by Duncan Lay
‘Well, I know only too well how ruthless you are. How willing to sacrifice anything and everything for what you see as the greater good…’
‘Oh, so now you want to talk to me? Perhaps I should have struck you on the head earlier!’ she declared.
‘Why not? You already stuck a dagger in my heart,’ he fired back.
‘And still it is all about you! You think you are the only person to suffer, the only one who was hurt by my decision!’
‘Well, it doesn’t seem to have bothered you!’ he yelled at her.
‘That shows just how little you know!’ she shouted back. ‘I have regretted it every moment since you flew away on Argurium and I regret it still. If you had talked to me, I would have told you that. I never wanted to marry Sendric but I had no choice then. Now I do and I choose you!’
Martil tried to look at her in the eye, but it was too dark. A few weeks ago he would have shouted with delight to hear those words. But they had been down this path before and it just led to more pain for him. She had promised him everything—and gone back on her word. What was to say this time would be different?
‘It is too late. All I care about is getting Karia back,’ he said, deliberately hardening his voice. She had rejected him before, now she had stopped him from rescuing Karia. Although every part of him ached to hold her, he also wanted to hurt her like she had hurt him.
‘You don’t really mean that!’ she accused.
‘But I do,’ he said coldly, wishing it were true.
Merren looked out to sea, bile in her mouth. This was a bad idea, and it had got even worse.
‘We’re almost back at the ships,’ Havell said into the sudden silence.
‘We’ll get more men and try again tomorrow night, come back with Barrett and Milly, to counter the Fearpriest,’ Martil said harshly.
‘No, we shall not. If we take them, then the ships will be left without magical protection. And this is too much of a gamble as it is. We cannot risk it again,’ Merren said regretfully. She did not want to think of Karia being left behind but what could she do? Karia was not the only life in her hands.
Martil fumed in silence as Argurium circled the ships below, nursing the pain in his head and the one in his heart.
Karia had opened the small window so she could see when Martil arrived. The noise from the deck above, the lights, they did not bother her at first. But when it did not die down, she wondered what was happening.
The hours seemed to trickle past—without an hourglass, she had no idea of the time. Only the ringing of the ship’s bell to signify the change gave her some idea of passing time.
Surely he had to be coming soon. Surely! He said he would.
Then she heard a dragon’s roaring challenge and her heart leaped. At last! She peered through the tiny opening, trying to see what was going on. It was almost impossible but she thought she could make out the shape of a dragon, silhouetted against the moon. Then it turned away and disappeared.
She stared and stared, hoping to catch another glimpse, but the cheers from above made her scared. She reached out with the magic, searching for the dragon—but she could feel it moving away.
She slumped down on the bed and tried to stop her tears. But all of Barrett’s training and all of his tricks to keep control were useless against how she felt. She was back at the farm, locked in a dark room while her da and brothers were out. She was left alone in a dark forest while they waited in ambush for hapless travellers. She felt so lost. How could this have happened? Why had Martil not charged in? She had felt sure nothing would stop him. Her tears began to slow as she wondered why the ships had been lit up, why there had been so much activity on deck. Normally it was quiet at night…
A gentle knock on the cabin door made her instinctively sit up and rub her face dry. She would not give them the satisfaction of knowing how she felt.
Ezok popped his head around the door.
‘I am sorry,’ he said simply. ‘But I could not let you go. While you are here though, I shall see that you come to no harm…’
‘Get away from me!’ Karia screamed at him. ‘I won’t help you ever again! Go!’
‘Now that’s not going—’ Ezok began, but she reached out with the magic and shoved him backwards, then slammed the door shut, making the wood shriek and groan as she sealed it tight against the rest of the wall.
Let them try and come in. I’ll make them wish they had never seen me, she vowed.
Everyone was waiting when Argurium flew over the ships. But sighs of disappointment went up when they saw there were still only three on the dragon’s back.
Martil slid down to the deck, refusing Merren and Havell’s help.
‘Milly! See to him! He’s hurt,’ Merren commanded.
Martil tried to slip past Milly and go below but the Archbishop held his arm and then everyone caught up to him.
‘What happened?’ Barrett demanded.
‘We were betrayed!’ Martil hissed. ‘It was that Lavrick, I know it was!’
Everyone turned back to the quarterdeck, where the ship’s captain stood by the wheel.
‘How in Aroaril’s name could he do that? With myself and Barrett on board? One or both of us would have detected it,’ Milly pointed out. ‘More likely they thought we might try something like this.’
‘How do I know? Perhaps the Fearpriest gave him something to let him communicate with them, like that Berellian bard we had in Sendric’s dungeon,’ Martil argued. ‘But his brother was an evil little bastard and I can’t believe any relative of Havrick could be good.’
‘We cannot do anything without proof. I want Norstalos to be all about judging a person by what they do, not by who their relatives are. That applies just as much to Lavrick as it does to me leaving the country in the hands of Conal, Louise and Gia,’ Merren told him briskly.
Milly laid her hand on the lump on the back of his head.
‘What happened here?’ she asked.
‘Ask the Queen,’ Martil replied shortly.
‘Well, luckily there was nothing valuable in there to damage,’ Milly said coolly. She took her hand away and the pain, and the lump on his head, were gone.
‘Thanks,’ Martil grunted.
‘So what happened, my Queen?’ Barrett asked.
‘They knew we were coming. They had all their ships formed up around the one with Karia, every deck was lit and there were men ready to fight us. It was too risky.’ She sighed.
‘So if they knew we were coming, who told them?’ Martil growled. His frustration and anger were bubbling over and he wanted an outlet for it.
‘It could have been the Fearpriest. If he offered blood sacrifice, he could have received guidance from the Dark One,’ Milly said.
‘I still think we should question Lavrick,’ Martil declared.
‘Like you did the Berellian bard?’ Merren snapped, the memory of the man’s bruised face and broken hands swimming into her mind.
‘He was a Fearpriest spy and tried to lure you into a trap!’ Martil protested. ‘He deserved everything he got!’
‘A trap that you wanted us to plunge headlong into, if I remember rightly,’ Merren pointed out.
‘That was not how it was!’ Martil began, but she brushed him aside.
‘You shall not question Lavrick. Archbishop Sadlier shall speak to him. If she deems there is a problem, then we shall take action. Meanwhile, we must increase our speed, if possible. We need to be landing right behind our enemies, if not catching them at sea. We must all work together.’ But even as she finished speaking, she saw Martil stalking towards his place at the bow.
Their passage across the sea was incredibly swift. Without the magical help of the dragon, they would never be able to cover these distances in so short a time. Travelling at such a speed put a huge strain on all the ships just to stay together. If one fell behind, or drifted off-course and out of the range of Argurium’s magic, they would be left behind. The ships’ captains virtually slept at the wheel
s. Lavrick ate there, lashing himself to the rail so he could sleep upright, holding on to the wheel, when he slept at all. Milly was kept busy, going from ship to ship, helping all of them.
Most of all she was needed by the Derthals. The effect of the waves seemed to be far more dramatic on them. Most could be found heaving the contents of their stomachs over the ship’s rail each morning, while others just lay on the decks, as if dead. Merren was worried they would not be able to fight when they finally reached Tenoch but Sacrax, when he was not sick, insisted they would recover in no time.
But for everyone else, there was a certain rhythm about the days on board.
There was enough for all to eat, although all were muttering about never wanting to see another fish again after just a couple of days.
There was little enough to do, except polish armour that threatened to rust in the sea air, sharpen swords and pikes that were already sharp, and watch the sea slip past. Merren tried to distract them by dreaming up games and competitions, races across the deck, up the rigging and back again, while the officers and sergeants drilled the men until their sweat ran down to the deck. Romon and several of the other bards travelled from ship to ship, performing sagas on request but still there were many long hours where men just gazed out to sea, looking in vain for their enemy.
But at the back of every mind, at the edge of vision, was Martil.
He either sat at the bow or in the crow’s nest at the top of the mast, watching. He ate the fish he was brought, drank the water he was given and ignored any messages from Merren.
A delegation went to see Merren about him.
‘My Queen, should we not try to talk to him? It is affecting the men, seeing him like that,’ Nerrin asked stiffly.
‘Thank you. But I do not think that will work,’ Merren told them gently. ‘He needs to be left alone. Once we have reached Tenoch, things will improve. Tell your men that the Captain is just focused on getting Karia back but he will be his old self once we are there.’
They went away, slightly happier, but Merren could take no comfort from her own words.
She was spending her days reading about Tenoch, both the city-state itself and the continent it ruled. Much of what the prisoners had said was fascinating. It seemed the continent had found different ways of doing many things that Norstalines—indeed all on Albiona—took for granted. For instance, they had not developed techniques for metal-working. It may have been that the metal ores were simply not there, or perhaps they had found a solution that seemed easier. A volcanic rock, black and incredibly hard, which the Tenochs called obsidian, had been found and proved to be almost as efficient at cutting, although not as easy to work into shapes and designs. But it had proved sufficient for them to develop their skills in stone-working, if the prisoners were to be believed. They also had an even more rigid social structure than Norstalos—and slavery. Even without the blood sacrifice they practised, it would have been abhorrent to Merren. But it was all important information, and she tried to absorb everything.
Of most interest was how they had exercised their rule over the continent by effectively kidnapping the ruling classes of every other city and bringing them back to Tenoch, where they could do little harm—and certainly never inspire rebellion in their old homes. She was sure this could be the key to defeating the hold the Fearpriests had over the continent.
And at least it stopped her thinking about Karia, and Martil.
Gello recognised that his future was bound with Onzalez. No other Fearpriest was going to help him regain his throne and his destiny. Previously he had tried to avoid the Fearpriest but now he saw himself not just as the man’s equal but even his master. To this end, he frequently called for Onzalez and they sat and discussed what they needed to do. Onzalez removed his cowl for these meetings, to show Gello he could be trusted. Gello even showed him his picture of Mother, and formally introduced him to her.
There was little else to keep them amused. The men were kept busy on the oars, trying to extract the last bit of speed from the ships—but Gello and Onzalez were not going to subject themselves to that. Ezok had locked himself away in his cabin, claiming to be studying the Dragon Egg. Since the news of the pursuit, they had lost some interest in this magic object.
‘They cannot have more than a few thousand men and goblins with them—there was not enough time for more to assemble,’ Gello pointed out.
‘Indeed. And if we can get back to Tenoch before they catch us at sea, all the advantage swings to us. They have no hope of taking my city with so few men,’ Onzalez hissed with pleasure. ‘We can go through the city and summon a horde to sweep them back into the sea.’
‘And once we have crushed her force, Norstalos shall be defenceless before us,’ Gello exulted. ‘As long as your Ruling Council still supports us.’
This was the question that dominated their discussion.
‘They will be happy to see me. And they shall still do my bidding,’ Onzalez told him with a smile. ‘Do not underestimate me, as our enemies have. Far from being defenceless, I have an enormous amount of power—as well as agents everywhere. With their help I shall lead us to victory!’
Gello grimaced at Onzalez’s boastfulness. Onzalez was obviously using it to cover up for his failure in Norstalos and he knew it annoyed Mother, because she was always quiet afterwards. Still, he was intrigued by the thought of Onzalez’s agents. ‘Even aboard my bitch of a cousin’s ships?’
Onzalez smiled enigmatically. ‘Perhaps. I cannot tell you all my secrets!’
Martil had been trying to stay awake at night, so he could watch Lavrick. There were plenty of eyes on the man during the day but, if he was going to try anything, it would be at night. So Martil was trying to sleep during the day and keeping watch at night. That was most of the reason, anyway. He was being haunted by dreams again—nowhere near as bad as the ones of Bellic, but a warning nonetheless. Sometimes they were of Karia, sometimes of Merren, always of death and blood in Tenoch. He tried to ignore them, tried to tell the Dragon Sword he would change once Karia was back. All he wanted to do was to get her and then he would forget about revenge. But it was not working. The dreams kept coming. He could sleep—but he would wake with their images burned into his brain. On top of everything else, it left him itching for a fight. So far Lavrick had not done anything suspicious—but he could not trust him. Any brother of Havrick had to be watched. From an uncomfortable position in the crow’s nest, he peered down at the stern of the ship, where Lavrick had lashed himself to the tiller. The man was eating something and Martil watched him sourly, his own belly grumbling. Then he forgot all about food and sat up, staring down to where Lavrick stood, lit by half-a-dozen lanterns. A large seabird had landed by the rail and was watching the ship’s captain intently. Lavrick glanced around, then held out his hand to the bird. Martil held his breath. No wild bird would sit there like that! Surely it had to be magicked! He watched as the bird took something then flew away.
‘Seize him! Traitor!’ Martil bellowed, then swung clumsily down onto the ropes and clambered to the deck, heedless of the rope burns he was picking up.
By the time he reached the deck, people were rushing up from everywhere, while Lavrick was looking around wildly.
‘What is going on?’ Merren shouted.
‘He’s a traitor! I saw him passing a message about us to a magicked bird!’ Martil accused, pushing his way towards the wheel, where Lavrick stood.
All swivelled to look at the ship’s captain.
‘This is ridiculous!’ Lavrick called. ‘I merely offered a scrap of fish to a hungry bird! You can’t accuse a man without proof!’
Martil shook his head. ‘We are wasting time! Our secrets are even now flying on their way to Gello! Barrett, get the bird back and we shall have our proof!’
All looked at Merren, who gestured tiredly at Barrett.
The wizard walked across to the rail and held out his hand. All watched him silently until the bird flew down to his hand.
<
br /> ‘There is no message attached to it,’ Barrett reported. ‘And it has not been magicked—until now, of course.’
‘Then why was it sitting there? No wild bird would do that!’ Martil cried.
‘It has been around us all day—many people have been feeding it!’ Lavrick protested.
‘A likely story!’ Martil sneered. ‘So why did I not see it?’
‘Perhaps because you were asleep for most of the day?’ Milly offered.
‘I think that is enough,’ Merren declared. ‘We all need to sleep!’
‘What? We are going to let him get away with this?’ Martil exlaimed.
‘Get away with what? Lavrick did nothing! Now I suggest we all return to our bunks and hammocks!’ Merren ordered. ‘Captain Martil, I need to see you in my cabin. Now.’
Martil, who was about to protest some more, followed her grimly.
She stood behind her small table in the cabin, making sure there was a discreet distance between them, although he stood closer to the door than to her.
‘I know how you feel about Karia and how much you want to rescue her. But, at the moment, you are a danger to yourself and to the rest of us! Give me one reason why I should not order Argurium to dump you on Dragonara Isle until we have retrieved the Dragon Egg!’
‘Because you need me, and the Dragon Sword, both to defeat the Fearpriests and to finish the job the dragons wanted me to do. If Argurium dies, then we have to get the Egg and the Sword together before the next sunrise.’
She sighed. ‘I know that. But the danger of Argurium dying is less than the danger you pose. You would kill the one man who can get us upriver at Tenoch. And you would have killed yourself trying to get to Karia. How does that help us, you—or her? How would I begin to tell her that you threw your life away foolishly? That she lost you because you lost your head and rushed in? Or how would I tell the families of the men and Derthals on these ships that their husbands and fathers are dead because Captain Martil did not think? Are you having trouble sleeping? Is it dreams again?’