“Quite the opposite,” he replied with a short sigh. “I have full confidence that it will. It’s just that a part of me wishes I was going along. Coordinating behind the scenes is one thing, but sometimes I’d like to dirty my hands a bit, if you understand.”
“I do,” he said with an empathetic smile.
Arch laughed. “But who am I kidding? The task ahead is for younger men. Besides, Natalie would never allow me to participate in such a dangerous mission. I know it would break her heart with worry if I did. We’ll wait beside our fireplace for word to get back to us about your blazing success.”
“Let’s hope so–and much more,” Nicholas replied, gazing out across the sea and thinking of Ivy. He felt as if the next two days would drag on forever as they rattled down the road to Illingboc, seemingly frozen in time as the inky landscape drifted past.
Two nights later the sky was a patchwork of charcoal gray clouds and bright, white stars. Nicholas rode on horseback with the eight other men from the Isles whom he and Arch had contacted earlier. The group silently headed to the meeting place located a half mile from where he and Arch had met Arteen along the seashore. There they would rendezvous with Arteen and thirteen more men arriving from the other direction. Together, twenty of them would row over to the Bretic and take the ship with help from Captain Kellig and other crewmen loyal to him.
Nicholas had thought it sounded like a good plan two days ago when Arteen went over the details. But now as he rode along the seashore, its dark waters illuminated by the rising full Fox Moon peeking out from behind the clouds from time to time, he wondered if he should get his hopes up as many things could go wrong. Still, Nicholas knew that if he could make it to the ship, get his bearings and keep his wits, he would be within reach of finding Ivy. He would do anything to achieve that including jumping off the Bretic and swimming to Karg Island.
As they galloped along the narrow dirt road, grassy in some spots and rutted in most, Nicholas glanced at the men riding in front of him, wondering what was drifting through their heads. Though they were all identically dressed in the long, brown overcoats and armed with swords and daggers, he suspected their thoughts were far afield from his own. But he didn’t bother to make small talk or ask questions during their ride, noting that all appeared preoccupied with the task ahead, seeming to prefer the cold, dark quiet that guided them onward like the pull of an invisible hand.
Less than an hour later, the group approached the meeting place. As they grew near, Nicholas thought he observed a flash of light farther up shore, and then all was black again. Soon they arrived at a spot where Arteen and thirteen other Islanders waited beside a large stream that emptied into the sea. On its nearest bank lay three log rafts with room enough for eight people on each.
“My men built these rafts over the last few weeks in the nearby woods,” Arteen told Nicholas when he greeted him. “They aren’t as large or heavy as the ones constructed to sail up the Lorren River to Kargoth, but they’ll get us to the Bretic just the same.”
“When do we launch?” he asked, eager to proceed.
“Right now,” another man answered who was a few years older than Arteen. He had a head of shortly cropped brown hair and had not shaved in several days. He gazed suspiciously at Nicholas. “I’m Ragus. Arteen said you’d be joining us tonight.” He turned to Arteen with a knowing grin. “You’re right. He is in a hurry. But for what purpose?”
“His business is his own,” Arteen replied, glancing at Nicholas to indicate that any information about Ivy would be kept secret. “And since his friends in Illingboc have assisted us, the least we can do is allow him passage with us to the ship.”
“But why does he need to go there?” Ragus persisted.
“I need to get to Karg Island,” Nicholas jumped in before Arteen responded. “I have my reasons but I assure you that they will not interfere with your plans.”
“So you say,” Ragus muttered before turning away to speak with some of the other Islanders, occasionally looking distrustfully over his shoulder at Nicholas.
“Don’t worry about Ragus,” said another man who was not much older than Nicholas. His easy smile seemed to match his carefree nature. “My name is Brin Mota. And the one thing to know about Ragus is that he’s wary of most anyone he first meets. So don’t be offended.”
“I’m not,” Nicholas replied. “I guess nobody can be too sure about anyone you first meet in these times.”
“Brin is correct about Ragus,” Arteen confirmed. “Ragus is a very good soldier, both true and loyal, but his brusque and suspicious exterior is just his way. You may start to get used to it before the night is over.”
“I already am.”
Arteen addressed the crowd. “If everyone is ready, we’ll board the rafts and make for the sea. Soon we’ll find out if our plotting and planning has been worth the effort.”
They divided into three groups and pushed the rafts into the stream, splashing through the dark waters before climbing on board. Three of the men stayed behind to tend to the horses. After grabbing some wooden paddles, the men on the rafts propelled their way down the last portion of the stream and were soon adrift upon the sea. Nicholas sailed on the same raft with Arteen, Brin and Ragus, excited to finally be in open waters. He spotted Karg Island and the Bretic in the distance, both gently soaked in filtered moonlight. Several lights flickered on both the island and the ship. Nicholas wondered if anyone on either place could see them approaching as they occasionally drifted through a shaft of lunar light. His nerves were on edge as every paddle stroke brought him closer to Ivy. All he could imagine was seeing her surprised and beautiful smile when he returned the scarf he had given to her in Boros. It seemed a lifetime ago. A soft voice brought him back to the present.
“Steady,” Arteen whispered. “We’ll make for the port side.”
Nicholas looked up as he raised his paddle, amazed at how close to the ship they had moved. The starboard side of the vessel loomed steadily ahead like a sprawling, black cliff, the bow facing eastward toward the Northern Isles as if anticipating its journey home. The tall masts and myriad rope lines bereft of sails looked like a gigantic spider web in the intermittent lunar light. After a few more strokes, the rafts glided past the bow and then veered left to the more shadowy port side that would better conceal them. Soon after, Arteen ordered everyone to lift their paddles out of the water, allowing the raft to drift closer to the ship on its own momentum.
“How do they know when to expect us?” Nicholas whispered.
“One of my men had signaled them from shore with a flash of torchlight just as you were arriving,”Arteen replied. “In response, a second light was displayed in one of the windows in the captain’s cabin near the stern. That was a signal to us that all was safe on board and that our plan could proceed. Captain Kellig’s men will be dropping the rope ladders upon our arrival.”
“And then?” he asked.
“When the ship is secure, we’ll consult with the captain about advancing upon Karg Island. Lok has only a small contingent of men with him there, so it shouldn’t be a difficult operation,” he explained. “We’ll use our rafts and some of the rowboats on the Bretic to make our way over. Hopefully you’ll find who you’re looking for there.”
Nicholas smiled in the gloom. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“You can intercede with King Justin next time you speak to him, as Arch requested. That will be thanks enough. It may provide more help for this region of Laparia than anything I or my men could ever do to repay our debt.”
“I promise to do my best,” Nicholas replied when another voice in the darkness interrupted their conversation.
“Shhh,” Ragus said, tapping Arteen on the shoulder from behind. “We’re here.”
Arteen nodded and silently directed his raft to edge up alongside the ship near its center. The two other vessels flanked his raft at a short distance, one on either side. Moments later, three rope ladders dropped from the deck above, unrave
ling on cue, their bottom rungs dangling along the side of the ship, one near each of the small crafts. One man on each vessel secured his raft with a length of rope to each of the ladders. Arteen gave a signal and the men began to silently clamber up the side of the ship like dark lines of ants scaling the trunk of an enormous tree.
When it was his turn, Nicholas grabbed the ladder and hoisted himself up on the bottom rung and started to climb, looking down at the oily, black water as the Fox Moon shimmered through a nebulous layer of clouds. The vessel appeared much higher and intimidating while hanging from its side than when looking up at it from below. He climbed steadily, feeling the sway of the ladder in the breeze and the minor rocking of the ship, realizing how small he was compared to some things in the world yet amazed that a group of men were able to construct such an enormous vessel. When he finally maneuvered himself over the top rail, he experienced the same sense of satisfaction he had when reaching the summit of Gray Hawk Mountain, though the resulting views were hardly comparable.
On deck, two men at each ladder wordlessly greeted him and the other Islanders, raising fingers to their lips to signal for absolute silence. They were similarly dressed in long, brown overcoats with the hoods drawn over their heads. One man carried an oil lamp which provided the only light other than an occasional appearance of the Fox Moon and the distant glow from the captain’s cabin. A few lighted windows were visible on Karg Island about a quarter mile away west. Arteen climbed over the rail last of all and leaned close to the man who was holding the oil lamp.
“Where is Captain Kellig?” he whispered.
“Inside his cabin,” the young man replied, pointing to the stern. “He awaits your presence. My name is Peltus. The rest of you should split into two groups and follow my men. They’ll lead you to others in the crew not loyal to our cause. Most are in their sleeping quarters below deck. A few are still on duty. We must move fast.”
Arteen nodded and informed his crew of the plan, dividing them into two groups. “Nicholas, stay close by me. We shall meet with the captain together.”
“All right, though you could probably make better use of me elsewhere,” he said.
“Keeping you safe is my first priority.” But before Nicholas could protest, Arteen raised a hand. “I do so not for your sake, but for the one whom you seek.”
“Well, in that case…”
Arteen dispersed his troops, with nine following two of the men and the remaining nine following the others to separate parts of the ship. Meanwhile, Nicholas and Arteen hurried off to meet with Captain Kellig and discuss their next move, following Peltus along the port side while bathed in the glow of the oil lamp. As they walked toward the back of the ship, the wind picked up, snapping several flags attached to the lines above. The Fox Moon again revealed herself from behind an inky cloud drifting eastward.
When they reached the cabin, Nicholas peered through a small window to one side and saw a man sitting on a wooden stool while hunched over a desk. He held a quill pen, apparently writing in a ledger. An ink bottle, some bound books and several leaves of loose parchment were scattered across the desktop amid the sickly glow of an oil lamp. The walls were painted bright white and sparsely adorned with nautical-themed decorations–a replica helmsman’s wheel, a silver boatswain’s whistle and a bundle of clean rope neatly looped, tied and hanging from a large hook.
Peltus glanced at Nicholas and Arteen, indicating for them to follow him to the entrance. He grabbed the door handle, and after looking about the deck as if to make sure they hadn’t been followed, he nodded to his companions and opened the door. He hurried inside as Nicholas and Arteen followed, closing the door behind them.
“We’re here, captain,” he said in a calm voice as he placed the oil lamp on a nearby table.
Nicholas and Arteen stared at the man seated at the desk, his head hung low as he continued to scribble in the ledger. He calmly placed the quill pen in the ink bottle and closed the book before looking up, a tight, thin smile drawn across his face.
“Welcome to my ship, gentlemen,” he said, his words and demeanor as cold as the vacant stare emitted from a pair of dark eyes set beneath a head of thinning hair. A small scar ran along his left cheek close to the earlobe. “I’ve been awaiting your arrival.”
Nicholas thought the captain’s manner was off-putting at first glance, looking askance at Arteen. But when he saw Arteen’s mouth agape, he felt tightness in the pit of his stomach and knew that something was wrong. He heard a single word uttered and his worst fears were confirmed.
“Lok!” Arteen uttered the man’s name with contempt. “Where is Captain Kellig?” he demanded, reaching for his sword.
In that instant, Peltus stepped back and drew his own sword, pointing the sharp tip just below Arteen’s chin. “I don’t think you want to do that,” he remarked.
“I agree,” Captain Lok said as he got up off his stool. “The floor in here was just scrubbed the other day. It would be a shame to stain it with your blood. Or his,” he added, indicating Nicholas.
Arteen lowered his sword and handed it to Peltus. Just then, several armed soldiers entered the cabin from an adjacent room. A half dozen others could be seen through the windows standing guard outside. They disarmed Arteen and Nicholas and ordered them to one corner of the room. Moments later another man was pushed toward them who had been concealed behind the soldiers. The tall, unshaven individual was Captain Kellig, appearing pale and disheartened.
Arteen looked shocked at seeing him in such a state. “What happened, sir?”
“We were betrayed,” he muttered, rubbing a hand across his face as he shook his head in disbelief.
Arteen was speechless for a moment, wondering who could have turned against them. “Who did this? I’ll avenge him myself.”
“One of your own,” Lok said with much delight. “Did you really think you could get away with such a bold maneuver? Your dishonor to the Isles disgusts me.”
“Not as much as you disgust me,” Nicholas said, glaring at Tarosius Lok.
Nicholas was overwhelmed with a desire to lunge at the man as he speculated upon the harm and mental anguish he inflicted upon Ivy. He imagined himself rushing at Lok and choking the life out of him, but not before forcing the man to reveal exactly where Ivy was being held on Karg Island. But he kept his composure, gritting his teeth until he could size up the situation.
Captain Lok stepped close to Nicholas, breathing down upon the unfamiliar face. “What ship did you sail on to get here?” he asked, thumping a finger against his chest. “And how did you manage to involve yourself in this criminal’s vicious plot against me?” He tilted his head at Arteen.
“He came over on the Durósk a few weeks ago,” Arteen jumped in, knowing that Nicholas needed help to conceal his identity.
“Can he not speak for himself?” Lok snarled before glaring at Nicholas. “Talk to me like that one more time and your blood will be staining this floor before the night is over–though that may yet happen regardless.”
There was a knock at the door and one of the soldiers who had helped lower the rope ladders excitedly entered. “The other traitors have been subdued and disarmed, Captain Lok.”
“Excellent!” he replied, smiling. “Any injuries? Deaths?”
“None, sir. They were taken completely by surprise as you predicted,” he said. “Your orders, sir?”
“Assemble them all on deck so I can address the sorry lot.” Lok smirked at Arteen and Nicholas. “Some revolt you put together. I had hoped for a bit more of a challenge.” He turned to the soldier. “We’ll be out shortly. You are dismissed.”
“Yes, Captain Lok,” he replied, exiting in a breathless rush.
“What do you plan?” Arteen asked. “Sail us back to the Isles so you can parade us around in public and pretend to be a hero?”
“Oh, I can imagine much better punishments to mete out to you and your traitorous friends. You can think about it while we go on deck,” he said. He signaled some o
f his soldiers and they promptly marched Nicholas, Arteen and Captain Kellig out of the cabin into the cool, night air.
Moments later they neared an open area on the starboard side where the rest of Arteen’s men had been assembled. Those few in the crew who had remained loyal to Captain Kellig were still imprisoned below. As the clouds began to disperse on a freshening breeze, the brush of moonlight across the prisoners’ faces accentuated their defeated expressions. Nicholas noted fear in some of their eyes and wondered what trouble loomed ahead as the mournful creaking of the vessel reverberated in the night.
“I can only imagine that several of you now regret following the bizarre whims of your failed leaders.” Lok stared at both Arteen and Captain Kellig when he said this, eliciting a few chuckles from his supporters. “Those who think they can take up arms against the Isles will soon learn the folly of their ways.”
“We aren’t the only Islanders opposed to this madness,” Arteen said. “Some will follow in our steps no matter what you do to us. Others sent off to war will simply desert into the forests and hillsides of Laparia the first chance they get.” He glared at Captain Lok. “Some of them might even join the opposition before it’s all over. The rebellion against the Island leadership is more far-reaching than you know.”
Lok appeared unfazed by Arteen’s words, though they gnawed at him deep inside. But he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing so and simply smiled.
“Idle words won’t help you here.” Lok looked around at the sea of faces and focused on one of Arteen’s men and signaled him to approach. “So tell me, Mr. Mota. Is there anything more I need to know about this failed endeavor? Or shall I proceed to announce sentences on these traitors?”
A palpable sense of shock arose from Arteen and his followers when Brin Mota stepped forward, the apparent and unsuspected traitor to their cause. Brin looked uncomfortably at Arteen before averting his eyes to address Lok.
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