Lady of the Haven (Empire Princess Book 1)

by Graham Diamond

  Lightning flashed; thunder crashed. The mare reared in fear, her iron-shod hooves striking sparks like flints against the stones of the narrow street. Flinging back her cape, Stacy grasped tightly at the reins and calmed the anxious horse. Then, leaping from the saddle, she quickly tied the reins to a small post at the side of the house, ran back to the front and eagerly knocked at the iron-braced door. A thin beam of light leaped out as the door opened and a pair of dark, questioning eyes peered at her.

  “Stacy!” said Elias, flinging the door wide.

  The girl threw off her hood and strode inside. There was a small drawing room off to the left, dimly lit by a small oil lamp. Trevor sat dejectedly in a small chair beside the unlit fire, pensively rubbing his knuckles.

  Stacy looked at Elias. His eyes were sullen and brooding. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Come in and sit down, Stacy. Please.”

  Elias poured a cup of wine from a large colorful urn and handed it to her. She sipped slowly, letting its warmth run through her body.

  “Now can you tell me?” she asked.

  Elias grimaced, then downed his own drink. “Another case of fever’s been reported, Stacy. Outside the city. Trevor has just received word from the captain of the Rhonnda garrison. They want his soldiers put under Valley orders.”

  Stacy glared at Trevor. “And what does that mean?”

  “It means,” said Trevor sadly, “that I’m no longer in command of my contingent. The troops are wanted to reinforce the quarantine. There’s even talk of a curfew — dusk to dawn.”

  Stacy put her head in her hands and sighed. What else could possibly go wrong? For almost two weeks since the burning of the Sea Witch not a single case of fever had been reported. Simon and the Rhonnda Council were all but prepared to lift it. Then a young girl suddenly died. In the next four days three other cases had been reported. Now this.

  “Without Valley soldiers the voyage will be ten times as dangerous.”

  Trevor avoided her angry eyes. “I know. It makes it all but impossible for us.”

  “And the weather won’t be in our favor much longer,” sighed Elias. “The governor intends to keep us out of the water until Simon and his people are absolutely convinced that all possibility of an epidemic is gone.”

  Stacy threw up her hands. “Then what’s the use? We might as well give up.”

  Elias scratched at his stubbled chin. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. We could give thought to breaking the quarantine.”

  Trevor stared. “Leave without authority? We’d be breaking the law! We can’t do that. The Council —”

  Stacy laughed hollowly. “Are you going to tell us about the Council again? We’ve been through all that, Trevor, remember? This is Rhonnda. The Council can make all the rules and laws they like. But they’re hundreds of leagues from here. Who’ll enforce them?” Seething with anger, she turned to Elias. “Can we do it? Can we pull out without Valley soldiers from the garrison on our backs?”

  The mariner nodded. “We can. The garrison boys are no problem. Half of them are Rhonnda lads in Valley uniforms, anyway. They’d wink if they saw the Brora sail past.”

  “Then let’s do it!” she cried.

  “Are you serious?” asked Trevor. “You’d actually break an Empire edict?”

  Elias sat down beside Stacy and frowned. “I know the way you feel. There’ve been angry words between the Rhonnda Council and the Valley authorities.”

  Trevor fidgeted, well aware that he, as a senior officer, was one of those authorities to whom Elias was referring.

  “Some of our citizens are blaming the Valley for our problems,” added Elias. “Merchants believe that the Haven is purposely letting our commerce suffer, using the threat of fever as a weapon to wield greater control over us.”

  “But that’s impossible!” cried Stacy. “Governor Bela would never allow it! He loves this land as much as we do!”

  Elias sighed. “He does love Newfoundland, that’s true. But his first duty is to the Valley. Some of our more ill-tempered rivermen have been threatening to break the quarantine themselves and defy the edict just as you’re willing to do. But do you know what that could mean?”

  Stacy nodded. She understood full well what such open rebellion could mean.

  Elias turned slowly to Trevor. “Tell her, Commander. If you don’t, I will.”

  The girl seemed confused; she glanced up at the soldier and Trevor lowered his eyes. “Stacy, the governor received a letter from the Council, one signed personally by your father. The Haven is determined not to let the edict be broken. You have to understand. Fever conjures up terrible memories back home.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I’ve heard the stories.”

  “Get on with it,” snapped Elias.

  Trevor sighed sadly. “The letter from your father was explicit. Until this entire matter of plague is settled Rhonnda is to be considered under military law. As an officer, I’m bound to comply and —”

  Stacy glared. “Stop the Brora from sailing?”

  “I won’t have to, Stacy. There’s a fighting ship coming up from Deepwater. The biggest in the Empire, the Windjammer, She’s been taken off duty exploring the uncharted regions of the Cottonwood and is being dispatched to Rhonnda immediately.”

  “But why?” Her face was drawn and troubled.

  Trevor looked at her darkly. “To blockade the harbor. The Windjammer carries two hundred troops — fighting troops. Not roadbuilders like me.” He sat back with folded arms, shaking his head and sighing.

  A look of despair written across her face, Stacy slumped back. “And my father, did he give the order for the Windjammer to sail here?”

  “Technically, Bela gave the order,” said Elias. “But he never would have done it without the Council demanding the strictest action.”

  “And what action will the Windjammer take if we defy it and try to sail?”

  “Board us by force, if necessary,” replied Trevor. “And if that fails, sink us.”

  Stacy’s bright eyes dimmed, and her cheeks paled. “Well, gentlemen,” she said, forcing a weak smile, “it looks like we’ve lost the fight. Without Trevor and his Valley troops, we’d probably never have accomplished our mission, anyway.”

  Elias leaned forward and touched gently at her sleeve. “We’re not completely out yet, my lady.”

  The girl looked up, puzzled. Elias grinned. “Despite all that we’ve just told you, it will be possible to break the blockade and head for the sea. That is, if you have a taste for danger and facing up to the Windjammer.”

  “What are you saying, Elias?”

  The riverman’s face suddenly turned serious. “There are those in Rhonnda who’d be willing to help us. They have various reasons, mostly to see the Valley with egg on its face. Nevertheless, they’ll give their support if I ask. But it’s not just up to me, Stacy. This whole business is your dream. Say the word, and I think I can still make it happen.”

  Stacy looked over to Trevor, who was sitting awkwardly and staring sullenly at the floor. “I think this scheme is insane, Stacy. It’s a conspiracy against Valley law. But I gave Elias my word that I wouldn’t hinder you in any way. But as a soldier, you know I can’t help you, cither.”

  Stacy nodded with understanding. “What is it we have to do, Elias?”

  “The Brora is ready to sail. She’s a virtual fighting ship. And I plan to, er, make a few additions to give us the edge we need over the Windjammer should they try to stop us.”

  “But what about our own soldiers? Without Trevor and his Valley troops we’ll be virtually helpless.”

  “Not quite, Stacy. We can replace them with locals. Rhonnda’s Rangers. They’re hard as nails, my lady. And with your fighting wolves...”

  “That’s begging a confrontation,” replied the girl coolly.

  “We’re only asking the right to leave the harbor. Nothing more. But it is a risk.”

  “And I’m prepared to take a risk, too,” added Trevor hasti
ly. “I’ll ask my lads to join you on board. They might follow my orders, they might not. I can’t be certain. But you must understand that I can’t offer any help should an actual confrontation begin. If the commander of the Windjammer orders me to lay down my weapons, I’ll have to obey.”

  Stacy readily agreed. “I understand, Trevor. And I appreciate the help you’re trying to give us. But surely this can only bring trouble on top of your head. Win or lose, you’ll be accused of aiding and abetting criminals.”

  Trevor smiled sourly. “If the Windjammer attacks us, we’ll probably all die in the fight, anyway. And if it doesn’t, we’ll probably drown in the sea. Either way...” He shrugged.

  Stacy smiled. “And what about your crew, Elias? Will they be willing to risk tackling Valley troops?”

  “They will. And I’ve already spoken to one of the Ranger captains. He’s promised his help. You see, the Rhonnda Council has never sanctioned this blockade. In their eyes, we’re not breaking any laws.”

  Stacy’s face brightened at the thought of the voyage finally being able to get under way. “Very well, then, Elias. I accept your proposal, even if it does make us brigands. How soon can we sail?”

  “How soon can your wolves be ready?” he countered.

  Stacy thought for a moment. “Give me three days. One to ride back to the Free Lands, another to come down the mountains, a third to meet you beside the bluffs at the tip of the island. We can wait for your signal after dark. But look, there’re still a few things unclear in my mind. You said that there were those here in Rhonnda who were willing to help us. Who are they? And why?”

  Elias winked. He went to the door and called, “You can come in now.”

  A small balding man with a cheery grin entered the room from the dark hallway beyond. Stacy stared in disbelief. The idea of a conspirator had conjured up the image of some dark-hooded man with an eye patch and a dagger. This man smiled warmly, exposing crooked teeth and a bulging paunch; hardly the stuff of which brigands are made! This was no pirate of Rhonnda, no brigand of the river. She found herself gazing into the gentle eyes of none other than Spooner Momingglory, the happy-go-lucky merchant.

  “Are you the man who’s going to get us out of Rhonnda?” she gasped, astonished.

  Spooner laughed deeply. “I’m going to try, my lady. Yes, indeed, I’m going to try.”

  “But why you, Spooner? I don’t understand. You’re an Empire merchant. Governor Bela is your friend. Why are you going to turn against him?”

  “But I’m not, my lady,” replied the crafty merchant. “The governor had no choice in sending the Windjammer up here. It was forced on him, if you get my meaning.”

  “But why do you want to help us? What’s in it for you?”

  “Quite a bit, actually. You see, the Rhonnda Council has been stirring the waters for years to find a way to rid us of Valley authority. We don’t want armed rebellion, that’s not our way. We love the Empire as much as your own father does. But we can’t tolerate our affairs being constantly muddled into by men who have never been here. In short, we’re seeking a confrontation. One that will show the Valley boys that we mean business. That’s where you come in. This effort will be for mutual advantage, Lady Anastasia, I assure you.”

  Stacy shook her head. “I’m sorry, Spooner. I just don’t understand how.”

  “We’re walling to set the Brora on her way. The local garrison commander can be bribed.” Spooner winked outrageously. “Believe me, I’ve been, er, doing business with him for years. Then you’ll force the issue for us. A Rhonnda ship versus an Empire ship. The Brora against the Windjammer. If the Windjammer backs down, as I suspect she will, then the Valley blockade will be seen for the sham it really is. We’ll have broken it and the quarantine as well.”

  “But what about the threat of fever?”

  “The real danger has passed, my lady. Even Simon would grant you as much. Besides, your ship touches no Empire port. You’re headed for the sea, if I understand this venture. No one can suffer by your leaving. The governor knows this.”

  “And what if the Windjammer doesn’t back down, Spooner? What it she comes about as Trevor believes and fights?”

  Spooner sighed. His cherubic face grew cold. “Then put your trust in the Fates and Captain Elias here.”

  “You haven’t lived here long enough to understand us, Stacy,” said Elias. “We resent having to seek permission for what any Valley village takes for granted it can do on its own. We don’t need a law hundreds of leagues away telling us when we can or cannot sail. We’re not the dolts or barbarians the fine lords would have you believe. The days of Valley-imposed restrictions are numbered in Rhonnda — with or without the Brora to fight the battle. I’m sorry if what I said offends you in some way, my lady, but that’s the way it is. The time has come for Rhonnda to share in the Empire’s growth as a partner, not a servant.”

  Stacy listened quietly and understood. She wondered if, in some way, all that had transpired these past months could have been fated, unalterable, in ways she did not comprehend.

  Stacy thought of Bartok again — as she so frequently had these past weeks. What it was about his poems that swayed her so she could not tell; only that they did. Only that his visions were her visions, too. She was a willing captive; as if the Fates themselves had taken a hand in each event in her life. Bartok never wrote of a Rhonnda at odds with the Empire, she knew. He foretold only of a Rhonnda whose glory was to lead nations, even as beacons lead fog-shrouded ships into harbor. In a curious thought, Stacy wondered if Bartok had seen her, too, in his visions. Her dark eyes brooded as the final lines of another poem danced before her:

  The city is the throne,

  Yet who will wear her crown?

  From where will Rhonnda find

  her Empire Princess?

  Chapter Fifteen

  A white gull soared overhead in the dim hours before dawn. It cried out shrilly twice, then flew off westward, to the sea. Elias stood nervously at the prow, took his eyes off his duties and watched as the gentle bird disappeared from sight. A gull before dawn, he mused, a good omen.

  Behind him, Ashcroft stood watching over four burly sailors as they put slack on the anchor hawser, brought the anchor directly under the bow, then, with eager hands and muscles, broke it from the bottom with a mighty heave. The iron weight dripped mud and slime as it broke the surface. Hauled aboard, it was washed down with buckets of water, then smartly lashed to the rail.

  “Anchor secured, Capt’n,” said Ashcroft abruptly.

  Elias nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. “Very good, mister. Prepare to get under way.”

  The sailor saluted, spun on his heels and called for the crew to stand at quarters. Elias looked with satisfaction at his new mast, smiled at the new heightened bulwark at the sides of the aft and forecastles and noted the protection these walls would afford from the screaming arrows of the Windjammer. The Brora was truly the finest ship in Rhonnda now, and he felt an exhilaration he had rarely known before. He would snap at the tail of the Windjammer, let his sails bite into the winds and let the Brora meet the sea on her own terms. He was now the captain of a true fighting ship.

  The call from Ashcroft to clear the decks of passengers broke into his thoughts. He caught a brief glimpse of the anguished Trevor, sword dangling at his side, as he led the contingent of thirty Valley soldiers through the companionway.

  Elias knew his best hope in the fight — if there was to be one — would come from his own wily lads as well as the twenty Rangers secretly brought aboard shortly after midnight. And, of course, Stacy, Cicero and the hunters. If the Windjammer tried to board, it would be to the tune of leaping wolves at their throats. Yet his total complement — crew, Rangers and soldiers — was scarcely more than a hundred. The Windjammer boasted a complement of twice that — as well as fighting hawks and falcons, birds of prey whose talons could tear out a man’s eyes upon command.

  Silently, the Brora, only one sail unfurled
, slunk out of the shipyard under the cover of night and made her way across the left channel of Rhonnda Island. She sailed east, to the broad waterway opposite the Free Lands. There, hiding below the bluffs, he would drop anchor briefly and wait for Stacy and her wolves to come aboard. That part would be easy. But after that would come the real test: The Brora would have to turn and head west. And there, at the edge of the bay, the Windjammer would be waiting.

  *

  Cicero poked his snout out from behind a thornbush and darted his eyes at the dark waters. He snarled lowly, then waited as Stacy crept out from the thick, damp grasses.

  “Can you see anything?” she asked, crouching by him.

  The wolf growled. “A sail on the horizon, Khalea. Look carefully.”

  The girl raised her head and pushed aside unruly hair that had partially curtained her vision. Squinting, she stared into the black and made out the vague form of a small square sail. Her vision was as sharp as any Dweller’s, she knew. “They’ll anchor beside the bluffs, Cicero,” she whispered. “We’ll have to wind our way down along the gully to reach them.”

  The red wolf looked at her sharply. “Soldiers use that path, Khalea. Horse tracks are still fresh.”

  “It’s the quickest way, Cicero. Tell Casca and the others.”

  Cicero nodded, then let out a quick series of low howls. Not in the wolf tongue but in the coarse dialect of the hyena. If soldiers were about, he did not want them to know that wolves were, too. Better to let them hear, or at least think they heard, the idle foolish chatter of the wolf’s cousins.

  A moment later the howl was repeated from atop the knoll — also hyena. But it was Casca who had answered. Stacy would recognize his bark anywhere, no matter how much he might try to disguise it.

  The signal had been given. Without speaking, Stacy and Cicero turned back from the thornbushes and inched their way along the sharp decline that led to the gully. For a fleeting moment they saw the silhouettes of Casca and the others racing ahead.