‘We’ll try and re-float then,’ said Ravian. ‘The ship’s boat can take a kedge anchor out into the bay and we can use it to pull the ship afloat. Then we’ll transfer the anchor line forward and wait for the first slack water after dawn.’
As they were about to descend, a large, dark shape, on the shore of the bay next to that in which Sea Eagle was beached, caught Ravian’ eye.
‘What do you think that could be, Godart?’ Ravian asked his captain. ‘A small whale, perhaps?’
‘I really couldn’t say, Your Highness,’ Godart replied. ‘Still, it’s not far from Sea Eagle. Let’s have a closer look.’
They began the climb down, Lectus again sweating and complaining. As they neared the beach, the nature of the creature there continued to baffle them and it wasn’t until they were within a few paces of the hulking body that they saw that it was yet another breed of seal.
This creature was truly enormous, being twice the size again of the tusked residents of the neighbouring bay. Instead of tusks, however, it sported a huge, pockmarked nose, so long that hung down over its mouth like an elephant’s trunk. It kept its eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to the arrival of humans in its domain.
‘Maybe it’s dead.’ suggested Lectus.
‘It can’t be dead – you can see it breathing,’ Godart said.
As if to emphasise the fact that it was, indeed, alive, the creature opened a mouth filled with a formidable array of yellow, tusk-like teeth, gave a foetid yawn and then began to snore loudly.
‘What a ridiculous creature,’ snorted Lectus. ‘All it seems to do is sleep.’
With that, he bent over, picked up a rock and, before either Ravian or Godart could stop him, he had bounced the projectile off the creature’s truncated proboscis.
The beast came awake with a great roar and lunged at its tormentor with unexpected agility. Lectus took flight with a yelp of fear, showing a surprising turn of speed as the bellowing animal lumbered in pursuit of him. The giant seal soon gave up the chase, however, collapsing back on the shingle with a resigned groan and appearing to fall asleep again.
Even though Lectus took some time to skirt a prudent arc around the behemoth, Ravian and Godart were still laughing when he rejoined them. As soon as it had become evident that the courtier was swifter than his pursuer, they had surrendered to the hilarious sight of the elephantine seal’s chase of their equally rotund shipmate.
‘Let me see,’ Ravian chuckled, after he had managed to control himself somewhat. ‘First, we have cannibal seals. Now we have a large – very large – creature that lies around doing nothing much and then shows a vicious temper when aroused. What would you suggest we call such an animal, Godart?’
‘I don’t think that there can be any question but that we have discovered the “Lectus Seal”, Your Highness,’ his officer replied and, again, the two men roared with laughter at their scowling companion’s expense.
They returned to their ship, where Ravian was pleased to find the repairs completed. The bow line was cast off and, once the ship’s boat had taken the kedge anchor out into the bay, there was nothing for the Tarcuns to do but await the arrival of dusk and the next high tide. The adult cannibal seals maintained a respectful distance during this activity, although some tuskless adolescents came closer to sniff curiously at the swordship’s hull.
Ravian, Godart and Lectus were leaning on the stern rail watching the incoming tide slowly rise up Sea Eagle’s rudder.
‘Well,’ said Lectus, ‘it being too warm to be concerned about ice islands, I think that the only other of our friend Creedus’s phenomena that we have to watch out for will be these so-called “Devil’s Lights”.’
‘I don’t think that we will see them,’ said Godart.
Ravian and Lectus looked at him questioningly in the gathering, all-night twilight.
‘What makes you think not?’ Ravian asked.
‘I was talking to some of the local fishermen while we were at Durst,’ the young captain replied. ‘They told me of some lights in the sky they occasionally see there as well – the “Wolf’s Eye” they call it. It seems that you can only see it in winter because the sky just doesn’t get dark enough during summer. Look, with this perpetual twilight, you can barely see the North Star, even in the middle of the night.’
‘Well,’ replied Lectus, ‘if that’s so, it suits me. I’ve had quite enough experience of Vortexes, and sea monsters and the like – and I’m certainly not so desperate to see these Devil’s Lights that I would want to come back to this forsaken place in winter – nor any other time of the year, now that I think about it.’
Ravian smiled but made no comment. He had enjoyed their adventures and discoveries but he knew that, now that they were about to begin their return voyage to Tarcus, he was going to have to make up his mind about Flamina. Try as he might, however, he could not shake the notion that marriage to the Delenian princess would, somehow, be a betrayal to both of them.
As the tide filled to its maximum and lapped about the hull of the swordship, Godart put all hands to the line running out to the kedge anchor. As they hauled in, the weight of the men also settled the vessel down by the stern so that, with a gentle grinding of her keel on the gravel, Sea Eagle slid smoothly back into the sea. The anchor line was brought to the bow and, hand-over-hand, the Tarcun sailors pulled their ship out into the bay. Once the line had been made fast and Godart had set two men to anchor watch, the rest of the crew retired – ready to resume their voyage the following morning.
To the delight of the Tarcuns, dawn brought with it a freshening northwesterly and, as soon as the tide had eased enough, they weighed anchor and hoisted their sails. As they had agreed, Godart set Sea Eagle on an easterly course that would take them well out to sea and, when they altered course south again at midday, Grenwain was only a distant shadow on their beam.
‘I calculate that this course will take us directly down to the Bay of Bolstenia,’ said Godart. ‘No more than three weeks’ sail – more like two, if we make no detours.’
‘We won’t be making any detours,’ said Lectus, giving Ravian a meaningful look. ‘His Highness has a royal duty to be getting on with.’
The sail south was largely uneventful. Grenwain remained in the distance off their starboard beam and, after ten days, the lookout reported more land to port.
‘That will be the west coast of Dekane,’ said Godart. ‘We can expect the channel to progressively close in over the few days. As you saw on the way up to Grisby, Your Highness, north of the Bay of Bolstenia, the strait between Grenwain and the continent is quite narrow.’
As the land to the east became more defined, it was evident that Godart’s chart was correct and Ravian was satisfied that they now had a reasonably accurate picture of the seas around Grenwain for the use of any future Tarcun voyagers. Then, near the end of the second week on their southern course, they spotted two sails on the eastern horizon and, as the day wore on, it became clear that the vessels they belonged to had set a course to intercept Sea Eagle.
‘Dekanians?’ Godart suggested to Ravian.
‘Bound to be,’ replied the prince. ‘Put on every stitch of sail you can, Captain. I have no doubt that we could sink whatever those sails belong to if we needed to, but I feel that I’ve already caused enough diplomatic friction with Dekane on this voyage.’
Lectus, standing with them on the quarterdeck, rolled his eyes.
‘Your Highness is every wise...finally,’ he said drily. ‘We will need to be vigilant whilst we are in Bolstenia – that country shares its northern border with Dekane and I’m sure that Groinya would like nothing more than to have you quietly kidnapped and brought back to face justice at Durst.’
As the sun began to set – the nights properly dark again this far south – Godart’s crew put on every stitch of sail, redistributed the swordship’s ballast and trimmed the rigging for maximum speed.
By the following morning, the horizon astern was empty of sails and Sea Ea
gle continued on in fine conditions. They passed through the narrowest point of the channel that evening and, next day, the Bay of Bolstenia opened up before them as Godart altered their course southeast.
‘We’ll be in Portana tomorrow morning if this wind holds,’ the captain announced.
‘Ah, at last we return to something resembling civilisation,’ Lectus said joyfully. ‘I must say that Portana bears poor comparison even to Canavast but, after our recent trials around Grenwain, it will be a paradise – not that you and I will be spending much time there, Your Highness.’
‘Oh?’ Ravian queried.
‘Unfortunately, the royal palace of Bolstenia is at Trebedan,’ Lectus explained. ‘It is in the high country to the southeast. We are looking at a good five days on horseback to get there, I’m afraid.’
‘Five days?’ Ravian grumbled. ‘Why are we even bothering?’
‘Well,’ Lectus said, ‘King Postus did keep his country out of the Northern Alliance during the war – not that such a tiny nation would have been much use to the Northerners anyway. There is also the matter of Princess Karrala – unless, of course, Your Highness has already resolved to return to Delenes and commit to a marriage to the Princess Flamina?’
‘On second thoughts,’ Ravian replied, ‘a long, healthy horse-ride after all this sea time sounds like a splendid idea. You have surprised me with some of your other skills, Lectus. I look forward to seeing you on a horse. Do we need to take an honour guard and standard bearer?’
‘We will require a guard and it won’t be ceremonial,’ Lectus said. ‘The road to Trebedan has the reputation of being neither smooth nor safe.’
Portana, when they sailed into it the following morning, proved to be a small, crowded harbour protected by a man-made breakwater. Ravian could see that it would be a poor anchorage in a northwesterly gale and suspected that the settlement would be a very quiet one indeed during winter. In the settled summer weather they were enjoying, however, it bustled with activity as casks of olive oil and wine were craned onto the merchantmen waiting to receive them. With some satisfaction, Ravian noted that there was, at least, one Tarcun vessel loading up – during the time that it had taken them to circumnavigate Grenwain, he realised, Swallow had voyaged home to the White City and then returned again to the Western Sea.
The harbour boasted several small taverns, much to the delight of Sea Eagle’s crew, who, as much as they were looking forward to the comforts of a harbour side tavern, were even more keen to tell the tales of their recent adventures. Lectus and Godart went into the town – Godart to acquire fresh provisions and Lectus to negotiate the purchase of the horses they would require for their mission to Trebedan. Ravian, deciding that Godart, Lectus and he had earned a night of civilised comfort, hired accommodation for the three of them at one of the quieter inns. Thus, after a good meal and sound sleep, he emerged from his quarters the following morning in high spirits and keen to get on the road to the Bolstenian capital.
Chapter Eight
The road to Trebedan zigzagged steeply up into the high hills close behind Portana, and offered some spectacular views out over the Western Sea as they climbed. It was now harvest time and, as the Tarcuns rode the hot dusty trail ever higher, they met many wagons going the other way, all heavily-loaded with barrels of wine, olive oil and other fresh produce. Initially, the land along the roadside looked well settled and often reminded Ravian of Tarcus but, as they headed further into the mountains, the terrain became increasingly arid and rocky. They travelled for five days without any sign of the bandits that had given the road such an evil reputation, leaving the sea far behind as their way took them deeper and deeper into the mountains. Then, on the fifth day, as the Tarcuns emerged from a high, arid pass, they suddenly found themselves looking down into the valley of Trebedan.
Even at this, the driest time of the year, a network of permanent rivers and streams made the valley a fertile patchwork of greens, browns and golds – the colours of late harvest. Once the Tarcuns had descended the steep zigzag road into the valley, they found the way shaded by lines of proud, ancient oak trees on either side while, in the fields beyond, parties of peasants ignored them as they worked busily to bring their harvest in from the fields.
The warm, clean air, the humming of bees and the easy gait of his horse all contrived to have a soporific on Ravian. He was on the verge of dozing in his saddle when, with a “whack”, a tree trunk close by his head suddenly grew an arrow. Instantly alert, Ravian and his party drew their swords and looked about for their attackers.
‘Who dares enter the realm of King Postus bearing arms?’ a woman’s voice called out in Chesa.
A young man and woman, darkened by the sun and wearing rough riding garb, sat astride their horses on a rise fifty paces from the road. Ravian noted their thoroughbred mounts and the practised familiarity with which they held their hunting bows and immediately knew that, despite their clothing, these were no peasants. He was equally certain that, had the arrow been aimed at his head instead of the tree trunk, he would already be dead.
‘Prince Ravian of Tarcus,’ Lectus announced loftily, ‘on a mission to the court of King Postus. Who dares fire on our party?’
‘Ha!’ the young woman scoffed. ‘You are wasting your time here, Tarcuns. I suggest that you turn around and go back whence you came!’
The pair abruptly wheeled their mounts and rode off towards a nearby forest at breakneck speed.
‘Well!’ huffed Lectus. ‘That’s a fine welcome to Bolstenia. I wonder who they were.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Ravian, ‘but I suspect that we will find out. A most striking pair, wouldn’t you say?’
Lectus gave Ravian a scathing look.
‘Particularly the girl you mean, Your Highness? Please try to remember why we are here. The Princess Karrala is the only woman in this backwater who is important to us, even if only to eliminate the last possibility between here and Delenes.’
‘A fine piece of archery though, I’m sure you agree?’ Ravian gently goaded him.
‘Young savages!’ Lectus snarled, rising to the bait. ‘This is a most odd place, where roughneck youths are permitted to ride around loosing arrows at whomsoever they choose.’
If Lectus had found the roadside incident strange, then events at Trebedan proved even more so.
King Postus’s castle was rather like the monarch himself – old and rather rundown. Postus had sat upon his throne for a great many years and, indeed, Ravian observed that the old man almost nodded off at one point during the audience. He was friendly enough, however, and their meeting went smoothly until the king invited the Tarcuns to dine at the royal table that evening.
‘We shall be delighted Your Majesty,’ Lectus oiled. ‘And will the Princess Karrala also be attending?’
‘There is no such person,’ the grey-bearded king replied shortly, suddenly seeming to become fully alert.
Lectus was taken aback.
‘But, Your Majesty,’ he spluttered, ‘we were advised by your court that your daughter, Princess Karrala, would possibly be available for a marriage alliance with the Royal House of Tarcus. I have the document with me in fact...’
‘Then there has been an error!’ the old king interrupted. ‘I have no daughter!’
‘But, Your Majesty, I don’t understand...’ Lectus persisted.
Postus came shakily to his feet, his face dark with anger.
‘There is nothing to understand!’ he roared. ‘I have only one child, Prince Pinnius, whom you will meet tonight. I repeat, Gentlemen, I have no daughter!’
With that, the king stalked from the audience room.
Lectus looked at Ravian helplessly.
‘I don’t know what to say, Your Highness,’ he said. ‘King Postus’s response to our envoy was quite clear. I just don’t know what could have…’
Ravian gave him a reassuring smile.
‘It’s not that important, Lectus,’ he told him. ‘Let’s get tonight over and don
e with and we can return to Sea Eagle tomorrow. It looks as though you get your way – we’ll set a course for Zedezee as soon as we clear the Bay of Bolstenia.’
Lectus was too disturbed by the interview with King Postus to express anything but mild pleasure at Ravian’s capitulation.
‘Oh, very good, Your Highness,’ he said distractedly. ‘I’ll try and find out what’s gone wrong here though. We have spies even here, of course – I’ll see if I can’t talk to one or two of them tomorrow.’
Dinner that evening was a small affair with less than twenty people at Postus’s table. The food and wine were excellent though, and Ravian and Lectus ate and drank well. Prince Pinnius did not make an appearance until well into the evening but, when he finally did so and the King introduced his son to the two Tarcuns, Ravian could not suppress a smile.
The young prince was the same horseman whose female accomplice had fired on them earlier that day.
‘It’s strange,’ Ravian said to the heir to the Bolstenian throne, ‘but I have the feeling that we have met before.’
‘Yes, very odd,’ Lectus chimed in maliciously. ‘I was thinking exactly the same thing.’
‘That cannot be,’ said King Postus. ‘Pinnius has never left the kingdom.’
‘Well, then,’ Ravian said easily, ‘I suppose that he just has one of those familiar faces. So, what have you been up to today, Prince Pinnius?’
‘Oh, I’ve been hunting,’ the youth replied, his cheeks reddening.
‘Really? Hunting?’ said Ravian with enthusiasm. ‘I’ll bet you’re a good horseman – you have that look about you. Don’t you think so Lectus?’
‘Oh yes,’ Lectus replied with relish, ‘and good with a bow too, I’ll wager.’
As King Postus frowned at the odd exchange, Pinnius mouthed “No” at Ravian and, almost imperceptibly, shook his head.
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