In the early afternoon, the four left Vandovir Estate for the northern shore, with Gráinne riding Midnight, Caera astride the Courser, and Lan and Tell on the bench of a cart pulled by a broad-breasted gelding. At the base of the mountain, they veered past a farm.
An old man stepped out of the ramshackle cabin. “Marquessa,” he said, lowering his head.
Tell, laughed and called out to Gráinne, “One of the Marquis’s soldiers?”
Gráinne offered no reply. Instead, she smiled at the farmer. Although his smile spoke “welcome,” the fear in his eyes said something else. Lan could tell Gráinne pitied him for it when she said, “If one were to ride along the northern shoreline to the docks this evening, one might stumble across horses in need of care until their owners return.”
Relief replaced fear in the farmer’s eyes, and he straightened his shoulders and smiled brightly. “Of course, Marquessa. One might do just such a thing.”
When they arrived on the shoreline, Tell built a fire. “I need a small fur.”
Caera dug into one of the trunks and pulled out a black, short-haired fur. “You could have said as much before we left.”
Tell laughed and then dipped the fur in seawater until it was drenched. He wrung it, squeezing out excess water. Laying it atop the fire, he lifted it periodically, sending puffs of smoke clouds rising into the air and drifting out to sea on the breeze. Shortly thereafter, the rowboat appeared with two men in it.
Tell and the two men stood away from the others in what appeared to be a heated conversation, judging from their jerky animations and the fact that the two warriors’ expressions more than hinted at displeasure. Lan tilted his ears toward the trio.
“Can you hear what they are saying?” Gráinne asked.
Lan shook his head. “No.”
When the discussion ended, Tell approached them. “They want horses,” he said, nodding toward the Courser that Caera sat on, the large gelding that had pulled the cart, and Midnight.
“I will pay them enough to buy their own horses to bring back after we have what we need. They cannot have ours. Besides,” she continued, “your ship’s hold is not large enough for three horses, freight, three passengers, and five warriors, much less all the passengers who will return with us. We will need to hire a larger ship and crew for the return trip. There will be ample room for a horse, I am sure.”
Tell laughed. “One horse for two men after the woman gets what she wants. This should be amusing.” He returned to the other two men, who were casting harsh glances toward Gráinne and her companions. The three rapidly ended their conversation and approached the cart, the two warriors immediately beginning to unload it and carry the trunks to the small boat while Tell spoke to Gráinne. “Two horses on the return trip, and we sail at dawn.”
Gráinne laughed. “We have an agreement.”
Lan caught a giggle in the clear mental message for him. “I thought it would cost five.”
Lan snorted.
The small boat went to and from the shoreline to the ship three times, each trip carrying supplies in addition to two rowing warriors. On the last trip back, only one warrior returned. He remained sitting in the bow of the little boat after he tossed Tell the mooring line.
“Time to board, Marquessa,” said Tell, delivering a sweeping gesture as if urging Gráinne onto a carpet leading to a grand hall.
Lan stepped into the boat holding the chest with their silver and the scroll case and then placed it on the wooden planks between the bench-like boards where the passengers would sit facing each other. He sat on the chest while Gráinne, Caera, and Tell piled into the boat, the two women facing each other.
Tell snagged the mooring line, tossed it atop the bow, and hopped into the boat. Taking two oars in hand, he slid into his place on a bench in the stern. “Our journey has begun,” he said with a chuckle as he slashed the oars into the water.
Lan fidgeted all the way to the ship.
Once aboard, Tell escorted the three below deck via a wooden ladder that descended into the belly of the ship.
Lan was surprised to see the hold brimming with crates and barrels that weren’t ones they’d brought aboard. He felt uneasy at the thought that the warriors had more supplies than Tell had led them to believe and wondered what other important information he might have withheld. Small wooden frames with furs stretched over them were nailed to one side of the hull.
“Is that where you sleep?” Gráinne asked Tell.
Tell nodded. “Aye. The racks, we call them.”
Gráinne looked at Lan, and he heard her thinking “Get us as far as possible from the racks.”
Lan nodded.
She pointed to a space at the bow of the ship. “We will sleep there.”
Tell laughed. “In the bow?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“If you insist,” he said, laughing, and then climbed back up the ladder and out of sight.
“Hang a fur from the rafters,” she said to Lan, “so that we have privacy, and put that chest deep in the flour barrel.” She nodded toward the small chest Lan had sat on in the little boat, and the three of them went to work moving crates and digging furs out of the trunks, Caera cursing under her breath about having lost a perfectly good fur when a moth-eaten one would have sufficed.
By the time Tell reappeared on the ladder, the trio had completed construction of their crude cabin. A fur hung between the crew’s beds and their little space, and other furs lay on the hard wooden planks to serve as bedding. In addition to their own trunks, the three had arranged crates and barrels to serve as walls.
“What the . . . ,” Tell said.
“Caera needs access to her supplies. That is . . . if you and your warriors want to eat,” Lan said in his gruffest voice.
Tell started to protest, but stopped. “We sail at dawn.” He shook his head and disappeared up the ladder again, grumbling something that Lan couldn’t make out but which sent Caera, who stood closest to the ladder, into a giggling fit. Its contagion spread, and soon, Lan and Gráinne chimed in with their own giggles.
When their amusement died down, Lan said solemnly, “We will take shifts sleeping. Someone needs to remain awake at all times.”
The two women nodded in agreement.
At dawn, the warriors hoisted the ship’s anchor and raised its sails.
“Calleigh, send fair winds and smooth seas,” Gráinne whispered.
Lan braced himself and then heard Gráinne wondering if maybe she should have spoken at the Goddess Pond. Lan felt the thought pop like a ripe pea when she shrugged it off. The wind filled the sails, which snapped and billowed.
The ship creaked and groaned as it turned and sliced through the waves. Sea spray left the passengers damp, but the wind and the sun, already breaking the horizon, quickly dried them, leaving white streaks of salt on their clothes and skin.
“You look a little green,” Tell chuckled from beside Gráinne. “First time on a ship?”
Lan felt relieved not to be the only one on the ship feeling green.
After dinner, the trio stood on the deck of the ship and watched the sun set.
“I am going to stay up here for a while,” Gráinne told her companions.
“I will stay near the ladder,” Lan said, crinkling his forehead in disapproval. He would be within hearing distance. He didn’t mind standing on the deck anyway. His stomach protested less when he was outdoors than it did when he was in the galley or hold. And at the moment, the sea thumped dully against the ship’s bow, and the sailing was smooth.
Gráinne stood by the starboard railing within hearing distance of Lan, and under the full moon, he could see her clearly. When Tell approached her, Lan tuned his ears toward them and watched in silence.
Tell whispered from behind her. “Serene, is it not?”
Gráinne straightened her posture. “How long before we arrive?”
Tell stepped beside her and grasped the railing with both hands, looking out. “Two or three
days, maybe four if the sea is troubled.”
Tell turned his head to look at Gráinne, and Lan caught her purposely averting her eyes. What are you up to now, woman? He will kill us both if he finds out. Lan shivered.
“How long will it take you to find a larger ship for hire?”
Tell shook his head slowly and shrugged. “That depends on which ships are docked and which are scheduled to arrive.” He turned his face toward Gráinne, and Lan could see him thinking. He struggled to hear Tell’s thoughts, but all he heard was breathing. It was just like it had been with the Marquis’s crew. Why can’t I hear him?
Gráinne sighed. “I think I will miss this view. We will not have a full moon on our return.” She looked up at the white disk, stretching her neck and chin and sending a ripple through her long curls as they slid farther down her back.
Lan thought Tell was about to say something else, but instead, he dipped his head and said, “Goodnight, Gráinne.” The warrior turned and returned to the galley, leaving Gráinne speechless and thoughtless on the deck and Lan with his mouth agape.
Lan cleared his throat. “You should get below. Caera is alone.”
Gráinne nodded, and as she turned, Lan thought he saw the remnants of a smile disappearing. He followed her down the ladder, wondering what had made her happy. He hated the sea and its rocking motion, the salt and the way his lips parched. It wasn’t a natural place for a feline.
Gráinne tiptoed once in the hold. As she passed the bunk Tell Bravin lay in, Lan noticed movement. The warrior was watching her. Lan stopped while Gráinne folded back the hanging fur and entered the sleeping area, dropping the edge of the fur to close the makeshift entrance.
Tell’s gaze followed her and then shifted to Lan.
The two locked stares briefly, and then Tell rolled over to face the hull and pulled a fur over his back and shoulders.
Lan walked forward and turned around when he reached the hanging fur. Two hours later, the other warriors filed in noisily and crawled into their bunks without acknowledging the Kathan, still standing in his wide-legged, at-ease position outside the private space where Gráinne and Caera slept. He paid little attention to them. Instead, he stared at Tell’s back. He’d already decided to let the women sleep the remainder of the night.
The ship lurched forward and then back before the hull banged against the wooden dock. Caera practically flew into a stack of crates that teetered from the impact. Lan sprinted toward them, barely stopping the heap from falling on the petite woman.
“What is happening?!” Caera cried out as she regained her balance and stood up.
“The ship just docked,” Lan replied. He cast a sideways glance at Gráinne and added, “And they have locked us in the hold.”
“What?!!” Gráinne asked. “Locked in? How? Why?”
“You will have to ask the man who signed the agreement with you,” he said snidely.
“How did this happen? I thought you were standing guard.”
Lan’s cheeks flushed crimson. “I fell asleep! There you have it! You can blame me for it. It could not possibly be because you trusted strangers!”
Gráinne stopped talking.
“If you ask me, they will sell us.”
“Sell us? What do you mean, Lan?”
Lan exhaled through his nose. “Woman. I told you these men were not trustworthy or honourable. But would you listen? No. And now we wait to become slaves!”
Gráinne flashed a quick look at Caera. Frowning at Lan, she replied, “You do not know why the hold is locked or who locked it. You do not know anyone is planning to enslave us. You fell asleep. You are speculating, and you are scaring Caera, so stop it now.”
Lan motioned to the space around them. There were crates and barrels scattered about, and the hanging fur now lay on the wooden planks. The trio was alone in the hold with only a small lantern casting light in the space. “Then you explain why we are locked in.”
Anger burst in the flush of Gráinne’s cheeks. “I do not know why we are here, and neither do you, but I intend to find out.” She got up off the fur bed and stomped over to the spot where the ladder had been.
“It is gone,” said Lan.
She looked around.
Lan heard her think “Crates!”
Gráinne started lining up crates and then stacked them until they formed steps. She tested the wooden boxes. “I do not think they will topple,” she said as she climbed up them. She positioned her ear close to the wooden hatch and then motioned to Lan. “I cannot hear what they are saying. You try.”
Lan waited for Gráinne to climb down from the crates before he ascended them. The last thing they needed was for their combined weight to bring the wooden boxes crashing down. The Kathan scrambled two-thirds of the way up and stopped. He listened. After a few minutes, he climbed back down. “I was right,” he said, “but not completely. Some of the warriors do want to sell you and Caera. At least one does not agree.”
Gráinne’s eyes widened as Lan spoke. “Sell us? Like chattel?” For a few moments, she stood so still she looked paralyzed. Her gaze settled on Caera, and Lan heard her think, “Dear Goddess not again.” Then her face pulled back into resolve. “Who? Which one does not agree?”
“Their leader.”
“Is that all you heard?”
Lan nodded. Silence saved him from lying. She didn’t want or need to hear what the men planned to do with the women before they sold them.
“Do you still have your weapons?”
“Yes.”
“Let me have one of the swords.”
Lan hesitated and then sighed. After locating his personal trunk, he searched through it until he found the sheathed swords. He pulled out both and offered one to Gráinne.
“Is this the right- or left-handed one?”
“You will be lucky if you do not slice off your own foot.” Lan rolled his eyes. “There is no right or left grip, if that is what you are asking. Oh, and the blades are sharpened on both sides.”
Gráinne snatched the sword from Lan’s left hand and climbed the stack of crates again, banging on the hatch with the handle of the sword.
Lan winced at the treatment of his weapon.
“Open this door, Tell Bravin!”
Boot heels stomped on the hatch door, and Gráinne flinched, leaning backward and almost losing her balance. Caera gasped. Lan cringed and let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding once he saw she had recovered her balance without sending the crates toppling toward him and Caera.
“Open this door, you liar!”
Silence.
The thought was clear and loud. “Hold him hostage. Do not kill him.”
“You are nothing but a coward, Tell Bravin! A lying, thieving coward! And you call yourself a warrior?”
The hatch flew open without warning. Gráinne fell backward. The Marquessa’s shoulder blades taking the brunt of the slam against the crates on her way down, she landed on the floor rump first and slumped against a barrel. Lan’s sword slid across the wooden planks. His fears came true as the wobbling crates came crashing down toward him and Caera. He dropped the other sword, snatched the blonde from her seated position, and dove with her toward the other side of the bow.
Tell Bravin lowered and then descended the ladder. Before Lan could get up and pick up both of the swords, Tell stopped next to Gráinne, seemingly uninterested in a fight. “Rights to hunt and fish, control of trade at the docks, land for a small village, and four horses,” Tell said, staring down at the crumpled female.
“Three,” she replied, glaring up at him.
Lan wondered why he didn’t go along with the plans of the other men.
“Four,” he declared firmly.
Gráinne sighed, and Lan felt his stomach knot. “Fine. Four.”
“Then, welcome to Port Firth, Marquessa.”
Her voice rang out in Lan’s head, “I was sure he would demand five. Care to wager who will be without a horse?”
Th
e Kathan laughed.
Incorrigible: Secrets Past & Present
The Staves of Warrant Book One
Part Two / Seeking
Morgen Rich
Bookmite Press
Pennsylvania
www.bookmitepress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013. Morgen Rich. All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Bookmite Press.
ebook ISBN 978-0-9892102-2-5
First Edition.
Cover design by Derek Murphy of Creativindie Covers
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Familiar and Unknown
“What do you mean she is missing?” asked Ilythiiria.
“Niamh is missing. None of us has seen her for at least half a moon, maybe longer.”
Ilythiiria thought about how much time had passed since she’d relocated Euryale. She couldn’t remember exactly how much of the moon’s cycle had passed, but surely at least half a cycle had elapsed since she’d left Glendoque and Euryale in the cave outside Alya’s largest city.
“Nobody knows where she is,” said Moira.
“This would not be the first time she has disappeared without telling us where she was going, Moira.”
“I know, but something does not feel right about it this time.”
“In what way?”
“The pond.”
“What about the pond?”
Moira frowned and looked around. “In the past, Niamh and I have worked together at the pond. The ground there is saturated with her Essence. I gazed from the bottom of the pond not long ago when I sensed Arianna’s daughter near it.”
Ilythiiria felt the air around her stop moving. “The daughter of Arianna?”
“And I could not feel her.”
“The daughter of Arianna?”
“No. Niamh. I could not feel Niamh.”
“Ahhhh,” said Ilythiiria. “Perhaps your connection with the daughter of Arianna interfered? Her mother is strong in her.”
The Dragon Writers Collection Page 111