My Father's Swords (Warriors, Heroes, and Demons Book 1)

by Dave Skinner

  Chapter 40

  Mearisdeana sat hunched over in the bow of the boat. The water all around terrified her, although this larger boat was better than the prior two. Bray and Ran stood at the rail on both sides of her facing the direction of travel. She clung to her knees with her mind and eyes closed to the water. She tried to concentrate on the lovely walk through the woods from the Village of the Bear, as they were wont to call it now.

  It had taken most of two days to reach the fishing village on the coast. Granted, they had made a late start and had traveled slowly … reluctantly for her. She knew another boat trip was imminent. They had found Ran’s night-mate’s brother easily enough. He had agreed to carry them the following day to the one and only port on the island of Swanrock for a fee of two silver coins. His boat was a small, two-man fishing craft. Mearisdeana had kept her eyes closed for most of that trip, just like she was doing now.

  This ship was larger—a six man crew, counting the skipper—and it seemed to slide through the waves instead of riding them up and down as the last one had, but she was still terrified. Travelling on water was unnatural.

  The skipper had told them to stay out from underfoot while his crew got the ship underway. She thought that was okay. The men appeared competent in the work they did while the ship was tied up at the dock, although they looked like a dangerous and dirty lot, which matched her general impression of the ship. Some of the larger ships they had tried to obtain passage on had raised areas at the front and in a few cases at the back end too. This boat, although larger than the previous one, was built with a flat deck like the fishing boats. She thought she would prefer one with the raised areas as they would keep her farther from the water. She sensed the ship’s movement change and braved a look around.

  They had cleared the mouth of the harbour some time before and were running easily through the undulating green-blue liquid. She could see the coast some distance away and falling behind. They must be into the channel between the islands that the men had talked about.

  She could see all six of the crew from where she sat at the bow. The skipper, a bloat of a man, was at the stern by the large sweep-rudder, his hand resting easily of the steering mechanism although the tiller appeared to be tied off at the moment. The four sailors were tidying ropes, two on each side of the deck. Their gaudy, multi-coloured, mismatched clothing made them and the mate impossible to miss. The mate must have just left the skipper. He was walking towards them, settling his sword belt as he came. All the crew wore short swords, something she had not noticed before. The other fishing crews had only worn knives.

  “Swords?” she queried before the mate came too close to allow her to continue. She was not certain that Bray and Ran had heard her, but Bray must have, for he turned to look down the ship. He flashed a hand signal to Ran. Both men were facing the mate when he arrived.

  “The skipper will see you now,” the man announced. The mate reached his hand down to help Mearisdeana to her feet. He indicated for all three to precede him towards the stern where the fat skipper stood, feet apart, arms clasped behind his back. The smile plastered on his face exposed broken, blackened teeth.

  Ran led the way, Bray behind him. Mearisdeana walked between Bray and the mate. The sailors were on either side of them when Mearisdeana felt the mate’s sword slash across her back. Without her dayskin she would have died. As it was, the slashing barely caused her to miss a step. She grabbed her knife and turned on the mate with an angry snarl.

  She could see the surprise in his eyes as he tried to recover with a backhand stroke. She stepped in close as her instructor had taught her, bringing her elbow down on his arm and stabbing into his exposed side with her blade. Muscle-memory from her early years of training caused her head to snap forward in a brutal head butt. The mate collapsed.

  Mearisdeana spun around in time to see Bray’s fist chase consciousness away from his second opponent. Ran’s two were already down. He was advancing on the skipper who held a sword for only a moment. Ran seemed to simply walk past its point and knocked it to the deck. He grabbed the man by his thinning, scraggly hair and forced him back against the stern railing.

  “You need me,” the skipper screamed. “You need someone to sail the ship.”

  “One of mine is alive, any others, Bray?” Ran called out without taking his eyes from his prisoner.

  Bray looked to where the mate lay on the deck. “Is he alive?”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Two of the sailors and the mate,” Bray answered.

  “Actually you are not needed,” Ran informed the skipper as he plunged his blade into the man’s belly and dumped him backwards over the railing.

  Shortly, Ran had the remaining live crew members held at sword point against the amidships railing. He had slapped them awake, brutally.

  “We could use help sailing the ship,” he addressed the mate first.

  “I will never—” the mate started, but was interrupted when his head flew from his body. With a slight nudge from Ran’s sword point the body followed the head into the water.

  Both of the remaining crew decided to help. Ran put them to work.

  “Did you get hurt?” Bray asked Mearisdeana as Ran came back to them. “Your cloak is slashed across the back.”

  “Dayskin is impervious to blades.”

  “The armoured lady is full of surprises,” Ran stated.

  Chapter 41

  “We should have killed them,” Ran said as he, Bray, and Mearisdeana walked up the wharf towards the walls of Delvingford.

  “For what purpose?” Mearisdeana asked.

  “They tried to kill us.”

  “They tried and failed. They are not likely to try again. You killed four of their friends, remember?”

  “It is not wise to leave enemies at your back,” Ran stated flatly, as if it was a rule everyone understood and lived by.

  “You should try to make some friends instead of enemies.”

  “Everyone is an enemy until they prove they are not, right Bray?”

  Bray did not bother to answer. He just continued to stare at the town gates. Ran also studied what lay ahead. All they could see at this time was the stone-framed gateway set into the log walls that ran away to each side. Columns of large stone blocks formed the gate supports. Ran estimated that with outstretched arms he could span the blocks, but just. They were as tall and deep as they were wide. Buttresses of somewhat smaller blocks extended outward all around the columns base and rose to a tall man’s height.

  The gates themselves were constructed of rough cut timbers bound in metal strapping. Ran estimated they were a hand span thick and about a forearm wide. The three large metal hinges on each side were well greased, but he reasoned the gates would still be slow and ponderous to close. A surprise attack could see an enemy inside before the entrance could be blocked. Ran frowned at his thoughts. It was hard to break the habits of years even when you did not care anymore.

  “State your business,” one of the guards said as he stepped forward.

  “We need to book passage to Waysley,” Bray responded. “Can you tell us who we should see?”

  “If it was me, I would head to the Floater’s Rest. It is a decent inn where reputable captains do business. Tell the innkeeper what you want and he will guide someone to you.”

  “Thank you, friend,” Bray stated as he led them off in the direction the man had pointed.

  From what Ran could see, this part of the town, closest to the harbour, was dedicated to warehouses and shipping offices. Goods were being unloaded from and onto wagons, mostly tethered to heavy bodied horses. The smells of fish dominated. Men, both local and those from the ships in harbour, filled the road, scurrying back and forth. The crowds diminished as they travelled further into the city. The warehouses were replaced by guild buildings and craft shops full of metal, leather, and canvas workers. The contents of the craft shops improved as they drew closer to the inn.

&n
bsp; The Floater’s Rest proved to be everything the guard had promised, as well as easy to find. The innkeeper was a smallish man whose arms were covered in tattoos of a mermaid, an octopus, two anchors containing female names, and five flags also containing names that Ran supposed were ships he had crewed on. His friendly countenance was marred by a scar that ran from his forehead to his right cheek and probably accounted for the eye patch he wore.

  Again Bray did the talking, arranging for a single room; their length of stay to be finalized when their passage to Waysley had been arranged. They dropped their packs in the room which contained four straw mattresses on short, well-made, although crude, beds. A well-equipped washstand stood against one wall, and a window on the opposite wall allowed in light and a warm breeze. Mearisdeana requested they leave her alone to freshen up.

  Ran and Bray returned to the inn’s common room which was starting to fill as the light of day retreated. They ordered ale. Mearisdeana joined them not long afterwards.

  She drew stares from those in the room because she had thrown her hood back and was using her nightskin. She had wrapped a bandana around her head to hide the fact that she had no hair. Ran was not sure if her pale almost white complexion or her beauty drew the most attention. She was perhaps more striking than the other woman in the room who had caught his eye.

  That one was seated at a table by the door surrounded by five burley sailors. Wild red hair covered her head, the first redhead Ran had ever seen, and her visible skin was burned brown from repeated exposure to the sun, although in the cleft between her breast there was a hint of whiteness that drew his eyes. When he looked back to her face she was watching him, so he blew her a kiss. She did not respond. A barmaid arrived to take their meal order. When he looked for the woman again, she was gone. Ran felt more volume added to the emptiness that always accompanied him these days.

  After dinner the innkeeper approached their table with another man in tow. “Friends, allow me to introduce Tyhan Door, first mate on the Red Witch. Tyhan, as I told you, these people are looking to book passage to Waysley.”

  “Well met, strangers,” the lanky hard-boned sailor said. “I think we can do some business.” He hooked a chair out and sat. “The Red Witch will be in port for two more days, leaving on the morning tide of the third. We can accommodate passengers if you are interested.”

  “What would be the fare?” Bray asked.

  “Five silver each, and you will be expected to help with some chores.”

  One and a half gold for the three of them Ran calculated. With what it would cost to stay at the inn they could afford it. He looked at Bray who tapped the table top when he nodded. “It sounds good,” Bray announced, “if you can excuse our woman from chores? She gets sea sick.”

  “Two more silver then if she does not work.”

  “Deal,” Bray stated as he slapped the tabletop.

  Tyhan stayed to chat until his beer was gone before excusing himself. Mearisdeana and Bray kept Ran company for some time before they said goodnight. Ran decided to stay down and join a card game at one of the other tables.

  Chapter 42

  Nailmoe dropped the scroll onto the table. “Did you find anything on that read through that you missed on the other four?” Adamtay asked.

  “No, but I am still going to read it again. As soon as my head stops hurting … and as soon as I have another glass of wine.” He motioned for the barmaid to refill his goblet.

  The common room of the Tower’s Shadow Inn was almost empty. It was late and only the dedicated drinkers and a few inn guests were left. A single fire burned in the fireplace beside which the musicians were located. Adamtay stretched in his chair and considered calling it a night. This was only the sixth inn they had overnighted in during the three weeks they had been travelling since acquiring the sword. It would be nice to sleep in a bed again. He was tired of pitching tents and sleeping rough, but whenever he felt sorry for himself he thought of what Mearisdeana must be suffering. The anger he felt about her abduction kept him moving forward, and now his anger had brought him to the second challenge to be faced, entering the Crystal’s Keep. They would attempt to do that tomorrow.

  “This is useless,” Nailmoe admitted as he tossed the scroll on the table again. “Your uncle’s notes tell us nothing new. ‘An impenetrable magic cage gets extended over the whole keep’, is all he says. He seemed more interested in speculating about how it was done rather than what happened to the wizard who made it.”

  “The wizard must be dead and turned to dust,” Adamtay said. “It has been close to two thousand years since he sealed the keep. Even powerful wizards do not live that long.”

  “But you saw the tower today, how do you explain its pristine condition? It looks like it was built last year.”

  “I admit it is a mystery. I thought I saw some stains around the base as we rode by. Maybe it is starting to wear.”

  “What you saw is more likely the splatter of blood and brains of those who tried to climb the tower to gain entrance.”

  “Relax; we will not attempt to scale the outside. The Sword will gain us entrance. The Sword my uncle’s notes helped us find, remember? You should trust him more.”

  Nailmoe scowled. “Remember? How can I forget? A caveworm he said … not a dragon. No … a caveworm, but what did we find? A full grown dragon,” he whispered forcefully.

  “I doubt if that dragon was full grown,” Adamtay responded with a smile.

  “Full grown, half grown, what is the difference? It was large enough to eat our pack horse and everything on it as it escaped. It could have snacked on us just as easily.”

  “But we still live, do we not?”

  “And I for one would like us to remain in that condition.”

  “You could stay outside and wait for me.”

  Nailmoe laughed. “And have to face your parents and your uncle to tell them you are dead? No, my friend, I do not see that as an option. We go together.”

  “Then we should retire to our beds and get some sleep,” Adamtay said as he pushed himself away from the table.

  Nailmoe drank off the last of his wine. “Sure, sleep, that should be easy,” he grumbled as they made their way up the stairs. “A woman would help, but I haven’t enjoyed a woman’s company for so long I swear I am virginal again.”

  ***

  Adamtay found it difficult to sleep. He was getting closer to his goal of reaching Mearisdeana, but there were so many unknowns playing through his mind, the biggest being how she was being treated by the wizard who had stolen her. Adamtay tossed and turned as thought of her occupied his mind and eventually his dreams.

  The music from the common room, and his thought of Mearisdeana seemed to pull at him. The music changed. The strings faded away. The drum beat grew until he could feel it in his being. He seemed to be floating high above a blazing fire. Around the fire shapes moved, dancing shapes, dancing bodies, and one called to him. A shape that shone as none of the others could, a shape that called to his heart, Mearisdeana. Suddenly she stopped moving and swayed provocatively in front of two figures, two young men. One jumped up, threw a cloak around her and carried her off. Adamtay awoke. He pushed the vision away from his consciousness, but he could not push the anger away. He swore to himself and to Mearisdeana that he would kill the wizard.

  Adamtay was not good company the next morning. Neither he nor Nailmoe spoke as they broke their fast and packed up. Together they rode out of the inn’s yard and took the road to the tower. The town was a good distance behind, and they were into the barrens when four men blocked the road ahead of them.

  “There is a toll for using this road,” the largest and ugliest of the four proclaimed as he held his hand up.

  Adamtay’s hand dropped to the hilt of the Sword of Sacrifice and pulled it free.

  “That is a foolish move, man. There are four of us, and you know that swords are useless against dayskin.”

  Without a word Adamtay j
umped his charger forward. The Sword of Sacrifice chopped down on the robber’s arm. The spokesman screamed as his arm fell away. A second sweep of the sword found the neck of the bandit on Adamtay’s left. His decapitated head flew towards the man on his left who batted it away with a cry. Adamtay swung the sword back towards the first man and removed his head also.

  “Feel better?” Nailmoe asked as he watched the remaining two would-be-thieves race away.

  “A bit.”

  Chapter 43

  “Are you trying to be funny?” Bray asked.

  “No,” Ran answered. “I lost all my money playing dice. In fact, could you loan me three silver pieces? I was a little short on what I owed.”

  Bray gaped at Ran. “I don’t understand you. You lose all your money, and now you want me to loan you more to pay off your debt. You must be … why I would … how you can think—”

  “Never mind then. I will find another way to pay off the debt.” He proceeded to devour the large breakfast selection he had picked up from the buffet, completely ignoring the fact that he could no longer pay for his stay at the inn or his meals. Bray shook his head in disbelief. He was still shaking it when three men walked up to their table.

  “Do you have the silver you owe me?” the smallest of the trio asked as he pulled out the one remaining chair.

  “No. I am afraid my travelling companions are keeping their pouch strings drawn. You will have to give me some time to make the money.” Ran shovelled more food into his mouth before continuing. “Would you know of any work around here?”

  The small man smiled showing gold capped teeth. Here we go, Bray thought.

  “I do know of something that might interest you. How would you feel about fighting for some money? There is a weekly bout with prize money for the winner. I might be able to get you in.”