The Wolf and the Sorceress

by Brian Pemberton

  “I can’t sit here and watch this,” said Tyler, “a fair fight is one thing, but five against one.” Rising from the table, Tyler and Parlan ran at the two men holding the captain, as they barged into them, they all fell in a heap. Quickly gaining their feet, Tyler and Parlan stood alongside the captain, grinned at him and raised their fists in unison. They all lashed out as the men attacked; two fell to the ground, followed by a third. Now that the captain was not alone, the man who had started the fight wasn’t so brave. He and another man helped their fallen colleagues to their feet and hurried from the taproom, leaving Tyler, Parlan and the captain alone in the middle of the room. “Let me buy you a drink,” gasped the captain, clasping both their arms. “We’re with a lady,” said Tyler. “Would you care to join us?” “Certainly, I’ll buy you all a drink,” he nodded, “it’s the least I can do.” “What was all that about?” Tyler asked, when they were seated, drinking refreshing mugs of ale. “I refused the leader of the group work on my ship. He and his companions caused no end of trouble on the journey here. They were lazy, late for duty, and things went missing from the mess deck. When I told them they wouldn’t be sailing with me again, they took exception to it.” He faced Nemeila. “You have a brave husband, not many men would step in to help a stranger.” Nemeila blushed. “He’s not my husband, actually; we’re just friends travelling together.” “Where are you bound?” asked the captain, gulping down a mouthful of ale.

  “Kallopia,” said Tyler, “I have already enquired about your vessel, but was told that you don’t take passengers.”

  “That’s very true,” the captain agreed, “but perhaps I might make an exception in light of the situation.” He grinned at Nemeila. “You don’t look old enough to be eloping, and if you were, who am I to stand in the way of two young hearts. Although I can hold my own in a fight, five might have been too much even for me had your friends not intervened. I think for a modest sum, you could occupy my cabin on our journey to Kallopia.”

  “Would you allow me to bring my dog with me?” Nemeila asked, cocking her head to one side and smiling her sweetest smile.

  “I seem to remember a dog being mentioned by one of my crew when someone asked for passage. Where is the little fellow?”

  Nemeila pushed back her chair, revealing the little fellow under the table.

  “Not so little,” he started back, seeing Amber curled up at Nemeila’s feet. “Is he safe? I mean… does he bite?”

  “Only if those boots of yours tread on me again,” Amber grunted with a low rumble in his throat.

  “He’ll be on his best behaviour,” reassured Nemeila, with a smile that would one-day melt many a man’s heart. “That is, unless any of your men mean me harm.”

  Amber looked up and smiled too, giving the captain a glimpse of creamy white teeth that on the whole, he’d rather not have seen.

  “You’ll come to no harm. No one would dare go against my orders. Besides, my First Mate is built like a bear, a match for any man who steps out of line. It’s a pity I never allowed him to throw those five troublemakers overboard before we reached port. We sail on the tide, collect what you need for the journey and come aboard. I’ll show you to your quarters myself.”

  They all stood as the captain made ready to leave and having shaken hands all round, he turned on his heel and strode out of the taproom into the busy street alongside the quay.

  “Do you need anything before we leave here?” they asked Nemeila.

  “I don’t think so. Most of my possessions are in that bag, a change of clothing and an almost new pair of boots. Besides, I thought we were on a mission and had to travel light.”

  Tyler grinned. “I didn’t mean to buy up all the shops along the quay. I meant food-wise.”

  “I’ll settle for whatever the crew have, I’m sure we’ll manage. Amber can do the same, and have any scraps that are left over.”

  An hour before the tide turned, they climbed the gangplank leading to the deck and sought out the captain.

  Their journey was to take three months, Kallopia being the third port of call on the merchant ship’s schedule. At first the crew were wary whenever Amber was on deck, but he stayed close to his mistress, and after a few days the men took no notice of him. Nemeila often stood leaning on the ships’ rail, eyes fixed on the wake or staring off towards the horizon where it seemed her destiny lay. Tyler spent a good part of each day with the captain, learning what he could about navigation and the general running of a ship that was always at sea. Parlan lingered with the crew, learning all that he could about their side of the operation. One day, he mused, if I ever became king, I will fund an army to patrol the seas around my coastline to protect it from pirates who might chance raiding deserted shores.

  “Don’t you wish for a life on dry land, where you could have a wife and family?” Tyler asked the captain.

  “Nay, lad,” he replied. “The sea is my mistress, and my life. It is what I do best. As for family, a man would be hard pressed to find a more loyal lot than my crew. If I were never to set sail again, it would be like being buried alive, the thought of having to take and follow orders would be worse than dying.”

  Tyler laughed. “I used to work at the castle in Kallopia as a stable hand, my father was head groom. When the king was poisoned, my family moved back to the farm we owned. When I return from this voyage, and our business has been concluded, I intend to follow him home and help him till the land.”

  “And the crewman’s work you were doing the other day, where did you pick that up?”

  “My friend and I had to work our passage to Ikasar and the crew of that vessel were good, tolerant teachers. We made a lot of friends on that voyage.”

  “That’s what I mean about the sea,” said the captain, grinning broadly. “It’s the friendliest place on earth.”

  That night, Nemeila tossed and turned in her bunk. They were now ten weeks into their journey, just one week away from their destination. The weather had been kind and the wind fair, bringing them to Kallopia the best part of a week early. But her dream, which had started out pleasantly, with her, Tyler and the future king of Kallopia riding from the port, laughing and joking along the way, was now transforming itself into a nightmare. She heard, in her mind, Tobyn’s chanted incantations and she felt as though she was slowly being suffocated. She was suddenly aware of herself standing upon the ocean’s surface, watching the ship disappear into the distance. No matter how loudly she called out to it, the men on board never heard her. The chill of fear oozed into her mind and crawled up her spine with icy fingers. She chanced a look behind her and saw ghostly figures looming towards her, their features more hideous than anything her imagination could possibly conjure up.

  Behind them a shadow strode towards her robed and hooded in dark blue, the face hidden beneath wispy tendrils of foul-smelling fog. She knew instantly and instinctively that this was the murderer of her birth father, the one waiting for her in Kallopia.

  ‘You think to challenge me?’ a harsh voice echoed in her mind, ‘I should have taken more time before escaping my prison to kill both you and your mother. If you seek me out, I will destroy you and the two runts you call friends. Be warned; you are mine, child!’ Sweat-soaked and imprisoned by twisted sheeting, Nemeila started awake. She sat bolt upright, her eyes tightly closed, as the remnants of the nightmare swirled through her mind. Amber had already been awakened by her disturbed sleep, and was wondering why she called out for no apparent reason. A member of the watch had already sent for Tyler and Parlan to be brought to the cabin, worried by the sounds emanating from it as he made his rounds. Tyler knocked on the door before opening it, and seeing Nemeila shaking feverishly clutching the blanket as if her life depended upon it, hurried to her bedside.

  “The Watch heard your cries and sent for us. What’s wrong?”

  “He knows we are coming,” said Nemeila, accepting the comforting arm Tyler placed round her shoulders.

  “Who?” queried Parlan, having for the m
oment forgotten all about the sorcerer.

  “Tobyn,” Nemeila replied impatiently. “He somehow invaded my mind while I was asleep; he threatened us all with death should we set foot upon Kallopian shores.”

  “Maybe it was your own mind playing tricks on you,” Tyler said, trying to comfort the distraught girl. “The worry of facing him must weigh heavily upon you.”

  “It was not my mind playing tricks,” she answered firmly, shrugging off his arm angrily. “I have never had a nightmare before, and it was too real to be anything but Tobyn himself. When we land, we must be on our guard; our surprise attack has been thwarted.”

  “The captain said we should arrive in about a week. It should give us enough time to come up with a plan of action.”

  Nemeila smiled wryly, knowing in her heart that whatever plan they devised would be fraught with danger.

  “If you’ll wait outside,” she said, nodding at the cabin door, “I will wash and dress. I feel like I’m suffocating in here. Perhaps you would like to share the deck with me?”

  “Gladly,” said Tyler. “Take your time. We’ll be down the companionway.” Emerging onto the deck, they saw a clear sky, stars twinkling like tiny jewels in its vast darkness. The moon was halfway through its cycle, shining brightly in the surrounding blackness. Nemeila shivered slightly as the breeze caressed her skin, and she clasped the shawl more tightly around her. But within minutes, there was a change in the atmosphere. The sky began to cloud over and the gentle breeze became strong gusts of wind. The sails billowed and cracked with the sudden increase in pressure, and carried the ship more quickly across the water. From a peaceful calmness, the sea began to swell. As the bow crashed into a trough, a booming spray of water drenched the deck, soaking the three friends, and the Watch.

  The alarm was raised informing the captain that they were heading into stormy seas. “Man the decks, you swabs, there’s too much sail for the gusting winds.” The crew breached the calm that had surrounded them, clambering onto the deck and climbing the rigging to adjust the canvas, and tying down anything loose that might be washed overboard. Tyler grabbed hold of Nemeila’s arm and guided her towards the companionway leading to her cabin, but as she reached it, she turned to scan the suddenly wild night. The wind was howling like a horde of crazed banshees, the swell of the sea booming and crashing around the ship. At one point, it seemed likely they would be pulled straight down to the bottom of the ocean, but the ship beat the trough and levelled out, ready to ride the next churning crest.

  She covered her ears with her hands and closed her eyes as her head reeled with the mocking laughter of the man she was growing to hate.

  “This is no ordinary storm,” she screamed at Tyler and Parlan, trying to make herself heard over the shrieking wind. She entered the companionway, which provided a shield against some of the noise. “I wonder if Tobyn is a telepath and is reading my thoughts,” she said, “for he’s obviously decided to finish us here at sea, he won’t even let us land on his shores.”

  “Do you believe he’s capable of this? I mean, commanding the elements?” Both lads looked worried and scared, in their wildest imaginings. “A man cannot control the weather. Can he?”

  “Not any man,” answered Nemeila, “but then, Tobyn is not just any man. He has had countless years of practice at conjury and the black arts. He may be capable of anything.”

  The deck of the merchantman shuddered beneath their feet, and Nemeila wondered just how much it could withstand before it broke apart and sank. They were many leagues from the closest land, it must be odds of several thousand to one that another ship would pass and see them in distress.

  Nemeila took a deep breath, blew it out, and hastened towards the wheelhouse. She didn’t want to do what she knew she had to; the men on board were superstitious enough without them believing they had a witch on board. But there was no alternative, if she couldn’t calm the storm, Tobyn’s creation, then the ship would founder. There were two men battling the helm, desperately fighting to hold their ship on course; a battle they were losing. A broadside of water smashed into their port side, rocking the boat and almost turning them turtle.

  Wrapping one arm round a sturdy oak beam, Nemeila closed her fingers round the amulet on her wrist and called out to her mother.

  “Mother, can you hear me?” she cried. “We need your help, I fear the ship will go down and all aboard will drown.”

  Confined within her craft, Ilanthia saw on one of her monitors the merchant ship being tossed like a toy by the conjured storm.

  “What are you going to do?” asked Eona. “Has your daughter the strength to counteract Tobyn’s mighty creation?”

  “I don’t know,” said Ilanthia despairingly, “she has only extended herself once when the woodsman lay injured under a tree. The stones answered her that time, banding together to form a ward that allowed her to raise the fallen tree, but I’m not sure if she yet knows how to command the elements.”

  “Though transfer your knowledge to the child, Ilanthia. Tell her how to counteract the forces that Tobyn uses. Her strength may not be enough to finally defeat him, but it may be enough to save the ship.”

  Ilanthia closed her eyes, attempting to telepathically link her mind with her daughter’s, hoping she was not too late to offer her protection.

  The ship was in chaos; water flowed across the deck like a river’s tidal bore carving its course. A man fell from the rigging screaming in fear, until he was silenced when he crashed onto the deck below, dead before his crewmates could reach him. Nemeila beckoned Tyler and Parlan to her side, telling them to hold onto her tightly. “No matter what happens,” she warned, “try not to let go. All our lives might depend on it.”

  They braced themselves against the housing, and then clasped Nemeila between them. Tyler gripped her round the waist, pulling her close, so that she faced the stern of the ship. She closed her eyes and breathing deeply and rhythmically, extended her arms before her, concentrating her every thought into controlling the storm that threatened all their lives.

  A blinding spear of lightning struck the main mast, shattering the wood. The top third of the heavy wood crashed to the deck, bringing down sheets of canvas and the men tangled in it that had been tightening the sails. They were lucky, caught by a sail that had formed itself into a hammock it saved their bones being crushed by the fall. Nemeila was unaware of this, as the stones in her amulet began to sing in her mind. Her head was filled with the enchanting sounds that each of the stones intoned as they joined with their neighbour, together forming a counter ward to fight Tobyn’s magic. The men struggling to save the ship suddenly halted their labours as a stunning white light engulfed the wheelhouse. They backed away, frightened by the myths of sea monsters and evil spirits they had heard of in their travels. The glow spread across the deck capturing everything it touched, until eventually it encompassed the entire ship.

  Ilanthia watched the storm-tossed ship, carrying her daughter, horrified by the ferocity of Tobyn’s evil. She realised with anguish that her daughter was not yet strong enough to defeat his power.

  Turning to Eona, she begged for her help. “Nemeila cannot win this battle against Tobyn,” she said, “please help me, to fight him.”

  Together they concentrated their thoughts, and from the sea’s surface a new storm fought its way upward. Lightning clashed with lightning, and the winds fought their own vicious battle. The opposing forces created thunderclaps loud enough to deafen the keenest ears, but eventually it had the desired effect. The sea was suddenly becalmed, the elements held in limbo between two forces never before seen by mortal man.

  Tobyn felt his powers begin to drain, at first not understanding why. But as the battle of the elements gained strength, he suddenly realised it was not the girl, but her mother he fought. Lowering his arms, his mind screamed, “Ilanthia, hear this. Your daughter dies, with or without your interference. This charade was to demonstrate the extent of my power and, although the ship may indeed have gone
down, I promise you she would have survived. When she sets foot on Kallopian soil, you will be unable to aid her; she will be mine. I will torture her and you will feel her pain, then I will kill her and send her soul to the depths of the earth.” Ilanthia trembled at his words, understanding for the first time the intense evil that had taken root in Tobyn’s black heart. Apart from an infrequent flash of lightning, the sky began to clear. The moon peeping out timidly from the boiling clouds brightened the night’s darkness. Unconscious Nemeila slumped in Tyler’s arms, whereupon he and Parlan scooped her up and carried her to her cabin.

  Having settled her on the bunk, Tyler wrapped a blanket round her to stop her shivering. To him, she looked so frail as she lay still and unmoving. For a moment, when she had collapsed in his arms, he believed her dead, killed by the man they had sworn to defeat. Even now, she seemed more dead than alive, and their fear for her communicated itself to Amber. The wolf’s plaintive whine drew Tyler’s attention. He knelt on the wooden flooring to caress the side of the animal’s face. “You have a remarkable mistress,” he smiled, “she has saved all our lives, I just hope she lives through whatever is now troubling her mind.” The captain entered the cabin, tiptoeing to Nemeila’s side. He stroked her delicate hand with his own-callused palm, observing how pale her face was in the lantern light. “She’s a brave girl to do battle with the elements,” he said. “I saw the lightning strike the band she wears on her arm, it seemed to guide the ship into the eye of the storm. Is she going to be alright?”