Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1)

by Alan Ratcliffe

  “What matters?” From Raven’s tone, Cole guessed she was not overjoyed at the prospect of travelling with the chieftain’s son.

  Harri’s jaw clenched. He stared out in the direction of the forest’s edge. “Before our party met with the last trade caravan at Dawn, we met some strangers on the road. They told us there have been disappearances in the forest. Before we reached the Moon Tower, I left the group to scout the area, but I found no trace of anything unusual.”

  “From what they say, the Spiritwood is a dangerous place,” said Cole. “Is it so strange for people to go missing?”

  “The forest has claimed many lives. There are numerous dangers within that threaten unwary travellers, but in most cases we find some trace, a sign of what befell them.” The hunter’s disquiet was clear in his voice. “From what we were told, people are vanishing, in some cases from their camps, silently in the night. When their party awakes, they are simply gone. The soldiers at the tower gave me a location where one such disappearance occurred, across the Ymbral. I mean to investigate.”

  Raven smiled thinly. “It is always an honour to travel with a hunter of the Watch,” she said. “We would welcome your company.”

  With a mischievous glint in his eye, Harri spurred on his horse. “It was not a request,” he called back over his shoulder.

  CHAPTER 10

  For three hours they raced ahead of the storm, but as he stood on the Havørn’s quarterdeck watching the gathering mountains of black cloud looming less than a league off their stern, Captain Brandt finally conceded defeat.

  “She’s coming up too fast to out-run,” he called to Nikolaj, raising his voice above the growing wind.

  The first-mate was standing at the ship’s wheel, holding their course steady with firm hands. “You can’t win them all, cap’n,” he replied with a grin.

  Captain Brandt stared towards the shore far away on the port side, gaining his bearings. “Make for land,” he said at last. “There is a small cove half a league south, sheltered on all sides. It will protect us from the worst of the storm.”

  “Aye cap’n.” Obediently, the grizzled first mate turned the wheel, altering the ship’s course a few degrees until it was headed for the coast.

  Captain Brandt waited a few moments, until he was happy with their new bearing, and then he climbed down to the deck. Jan and Sten busied themselves nearby as he approached. “How fares our passenger?” he asked the former, knowing from long experience that any attempt at conversation with the stoic Southron would fall on deaf ears.

  “Fine and dandy, cap’n,” said Jan sardonically, “nat’ral sailor, that one.” There was a low rumble that Captain Brandt initially thought to be thunder but which, after a moment, he recognised as laughter. Sten caught his eye and chuckled once more, before turning back to his work.

  Caspian, the young man they had taken on a week earlier after their visit to the Crag, was having difficulty adjusting to a life at sea. Most often, he was to be found below decks, groaning fretfully to himself. If not there, he was generally leaning out over a rail, green-faced, throwing whatever meal he had been desperate enough to consume back up into the waves.

  That was in spite of their journey so far being relatively smooth. They had left Westcove a week before beneath clear, sunny skies, albeit with heavy hearts. He didn’t know what his crewmen had told their spouses, but he had told Freyja the truth. She was saddened by his decision to sail south to bring word of the atrocity at the Crag, accompanied by a survivor no less, but understood. She made only one request of him: “Come home to me.”

  I’ll do my best, lass. It was a dangerous voyage, they had both known that, as did his crew. He’d offered them the chance to stay in Westcove and sign on to another ship, but one by one they had confirmed their determination to accompany him. To his surprise, Sten had been the first to do so. After Captain Brandt had finished explaining his plans in full, silence had fallen over the crew. Then Sten had simply shrugged muscular shoulders and walked back out onto the deck to prepare for departure. A few moments later, Nikolaj and Dorric had nodded their heads grimly and followed suit. Jan was the last. “Pirates along the coast, war in the south... it’s going to be risky, cap’n,” he’d said, in a low voice.

  “No-one is forcing you to come. The lads won’t think any less of you for staying.”

  “And you, cap’n?”

  “Nor me,” he replied after a pause.

  Jan spat into the water and gazed across the bay to the silhouette of the Crag, barely visible in the pre-dawn gloom. He was the youngest of the Havørn’s crew, not yet in his mid-twenties. In his younger days he had ridden with one of the bandit gangs that plagued travellers along the Empire’s roads, before growing tired of that life. He’d signed on with Captain Brandt’s crew, reasoning that a life at sea was least likely to bring him face to face with any of his old cronies. Captain Brandt had never had any cause to doubt his loyalty, but the younger man still wore the hard edge and wary look that were relics of his past.

  “What we saw, it’s import’nt, ain’t it cap’n?”

  “Aye,” he agreed. “I’m not sure how yet, but I think it will change things. People need to know what happened here. At the very least we need to bring word to Bloodstone, so that it reaches the emperor’s ear.”

  A sly look stole over the young crewman’s face. “Seems to me that an emperor might reward those who bring news of a plot to his ears.”

  Captain Brandt frowned. “We don’t do this for coin, we do it because it is right.”

  “That might be why you risk your neck for a keep full o’ dead monks, but not me, cap’n,” Jan replied firmly. “They wouldn’t of spit on me if’n I was on fire when they was alive, nor me them. But if you can promise us riches, then I’ll sail with you.”

  Captain Brandt ground his jaw and stared across the waves. Having a full complement on board would raise their chances of reaching their destination. But he was not prepared to lie to his men. “I will not stand before the Golden Throne of Ehrenburg and demand coin,” he said carefully. “But it is possible that Maximilien would not let those who bring his word of his most trusted advisor’s misdeeds go unrewarded.”

  The young sailor weighed up his words. It was not the cast-iron guarantee Jan had hoped for, but he knew that it was as much as he would receive. But there was one last nagging question, one that Captain Brandt had spent long mulling over himself. “What if he already knows?” Jan asked quietly, so the others would not overhear. “What if old Max the Great is a part of it?”

  Captain Brandt shook his head slowly. He kept his face carefully still, expressionless. “I don’t think so. What happened up there on that rock, it has the feel of something secret. ‘Sides,” he added, “there were no Legion there, not even an escort. I don’t think the Archon wanted any witnesses.” Despite his own doubts, he believed that what he was saying was true.

  Jan nodded thoughtfully, then with no further word he swaggered onto the deck to join his crewmates.

  Captain Brandt recalled that moment now as he stood watching his crew work. The ship was pitching more severely now as the storm approached, buffeted by six-foot high waves capped with white foam. Sea spray flew up above the rails as they crashed into the Havørn’s sides. Dorric, high up in the rigging, was often left hanging above the waves as the ship rolled drunkenly from side to side. Yet he may as well have been propping up the ‘Maid’s bar for all the concern he showed. They’re a good crew, he thought. What would he have done if they had refused to accompany him south? He’d been confident, but a flicker of doubt had wormed its way into his heart before Sten stepped forward. Would I still be here, now? It seemed unlikely.

  He looked back across to the approaching coastline and barked a minor course adjustment at Nikolaj, who did as he was bid. Satisfied, he steeled himself with a deep breath and pushed open the door to the cabin.

  Inside, it was dark. The Havørn’s small cabin had no windows, with what little light there was prov
ided by a candle on the captain’s desk. His eyes took a moment to adjust, and soon he could make out the robed figure huddled in the candle’s feeble glow, papers strewn all around him. Captain Brandt could also see stacks of papers piled on the floor next to the room’s occupant.

  “Catching up on a little reading, eh lad?”

  The robed figure swivelled and he saw the scraggly youth’s features in the candlelight. Caspian smiled. “I started to get a bit bored of staring at my breakfast as it flew into the sea. I think I’ve found my sea legs.”

  “It had to happen eventually.” Captain Brandt crossed to the cabin’s bunk and sat down on the hard mattress. He pointed towards the papers. “Anything interesting?”

  “Hm? Oh, the letters.” Caspian shook his head. “Sorry, captain, you were probably hoping for me to make more progress with these by now, but I haven’t really been in a fit state to-”

  Captain Brandt waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it, lad, you’ve had a hard time of it, harder’n most in fact. We’ve plenty of time left on this voyage, yet.”

  “How far have we come?”

  “A few hundred miles, give or take. We might have come farther, had the wind been better, but at this time of year you’re always more grateful for the miles you’ve travelled safely than regretful of the ones you haven’t.”

  “Oh, believe me, I am,” replied Caspian with nervous laugh. “We’ll be at sea for a couple of weeks yet, then.”

  Captain Brandt fished his clay pipe from his pocket, and stuffed a wad of tobacco into the bowl. “Could be so,” he said, as he struck his flint to light it, and grunted with satisfaction as he took a couple of puffs. “It’s hard to say. We’ll be making land in an hour or so for a day, perhaps two. Hopefully it will be the only time, but at this time of year you can never know for sure.”

  Caspian sat up, alarmed. “Making land, here? Is there a problem?”

  Captain Brandt chuckled, sending a cloud of grey smoke across the small cabin. “Problem? Nay lad, not unless you count the storm nipping at our heels like a pack of hellhounds still warm from the pit.” Even in the dim light, he saw the colour drain from the young man’s face. “Did ye not notice the floor moving around more than usual?”

  “I... I got caught up in reading, I didn’t...”

  Captain Brandt laughed out loud, sending hot ashes onto his topcoat. “You’re a queer one, lad, I’ll give you that,” he said as he patted them out. “Face as green as a jealous fishwife while the sea is as still as a pond, and barely notice when a gale is threatening to drown us.”

  The chair scraped across the floor as Caspian suddenly lurched to his feet. “Sorry, captain, I think I’m going to be-”

  “Sit down, lad,” he commanded. “You’ve been fine this long, just take a hold of yeself. There’s a small cove not far from here that I know. We’ll be sheltered there while we wait for the storm to pass.”

  Caspian nodded miserably, and sat down again. For a while they sat in silence, the young man staring off into space as the captain puffed contentedly on his pipe.

  Eventually, Caspian stirred. “I’m from Westcove, you know,” he muttered in a quiet voice, barely perceptible above the creaking of the ship and the muffled crash of the waves.

  “Aye?”

  “Westerman, born and bred,” the young man continued. “I was born within spitting distance of the dock, in a room above a weaver’s shop. I had two brothers and a sister. I was the youngest.” He paused, still staring into the middle-distance. This time, Captain Brandt sat quietly, not interrupting. With a sigh, Caspian carried on. “Da was a labourer at the docks and my mam took in washing, but they could barely feed us all. So, when I was five, I was sent off to the Order, to study. Make something of myself, my da said. The journey to the Crag was the last time I set foot on a ship for twelve years. When there weren’t no chores, the novices would stand at the top of the keep. Some of them would look out west, or north, or south, trying to make out what was out there beyond the edges of the world. Not me. I always looked across the bay. On a good day, from where I stood, I could see my house. A gull could fly further in an hour than I’d come in my whole life.”

  “Everyone has to spread their wings, sooner or later,” Captain Brandt said softly.

  Caspian glanced across. “That’s the point,” he said. “I never wanted to. I was happy where I was. I’d have stayed in Westcove if my da had let me. I knew that one day I’d probably be sent out to set up a mission somewhere else, but I didn’t like to think about it. Cole hated it.” He chuckled ruefully. “He was desperate to get out there, to see the world, though I think the idea scared him a little. Now he is, somewhere out there. And so am I. He’d laugh himself hoarse if he could see me.”

  Caspian lapsed into a morose silence. Captain Brandt watched him for a few moments, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe. “It’s good you came with us,” he said after a time.

  The young man let out a bitter laugh. “I had a choice? Left in a castle full of dead men and being ambushed by pirates at the point of a sword. I was just grateful to still be breathing.”

  “We’re fishermen,” said Captain Brandt carefully after a long pause, “not pirates.”

  Caspian shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Look, captain. I wasn’t lying about being grateful. Who knows how I’d have got off that rock if you hadn’t come along. But I’m only here ‘cause Cole’s in some kind of trouble. I want to figure out what it is, do what I can to help, and then go back to what’s left of my life.”

  It may not be that simple, the captain thought. I hope for your sake that it is. Out loud, he said, “For what it’s worth, I think you made the right choice. Despite what you think, there was one to make.” He stood, and crossed to the cabin door. “We’ll be making land soon. I’ll come back when it’s time.”

  With no further word from the young man, he went back out onto the deck and closed the door behind him.

  * * *

  When Captain Brandt had said the cove was sheltered on all sides, he hadn’t been lying. As they sailed along the cliffs that marked this part of the coast beneath darkening skies, they didn’t see the narrow crack in the rock that marked its entrance until they were nearly on top of it.

  Standing pensively in the prow, Captain Brandt was watching for the passage. It was less than thirty yards away when he finally saw it through the driving rain and sea spray. He roared at the helmsman. As Nikolaj span the ship’s wheel, he called instructions to the crew. On cue, Jan and the hulking form of Sten heaved on various ropes to trim the sails accordingly. The rolling ship turned, hesitantly at first and then more sharply. Waves crashed into the Havørn’s broadside, and for a moment it felt as though they might capsize.

  For several heartbeats it teetered on the brink of falling. Then, with almost glacial slowness, the wind caught the sails once more, righting the rotund fishing vessel and propelling it forward through the narrow passage in the sheer cliff face. It was tight, the rock passing less than ten feet from either side, but it was only several ships’ lengths long and soon they emerged into the calm waters of the bay beyond.

  Caspian, now standing in the cabin’s doorway, gasped as he saw it. The cove was almost completely circular, bounded by tall cliffs all around. With the storm almost upon them, the sky above was near as dark as night. A hard rain pounded the wooden deck, yet the cove’s waters were almost still. It was small, though to Caspian’s untrained eye it looked capable of safely containing several ships larger than their own. On the far side of the bay was a beach, above which the cliffs loomed vertically. It seemed to Caspian like an apple that had had its core cut out. You could easily travel past this spot on either side by land or sea, and never know that it existed.

  “Where are we?” he asked, to nobody in particular.

  Captain Brandt was striding back towards the stern as the crew busied themselves taking down sails. “It doesn’t really have a name, lad, least none that I know of,” he said. “Those as know of it aren�
�t exactly the map-making type.”

  Caspian’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “Pirates you mean?”

  The captain shrugged. “Let’s just say that for those who would prefer to avoid imperial attention, secret places like this are more valuable than gold.”

  Before Caspian could ask more, the captain was climbing up to the ship’s wheel, barking instructions at Nikolaj and the rest of the crew climbing around in the rigging.

  When the sails had been furled and the anchor dropped, Dorric and Sten lowered a small rowboat into the water to take them all ashore. Close to, the water was not still, Caspian realised with a knot of nausea in his stomach. But the small waves that lapped at the rowboat were in stark contrast to the savage fury of the storm that raged in the sky above them.

  The darkness was lit up every few moments as lightning crackled across the face of the mountainous clouds. Through the crack in the rock they had passed through mere minutes before, he caught a glimpse of waves as tall as houses dashing themselves against the cliffs. At the sight of the rolling swell his stomach lurched again.

  Caspian glanced at the crew. Sten and Nikolaj were rowing steadily for the shore, their faces contorted with the strain of pulling the oars. Jan and Dorric were laughing at some private joke, and he felt his cheeks redden. The sailors had been careful not to mock him within earshot, but he knew he must have been the butt of many japes this past week. Captain Brandt, meanwhile, stared out towards the beach. All of them, Caspian included, were soaked through to the skin; even if he fell into the water he could not be more wringing wet than he already was. The rain hammered down in fat droplets that stung his skin, while a chill wind howled around them and pinched their faces.

  Yet the mood of the crew was light; each man was keenly aware that any discomfort they were now feeling was as nothing against what it would be like to be at sea in this storm. Caspian shivered and gathered his wet cloak around himself, though any effort to shield himself from the rain was in vain. He had next to no experience of sailing in bad weather, but even he felt relief at their narrow escape.