Forging Alliances: Wizards of White Haven

by Frances Howitt

  ‘The pack’s here. I’ll send some of them to see if they can pick up any other clues. Hang tight Am, someone must have seen something.’

  ‘I wish I was as optimistic. You haven’t seen this place. It’s empty of traffic and the cobbles won’t leave any tracks. I don’t know what to do. He can’t be gone!’

  Nugget probably would have sensed it if he’d been killed. You didn’t get that did you?’

  ‘No. I might not be able to trace him but our link is still alive,’ Amelie replied, grasping onto that reassurance.

  ‘Good. That means they didn’t intend to kill him. He’ll be found. Have faith in your man, Amelie. He’s one of the strongest wizards alive. He’s resourceful and a survivor. He’ll find a way to come back to you.’

  ‘Thank you Natalya. I needed to hear that.’

  25. Quite a Predicament

  The lion awoke, aware something was seriously wrong. His body refused to obey his demand for alertness. His muscles felt disconnected from his mind and his head felt stuffed with wool. Alarm shot through him. What the hell had happened?

  Slowly he managed to open his leaden eyelids. Blearily trying to bring his surroundings into focus, he realised he was nowhere he recognised. He was lying on a cold wooden planked floor, pressed against a wall, and both seemed to be vibrating unnaturally. Loud creaks, groans and an unfamiliar rushing sound assailed his ears. Where was he?

  The floor unexpectedly tipped and his limp human body rolled. He tried to put out his hands to brace, or grab something, but found them restrained behind his back. A deep growl escaped him. Spreading his legs he managed to stop rolling over and over, but now merely slid into the opposite wall with a painful thud. He growled at his weak human form’s limp muscles. What had happened to him? He detested being restrained and with the clarity of that thought, his cuffs unlocked and clanged onto the floor. Now at least he could take his preferred form.

  The lion slowly rose to his unsteady feet, but the floor bucked beneath him again and threw him back down. Growling, he tried again, keeping his weak wobbly legs spread and his claws out to stop the next motion of the floor from casting him down. He felt like a newborn cub trying to find his balance and learn how to operate his feet for the first time. What was wrong with him? Remaining vulnerable was unacceptable, especially as he was clearly in some kind of danger.

  One thing he was certain of was that he had not brought himself to this place. However, he had no idea if he had been brought here by friend or foe. He remembered the time Freddie had moved him, to keep him safe. He’d been vulnerable, unconscious from magical exhaustion, after carving the cliff path to escape attacking bandits. Was this a similar situation? Why couldn’t he remember?

  Searching for clues, now he was up and had more control over his vision, he eyed the long narrow wooden room, noting it was crowded with large stacked crates. A store room of some kind? He detested the fog clouding his mind; had he been injured? He had the feeling the clues he was noting would normally make sense, but right now that knowledge eluded him.

  Climbing atop a crate to improve his view, he discovered one end of the room tapered to a narrow vertical wedge, which puzzled him further. He turned and searched the darkness in the opposite direction for a door but didn’t see one. Puzzled, he continued slowly forward, peering at the solid crates with differing aromas and noticing that they were tied to rings in the floor. At least that meant they were not sliding around, or he could have been crushed.

  Suddenly he felt drops of water on his back and could feel a draught coming in from somewhere. Looking up he noticed a large square with a heavy grille set into it above his head. He could see wooden planking over the grille; perhaps this was a hatch? A series of rungs were set into the wall leading up and he recognised he’d found a ladder.

  Water, salty water, splashed in his face. He shook it out of his eyes, growling irritably. He climbed, his paws finding no difficulty in hooking over and clinging to the rungs, even when the whole thing pitched and rolled in disconcerting ways.

  Shoving the grille and then hatch aside, so he could climb through, many things became clear at once. He now understood the clues; he stood on the deck of a small ship. Why and how he got here he still hadn’t a clue, but his gaze went to the violent watery swells that were tossing them around like a stick.

  Movement caught his eye and he watched sailors leaping about in the rigging above, dragging in and furling the last of the sails. The ship tilted a little less alarmingly now it was not being dragged sideways by its sails, but it still lurched dreadfully.

  The lion eyed the dark clouds and realised the storm was still approaching; the worst was yet to come. A heavy spray of cold water sluiced over him and he watched it go into the hold through the hatch he’d left open. Shaking the chilly water off his coat, with an irritable growl, he moved forward once more to where he could get a clearer view.

  Hearing startled, fearful voices he knew the sailors had seen him. He ignored them, his eyes on the real threat; the storm. The water was being churned a violent black-grey-green and he certainly couldn’t see the bottom. Noticing movement behind him he glanced back to see a sailor jump onto the deck. The sailor flipped the hatch closed that he’d come out of, and pressed the latch down to secure it. Perhaps the ship would sink if it filled with water? The lion didn’t know about such things, nor did he really care. He noticed the man immediately scampered back up into the rigging. How they moved so surely he had no idea. He was very glad to have four legs and claws to aid his grip.

  Growling at his predicament and the alien watery place he found himself, he nevertheless walked to the very front of the ship. He stood in the prow, facing the danger head on, as his nature demanded. Spotting a heavy metal ring anchored in the deck, his paws locked around it to aid his grip as the ship bucked, trying to pitch him off into the swirling green depths.

  The sky darkened in response to the black clouds rushing towards them, dropping a wet barrier between the ship and the sun. His wet fur lifted, feeling the electrical energy pulsing within the low clouds. Then, all of a sudden the storm arrived with a vengeance.

  Curtains of rain swept over them, lashing down in such torrents that visibility reduced to almost nothing. It was almost as dark as night. He sneezed, clearing his nose of the driving rain; could he drown on deck, just as easily as in the depths? Lightning crackled and almost immediately thunder boomed deafeningly.

  Electricity sparkled, a bright and deadly counterpoint amongst the blackness of the clouds, yet he felt power flowing into his body from the charged air. The strange lethargy with which he’d woken and been fighting, abruptly disappeared. He felt the clouds charging again and sank down tight to the deck; suddenly realising how exposed he was there.

  The rain, already battering his whole body, turned icy and bruising as hail began to mix with the rain. He crawled to the lea side of a crate lashed to the deck and hunched down, ears flat. In this modicum of shelter the pain eased and his mind cleared sufficiently to remember that his human side could shield, could stop this hurt.

  Abruptly the painful hailstones and lashing rain no longer reached him. The gale force blustery wind pushed at his shield, but was no longer slapping debris into his face. He dried his coat of the icy wet that had penetrated his fur to chill his skin and suddenly felt a lot better.

  Lifting his head cautiously, he eyed the rivulets of water streaming down the outside of his shield. Satisfaction suffused him. He still clung to the bucking ship and nausea threatened, but he could watch the storm with a better degree of safety and comfort than before. Only now the rain was not in his eyes could he turn his attention beyond his immediate discomfort and look ahead to what they faced. It was clear the storm’s threat had in no way diminished.

  He stared in transfixed horror as the ship dipped down nose first, falling fast into a deep trough and leaving his stomach behind. All he could see was the angry black water rolling and churning with terrifying power. Then with a brutal slap, s
hip and of course his stomach, hit the bottom of the trough. It was like hitting a wall. The ship shivered, its timbers groaning and screeching alarmingly and then they were climbing a wall of water.

  The lion roared as they reached the crest, seemingly climbing into the very clouds. The ship teetered on the brink, pushed and buffeted from opposing forces of wind and water, and then the rear of the ship began to lift pushing them forward. He looked down into another abyss of a trough, helpless before the brutal forces of nature. All he could do was cling on as they began to fall down the other side. A sudden blinding flash whipped out of the clouds and an explosion erupted behind him.

  The lion watched, wide eyed, as the mast splintered and the top half crashed to the deck. The shock wave buffeted his shield and then flying shards of timber exploded in every direction, along with what looked like hundreds of lashing snakes. Those might not be snakes, but as they whipped taut, following the path of the falling mast, the heavy ropes snagged and splintered anything in their path. The lion stayed still, watching until the rope snakes came to rest and were no longer an immediate threat. As he watched however, he realised the loose tangled ropes remained a considerable hazard, since many were still attached to otherwise loose chunks of wood that the storm was tossing with dangerous whimsy.

  Most of the sailors had already found places to get under cover on the deck, but not all. A large man’s body lay nearby, broken into an unnatural shape beneath the fallen mast. The lion eyed the hazard strewn deck and then warily looked up at the black clouds, debating if he should seek shelter too. He understood and accepted that death did not always confine itself to taking out the weak, but occasionally took the strong too.

  Whimpering reached his ears and he surveyed the tangled wreckage again. Homing in on the sound, he noticed a white face was just visible under a mess of debris. He noticed men helping another out of the wreckage, but so far this one had not been noticed, buried in the thick of the broken timber. Grumbling, he left his secure paw hold and moved carefully over the cluttered, dangerously slippery and tilting deck. He jumped over some mangled timber, with heavy canvas still tied to it. He found the man quickly and realised he was little more than a boy. The youth cried out in fear of the lion, but his trapped legs meant he wasn’t going anywhere.

  ‘Hush boy, I will not harm you.’ The lad’s mouth dropped open. Some protective instinct within the lion allowed his shield to extend to overlap the lad’s exposed face and he noticed his astonishment at the sudden cessation of wind and rain. Slowly fear turned into belief and he ceased his panicked struggling. The lion eyed where the lad was trapped and another sight came over his vision.

  ‘You have a broken leg. I will lift the wood, so you can pull free. I cannot do both, so you must help. Do you understand?’ the lion asked in a low gravelly voice.

  ‘Yes. Who are you?’ Denny asked breathlessly. The lion didn’t answer but stared at the broken timber and suddenly the appalling weight was lifting, all by itself. He knew that was magic at work and he didn’t dare interrupt the wizard lion’s concentration. He gasped when he attempted to move, his pain rushing back in agonising waves, yet he had no choice but to bear it. The lion would not wait for long holding such weight and if he let go before Denny was clear, he was likely to be hurt even worse. So he gritted his teeth and managed to drag his legs clear. As soon as he did, the broken spar fell back to the deck with a heavy thud, but away from him. He stared, as without a word the lion turned and walked off, springing over the wreckage with ease. Whatever shelter the lion had provided left with him and Denny winced, once more subjected to the full force of the lashing storm.

  ‘Are you alright, Denny lad?’ a sailor asked hurrying up.

  ‘Riley! Did you see the lion?’

  ‘I saw it. It’s gone back up the front,’ Riley added still keeping a wary eye on it.

  ‘He told me I’ve a broken leg. Can you help me up?’

  ‘Of course. What happened with the lion? Where the hell did that come from?’ Riley had seen the creature turn and stare at the fallen mast from his position in the prow, then abruptly move across the deck leaping the heaps of wreckage with enviable agility. Concerned by what the creature had seen and was doing, he’d warily gone closer and spotted Denny trapped beneath the mast wreckage. Without any weapons and with the storm making footing treacherous, fighting something as powerful as that enormous lion was out of the question. All he could do was watch and hope he was not going to witness a murder. Instead he watched the wreckage shift by itself and Denny wriggle out from under it. The lion then looked directly at him, clearly aware of his watching presence, turned and left.

  ‘He’s a wizard. He freed me, Riley. He must be the unconscious man they put into the hold,’ Denny shouted in Riley’s ear as he was half carried across the deck.

  ‘You’re probably right. Glad he didn’t wake and turn into that before now. Let’s get you down into the hold. The deck’s not remotely safe with that lot free to slide about.’ He didn’t mention his fear of sharing an open deck with a lion, but Denny nodded. As hands reached up out of the hold to help them down, Riley knew he was not alone in preferring to lock a door between him and that dangerously wild looking creature. The other wizard had retired to his cabin as soon as the sea became rough and had not emerged since. In fact only the Captain and the first mate remained on deck now, in the tiny wheelhouse with both storm and lion. It needed both of them at the wheel, fighting to keep their prow to the waves. If they did not keep control, the ship would be pushed broadside, turn over and everyone would be lost.

  ‘Did everyone get clear?’ the Captain asked his Mate who had waited for the lion to depart before hurrying over to inspect the wreckage. They’d both watched Riley help young Denny to safety.

  ‘Clyde’s dead,’ the Mate responded shortly, having to shout to be heard over the screaming wind. He was glad of the shelter the tiny wheelhouse afforded. ‘Didn’t see anyone else. I think the lion checked too, so I’m sure they’re all safely below.’

  The Captain merely nodded, his attention focussed on the sea, and the huge lion standing guard at the prow. They watched as a wave engulfed the prow, but it seemed to flow over the lion without touching him, revealing the bubble he stood within.

  ‘Is that a shield?’ The Mate asked, realising that whilst the lion had hunched in response to the torrent of water rushing over the side directly at him, he’d quickly straightened again as the water retreated and his thick fluffy mane looked dry.

  ‘Yes. That’s the unconscious wizard the other one brought aboard and shut in the hold. No wonder he was keeping him drugged. That lion is one scary critter.’

  ‘I know, but he did help Denny,’ the Mate reminded. ‘What are we going to do about him?’

  ‘Once the storm passes, it’s going to take days to clear this mess and make repairs before we can be underway again. We’ll let the other wizard deal with him. I just hope they don’t have a battle and sink us. Now he’s awake I can’t imagine that lion going quietly back into the hold.’

  The Mate nodded and gritted his teeth, clinging to the safety rail as they hit the bottom of another trough and began climbing, nose pointed high above. The lion roared as though challenging the storm’s wrath, since as the ship climbed, the lion was now the highest point. The Mate shook his head in wonder.

  Lightning suddenly flashed and thunder boomed as though answering the challenge. A blinding blue-white light blazed, lighting up and crackling across the surface of the sphere surrounding the lion. He frowned, were his eyes playing tricks on him? Surely the lion hadn’t just more than doubled in size in that split moment? He blinked, trying to see past the white spots dancing before his eyes from the blinding flash. Hastily rubbing his eyes, he looked again. The prow was now empty!

  ‘Where’s he gone?’ The Captain shouted searching the deck for a fallen figure. ‘He was hit by the lightning! Did he go overboard?’

  The Mate ran out to the side and clung to the rail, his eyes swe
eping the water for any sign through the curtains of lashing rain. There! He glimpsed a large golden shape thrashing in the heaving water. Another wave crested and the lion vanished from his sight. He was sure he spotted the lion surfacing again, but they were already a distance away. He hurried back to the tiny wheelhouse to report, as the Captain certainly couldn’t leave the wheel.

  ‘Did you see him?’

  ‘Yes. He was alive and swimming.’ He glanced about them at the continuing storm; there was no way they could turn around to fish the wizard out of the water. The ship was travelling fast, at the mercy of the winds and they had very little control right now. It was taking all their combined strength on the wheel to keep them pointed into the waves to reduce the possibility of capsizing. They were also days out to sea with no landmarks in sight to aim for. Even if the lion managed to survive the frigid water temperature and huge storm tossed swells, he’d weaken and drown without food and water, well before he could swim to land. Of course that was assuming none of the numerous formidable ocean predators didn’t find him first. Without a boat and supplies, he doubted even a wizard lion could survive the ocean for more than a few hours.

  26. Lost At Sea

  Dropped into the frigid water, the lion automatically swam, attempting to keep his head above water. The swells and undertow were frighteningly powerful, sucking at him. His body might be strong on land, but his heavy bones and thick mane made buoyancy difficult and he kept being dragged under.

  The lashing rain competed with the storm swells to fill his nose with water and deny him air. He was fighting simply to breathe. His big paws thrashed, working hard just to keep him afloat. His growls had quickly turned to terrified whimpers.

  He tried to concentrate on creating a shield; but it was impossible to do when he was half drowned and panicking. Noticing the approach of another huge wave, he knew it would toss him upside down yet again, as it rushed over him. For all his strength, the sea was not his element and had him helpless in its grasp. To survive he had to act and act now.