Hopefully, the evening light would hide color she felt rising.

She twisted a strand of her hair.  "He's an ex; it's just awkward, you know?" 

A thought came to her and with it a burning curiosity.  Sedgewick usually ignored overly personal questions but if she didn't at least try, she'd go crazy.

"Don't you have any former girlfriends that you'd rather not see again?"

He broke out into a laugh and tossed his head back.  "Yes, I suppose I do.  Rather ironic considering the circumstances."

Well that was certainly more than she expected.  Her pulse quickened with anticipation. Could he finally be opening up?

"So you have had relationships before?" Feyla asked.

"Well... Yes, obviously. But that was ages ago when I was younger and slightly less intelligent," he answered, avoiding eye contact.

She chuckled softly before growing sober.  "None of them were ever serious?"

"Now, I wouldn't say that.  They just... never worked out in the end."  His eyes narrowed and he glanced over at her.  "Why do you want to know?"

Feyla tensed.  Why did he have to ask questions she wasn't prepared to give the answers to? "You're...my friend."  She summoned her courage and placed a hand on his arm, desperately trying to make her eyes say what her voice was afraid to.  "I just want to understand you."

He didn't say anything.  He didn't even look at her.  Most of his attention appeared to be focused on the hand on his arm.  She was just about to pull away and drop the whole thing when he spoke.

"My last one was serious.  We were practically engaged.  She," His hands clenched on the railing.  "Wasn't who I thought she was.  I was just too infatuated to see it.  Before that," He looked out over the water, but it was clear the river wasn't what he was seeing.  A soft smile came over his face.  Usually, seeing it would have made her happy, but this time, the only thing she felt was a painful ache in her chest.  "There was really only one other woman.  She--" The smile turned into a grin, and Feyla's ache morphed into a stabbing pain.  "She was something special."

"Then what happened?" she asked quietly, her throat contracting.

A shadow passed over his face and his grip on the railing slacked.  "She died."

Feyla froze.  She could count on one hand the number of times she'd see that look on his face and still have fingers left.  Pushing aside her own feelings and vowing to deal with them later, she pulled him into an embrace.

She felt him stiffen and heard him inhale sharply.  Then, slowly, a single, shaking hand circled around her waist.  "I, I don't understand."

She tightened her hold and sat her chin on his shoulder, allowing her to whisper in his ear.  "It's a hug.  It's supposed to be comforting," she said, a gentle teasing tone in her voice.

"Comforting..." he mumbled, as if processing what she said.  Sedgewick blinked and looked over at her, and indiscernible look on his face.  "Right." He glanced away.  "Obviously," he said almost to himself, the word fading off into a whisper.

They stood like that for a moment, neither making a move to separate or draw the other closer. 

Sedgewick's ears slicked back.  He stepped out of her hold and used the hand still on her waist to move her beside him.  "Did you hear something?" he whispered.

Feyla frowned in confusion.  "No, nothing."

"You should go inside."

"Sedgewick, tell me what's going on," she whispered, her impatience rising.

He grabbed her arm and looked her dead in the eyes. "Feyla, go inside.  Please."

He looked almost... panicked?  An uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach, and she flicked her gaze over the deck of the ship, searching for some indiscernible threat.  Finding nothing, she looked back at him and he mouthed the words, "Get my staff".  She mouthed back "Be careful" before casually stepping away.  "I'm going to turn in.  Goodnight, Sedgewick," she said at normal volume before trying to calmly walk back to the ship's cabin.

It was one of the longest walks of her life.

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Sedgewick breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Feyla retreating to the semi-safety of the cabin.  Hopefully, he was wrong and this whole thing would be taken care of before she came back.

"You're never wrong," he mumbled to himself.  "Not about things like this."

He summoned his magic and cushioned his back in case things ended up becoming literally heated.  Now that Feyla was gone, he could drop the appearance of ignorance.

"I know you're there," he stated boldly while stepping forward.  "Come out and let's have at this."

From the side of the ship, a grey-clothed figure crawled over and landed behind a stack of crates.  "Hello, Master Alverdyne."

Recognition flared inside Sedgewick at the sound of the voice.  "Hobrin.  I should have recognized the sound of your sniveling."

The man vaulted himself on top of the crates in a single, fluid motion.  He was small but lithe and his dark brown hair was partially covered by the wrap-around hood he wore over his simple gray attire.  "What nasty words."  He jumped off the crates and landed on his feet, holding his hands out as if in peace.  "And after I came all this way."

Sedgewick sneered.  "Go back to Crayden and remind him that if he doesn't communicate with me through the proper channels, then his little smuggling operation will be far more use to me dead than alive."

"Oh, this isn't about your little intel gig," he said smugly, flashing a grin that revealed the small fangs that hinted at his half-goblin heritage almost as much as the slight green-grey tint to his skin did.

Sedgewick's eyes narrowed.  He drew his magic closer to the surface, feeling a slight tug of resistance as he did so.  "What is it then?"

Hobrin grinned again as if laughing at some private joke.  "Honestly, I come all the way to talk to ya and have to hang around forever waiting for that dumb— "

Sedgewick's anger rushed to the surface, and with it, his magic.  He raised his hand to fire off a spell, but before he could do so, Hobrin tossed a black spell disk at him.

He caught it with his essence but the spell had already activated.  Sedgewick quickly encased it in a field of his own magic and the black magic immediately began lashing and pawing against it like a caged animal.  It was a fairly advanced spell, but one he should have been able to contain.

Until something strange began happening.

The longer he attempted to contain the spell, the harder it grew to channel enough magical energy to keep it from escaping.  What had begun as a fairly standard amount soon turned into him channeling thrice what should have been needed and only being able to access a fraction of it.  Rushing to compensate for his lack of strength, he targeted the spell's weak spots in an attempt to wear it down.  Sweat began forming on the back of his neck and his fingers started to throb from magic usage.  A slow panic crawled up his spine and it was then he realized how dangerously close he was getting to drawing on the magic that was cushioning his back.  Just when he thought he was going to have to resort to it, the black magic snapped and vanished.  Sedgewick clenched his hands to hide their shaking and shoved them in his coat pockets. 

Hobrin's gray eyes widened.  "Oh.  Well, that's not what I thought— "

Sedgewick's eyes blazed as he grabbed the half-goblin's hood and slammed him into the crates.  "You have ten seconds to explain before I toss you over the side."

"Easy! Easy, I'm just doin' my job.  Crayden wanted to confirm the rumors— '

"What rumors?"

Hobrin quirked his head quizzically.  "You mean you don't know?  It's all the black magic fellas can talk about."

"I'm not in the mood to play games with you!" he shouted, shaking the half-goblin.  "Give me an answer!"

"Everyone's sayin' you lost your magic!

Sedgewick froze.  "What?"

"Yeah!  It's all everyone could talk about!  Gates, what is Crayden going to do when I tell him they were wrong?"

Sedgewick's hand tightened on the other man's hood.  "And who, exactly, has been circling these rumors?"

Hobrin batted his hand away and pulled his tattered gray hood back in place.  "Beats me.  But at the speed it's spreadin', I wouldn't be surprised if everyone from here to the Northlands hears about it by the end of the month."

Sedgewick snarled and took a step forward.  "Well, it's a lie.  My magic is just as powerful as its always been, and it will continue to be powerful long after your 'clients' are rotting in prison or rotting in their graves.  So when you hear people say anything to the contrary, you remind them what happens to those who mess with me."

Hobrin stared at him, and Sedgewick inwardly sighed with relief at the signs of a nervous uneasiness building inside him. This was how it supposed to be.

"Get off.  Now," he growled.

Hobrin knew when he shouldn't push his luck.  He scurried behind the crates and a splash was heard shortly after.

Sedgewick let himself drop to the ground.  He placed his head in his still-shaking hands, twisting his hair up in them.  Those who dwelled on the underbelly of magical society trembled at the thought of facing him.  To them, he was judgment, he was fire, he was fear and the actual courts were far more likely to be merciful.  His reputation alone had staved off more hostile encounters than he even knew of.  But if that was coming to an end...

A hand touched his shoulder and he jerked away like a cornered animal.  His heart briefly pounded in his chest before he sighed with relief at the sight of Feyla with his staff.  "Gates, woman, don't scare me like that."

"I got your staff," she whispered, kneeling beside him.  "What's wrong?"

"It, it was nothing.  Just paranoia, I suppose," he answered in a normal tone.  There was no sense worrying her.

Her gaze raked over him.  "Are you all right?"

"Am I?" he asked, almost laughing to himself.

Her ears drooped and her brow furrowed. "Come inside, Sedgewick.  It's getting hard to see things clearly."

"Yes," He rose to his feet. "I suppose it is."

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Hey everyone!  What did you think of the new chapter?  Any thoughts on Hobrin?  Most of the characters have been in development for a long while but he came out of nowhere and truth be told, I'm kind of loving him.  In other news, I'm afraid this is the last update for at least two weeks because *drumroll* I'M MOVING!  It's going to be exciting, scary, VERY busy, and I might not have an internet connection.

Excerpt from Chapter 10:  Lord Beryn of Kingsford was often described as "The nicest rake you'll ever meet."