And so it proved as they rounded the headland, a broad bay opening out before them, and a substantial city beckoning across its deep, reef-free waters. The crews of some fishing boats stared at them with open-mouthed astonishment as they sailed past, and Ravian suspected that they had never seen a swordship before although, later, he would understand that main cause of the fishermen’s surprise was that such a large craft should have appeared from the south. Dasena’s residents, he would learn, regarded the coast south of their city as fit only for pirates, wild beasts and savages, and even the most enterprising mariner seldom visited it.
Chapter Eleven
Dasena proved to be a most hospitable place, the land around the city having long ago been cleared of jungle and drained so as to provide both a relief from the mosquitoes and an enhancement of agricultural productivity. North of the city, the Tarcuns learned, the climate was somewhat drier, and the jungle gave way to rolling grasslands that were home to a number of smaller rural settlements.
The city had been a colonial territory of Saravene for centuries although, being a considerable distance away from that country’s capital, Sanja, on the southern shores of the Sapphire Sea, the Saravenese king traditionally appointed a governor to manage the colony on his behalf. Portuda, the incumbent governor, was a short, rotund man who initially had difficulty hiding his disappointment that Sea Eagle had arrived in his port with nothing to trade. Nevertheless, the normally-acquisitive dignitary clearly saw a value in maintaining good diplomatic relations with Tarcus and, consequently, he was not too extortionate in pricing the provisions and water that the swordship desperately needed. He even invited Ravian, Lefia, Lectus and Godart to stay at his residence overnight while Sea Eagle prepared for her voyage home to Tarcus.
Portuda informed his guests that, whilst the coast to the north of the city was not as hellish as the shores to its south, it was still rife with pirates. Indeed, the passage between Dasena and the Western Portal was considered so hazardous that only a few, well-armed merchantmen, such as the Tarcun trading ship, Spindrift, ever sailed it. Most of Dasena’s trade – wine, oil and slaves – was conducted via a long, arduous land route to the east, which wound through an arid mountain range before crossing the scorching desert to Sanja.
The Governor’s Residence was a grand affair of white pillars and domes, set amongst immaculate gardens and waterways and, although it had been built on the harbour’s edge, it had been sited some distance west of the main wharves so as to afford some tranquillity. Here, Portuda entertained his unexpected Tarcun guests in fine style even, to Lectus’s great delight, providing some excellent Delenian wines at dinner that evening.
Lefia attended the meal wearing a beautiful white dress which, Ravian was slightly irritated to learn, was a spontaneous gift from the Saravenese governor. Apart from the Halay outfit in which he had rescued her from the Shadow City, the prince had only ever seen her in rough peasant clothes before and, now, freshly bathed and oiled, the white dress subtly hinting at the contours of her body, she looked ravishing.
Portuda monopolised the Bolstenian princess during dinner however, seating himself between her and Ravian and engaging her in an animated and flirtatious conversation. Ravian soon tired of trying to talk to the governor’s turned back and, not having slept since the previous day, he excused himself early from the table and went up to his room.
As he lay down on his bed, he felt frustrated that he hadn’t really had the chance to talk to Lefia since rescuing her from Tikuran’s clutches and he decided that he would have a brief rest and then return to the dining room. However, a lack of sleep, his battle wound, the good food and a little too much wine, all quickly combined to overcome his intention and, within minutes, he was fast asleep.
When Ravian awoke, he found his room flooded with bright moonlight and, while he could not say how long he had slept, he was aware that the Governor’s Residence had fallen still and silent. Feeling wide awake and refreshed now, he left his bed and walked out through one of the tall, lattice-topped doors in through which the silvery light streamed. Outside, a balcony running the length of the upper story of the house offered a magical view over the carefully-manicured gardens and, in the distance, the full moon was mirrored in the Bay of Dasena. The air was pleasantly cool, the night filled with the chirping of crickets and infused with the sweet scent of jasmine.
Ravian leaned against the balcony and thought about Lefia.
He was sure that she had never really been attracted to Tikuran, and he doubted even more that she found the Governor of Dasena appealing. Still, he gritted his teeth as he thought of the way Portuda had poured his oily attentions on the young princess at dinner, and he regretted that he had retired so early and abruptly.
Just then, a movement further along the balcony caught his eye as Lefia, still wearing the white dress the governor had given her, strolled out of her own apartment.
Inexplicably, Ravian felt a surge of panic, but it was too late to sneak back to his room for Lefia had already seen him and so, he stood, rooted to the spot, as she floated towards him in the moonlight like some luminous, otherworldly being.
‘Ravian,’ she said with a smile. ‘I thought you had gone to bed.’
‘I…uh…did,’ he replied, with some embarrassment. ‘I woke up again.’
‘Really?’ she said, eyeing him sceptically. ‘Aren’t those the same clothes you were wearing this evening? – I didn’t pick you for the sort of man who slept with his clothes on.’
Ravian was glad that his blush was invisible in the moonlight.
‘I must have just dropped off,’ he said lamely.
‘Huh! Too much wine, I suppose,’ Lefia said. ‘I must say that I hope that this isn’t your normal social behaviour, Ravian – getting tipsy and then leaving me to the mercy of any randy little provincial governor that happens to take a shine to me.’
‘No, not at all,’ he protested. ‘Besides, you and he seemed to be getting on well…I thought.’
She caught the edge in his voice and smiled knowingly.
‘Why, Ravian. Were you jealous?’
‘Um…no, not jealous as such,’ he floundered. ‘He just seemed to take you over…as it were.’
‘Oh, Ravian, Portuda is an unctuous little man who fancies himself as a womaniser. The only reason I put up with his attentions was for the sake of diplomacy – just as well, with you stalking off in a huff.’
‘I wasn’t in a huff,’ Ravian lied.
Lefia looked at him, amusement dancing in her eyes and playing at the corners of her mouth.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘he lost interest as soon as I told him that I was your betrothed – went quite pale in fact.’
‘Really?’ asked Ravian, his heart leaping. ‘You told him we were betrothed?’
‘Well we are, are we not?’ she asked, her chin tilting challengingly.
And then they were in each other’s arms, the teasing, the guessing, the uncertainty all banished. Ravian’s lips sought Lefia’s and she returned his kisses with a passion that was almost ferocious. As she pressed against him, the prince felt his body respond with an urgency and vigour that could not be denied.
‘Oh, Ravian,’ Lefia gasped, and, needing no further encouragement, he swept his princess up in his arms and carried her into his chambers.
Chapter Twelve
Sea Eagle put to sea from Dasena the next day, the fair, southwest wind perfect for their passage to the Western Portal. On several occasions, as the swordship followed the coast north, her crew noticed other sailing craft putting out towards them from the mainland. Each time though, once the boats had approached the Tarcun vessel close enough for their crews to identify her as a swordship, they would quickly turn away again.
‘Portuda was right about this being a coast of pirates,’ Godart observed to Ravian. ‘I certainly wouldn’t want to sail here in a trader without plenty of fighting men on board.’
They altered course three days later to pass through the
Western Portal, Delikas veering the wind accommodatingly as they did, so that Sea Eagle headed for home before a steady westerly and with a helpful, following sea beneath her stern.
Lefia and Ravian tried their best to keep secret what had finally happened between them and, selflessly, they resisted the temptation to any further, furtive consummation of their romance while on board the swordship. Many of the crew had wives and sweethearts at Tarcus that they had not seen in almost a year, and the couple had agreed that an obvious flaunting of their newfound love would be most unfair. They could not hide the joy of each other that shone in their eyes though, nor could they keep from lingering near each other at every opportunity. Predictably, it was Lectus who finally let them know that their feelings were obvious to all.
‘Really, Your Highnesses,’ he declared as the couple stood on the quarterdeck one afternoon, ‘it’s just as well that the weather is so pleasantly calm and that we all have our sea legs. It is quite nauseating enough that every man on board has to look at the pair of you mooning at each other.’
‘What do you mean?’ Ravian demanded, colouring.
‘Oh, by the Eyes of Delikas,’ Lectus said impatiently, ‘do you honestly think it hasn’t been obvious to everybody since we left Dasena? I don’t know why the pair of you don’t just move into Princess Karrala’s cabin and spare the rest of us your longing looks.’
Lefia smiled, but Ravian was not so ready to lapse into what he thought might be inappropriate behaviour.
‘I don’t think that would look very good in front of the crew, Lectus,’ he said, ‘and there is also the matter of etiquette to consider.’
‘Oh, Your Highness, look around you,’ Lectus told him. ‘Together, we have sailed this ship to the ends of the earth and beyond, yet how many crew have we lost? – not one. We have been together constantly for a year and what was our mission? – to return home with a royal bride. Do you honestly think that there is a man onboard that is not overjoyed to see the two of you together? Do you really think that anyone here will object if you make a change of accommodation?
‘As for the matter of etiquette,’ the portly courtier concluded in a pompous tone, ‘I remind you that I am his majesty’s advisor on all such matters. If I say a thing is appropriate, then it is most certainly so.’
Ravian allowed himself to be convinced and thus their voyage became a blissful dream that, in some ways, he wished would never end. Sea Eagle was getting close to Tarcus though, and a week later, all on board were reminded of this fact by a hail from the lookout.
‘Sail ahead!’ came the bellow from aloft. ‘Looks like a swordship, Sir!’
Ravian and Godart soon saw the red, triangular sail bearing towards them and, as the Tarcun warship passed close to port shortly afterwards, a mighty cheer came across the water. Then the other swordship tacked onto a parallel course and Godart eased his sails so that she could catch up.
‘Ahoy Sea Eagle,’ a man’s voice bellowed across the water. ‘Do you have Prince Ravian aboard?’
‘Indeed we do,’ Godart called back.
‘Please heave to, Sir,’ the call came from the swordship. ‘I have important news for the prince.’
Ravian nodded to Godart and, as the two vessels came up into the wind together, a small boat set out from the other swordship and began rowing across to Sea Eagle. As the little craft came closer, Ravian’s eyes widened in disbelief – the man at the tiller was none other than his younger brother, Ramus.
‘What, in the name of Kanavas’s Kingdom are you doing here?’ Ravian demanded, as the younger prince came on board and the two brothers embraced.
‘I should ask you the same thing,’ Ramus replied with a cheeky grin. ‘You’re supposed to be a prisoner in some pirate city south of Dasena!’
‘And yet, here I am!’ said Ravian, bowing with a flourish.
‘Here you are indeed, making my very important mission utterly pointless,’ his brother replied with mock annoyance.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why, I’m charged with delivering your ransom, of course.’
Ravian was momentarily surprised into silence.
So Jeniel had decided to give in Tikuran’s demand – his older brother loved him after all.
‘I must say,’ he said, swallowing the lump in his throat, ‘it warms my heart that our brother should place so high a price on my life.’
‘Well,’ Ramus said, with wry grin, ‘paying your ransom was temporary part of Jeniel’s plan.’
‘What do you mean?’ Ravian demanded.
Ramus nodded over his shoulder, towards the east.
‘Just over the horizon are another twenty swordships,’ he said. ‘Once we’d gotten you safely on board my ship, we were to rendezvous with the squadron and then return to get your ransom back – plus some interest. After that, we were to burn this Shadow City place to the ground.’
Ravian couldn’t help but smile at that – it was what he would have done himself, after all.
‘Ahem,’ came a female voice from behind him.
‘Oh…Ramus,’ Ravian said turning to where Lefia stood, ‘allow me to introduce Princess Karalla of Bolstenia, your future sister-in-law.’
His younger brother beamed and gave a deep bow.
‘This is indeed a great day!’ he enthused. ‘First my beloved brother, who I thought in deadly peril, sails in out of the blue, and now it transpires that he brings with him a new princess of Tarcus!
‘Welcome, Sister,’ he cried, throwing his arms around Lefia. ‘Welcome to your new home!’
‘Do you think Jeniel will be as pleased to see me?’ Lefia asked Ravian later, Ramus having returned to his own ship and both vessels having gotten underway again, heading east.
Ravian nodded.
It was almost sunset and they were leaning on the rail at the front of the quarterdeck, watching a forest of red swordship sails grow from the horizon ahead.
‘More so, believe it or not,’ he said. ‘My brother is very conscious of the demands of his kingdom, and he’ll be delighted to see me married to a daughter of royal blood. The only thing that could possibly make him any happier would be if I produced an heir or two.
‘He’s going to be very happy then,’ Lefia said.
Ravian swivelled his head around to look at her.
‘You mean…?’
‘Yes,’ she confirmed with a smile. ‘It must have been that first night in Dasena.’
Ravian put his arm around her and hugged her close against him as, on the horizon ahead, the last rays of the sun turned the red sails into gold.
The End
Thank you for reading
RAVIAN’S QUEST
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Bonus Material
A Recall to Arms (The Third Chronicle of Tarcus)
Chapter One
Prince Ravian, Hero of the Great Sea War and, once upon a time, Defender of the Nation, watched as the small group of riders wound their way along the dangerous, narrow trail that clung to the cliffs of the Southeast Coast. The rain that had lashed the area all day had finally moved on out to sea, yet the clouds still lingered, filtering the sunset into an indistinct, yellow glow that reflected off the wet volcanic rock. It would be slippery, treacherous going for the horsemen, the prince knew, and they would be torn between the need for caution and the desire to make it to their destination before dark.
Ravian’s vantage point was the beacon room, the wide, open-sided chamber at the very top of the Dark Tower where, once upon a time, the soldiers of the Land’s End garrison had tended an oil-fed fire that burned day and night. The lighthouse had been badly sited however, invisible to any vessels that strayed close in to the treache
rous Weather Shore. Thus, a hundred years before Ravian had been born, his ancestor, King Kombula, had finally swallowed the medicine that had been too bitter for his predecessors, and ordered the construction of a new navigation mark. On the completion of the White Tower, sited further east along the curved peninsula that sheltered the fishing village of Karomar, the constant fire and its attendant watch had moved to the new spire and, for almost a century, the Dark Tower had stood empty. Now though, it was home to Ravian’s family and the beacon room was their living room.
It had been almost nine years ago that he had come to Land’s End from the White City, Ravian reflected. Nine years since he had chosen to exile himself and his kin to one the most isolated spots in the kingdom. He had never regretted his decision to turn his back on the Tarcun capital however, and, on the rare occasions that he had been compelled to return there, he had invariably encountered the same blend of politics, greed and social decay that had been a part of his reason for leaving.
Things were simpler out here at Land’s End and, once the simple folk of Karomar and the hard-bitten veterans of the garrison had accepted that he and his family had come to stay for good, they had taken them into their hearts. His children were particularly popular with the local people, and they had grown up roaming the wild countryside with the sons and daughters of fishermen and soldiers, far away from the selfish and dissolute lifestyles that were increasingly becoming the hallmark of their privileged peers back in the White City.
They were happy here.
They had healed here.
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