by Tony Roberts
“Sleep up. Drink.”
Faer frowned, then nodded as she understood what he was saying. She looked at the inert figure on the floor. His head had a bloodied wound, and it looked like half his head had been caved in. He was very dead. She looked up. “Ramyis kind. Captain must know.”
“Captain know Ramyis kind. Yes.” He left, the red-tinged mallet dangling from his hand.
Faer kicked the body of Certel and dressed quickly. She donned her sword and took a deep breath. It wasn’t long before voices came from above and then people were descending. Captain Meldus was first and he took one look at the corpse, then at a furious Faer. “Well, ‘pon my soul, what a to-do. Mind telling me what your version of this is, young lady?”
“I woke with this man on top of me, gagging me and forcing my legs apart. If not for Ramyis coming to my rescue I don’t know what would have happened. I will wear this sword from now on at all times – clearly your crew is not to be trusted.”
Meldus turned round slowly. He had seen enough on top to realise what had happened. Markus was still out cold, slumbering in an alcoholic stupor. Fanz had protested weakly and unconvincingly. Ramyis had hammered at his door and woken him up, a bloodied mallet in hand, saying that he was kind and had saved miss from the cruel one.
“Fanz, you and Ramyis take this piece of offal up and throw him overboard.” Certel was dragged away and vanished, much to Faer’s relief. Now she sat and the shaking began. Meldus remained in the doorway. “Young Faerowyn, I’m sorry about this – I knew he were a bad ‘un but didn’t think he’d stoop to this.”
“Tell your crew that if any of them tries to touch me I’ll kill them. Get me to Portris and I’ll be glad to get off this boat.”
Meldus nodded and slowly turned away.
Faer looked up. “And get Markus down here.”
“Miss.” The captain vanished. He was very unhappy – a death on board was always bad news. People would not look on them kindly, and say it was cursed. He’d lost a crewman and the killer was another of his crew. He’d have to get rid of either the fool or the dead man’s friends. Maybe all of them. That meant a complete sweep and recruit in Portris. Damn it all!
He’d never agree on having passengers again.
Markus was brought in unconscious. He was dumped on his cot by Fanz, and Faer drew her sword and made sure it was never far from the crewman’s face at any time.
“Don’t point that at me, miss, I didn’t touch you!”
“But you were part of his plan; enticing Markus up onto deck to get him out of the way. You’re no better than your dead friend, and you deserve to go the same way. Touch me and I will kill you. Understand?”
Fanz nodded and backed away, waving his hands in a placatory manner. Faer slammed the door shut and sat back down. She put her hands in her head. Was that what was going to happen to her wherever she went? What was it with people? She found herself looking at her hands. She had needed the simple Ramyis to save her this time. What about next time? She picked up her sword and gripped it tightly. The sooner she learned how to use it the better.
She needed to get to Kaltinar as soon as possible.
EIGHT
Markus had a hangover. Faer was unimpressed with him and gave him little sympathy. The young man didn’t know why Faer was so cross with him until Captain Meldus explained. Faer was not talking to anyone and kept to herself, arms folded, sword strapped to her back, staring out over the rail.
Markus slowly approached her, trying to frame in his mind the right words, but she beat him to it.
She glanced over her shoulder as his shadow grew. She relaxed slightly as she recognised who it was, but remained facing forward. “Don’t say anything; I’m not interested in any excuse. I’m not in the mood to be sociable this morning.”
Markus nodded and edged away, going to the other rail. Today they were supposed to see something wondrous, but there didn’t seem to be anything remarkable about the countryside. It was still grassland with a few farmsteads dotted about. Only ahead was something changing; a ridge lay ahead, some miles off, but they were heading straight for it. Trees marked the slope and the top of the feature so it was easily identifiable. He leaned on the rail, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the dry, foul taste in his mouth. He didn’t feel like eating anything as he was doubtful whether he would keep it down. He contented himself with a fixed smile, symptomatic of feeling decidedly queasy.
Faer’s head was full of anger. She was angry at people trying to take advantage of her, angry at the ease in which she found herself in these situations. She still wasn’t quite sure what might have happened to her. Finally, unable to contain herself any more, she turned her head towards Markus. “What was that animal trying to do to me?”
“Oh – I think he was going to have sex with you.”
Faer’s anger grew. Both at the revelation of what it was and at Markus’ casual delivery. “And what do you think of that?”
“Me? Terrible.”
“Is that all?”
Markus spread his hands helplessly. “Look, Faer, I’m sorry at being tricked by them, sorry it meant I was unable to be there when he came down for you. I won’t let myself be distracted from you again. How do I feel? Really? Sick inside for you. Furious that he would even try such a thing. Glad he’s dead, if you want my opinion.”
She breathed in deeply a few times and swung away. She prickled. Markus could feel the air crackling with her mood. He hated her feeling this way.
“You want me to go away, Faer?”
“What?” She swung back to face him. “Oh, no.” She exhaled, a long, lingering breath, then turned back to look out over the bow. The silence was awkward between them.
Markus stood there, not really knowing what to say or do. He was too afraid to open his mouth in case he said something stupid that would enrage her even more. He had to admit to himself that her anger was something he’d never seen before, even when she had been mocked by the other boys and girls back in Selanic. There, she’d merely remained silent and walked away in that sad manner of hers. He was actually hoping she would revert to that; at least he knew how to deal with her sadness.
Faer glanced in irritation at Markus. Finally she loudly sighed in exasperation. “Oh, come here.”
Markus looked closely at her and she held out her arms. He stepped to her and they hugged. He held her tightly, enjoying the feel of her against him, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He felt her stiffen slightly and he pulled away immediately.
“Sorry, Markus,” she said softly. “I’m just furious at what happened and how easily you were duped by those creatures.”
“It won’t happen again, I promise.”
She nodded, accepting his words. They remained together, arms round one another’s shoulders. “Sex?” she finally asked.
“You don’t know what he would have done to you Faer.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement. Markus sensed rather than saw her head shake. “All I know is what I heard from the visiting sailors. Apparently, well…” he whispered into her ear and her eyes widened in shock. She stared at him in disbelief. Markus wasn’t finished. He leaned forward again. More whispers and she put a hand to her mouth.
“But – it’s supposed to be enjoyable,” she said in a low voice. “Or at least that’s what I was told the other day, remember?”
Markus turned to face her, breaking the embrace. He looked down, abashed. “Faer, there’s a word I heard recently that might explain it all. It’s rape. I was told that rape is the act of sex made on an unwilling victim. I think that’s what was going to happen to you.”
“Yes, you make it sound as if that was what was going to happen.” She put her arms round herself again. “So – I want to understand this properly. Sex is an act of pleasure between two people, but rape is a violent act of forcing sex on one who doesn’t want it.”
Markus nodded. “That’s how I understand it.”
Faer turned away and looked over the river, t
he reed beds by the bank and the occasional long-necked fishing bird standing proud, staring at the boat passing by. “I need to understand what it’s all about. I thought love was involved, but it seems that’s not the case.”
Markus shrugged. “Sometimes it is, or so I think anyway. Sometimes not.”
Faer drew in another deep breath. “I think I need to be able to protect myself a little better. It’s a big world out here, Markus, and I’m not used to it.” She turned to face her friend. “I need you to help me. I don’t need you lying in a drunken sleep a few feet from where I’m being attacked.”
Markus put his hands on her shoulders. “I promise Faer, it’ll never happen again. I learned a big lesson last night. Especially as it’s left me with a massive headache.”
She smiled briefly. “I’ve no sympathy with you over that. Alright, let’s forget it. Look ahead. What do you think that is?” she pointed to something that had caught her attention up ahead on the river, just where the ridge lay.
The two stared forward, side by side, pressed against one another. The ridge ran directly across their line of approach, and the river plunged over the ridge in a huge waterfall. Clearly the boat would not be able to sail up there. However, off to the left of the waterfall there were a couple of buildings and a cut channel that led to a huge pair of wooden doors that yawned open and the boat was now heading directly for these. The two craned their necks and they could see that beyond these doors there was a long basin, ending in two more doors of a similar type. The top of these doors lay above the level of the ridge, twenty feet up.
Faer turned round and saw Captain Meldus guiding the boat towards the doors, shouting orders to his crew to guide it in. Two men came to the bow with wooden poles, so the two passengers backed away and watched as the men used the poles to keep the vessel from hitting either side of the narrow cut. The boat slowed as the sail was lowered and they drifted into the basin. Two men on the sides of the basin, twenty feet above them, took ropes thrown from the boat and pulled on them hard, further slowing the vessel.
It stopped and the doors behind them were swung shut and locked by ropes. Faer and Markus watched in wonder as the two men on the basin now walked to the other doors and pulled on a long lever rising out of the water. Suddenly water began bubbling out from underneath, and the boat began rising. The two gaped in wonder.
After a few moments the boat was at the higher level and the two doors ahead opened. Now the boat began to move as the sail was raised, and the crew fended off the vessel from the stone sides of the basin, and suddenly they were out and on the river, on the other side of the waterfall.
The two turned to look at Captain Meldus. He smiled briefly. “Told you,” he shouted.
Faer smiled and clapped. The atmosphere aboard lightened visibly.
Two days later they came to a halt along the jetties of Portris, a smaller settlement than Gorradan. Here soldiers were much in evidence, marching to and fro. The gangplank was lowered and the two passengers were first off. They waved to the captain, having forgiven him, and Ramyis. The others they ignored.
The jetties were full of merchandise, people and birds looking for scraps of food. Beyond, the gates gaped open and they made their way to it, seeing three guards all with long poled weapons on duty. They went straight up to the first guard.
“Your business here?” the guard asked.
“Please, we’re looking for a boat to take us upriver.”
“Not going to happen, young one. Enemy’s up there. War’s come to the river.”
Faer looked dismayed. “But I have to get to Blade Mountain.”
“Blade Mountain, is it? Long way off, that. Five days at least. That’s by boat. On foot? Whew. How far you think Blade Mountain is by road?” he asked his compatriots.
“Twelve at least. Winding road. Dangerous.”
“There you go then. On foot. Not by boat. None leaving here now upriver, by order of the king. So where you going to stay?”
“I don’t know – is there any place you’d recommend for my friend and I?” Faer asked.
The guard appraised her carefully. He took the Royal Pass and looked at her again with respect. “Got some powerful friends, ma’am if you’re carrying this.” He looked at the Pass. “Miss Faerowyn,” he said the name slowly. “That’s not Gorradan, is it?”
“No, sir. Elven.”
“Ah that explains it. Yeah, you’re elf blood alright. Unusual one, but we live in unusual times. Nice looking blade too, from what I can tell,” he said conversationally, eyeing the hilt of her sword.
“Thank you. I’m trying to get to Kaltinar to learn how to become proficient with it.”
“Ah that explains it. Yeah, we used to get a fair few coming this way for that place, but none ever returned. You sure you want to try getting there? Don’t think it’s a journey you should take – but I reason if you do make it you deserve to train there. And you, Markus. That’s Gorradan. You from the city?”
Markus shook her head. “Sir, from the village of Selanic, fishing village.”
“Ah right. Loyal to the king, eh?”
“Sir.”
“Good man. We could do with more to help us against the rebellion. As to where you can stay, I’d advise against the taverns here as they’re right proper rough. Since you’ve got a Royal Pass, go to the proctor’s house, he’s the one above the arches in the town square, you can’t miss it. Show him this Pass and ask him for a place to stay. As long as you’ve got money you’ll be fine. Enjoy your stay in Portris.”
They thanked the guard and entered the town. The streets were dirtier and narrower here. The people too were different, more dourly dressed, rough and less inclined to show off. They gave the two curious looks but went on their way without fuss. The closeness of the war clearly had them thinking of more important things.
They followed the road into the town and came to the square. Ahead on the other side, stood a set of arches holding up a square building. The arches looked as if they sheltered a market. The entire construction was of stone and looked the most solid building in the town.
They crossed the square and found a stone staircase leading up. Two guards barred the way initially but they allowed the two to go up once the Pass was shown again. At the top was an arched entrance and they turned right through an open doorway and found themselves in an entrance chamber with an official sat behind a desk. Two more guards stood ready in the background.
“Yes? How can we help you?”
Faer explained their situation and produced the now worn looking Pass. The official took it, surveyed it critically, then handed it back, making an entry in a book on his desk. “The proctor is a busy man, trying to keep law and order in this town, and as you may well know, the rebellion is coming closer, making it difficult to keep the administration functioning as smoothly as we would like. However, I may be able to assist you in seeking a place to stay for the night. To the east of this square you’ll find a large columned building, the entrance is round the corner. This is the temple of the gods and I’m sure two young travellers requiring rest and recuperation will find a room there.”
They thanked the official.
As they turned to go, he spoke again. “Do not think of using that weapon in Portris, young Faerowyn, since we are in a state of war. You may be regarded as a rebel and be arrested.”
She nodded and resumed her way down the stairs. Back in the square they looked around. The town seemed dull and sinister, but that was down to the number of soldiers marching around, keeping order. “Over there, Faer,” Markus pointed. “The temple.”
They walked across, avoiding a troop of soldiers on horseback, and came to the entrance of the temple. The building was, as they had been told, remarkable in that it consisted of a series of columns, linked by stone arches, forming a canopy beneath which people could walk comfortably without getting wet in times of rain. The building ran for a hundred feet or more, and framed by a large stone decorative pediment and architrave
, was the entrance, a double set of doors made of a smooth metal – iron, so Markus told Faer after running an experimental hand over it – with large round studs set decoratively around the edges.
At head height in each door stood a grille, both being shut, and above these were symbols of flat iron slightly raised from the doors’ surfaces. A crescent moon, a sun, a star, a cross, a pair of crossed swords… they went on and on.
Markus looked at Faer, shrugged, and banged on the door.
“How do you know about iron?” she asked as they waited.
“The sailors who visited, they use iron a lot, in reinforcing rails on their ships, as tools to help around their vessels, even in bits of protection. Trouble is it rusts easily and turns orange. Look, there’s some streaks here, which gives it away. I’m told copper turns green. You can spot iron or copper easily that way.”
Faer stored that information away. She wished people had been friendlier to her in Selanic, because she would have learned such interesting or useful things like that. Another stab of resentment briefly passed through her.
The grille slid back and a face appeared. “Yes?”
“Please, we are two travellers wishing to stay here one night. We also need help in getting to Blade Mountain.”
The face peered down at them, noting the youthfulness of the duo, the unkempt rough appearance of the male, and the unusual features of the female. The girl was much more interesting. The sword was an unwelcome sight, however. “Very well, please wait inside the door.” It opened inwards and the two passed through, standing in a courtyard that dominated their view.
The man who had opened the door shut it again, locked it and turned to face them. “I shall fetch a priest who will decide whether you may stay or not. Please wait in there,” he pointed to an alcove with stone benches set against the three walled sides. He wandered off, slowly, bowing to an occasional passer-by.