by J P Nelson
Another chandelier broke partway, dropping candles as it canted sharply and hung from two of its four chains. Fhascully was up with his chair to deflect the chandelier as it swung close to the table.
Two boards of the floor split apart, giving view to the basement and dropping Huffman halfway down. The sound of breaking dishes could be heard from the kitchen area as a scream was heard, and a fire began where fallen candles ignited two table clothes.
Kravieu was up and running to help Huffman who was trapped in the broken floor, as Fhascully and Ervis grabbed the burning clothes and quickly beat them out.
Fhascully passed the drunk an evil eye, as with the passing of the quake the man stood, still drunkenly wavering as he stood center of the fallen chandelier and its still burning candles, looked about, took a drink of his flask and asked, “Anyone whou lak a dran-n-nk?”
Chapter 35
THE GREEN STAR’S appearance was either instrumental, or coincidental, with the onslaught of the immediate blizzard. Ervis had planned one more jaunt before settling in for the winter, but it was not to be. The snow and ice storm was beyond anything in memory of the oldest folk in Grindstaff Community. Visibility was often non-existent over the next eight weeks of steady downfall.
The Qua’Korr and crew were tied in for the winter.
There were no cities, and still aren’t any, in Kohnarahs Bay. The town of Grindstaff was one of the largest settlements in the territory. One might think such a town would resent a full crew to draw on their supplies, but not so. As the men of Ervis’s command showed themselves of value, and Ervis himself proved such a good and fair man of trade, they were actually welcomed.
The Qua’Korr became a type of a mercantile store, as much in the way of goods it held were valuable commodities. Kaeya was invaluable helping with exchange for the ship, and Kravieu became well known as a mediator and took a room where he practiced law.
The local healer had been tending a patient in the mountains and was returning when the quake erupted. The cliff-side trail he was traveling crumbled beneath his footing, and his companion watched in anguish as the man fell to his death. As a result, Fhascully found his services employed as a physician … frequently employed, to be sure.
No man from the vessel found himself to be idle, each able to ply his respective skill among the people. If a skill was not directly applicable, there was much wood to be cut, hunting to supplement meat supplies, and there was a full crop of winter nuts to be harvested.
Was mention made of milking? Goat farming was a common thing around Grindstaff, and their cheese was of exceptional quality. Of a certainty, the goats did not cease milk production in the winter.
Skills pertaining to snowshoe trekking, dog sledding, ice fishing, and more were developed among the Qua’Korr’s crew. Fhascully was exceptionally enthusiastic about such things.
Coming in from the weather to the room he shared with Kravieu, Fhascully was still wearing snowshoes and crusted with snow. He leaned back against the wall and panted, “I need … to get … in better … shape … for this …”
Looking up from his book, sitting next to the fire with a hot mug in hand, Kravieu asked with incredulity, “My word, Franklin, where have you been?”
Fhascully nodded, “To other … side … of town … far side.”
“That would exceed a mile. And you look to have moved rapidly. Are you daft?”
Breathing in deeply, then knocking the snow off his clothes, Fhascully added, “I should begin to exercise, lose some weight, perhaps ten pounds.”
“I would say thirty.” Kravieu took a drink of his brew, “Mayhap you wish my instruction?”
“You are in worse shape than I.”
“Do not forget, older and wiser.”
“You are old enough to be my father.”
“Older and wiser. You would do well to take my exhortation. You are how old now? Forty-three? You are no longer a twenty year old buck. How long has it been since you performed pushups?”
Fhascully looked over his now fogged glasses at his brother-in-law and declared, “The last time I partook of sex.”
“Fifteen, twenty years ago?”
Reaching down to untie a snowshoe, Fhascully paused and again looked over his glasses with a menacing glare. Going back to his chore, he declared, “Some fencing practice would not hurt …”
There was a chuckle, “What is with the sudden interest in fitness? It is contrary to the image you have so carefully chosen to develop.” A long pause, then, “Ah-h-h … the Beatrice woman …”
Again, Fhascully paused, considered a retort, and then went to the other shoe.
“Perhaps you would elect to sit down, before you fall down?”
Pushing against his knees to rise, Fhascully looked to a distant chair, then back to his feet, and back to the chair. He made a step in the chair’s direction and stumbled, falling onto the floor face down.
After a pause, Kravieu took another sip, and then asked, “Is this what you call a push-up? I feel sorry for Beatrice.”
There was a mumbling from the floor, “I … am … stretching …”
“Would you care to hurry the process? You are melting upon my clean floor.”
“You … are … so-o-o … funny …”
The winter months included social gathers, music making, and much time for some people to frequent the Bon Ton Diner. Winter led to spring, spring led to the Bay’s ice thaw, the ice thaw led to navigation upon the water, and navigable water led to the commencement of sailing trade for the Qua’Korr.
Kaeya stayed in Grindstaff to work at the Bon Ton. Kravieu made explanation the journey posed several dangers for a fine lass, and she could learn much from Huffman. He was an older man, and he and his wife ran the place together. It would be good for Kaeya to be in the company of a woman, and the missus took a fondness for the girl.
Captain Ervis was a master of his craft and his endeavors led to prosperous dealing. An uprising took place along the southern shores and piracy raised its ugly hand. Twice the Qua’Korr was attacked, but Ervis was no novice in dealing with scourges of the sea, and he had to hand those Balder Ballistae. In both instances, a well-timed broadside blast with balls to the hull was all it took. Both ships went to the deep locker of Kohnarahs Bay.
After the first altercation, one of his hands asked, “Captain, there is no land to any horizon, should we to take aboard prisoners?”
Ervis looked at his man with humor in his eyes, “Are you wishing for a ward, then? He would be most appreciative for you to share your chow with him.”
Taken aback, the fellow replied, “No captain, I have no use for a ward a’tall.”
“Well then …” With whimsical tone, he looked down the rail and said, “Master Rosey? It looks to be a boat has sprung forth from yon vessel of ill tidings. Would you wager a double ration against none that you can pock the dingy with one ball?”
The bald sailing master eyed the target and replied, “Aye captain, a triple measure for my own and double for my mate, here, and a bargain it is.”
Ervis glanced again to the now filled boat, apparently the only one deployed from the rapidly sinking ship. With a dramatic shake of his head, he declared, “Ah, my but a hard bargain you drive. As you have said, so shall it be.”
Looking to his mate, Rosey called out, “One shot it is, let’s put the bonnie in the basket!”
The crew began shouting encouragements. And the dingy? They must have gathered what was amiss, as they began rowing dear to their lives. The mirth was in the fact there was nowhere to go … but they were going there as quick as they could.
Kravieu was at the rail aside Fhascully. He looked to his younger chum and challenged, “Ten shills to say Mister Rosey lays the ball center of the boat.”
With a taunting eye, Fhascully replied, “Ten shills? Is this all the faith you have in the man? Old Rosey was drinking steadily when the call came to battle. I wager a quarter-mark he misses entirely.”
With eyebr
ows raised, Kravieu was exasperated, “A quarter---? Well now, my haughty young sprout; let us make interest this wager.”
Suddenly the thwang of the ballista sounded as the ball hurtled skyward in an ominous arc.
Kravieu and Fhascully watched the ball fly into the sunlight.
Kravieu held his hand outward and asked, “A full mark?”
The malignant missile reached the apex and began its descent.
Fhascully clasped the open hand in a bargain and said, “Done!”
With hands still clasped they watched two men dive off the boat, and several more put arms up in the futile shield of the whistling projectile.
The ball hit the dingy on the side of the hull, sending wood and passengers in all directions with a tremendous splash. A volley of cheers sounded loud from the Qua’Korr.
Hands still clasped, Fhascully and Kravieu looked to each other with challenge in each others eyes.
The younger accused, “Ah! The ball did not land center, and even struck at the forward third …”
“Even so … the shot was not a clean miss.”
Both looked to the rabble of pirates trying in vain to find drift, then back to each other.
Kravieu, with implied wisdom creasing his face asked, “A truce, then, would you agree?”
Vindictive timbre laced Fhascully’s tone as he replied, “Never!” Then he softened his voice with a condescending expression, “However, due to your advanced age and deterioration, I will consent to a draw of score …” after a moment’s pause he added, “… this time.”
“You are only … too kind.”
Fhascully and Kravieu released the clasp and bumped fists.
The Gulf of Ilvoi is named for its island chain and is located in the southeast region of Kohnarahs Bay. Spohnz Island is the largest of these, at one hundred sixty miles long by thirty-five miles at its widest. Located at the northernmost end of Spohnz, the town of Stevens is the center of trade all year round in the gulf, and much of the southeastern Bay besides.
During the months of frozen sea, the gulf is navigated by skid-boats. These craft are built like barges, but with the specific intent of sailing over the ice. Ice-fishing villages also populate the gulf during the winter months, keeping this region of the Bay active year-round.
On the northern coast of Ilvoi, however, a militant leader named Coroas of Exillian was making an attempt to carve an empire. He had already established a significant holding on the mainland, but had recently heard the substance, Almu’Nonn, said to be used in ancient forging of Mythril, the magical metal of the elves, and Kushane, sometimes called d’warvec steel, an indestructible material, had been found in the hills of Spohnz.
Coroas meant to have the island and build mines for the ore. Word somehow got around he believed Ervis had stores of Almu’Nonn aboard the Qua’Korr. And somehow he knew when Ervis was leaving the gulf.
It was about one year since Ervis parted paths with Jha’Ley and S’Getti, and the captain was bringing his ventures in the gulf to a close. It was time to return to Grindstaff, where the plan was rendezvous with the expedition and return home.
The Qua’Korr was preparing to cast off from Stevens when a horn of alarm sounded from the cove’s watch tower. It took a horseman only moments to bring news that five squads of three ships each were in sight of the cove entrance … all battle-ready and flying the banner of Coroas. Behind them were other vessels which looked to be transports for men-at-arms.
Stevens was a trade town, but their houses were filled with men of combat experience. It was also a moment of bad timing for Coroas, as there is no way he could have known four full-rigged, ballista mounted vessels from the Provence of Kresses, by far the most prominent of all governments in Kohnarahs Territory, were in port. These ships had unloaded their cargo and had several raucous lads, all needing to blow some steam before loading items of exchange.
In addition, six well-armed fishing ships had come in to ride out looming bad weather from the south; and a vessel suspected, but not proven, as a northeastern pirate ship was harboring in safety. This did not include the pair of vessels used to patrol the cove and independent craft of those who lived by the sea.
Coroas had made a reputation for his skill at arms, but his prowess as a naval commander was already in question.
Captain Loris of Kresses was appointed commander of the strike force, but Ervis insisted on taking point. With determined, yet cheery attitude, he declared, “Aye, my Qua’Korr was once commissioned a Vedoan Frigate, sporting the Steel Unicorn upon her bow. She is twice as thick, bigger by nigh half again, and her missiles will blow the way through those tinderboxes and handkerchief sails.”
What the adversary could be thinking was unknown, but Kravieu logged his thoughts that, “It imparts to my mind, they blanched white upon visage of our meeting them on a course of collision. I think it clear they contemplated not our recourse of action.”
The Battle of Stevens Cove was marked well in their history and told abroad in short fashion. Nearly two score vessels made battle within view of the town docks. The Qua’Korr bore straight ahead into the foremost of Coroas’s fledgling fleet, then veered to one side and continued in a Figure-S pattern into their formation. Her missiles flew true and hit with devastating results.
The wind was in full favor of the Stevens Cove defenders, and the sun was in full glory. Straight into the transport fleet, Captain Ervis led the way. Coly Cocktails, those hollow balls full of oil with tendrils of fire, were well-placed among the vessels of warriors. Right and left, flaming men were seen leaping into the gulf waters.
Aft of the transports, Ervis saw well another arrangement of five vessels; five vessels who were coming about hard with intent to flee.
Standing at the bow, Ervis scanned well with his telescope, then made his command, “Master Rosey … point true to the center ship, and hard at ‘em!”
There was no debate as to the speed of the Qua’Korr. She was of fine lines and quick for her size, and far more than a match for this three-master. Steady on, they sailed at full speed. Coming up behind the enemy ship they stole the wind, bringing the pursued almost to a complete stop.
Firing into the sails, Ervis drew alongside and made ready to board, hoping to make the capture of the one he was sure was either the commander … or even Coroas himself.
Ervis made no false claims; he was a brave man and a fine warrior of wit and tactical skill. But he was not a master-of-arms and never claimed to be. A true captain, he always believed, however, led his men no matter.
Over the rail he went to claim this enemy vessel a prize for the honor of Stevens, and behind him came his yelling men. Perhaps he should have waited, perhaps he should have let Master Rosey, a hardened veteran of many a battle, take the lead. In any case, Ervis was front and center. His cutlass proved skill above the average man, and his blade found purchase among three, but there were seasoned warriors aboard this ship, and he had been identified as captain.
Young Serge, seventeen and an able-bodied seaman, followed his captain aboard the enemy vessel. His own blade swung well and true, but then he saw a man with a spiked shield tear forward through the men of the Qua’Korr. He ran Serge’s childhood friend through with the spike on his shield, and then beheaded him with a shining blade of only two feet in length.
Horrifically, yet in awe, Serge saw this man rip and tear from one man to another, his flowing skill with sword and shield was beyond anything the young man had yet seen. This must be, it had to be Coroas, of who was the talk of the gulf.
Captain Ervis had just dispatched one foe, then turned to see Coroas swing his bloody blade with the intent of a lethal blow.
The blade should have severed the captain’s head from body, but the sound of steel upon steel rang long into Serge’s memory … as from nowhere, a blade of equal design came between sword and Ervis’s throat … and on the other end of the defending blade was Fhascully’s hand.
The two held position, pressing guard to guard
, as they locked eyes in some form of mental combat. Coroas spoke guttural words to Fhascully, who replied in the same tongue. The shield swung in a blurring arc to the head of the naturalist, as the man dressed only in loose-fitting clothes and no armor moved to parry the strike with blinding speed.
Fhascully’s counter and strike met with Coroas’s own parry as the two commenced to make powerful exchanges all about the deck. It became quickly clear this was a duel between masters of the blade. Fhascully was at the disadvantage, having only his sword. Coroas was protected in outstanding leather armor, and his shield seemed to take no damage.
But even with his superior adornment, Coroas could not seem to make serious score upon his adversary. From the outset, Fhascully was taking his measure and pressing him across the deck with an intensity one would attribute to the most raging barbarian. The power and ferocity with which Fhascully levied blows upon the shield were nothing less than amazing. Even Kravieu, brother by law and possessed of knowledge to the man’s younger years, was in awe of Fhascully’s fury with a blade and precision of skill.
Yet his proficiency had waned over the years. Even with recent acclimation to physical toning, it had been long since Fhascully had put himself to test, and Coroas was at his best. Kravieu’s mind and eyes glistened at the thought of what his mate’s skill was like long ago. Surely, he was a fearsome foe.
The two battled across the ship as one scored a cut here, and the other scored a cut there. A sweep of the shield and Fhascully was down upon deck, a quick roll saving him from a death-dealing blow as he scored a slice to Coroas’s thigh.
Kravieu’s heart was in grave concern as he could see Fhascully to be winded, pressed far beyond his limits. A thrust into his garment and a slice tore half of his tunic away. The efforts of several months revealed a physique with tone and definition, and now a flowing wound along his side.
Never what one could call fat, Fhascully was known for being less than fit with a larger than average waistline, and loose clothing to conceal his form. His clothing had not changed, so his change in shape had not been noticed. But even so, he was long from the magnificent physique possessed upon first meeting his sister’s husband, Etmond Kravieu. And Coroas was in top form.