Jorse grinned at his uncle. “Will you take care of things here, Uncle Mirek?” He glanced pointedly at Elsbeth.
Mirek smiled back. “I’ll take care of everything, Jorse. You run along now; you have a ship to catch.”
“Thank you, Uncle. Thank you for everything, and thank you for believing.” He looked to his aunt who was glaring at her husband. “Thank you for your hospitality, Aunt Elsbeth.” He grinned impudently. “Welcome to the family.” He turned to the door.
~~~
Dobromil was waiting, not surprisingly, on the other side. But what surprised Jorse was the deep bow the man gave to him.
“Your Majesty. How may I be of service?” The big man rumbled.
“You were listening!” Jorse gasped, shocked.
“Oh course.” Dobromil returned, nonplussed. “I work for Elsbeth.”
“Does the Count know?”
“Certainly, Your Majesty. We’re all very civilized around here.”
“Please, Dobromil, my name is Jorse. You can drop the Majesty thing. I’m not really very majestic.” He stuck out his hand. “This is how I greet my friends, or with a hug.” His grin was crooked. “I don’t think you are the ‘hugs’ sort of person and I might not survive.”
The big man looked at the offered hand in surprise and slowly a smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “This is most unusual, Your Majesty, uh, Jorse.”
“I’m full of unusual ideas, Dobromil.” The seneschal studied the boy carefully, and for a few moments it felt to Jorse as if he were having his whole life scanned. Then Dobromil’s face split into a huge toothy smile and his massive hand slowly engulfed the one of the youth. Jorse felt a drop of sweat run down the middle of his back as the pressure increased, and he had no option but to squeeze back. The big man released his hand and stepped back. Jorse wiggled his fingers to make sure nothing was broken.
“Firm handshake.” His smile was shaky.
“Thank you, sir. Now, how may I help you?”
“A horse please, and directions to the Seaman’s Rest.”
“You’re staying there?” Dobromil sounded scandalized, but he recovered quickly. “Wouldn’t you prefer a carriage?”
“No, thank you. I’d rather not draw attention to the fact that I was a guest here. Not right now, anyway.”
Dobromil nodded in approval. “Please, follow me, sir.”
Still rubbing his sore hand, Jorse turned to follow the big seneschal, and he could have sworn he heard the big man chuckle, or maybe it was just thunder.
Chapter 7
“Land ho!” The lookout’s voice sounded excited. “Fine on the starboard bow.” He took out the small telescope and put it to his eye. There it was; the un-named island, and the Donner-kind.
“Make for the Island, Mister Idzy.”
The big First Mate cum helmsman grinned. “Aye, sir.” The wheel turned.
Mister Idzy hadn’t been surprised at all when Jorse stepped over the railing fifteen days earlier, and onto the deck of the brig Boosenech in the first light of the morning.
“All set, Mister Idzy? Have all the parts we need?”
“Aye, sir. They all be stowed proper.”
“And the crew?”
“All back, sir. Mebby a bit the worse for wear, but all back.”
“Then take us out of the harbor, if you please, Mister Idzy. I’ll go below and work our course.”
“Very good, sir.
“It looks like you won’t have to go back to Captain Jolenta and report that your acting Captain is missing, Mister Idzy.”
The big man froze. “It does at that, sir. She’ll be happy yer aboard.”
“Carry on, Mister Idzy.”
“That’s about it, ma’am.” Jorse was finishing his report to the captain. “We sold the furs at a good profit, not as good as we would have gotten in Dewar, but still good. We purchased our parts, spent the night and left the next morning.” He set a bag of gems clinking on the table in front of her. “This is what’s left, ma’am, after we bought our parts. I gave the crew two rappen each for a dinner and a few drinks. I stayed at a modest inn and paid my own way.” Actually, the Priestesses had paid for it, but he wasn’t going to tell Captain Jolenta THAT.
The captain didn’t touch he bag. She didn’t even look at it.
“You did good, Jorse. Better than I expected. I’ve had good reports from Mister Idzy. It seems that you’ve become a fine ship handler. Does it surprise you that I had the First Mate watching yer actions?”
“No, ma’am. I figured that out before we raised sails for Prangli.”
Captain Jolenta pursed her lips and nodded. “So what do you recommend we do with the Boosenech and her crew?”
Jorse leaned forward and looked the captain of the Raider in the eye. “Put the crew in the hold and fire the ship. Leave no survivors.”
“What!” The blond woman’s eyes got big.
Jorse laughed out loud. “Oh, let the crew go. Break the ship a little bit, break the rudder maybe, only so much that they can fix it, given a few days. We will be long gone by the time they reach port—any port. No one will know where we are.”
Captain Jolenta glared at the boy. “You are a bad man, Jorse.”
“I try, Captain.” He nodded and smiled.
“We will leave at first light then, and head north, staying well away from that fishing village, then turn nor-nor west toward Vaigach, then due west. There are rich pickings there this time of year. We can make up for our losses on this run.”
“Ah, Captain, we really didn’t take any loss on this run. Actually, the price we got for the furs put us well into the black, even subtracting the cost of the parts and food I bought. Maybe we could lay over for the colder months in Aethalia, then head out in the spring.”
“No. We pass south of Vaigach, then north and west into the Passage. Plot us a course for the Vaigach, Xicocu, Little Wassau passage. I want it on my desk in an hour.” Her voice was final, and Jorse wondered at that. “Send for Idzy, and I’ll have him take care of the Boosenech and her crew.” Her tone moderated, a bit. “They will be spared, Jorse. Don’t worry. Now get me my course.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Though it was late winter or early spring now, the waters and air around Vaigach were still bitterly cold, and the crew and ship suffered, however Captain Jolenta was relentless. After leaving their little island, that now seemed like a paradise to most of the crew, the Donner-kind turned into the wind and fought for every sea-mile gained. Jorse’s face was raw from the ceaseless wind and he found that the sparse beard he was trying to grow provided scant protection from the elements. His fifteenth birthday came and went, and no one even knew.
Lin finally cornered him one day in the small navigation room, and broke her long standing silence.
“I’ve been watching you.” She said simply, with a scowl. “You aren’t any different from any other member of the other crew. Well,” She amended. “maybe a little smarter. And you seem to be growing up awfully fast for a fifteen year old.” She was standing close to him, closer than she had been in months, and Jorse could almost feel the heat from her body. It made his head whirl as he remembered the feel of her bare hip under his hand, and her musky smell.
“I, uh...” He couldn’t get a complete sentence out.
“Could you always fly?” Her voice was almost a purr. “Could you fly right now, if you wanted to?”
“I couldn’t always fly, Lin. I, a
h, picked up the ability when we were in Aethalia. As far as flying right now—well, I suppose that I could, but I won’t.”
“Why? Why won’t you fly for me if I ask you?”
“I’m not a trained dog, Lin. I don’t jump through hoops, I don’t roll over and I don’t fly on command. I just want to be normal, to be like everybody else.”
“But you’re not normal; you’re not like everybody else. You can fly!”
Jorse opened his mouth to reply.
“Oh, be quiet!” Jorse was so upset that he spoke out loud.
“What do you mean be quiet?” Lin screeched and Jorse groaned.
“No, no, it’s not what you think. It’s...I didn’t...” He couldn’t think of anything that would explain the situation. “I didn’t mean...” The door banged shut as Lin stormed out. “Damn.”
The door opened again and Captain Jolenta stuck her blond head in. “Is everything all right?” She looked more curious than anything else.
Jorse threw his hands up in the air. “How the hells should I know, Captain?”
The wind abated, somewhat, and a light snow began to fall through hazy looking clouds, piling up into little drifts about the deck. Jorse pulled a chunk of ice from his beard and winced as hairs came away with it. His gaze stretched across the gray tossing water to the north. Just over the horizon, a few hundred leagues, lay Vaigach and Boktor.
“Sail ho, three points off the starboard bow.” Jorse felt the ship shift port, as she clawed into the concealing clouds. The snow on the deck swirled and his feet slipped on the icy planks as he ran to the quarterdeck to take over the helm. In a Raid it was his position.
“What sort of ship be it?” The Captain was on deck now, just pulling on her warm jacket.
“Full rigged ship Cap’n.” Called the lookout. “Mebby a barque. She looks a bit familiar, but I cannae place er. She’s runnin low in the water. Probably jest outta Vaigach and headin west.”
Captain Jolenta spread a chart on a hatch cover and quickly plotted their converging course. “Helm, keep us on this heading for fifteen minutes.” She glanced at the hourglass strapped to the mainmast. “Then bring us starboard three points. That should put us close to his stern.” She motioned to Idzy. “Prepare to launch the boarding pod, Mister Idzy.”
The big man scratched his beard and looked concerned. “It be mighty cold fer launchin the pod, Cap’n.” He looked nervous. “Waters this cold slow the pod’s speed. We’ll have to get mighty close b’fer we launch.”
“Then we get close. Stand by the cannon!” She shouted the last part.
“Aye, Cap’n.” Radoslaw called back from the bow. The man had a bellow that seemed to reverberate across the ship. As Jorse watched, the man pulled the waxed canvas off the big gun. In the icy weather the canvas tore, and even from the distant quarterdeck he heard the man curse. It was a bad beginning.
“Starboard, three points!” Jorse turned the wheel and watched the course change in the small clear crystal binnacle that was mounted to the deck in front of the ship’s wheel.
“On course, Captain.” The Donner-kind shot out of the clouds, and there was the stern of the barque, a scant mile distant. There was something about her stern - something familiar about the rigging. The merchantman raised his topgallants and stunsails, and then Jorse had it. It was the Dagfred. He would know that rigging anywhere.
“Captain!” Jorse called out to the blond woman. “Captain, break off! It’s a trap. I know that ship. It’s a trap!”
“I never thought to see a coward aboard my ship, boy, and certainly not you.” She growled back. The men on deck were watching the two of them.
“I don’t care about me, Captain. Look for yourself. Look in the stern windows. There is a cannon sitting there, and we are sailing straight into it. We are about to have our asses kicked.”
“Fire the cannon!” Captain Jolenta called out in a ringing voice.
“No, Captain!”
Crash! The big gun on the bow fired and wreathed the ship in its usual foul smelling smoke.
“A cable short!” Came the lookout’s cry.
The smoke cleared just in time for Jorse to see the stern windows on the Dagfred drop open, and TWO long cannon barrels run out.
“Captain!”
“I see them.”
This time the speed of the Corsair was working against them. The big merchantman was shortening sail, drawing the Raider in and narrowing the gap between the two ships even more.
“Hard a port!” Captain Jolenta cried. Jorse spun the big wheel and felt the ship begin to respond. It was just too late.
The stern of the Dagfred was wreathed in smoke and the echo of twin booms came across the water and then... he was flying.
Throbbing pain in his shoulder jerked him back to reality. He had been flung from the wheel and lay crumpled against the stern railing, like so-much flotsam and jetsam. His ears were ringing. Idzy... no, Lin seemed to be at the wheel and... there was so much blood. There was another body next to his—it had long blond hair; blond hair covered with blood.
He crawled. “Captain Jolenta! Captain.” He rolled her to her back, exposing the foot long sliver of wood protruding from the center of her chest. Dark blood pumped out around it, and more dripped from the side of her mouth. Her dark eyes were open and, strangely, she was smiling. There were others coming, other voices. It didn’t matter.
“Jorse...” Her voice burbled, and a bubble of blood and air broke on her lips. She struggled, reaching, and Jorse helped her pull the beautiful stelwood sword from its sheath. She coughed, more blood. Her bloody fingers put the sword into his hands. “A Captain,” She gasped, wincing in pain. “A Captain should have a good sword.” Her eyes took in the people standing around them. “A Captain!” She said more loudly. Her eyes slid back to Jorse. “Always thought of you.” Cough, more blood. “As my son...” The smile faded from her lips—she was gone, her eyes glazing.
Voices. Movement. Jorse blinked his eyes and opened them. He was lying, he was lying on the captain’s bed. Lilith and Lin stood looking down on him. Idzy stood in the corner, a worried expression on his face.
“It’s in too deep. I cannae...” The voice faded out. He looked down. There was a wooden splinter sticking out of his shoulder, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, and another one in his arm between shoulder and elbow. His head hurt.
Jorse reached out with his left hand and gently pushed first Lilith and then Lin out of the way. Slowly, and following Anya’s directions to the letter, he drew out the splinters and
casually dropped them on the floor. He felt no pain, but he did feel the wood sliding out of his shoulder and then out of his arm. The sensation was, he thought, very odd.
“Sew me up.” His voice was a croak, and he barely recognized it. “I have to get on deck.” He turned his head and focused his gaze on a shocked looking Idzy. “The ship? How is the ship?”
“Ah... the ship she be fine, sir. Took a ball in the pod launcher so that be out fer a bit, and the other ball hit, well, yer know where that un hit, sir.”
“Dead?”
“Cap’n and two others sir, that were mannin the pod. Three hurt including yerself.”
The two women were almost finished with their stitching; Lilith looked scared and Lin looked, well, Lin looked thoughtful.
Jorse looked at his arm and nodded. “It looks good. Now help me into a sling for my arm, and then a coat.” His glance speared Idzy. “We have a battle to win.”
Captain Jolenta’s body had been taken down to the hold until after the upcoming battle, and the quarterdeck swabbed clean of blood. Jorse looked at the deep scars on his once fine boat. His boat! That was damn fine shooting, he thought. Damn fine.
Idzy and Lin were standing by his side.
“So, tell me agin how we’re supposed to take this ere trader, sir?” Jorse had already explained it twice to the man. He just couldn’t think of any action outside of what he considered normal.
“I know Captain Svelta. After a battle like this she will sail along straight as an arrow, then look to bury herself in the nearest cloud bank. She could almost be a Raider.” Jorse poked at the chart, and then pointed to the clouds on the horizon. “Those are the clouds she’ll look to hide in. The Dagfred is on one side and we’ll be on the other. I plan on getting in front of her and attack her from the port bow. She doesn’t have guns on the front. We do.”
“But the pod, sir?”
“We’ll do it the old fashioned way—by boarding action. We’ll come in on an angle off their port bow, rake them with the cannon and if they don’t surrender, we’ll swing tight and grapple them. We won’t give them the chance to use those stern guns on us again.”
The Corsairs of Aethalia: A Thalassia novel Page 11