The Wolf On The Run (The Wolf of Corwick Castle Book 3)

by Terry Cloutier

  “Afrenian silk, my lord,” Putt said. “Nobody weaves it better.” He grinned, looking a little more confident now. “What we have on this ship is probably worth a fortune.”

  “Won’t the wind just shred them?”

  “Probably,” Putt said. “But I’m hoping they can last long enough to get us to land. We can replace any that rip.” The red-bearded outlaw shrugged. “It will be slow going to be sure, but it’s our only chance, my lord.”

  I rubbed my finger along the silk thoughtfully. “Suppose it does work, what good will it do us without a rudder?”

  “Ah,” Putt said. “Now, that part is fairly easy. My father was a drunken, womanizing bastard, my lord, but even so, the man could sail. Our rudder hit a shoal once and snapped off, much like what probably happened to us. I was terrified, certain we would die out at sea, but my father just cursed me for being a witless fool and explained how we would use a drift anchor to steer us home.”

  I perked up. “That sounds promising,” I said. “How does it work?”

  “We need something heavy,” Putt said. “I imagine one of the crates the capes were stored in will do nicely. We’ll fill the crate with whatever we can find, then tie two ropes to it and drag it behind the ship.” He grinned. “We attach one rope to the starboard stern, the other to the portside. Shorten the rope on one side, and the ship will turn the other way. It’s rather simple, actually.”

  I stared at Putt in surprise. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it, my lord,” Putt said. He shrugged. “It’s not perfect, of course, but given the alternatives—”

  “We’ll do it,” I said, cutting him off. “The sooner, the better.”

  I looked up. The sun was struggling to break through the heavy clouds now, even as it slid westward across the sky as dusk approached. Small pockets of rain persisted here and there, slapping us with raindrops intermittently. A giant plume of water suddenly rose from the sea off the starboard bow, twisting and turning thirty feet away from me. I stared at it in fascination, realizing it was a waterspout as it pranced almost daintily across the surface. I could feel the wind rifling my wet hair as the waterspout closed the distance between us. It paused, hovering less than ten feet from Sea-Dragon’s hull, spiraling around and around, then slowly unraveled and fell, returning itself to the sea.

  “A good omen, my lord,” Putt said as Jebido and a queasy-looking Malo joined us. “The Mother is letting us know that She is watching over us.”

  “Let’s hope so,” I grunted, not convinced as I filled the others in on Putt’s plan.

  Malo looked dubious when I was through. “It won’t work,” he said bluntly.

  “It will,” Putt replied stubbornly. “As long as we tie the capes securely and the wind stays down, it will work.”

  “Do you have a better plan, Malo?” I asked.

  The House Agent just looked at me sourly with puffy, bloodshot eyes.

  “Won’t the tide eventually just push us toward land?” Jebido asked Putt. He looked east. “We can’t be that far out.”

  The outlaw grimaced. “The sea is a fickle mistress. She’s as likely to send us farther out to sea as not. If I was betting my life on it, and I am, then I’d not wait around to see which direction she decides to send us.”

  It took us the rest of that day and the better part of the night to prepare the Cardian capes and Putt’s improvised rudder. There was little wind to speak of when we finished and I decided it was pointless to try to fumble our way in the darkness trying to install the sail. Besides, I could see the exhaustion in the others’ eyes.

  “I’ll take the first watch,” I said. “Niko, I’ll come and wake you in three hours.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the young outlaw said.

  I climbed the ladder to the sterncastle and stared out to sea, feeling a deep sadness take over me. Are you happy where you are, Baine? I wondered as the now calm waves lapped lazily against Sea-Dragon’s hull. Are you safe and content, with plenty to eat and endless women to pleasure you? I thought sadly of Flora and Baine’s coming child, not relishing having to tell her of his death once we returned to Witbridge Manor. If we returned, I thought moodily. A half-moon winked down at me as I looked up at the star-filled sky, wishing I could see Baine’s face and hear his laugh just one more time.

  “Is the World Above everything we expect, my friend?” I whispered to the sky.

  “Hadrack?”

  I turned, surprised as Sabina hesitated on the ladder. She stared at me, her head and shoulders all that was visible above the deck.

  “Oh,” she said, looking relieved. “I thought you were alone, but then I heard voices.”

  “Just me talking to myself,” I said as I helped her up the ladder.

  We stood facing each other, both suddenly silent.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Sabina finally said. She moved to the railing and I followed her, both of us leaning on it as we stared down at the water. “I’m sorry about Baine,” she said. I didn’t respond, though I felt my body tense. “I know how much he meant to you. Jebido told me everything the three of you went through in that horrible mine.” She shook her head. “It’s a remarkable story.”

  I sighed. Sabina was just trying to help, I knew. Getting angry at her seemed pointless. I felt myself start to relax. “I don’t know what I will do without him,” I admitted, saying it as much to myself as to her.

  “You’ll do what you have always done,” Sabina replied. “You will survive and grow stronger.”

  I glanced at her. “What exactly has that old goat been telling you?”

  Sabina smiled wistfully. “He loves you so much,” she said. “He would do anything for you and Baine.”

  I swallowed, feeling a knot twist in my stomach. “Jebido talks too much,” I said gruffly. “I think his mind might be going.”

  “We both know that’s not true,” Sabina said. She put her warm hand over mine. It felt good and I left it there, enjoying her touch. “You know, sometimes it feels like I have known you all my life, Hadrack.”

  I grunted at that, not sure how to respond.

  “I remember the first day that I met you,” Sabina continued. “You seemed so brash and arrogant. I remember wondering why your men followed you so willingly.”

  “They follow me because they swore an oath and I pay them,” I said. “There is no mystery to it.”

  Sabina looked unconvinced. “I think there is a lot more to it than that. Besides, you don’t pay Malo. The man’s an ass, but he’s also a House Agent, with all the prestige that entails. Yet he listens and obeys you too.

  I snorted, genuinely amused at the idea. “Malo doesn’t obey me,” I said. “He has his own agenda. He’s fine with letting me lead as long as it aligns with his interests. In the end, Malo answers only to the Daughters.”

  “Maybe,” Sabina said doubtfully. “But I can tell he respects your opinion, and maybe even fears you a little.”

  I chuckled. “Malo isn’t afraid of anything.”

  “He’s afraid of Rorian,” Sabina noted.

  “That’s different,” I said. “Malo’s only afraid of what the man might have taken from Halhaven. It’s not the same thing.”

  I’d told Malo and the others about the Cardian ship that I had seen smashed against the reef but had kept it from Sabina. Perhaps that was wrong of me, but I saw no reason to worry her about it now. If the sea had taken Rorian and her father, then we’d find that out sooner or later.

  “And what did he take?” Sabina asked. “Nobody has bothered to tell me.”

  “That’s because we don’t know,” I said. “Not even Malo can say for certain.”

  Sabina looked skeptical. “Do you trust him?”

  “Malo?” I asked, looking at her in surprise.

  “Yes. He told you he doesn’t know what Rorian took, but if that’s true, why go to such lengths to catch him then?”

  I knew Sabina had a point. I’d had the same thoughts on more than one occasion. “It doesn’
t matter,” I said, sharper than I had intended. “This will all be over soon. Then my men and I can return home and you can return to your mother.” I could see the sudden concern on Sabina’s face at the mention of her mother. “Don’t worry,” I said, softening my tone. “Haverty will have arrived in Springlight by now. She’s in good hands.”

  Sabina hugged her arms to her chest. “I hope so,” she said. “It’s been so difficult this past year for our family. First, my mother fell ill, and then my brother was injured in the war.” She glanced at me, tears threatening in her eyes. “I have never been apart from them like this before, either.”

  “Your brother was a soldier?” I asked, knowing he had to have fought for the North.

  Sabina nodded. “He and my father both.” She lowered her eyes and stared at the deck. “My brother lost his arm at Dunnedin.”

  I grimaced. Dunnedin skirted the unofficial border between the North and South and had been the site of the first clash between the forces of the Rock and the Sun last year. One of many such to come. The battle had lasted two days and had ended in a draw, but not before more than three thousand men had lost their lives. I hadn’t been involved, but had heard it had been a savage, bloody affair.

  “My father hung up his sword to care for Mother when she fell ill,” Sabina continued. “And all we had to live on was my brother’s army wage and whatever money I could make washing clothing.” Her face fell. “You can’t fight without a sword arm. If you don’t fight, you don’t get paid.”

  “How did you manage?” I asked.

  Sabina shrugged. “My father was given some money as a parting gift from his lord. Enough to feed us for a few months, but not enough to pay for the care my mother needed.”

  “So your father went to Lord Branton for aid,” I said, understanding now.

  “Out of desperation,” Sabina admitted. “We had nowhere else to turn. My father knows something about Lord Branton. Something bad. I don’t know what it is, but it guaranteed his help. At least for a while.” Her eyes turned bitter. “Until you people showed up and changed everything.”

  I said nothing to that, thinking how the whims of the gods governed all our lives. I’d watched a puppet show in Halhaven last year and I envisioned all of us dancing and pirouetting like those puppets had as the First Pair worked our strings. Did we have any control at all, or were we simply mindless dolls put here for their amusement? I thrust the image away, uncomfortable with the idea.

  “So, when Rorian offered to hire him as a guide—” I started to say.

  “My father jumped at the chance,” Sabina finished for me.

  We stood together in silence for a time, then Sabina took a deep breath. “I think I can sleep now.” She leaned forward and kissed me gently on the cheek. “Despite everything that has happened, I’m glad I met you, Hadrack.”

  Sabina walked away after that, her boots clacking loudly across the decking before she disappeared down the ladder. I stood by the railing after she was gone, watching the hypnotic motion of the sea as my mind sifted through a jumble of disjointed thoughts. Baine was dead—think about something else. Shana was in danger—think about something else. Sabina’s eyes staring through me the way that they did—think about something else. The remaining nine still breathing after all these years. The thoughts went around and around until finally I couldn’t take it any longer and I climbed down to the hold to wake Niko. Sabina lay curled up against one wall and I chose a spot far from her. My last thoughts were of two sets of eyes. One sparkling blue, the other shimmering green, with me trapped between them.

  Then I slept.

  10: Landfall

  The next morning began crisp and bright, with a moderate breeze blowing from the southwest.

  “Perfect!” Putt exclaimed as he blew heartily on his hands. He and I stood on the sterncastle as the sun slowly rose above the horizon, turning the sky around it a cheerful pink and orange. Thin tendrils of white mist lifted lazily off the water below me, dancing like tiny wraiths as Putt pointed east. “Somewhere that way lies Ganderland, my lord.” He grinned at me. “My gut tells me we will be on dry land by midday.”

  “That probably means we’re doomed,” Niko said sarcastically, his voice echoing just loud enough for us to hear as he and Tyris carefully unraveled our makeshift sail across the lower deck.

  I watched them work, wondering if all the labor and preparation from the night before would prove to have been nothing but a waste of time. I prayed it wouldn’t, for we had no other options if Putt’s plan failed.

  Eighty bright red capes made up our sail, each of which had initially been lined with either fox or wolf fur at the collar. We’d painstakingly removed the fur and then laid out the capes end to end and side by side to form a square. Each cape was roughly four feet wide by five long, though by the time we had finished tying them together, they were considerably smaller.

  The knotting had been a slow and frustrating process, carried out by Sabina, Jebido, Tyris, and me, while Malo and Putt worked on the drift anchor's design. Putt taught us a tying method that he called a hook-knot, which I found impossible to do and thoroughly confusing. The knots were designed to be used on ropes, not slick cloth like the capes. I found that no matter how hard I tried, my fingers were just too big and clumsy for such delicate work. Sabina and Tyris, on the other hand, caught on fast and seemed to have no trouble with it at all. Eventually, we worked out a system where Jebido and I kept the capes aligned, while the girl and archer tied them together.

  I heard a loud splash behind me and I moved to the back railing. Malo and Jebido were peering down into the water below me as the weighted-down crate they had just thrown overboard bobbed up and down on the swells. The improvised anchor slowly began to sink, finally disappearing below the surface as frothing bubbles gurgled noisily in its wake. Two ropes attached to a pin in the center of the crate led back to the ship. These were nailed firmly to either side of the stern. The lines played out as the drift anchor dropped, then reached their limit at the same time and snapped taught with a twang. Sea-Dragon instantly shuddered as her nose lifted and she started to wobble in place like a fish on a hook. I glanced over at Putt, frowning.

  “Nothing to worry about, my lord,” Putt said with an easy grin. “They’re just getting acquainted, is all.”

  I nodded. “Now what?”

  Putt headed for the ladder. “Now, we get the extra yards and attach that sail.”

  The Cardians, like Putt’s father, were bastards through and through, yet just like him, they were also good sailors. A good sailor, Putt had told me, was also a cautious sailor. The Cardians had stored a replacement mast and several yards along the gunwales in case of emergencies. I was very grateful that they’d had the foresight, though I wished they had thought of a rudder as well. The yards were long and made of solid oak, thick in the middle and tapering at each end. We folded the top of our tied capes over one yard, and then Putt used nails and a thin slat of wood to secure the sail to the yard. For extra measure, we wound lengths of rope around everything as well.

  Next, we did the same thing at the bottom using the second yard. Once we’d attached the sail at both ends, we rolled the bottom yard along the deck until the two oak beams met, then lashed them together. After that, we hoisted the entire thing up to the mast and reattached the top spar. Then, with Niko, Tyris, and me balancing on top of the new beam, we started to lower the bottom pole down with ropes while Malo and Jebido steadied the sail with clewlines that we had rigged along each side.

  “Easy there!” Putt shouted as Niko slipped, dropping his side of the sail faster than the other. “Are you trying to tear it, you clumsy bastard!?”

  Niko glared darkly at Putt, but the young outlaw said nothing as Tyris and I worked to catch up to him.

  “Right,” Putt finally said, nodding in satisfaction as we eventually evened out the sail. He glanced at Malo and Jebido. “Get ready on those lines. Once the wind gets a real taste, those ropes are going to jump in you
r hands.”

  We were about halfway through unwinding the sail when the wind finally found it and the capes began to flutter reluctantly. We carefully lowered the sail down the rest of the way as Malo and Jebido braced themselves on the deck in preparation, but nothing happened. I frowned in disappointment. Some of the capes were flapping weakly, or just hanging limp, while others bulged out suddenly, straining at the knots before collapsing again.

  “The wind is getting through the gaps!” I shouted down to the deck in frustration. “It’s not going to work.”

  “Patience, my lord,” Putt called up confidently. “We just need a stronger breeze.”

  Despite his words of assurance, I could see the concern on Putt’s face as he bit his lower lip in worry. I was sure I’d just heard him mutter a prayer under his breath as well. We waited in silence, staring at the bright red capes as though our lives depended on it—which of course, they did.

  I balanced myself on the top spar and clutched at the rigging as I studied our make-shift sail for long minutes, hoping for any signs of life. Finally, a powerful gust of wind arrived, rifling my hair and whipping at my clothing. The Cardian capes began to billow out, snapping and twisting as though alive as the wind filled them one by one. I held my breath. Would they stay like that this time, and would the hook-knots work even if they did?

  The gusts coming off the sea strengthened by the moment as the capes began to thrash wildly against their bonds, yet hold they did as Sea-Dragon slowly started to move forward. I turned, laughing as twin sprays began to shoot up from around the bow, growing stronger as we picked up speed. Below me, the others cheered and pounded each other heartily on the backs.

  I pointed down at the red-haired outlaw in triumph. “You did it, Putt!”

  “No, my lord,” Putt said, looking weak with relief. “We did it.”

  The wind continued to blow steadily for us, and though Putt’s improvised rudder was far from perfect, we were eventually able to turn the ship eastward and keep it heading mostly on course. Sea-Dragon tended to drift on us and the anchor needed constant adjustments, but compared to the alternatives, there were no complaints from anyone.