by C. M. Gray
Tarent fought to be heard over the laughter. 'I was merely wondering if you'd noticed a large trading vessel, The Esmerelda, go this way recently? We're trying to track it down.' The laughter died down, and Tregawn edged closer to Tarent and leaned down to whisper into his ear, bad breath hit Tarent like a silent punch.
'Do you have any idea how serious your situation here is boy?' The pirate hissed. 'I could cut yer throats and throw you over the side… yet you're wondering if I've happened to see some fancy ship recently?' He stood back then stopped, a shocked look on his face as he glanced down at his feet. A grumble rose from the pirate crew as they saw their captain had risen from the deck.
Tregawn began wheeling his arms and started shouting. 'What have you done to me? What form of Source damned witchcraft is this? Get me down… now!' He watched Loras approach and then several of his men ran in to aid him, only to fall to the deck as if they'd run into a wall.
'My friend asked you a perfectly polite question,' said Loras. 'Have you seen a ship named The Esmerelda sailing these waters in a northerly direction over the last few weeks?' Loras gazed up as the pirate struggled and kicked his legs in anger.
'Get me down or I'll… oooooaaaahhhh! The pirate captain started to beat at his face screaming, his frantic movements were making him spin in circles, and his crew could do nothing other than look on past the air wall that Loras had set in place. 'Snakes, whaaaaa snakes in me beard!' screamed the hapless captain, spinning faster and faster. Loras and Tarent were now the ones laughing hysterically as everyone else looked on in amazement at the sight.
'End this now!' shrieked Tregawn and clapped his hands, the sound carried around the boat louder than it should have done. The snakes disappeared, and Tregawn dropped to the deck with a thump.
Loras and Tarent stopped laughing and looked questioningly across at Magician Falk. Loras attempted to cast a wall of air against the approaching pirates but felt no magic. In desperation, he sought the familiar signs within, but only a cold dread descend upon him. He turned to Tarent. 'My magic has gone,' he whispered.
'What do you mean gone?' They were both edging back against the side of the ship. Tarent felt the rail dig into his back. He glanced across at Magician Falk who appeared to be as bewildered and powerless as Loras. The pirates closed in, surrounding them. The Captain pushed his way to the front, and he didn't appear to be very happy.
'Got a bit a magic about yer have yer lads, well yer not the only ones. Got a little bit about me too, so I have.' He reached out, ruffled Loras's hair again, and laughed. 'An there I was thinking you may not have any value. I've got a buyer for talents like that, so I have, oh, yes, got a buyer for you boys that'll pay handsomely.'
Tarent offered up a quick prayer to the Source. 'Shall we just forget about The Esmerelda question then? I'm sure we'll find them eventually,' he ventured.
'Oh, I don't think you will my lad, not where you're going.' There were disgruntled murmurs of agreement from the other pirates. 'No, lad, you've been most unfriendly, and now it's our turn to be most unfriendly to you. A return of the favour so to speak… string 'em up boys.'
Tarent heard Loras scream before he felt a thump on his head and lost consciousness.
* * *
Chapter 7
Caged and Helpless
'Get out and go away, horrible little urchins. I don't like children and won't suffer them here, so go away!' The small bald man fluttered his hands dismissively in their direction. 'Go! No sweets or toys here, no lovely pussycats or cute little puppy dogs… go away!' The last was shouted directly into Quint's face before the speaker scuttled back behind his counter. Quint and Pardigan stared in amazement at the antics of the strange little man as he hopped around in front of them and then returned to sorting a great stack of papers. One moment he seemed agitated, the next angry and now… he appeared to be ignoring them, and this was supposed to be the King's agent in Barnham Bolt!
'Are you sure we're at the right place?' whispered Pardigan, gazing around at the shelves filled with jars of herbs, powders and dried insects. 'I bet this guy howls at the moon just for the fun of it. He's a nutter!' Quint glared at him and tried again.
'I'm sorry, but we were told…' But he got no further as the agent burst into animated energy once more.
'Go… leave… depart… ' he screamed and spittle flew from the little man's mouth as he jumped from one foot to the other, shooing them away with his hands like a couple of annoying sheep, '… vamoose… exit… scram! His skinny legs flew out as he kicked the air to either side and his eyes appeared to grow behind his wire framed glasses, however he quickly scuttled back behind his counter when he realised they weren't leaving.
'Still here eh?' he screwed up his eyes regarding them with suspicion.
Quint looked questioningly at Pardigan who shrugged in bewilderment. This wasn't the sort of welcome they were expecting, Quint tried again.
'Yes, we're still here. We have a…' Once again, the agent interrupted.
'Well I'll not allow it. The sheriff shall hear about this assault upon my person and…' This time it was Pardigan that interrupted the now blustering agent as he attempted to head for the door.
'Assaulted you! When did we assault you?' There was no answer from the agent as he glared at Pardigan and attempted to push past, intent on reporting them for some imagined assault; so Pardigan assaulted him. He brought his fist crashing down on top of the little man's head, and the agent's legs flew from under him, his arms covered his head and he curled into a ball, whimpering.
'Don't hurt me, take my money, take my valuables, but don't take my life away, take…'
'Oh, behave, yer big baby,' said Pardigan in disgust. 'The King told us to meet you if you have any complaints you can go to him… here.' Pardigan reached into his cloak and pulled out the letter, 'He gave us a letter of introduction for you.' The agent looked up from under his arms.
'The King?' he whined. 'Why would his Royal Highness have children seek me out? You're lying!' He flinched and ducked back under his arms as Pardigan stepped towards him, about to deliver a hefty boot to his rear. Quint pulled Pardigan back and the kick missed sending Pardigan stumbling. Quint crouched down beside the agent.
'The King really did send us, look, read the letter. How else would we know to seek out, Elisop the trader? You don't look much like a royal agent, Mr Elisop.'
'Oh, and you've met an awful lot of royal agents have you,' sneered Elisop, as he rose awkwardly to his feet. 'Anyway, if you were enemy agents you would say you were from…' He started but rapidly changed his mind when Pardigan dodged forward and twisted his ear.
'Aaaahhhh, let me go!' Pardigan let him go, with a little persuasion from Quint, and the agent glared at him, yet finally seemed resigned to having to deal with them.
'All right, all right, you have a letter, so I believe you. Let me see it.' He snatched it, screwed up his face and held the letter so close that his nose touched the paper. After reading it, he scrunched it up into a little ball and popped it into his mouth.
For a few moments, the agent chewed, unable to speak as Quint and Pardigan looked on in amusement. Finally, he swallowed and picked a last reluctant piece of paper from his teeth, before attempting speech.
'What do you want? What possible service can I provide you… fine young fellows?' he asked while scrabbling to his feet and screwing his face up into what he obviously believed to be a smile. He still didn't seem too sure about any of this, but seeing no alternative, he was falling back upon his duty.
The boys explained they wanted nothing, other than a little information and the chance to pass back information to the King as it came to them on their trip over the Bolt.
'You're going through the Bolt… in winter?' a huge grin lit up the little man's face. 'You're mad, potty, crazy, insane…' He was back to hopping from one foot to the other, laughing and wagging his hands at them. When Pardigan raised his fist again the little man calmed down, and they got their chance to talk.
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'I'll tell you one thing you'll need to know if you're going into the Bolt,' said the agent. 'Watch out for howlers up there. Its winter… they like winter, they get happy.'
'What are you wittering on about?' said Pardigan, frowning.
'Howlers boy, howlers! They don't really get angry, but if they do they just sit and sulk, often for days at a time. However, a howler when it's happy…' the agent wiggled his finger under Pardigan's nose, '… a happy howler is a dangerous thing. It's as unpredictable as a small boy happily pulling the legs off a spider. They're not really being nasty you understand, they just want to play.' He started his strange hopping from one foot to another. 'Find a playful howler, young sirs, and he may decide to pull off your legs. Or if it's really happy, it may just give you a big loving hug that would leave you dead as a… as a… as a dead thing.' He cackled at the sight of Pardigan's unhappy face. 'So you never mess with a happy howler, boys. And you don't hurt them either,' he warned, turning serious for a moment. 'Remember, they aren't being nasty, they just don't know their own strength.'
Sometime later, feeling the whole visit had been a complete waste of time, they left the grungy little store and trudged back up the muddy street. The agent had known nothing of the Hawk and little of conditions in the Bolt. Other than advice on over-cheerful howlers, and rumours of more skirmishing bands from Morgasta's horde sighted in the bolt itself, he had given them nothing but a hard time.
When they got back to the Inn, Mahra had already been out and bought the necessary provisions including warmer cloaks, socks and scarves, and after they'd explained their meeting with the agent, they decided it was time to leave.
They departed Barnham Bolt, squelching through the mud, and walked out through the gate without a backward glance or any intention of ever returning. They did, however, keep a wary watch for the Hawk but saw no sign of his shadowy figure. Pardigan was convinced the Hawk's eyes were on him every step of the way, and when they finally found a sheltered area to call The Griffin, he had never been happier to see the huge creature flying down towards them. They settled themselves, wrapping their new cloaks and scarves tightly about them and then took hold on the thick pelt as best they could before Quint gave the command.
'The Bolt, please, Griffin. Fly us into the Bolt.' As before the great beast sank back onto her haunches and launched upwards, the huge wings extending and beating once again as she fought against gravity, to free herself from its grip while her passengers gamely hung on.
* * *
He was aware of some confusion, of far off sounds, of pain and cold and being soaking wet, and finally, everything drifting away as the need to sleep once more overcame him. Unfortunately, he also felt another more urgent need, it was pulling him back towards an unwelcome consciousness, and he drifted for a time trying to identify things around him. There was the sound of the sea; a strong wind was driving rain into his face, creaking ropes and the unsteady feeling of swinging from side… to side. Oh, and the need to throw up, that was it! That's what… Loras turned his head and blindly, but noisily, emptied the contents from his stomach.
'Loras!'
Loras forced his eyes to open; it wasn't easy. Tarent was sitting just an arms-length away, which was as far as he could get in their present circumstances, disgust plain upon his face as he stared at the coating of warm vomit all over his arm.
'I'm really sorry Tarent, but I feel awful, really awful.' Closing his eyes again, Loras sank back down to wallow in misery.
'Oh, Loras, even Pardigan managed to keep from puking on me!' Tarent pulled off his wet jacket and began scraping it on the side of their wooden prison, a cage suspended high in the rigging of the ship. 'Yuk, this stinks…'
Loras opened his eyes again, forced himself painfully up onto one elbow and gazed about properly for the first time.
'Where are we?' he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the howl of the wind and creaking of the rigging, but Tarent didn't answer.
He wiped rain from his face and shivered. 'Where's Magician Falk?' Tarent glanced at Loras, and then indicated with a nod for Loras to look behind him. Loras swapped elbows and turned around, which wasn't easy. Magician Falk was in a similar contraption to theirs, less than three spans away. He was sitting up with his wet cloak wrapped around him, he gave Loras a sad little wave and shrugged his shoulders; he also looked cold and miserable.
'Oooohhh…' Loras sank back down. 'I feel horrible, what are we going to do?'
Tarent didn't reply.
The cages were constructed from poles of bamboo, lashed together with thin slivers of the same material and had been hoisted to a dizzy height, up into the rigging where they rolled and swung with the erratic motion of the ship as it moved under full sail in turbulent waters. Judging from some nasty stains and splashes of blood, they clearly weren't the first occupants to be afforded the view from this highest of perches.
'Let's get out,' moaned Loras.
'How? Your magic doesn't work, does it?' Tarent gingerly put his arm back into his smelly jacket, a look of revulsion on his face. 'I'm beginning to wish I was with Pardigan, I bet he could get us out of here. So, do you have any ideas?'
'No, but I really need to get out, I can't think straight and…' He interrupted himself with another eruption of sick, this time away from Tarent. 'Oh, by the Source, think of something Tarent, please.'
It was the end of the day when the Black Destiny, followed by The Jenny, left the stormy waters of the northern seas and headed into the sanctuary of a small island and its natural harbour. As they sailed in between two tall sentinel rocks the rain finally abated, the clouds parted, and the sun appeared long enough on the horizon to set in a blaze of colour.
Below them, the motion of the boat settled down once fully in the protection of the anchorage and the cages stopped swinging. The crew began hauling in the remaining sails, and the anchor was dropped with a splash, the sound was met with a cheer from the crew. The captives were ignored while the crew settled and then after some time a basket of water and stale bread was winched up to them. None of the pirates attempted to communicate, preferring instead to complete their duties and look to their own needs. As the stars came out a full moon slowly rose to hang low on the horizon, its light dancing upon the waters of the bay.
Long boats were launched, and the pirates started to go ashore to where a fire had already been lit on the beach, sending long dancing shadows across the sand. After several trips across, with most of the crew on the island, the sounds of music and shouting filled the air and the pirates began to celebrate the capture of The Jenny, prancing, howling and jumping about around the fire. Muskets were fired, with several musket balls zipping past the creaking cages accompanied by howls of laughter. Thankfully, apart from being shot at, the captives seemed almost to be forgotten.
'This could be our chance,' muttered Tarent, studying the deck below. Several pirates were still on the Black Destiny, but none seemed interested in them. 'I've managed to loosen some poles if we can climb…' he glanced at Loras, but saw his friend was still in rough shape and wasn't going to be climbing anywhere for a while. Glancing across at Magician Falk, Tarent came to the same conclusion with him as well. The old man was lying down, possibly asleep, and was never going to clamber out of the cage and then down the rigging to the deck undetected.
Working at the slivers of bamboo wasn't easy. It was a really tough material that had been tied up months or possibly years earlier and with constant exposure to the elements and salt spray of the sea had set solidly in place making the cage a very effective prison. Without a knife, Tarent wasn't able to cut through anything and his fingers were soon bleeding from trying to pick at the knots. But eventually, he managed to separate two of the sidebars enough to squeeze through and, with much cursing and effort, made his way out and up onto the top of the cage. It swung and creaked with his movements waking Loras.
'Wa'sup, Tarent? What's…'
'Shhh,' Tarent hushed his friend. 'I'm outside,
Loras, up here… above you. I'm going to try and get us down onto the deck, and then… well, and then we'll see where we go next. Stay still and be quiet, ok?' He glanced across at Magician Falk and the old man raised his head and gave a small wave, a look of concern etched on his face in the dim light from the beach fires. From his perch, Tarent searched for his best route down and decided that firstly, he had to go up, which would allow him to crawl along the spars and rigging before finally making his way down the mast to the deck. He took hold of the rope and began to climb.
It wasn't easy with fingers sore, and bleeding and his reserves of energy already badly depleted, but once he managed to get to the spar and then into the rigging proper, the climb was fairly easy and he was soon down on the deck breathing a sigh and a prayer of thanks to the Source for getting this far undetected.
A wheel needing several men to operate had hoisted the cages up; there was no way Tarent was going to be able to get them down on his own. There didn't seem to be anyone on deck and he cast around for some clue to his next move. A particularly raucous round of laughter drew his attention to the celebrations on the beach where the pirates were still singing and dancing around their fire. Two pirates were throwing more logs on, which were sending bright, orange glowing embers floating up into the night sky. The figure of Captain Tregawn was quite unmistakable as he danced and shouted with his men. Firecrackers and small explosions were being set off, much to the amusement of all, and kegs of ale and rum were set out and being drained at an impressive rate.
Returning his attention back onboard the Black Destiny, Tarent now noticed two sailors standing by the ship's rail further along the deck watching their crewmates on the beach. They were also drunk and were obviously unhappy about being left on guard, away from all the fun. Tarent could hear disgruntled murmuring and curses aimed at their Captain and the luckier crewmates. Moving away, he headed to a hatch and slipped down below decks unobserved.