by R. J. Grieve
He went down on one knee before her and gripped her shoulders, feeling the tremors that still wracked her body.
“Elorin,” he said a little huskily, “I will never doubt your word again.”
“W....what was it?” she asked, her whole frame shaking.
“I don’t know, but I do know that my sword would have been useless against it. Kerrea was right. It is a creature of the darkness and shade. It cannot tolerate the full light of either sun or moon.”
“Yervenar sent his light to help us,” she stammered.
“Then he must have sent it to help you,” he said, glancing up at the silver orb sailing serenely against the silky black sky, “for he has long ago forgotten me.”
Chapter Seventeen
The Storm
Celedorn and Elorin spent the rest of that night in a state of the most acute tension. Every time the coquettish moon danced behind a cloud, depriving them of the safety of its light, they were gripped with fear that the blackness would return. Never were two people more relieved to see the first pale glimmers of dawn in the sky. By the time the sun came up, shedding its rosy beams amongst the departing clouds, its light fell on two weary and ragged travellers asleep beneath a willow tree.
When Elorin finally awoke, the morning was far advanced. The sun shone placidly on the still waters of the estuary. She lay relaxed for a while, feeling its warmth touch her face and listening to the gentle lapping of the water and the distant cry of the gulls. The soft breeze rustled the sparse branches of the willow tree, brushing its long, thin leaves together, but in addition to this pleasant sound, Elorin detected a sound she had not expected to hear - the sound of voices.
She sat up abruptly. There, in the centre of the lagoon, floating like a cockleshell on the glassy surface, was a small brightly-coloured fishing boat. She gripped Celedorn’s shoulder and shook him. He groaned softly and rolled onto his back.
“Celedorn, wake up! A fishing boat has arrived!”
He sat up with a jerk, instantly fully awake. Two men from the boat were wading about on the far side of the estuary, carrying nets already full of oysters. Two others were sitting on boxes on the deck, deftly opening their bounty with sharp knives. Celedorn made to rise but Elorin restrained him.
“Wait!” she commanded. “We had better get our stories straight. They must not suspect who you really are. We will say that we are brother and sister. Your name had better be...ah....Dorgan.”
“Dorgan?” he repeated, highly amused.
“Be serious,” she admonished him. “We come from......name a village on the southern coast of Serendar.”
“Calbon.”
“Very well. We were sailing to Kelendore to trade, and our boat sprang a leak and sank just off the coast here. We swam ashore and have been marooned here for a week.” She studied his appearance critically. “Better make that two weeks - and I don’t see what you’ve got to grin about.”
“Don’t you? The efforts you are currently making to save the neck of the blackguardly mountain brigand are, I assure you, the most entertaining thing I have seen in a long time. Do you think with a face like mine they will ever take me for a merchant?”
But Elorin was in no mood to be diverted. “Just remember our story - and don’t forget you are now Dorgan.”
“How do you propose to explain to them that I wish to be set down on a deserted part of the coast, instead of Sar-es-Marn?”
“I’ll think of something. If it comes to that, why don’t you think of something. You haven’t been much help so far.”
He placed his hand on his heart. “Please accept my humble apologies.”
She cast him a look of annoyance and rising to her feet, descended to the shore waving her arms as she did so.
One of the fishermen on the boat was the first to notice her. The oyster he was opening slid from his hand and he slowly stood up, his jaw dropping.
“Well I’ll be..... look, Sorgis, a girl! Oh, and a man with her. How on earth did they get here?”
His companion also stood up and after staring for a while said: “I’ll take the rowing boat over and see what’s going on.”
“Be careful, Sorgis. Watch it isn’t a trick by those damned Turog.”
When the boat neared the islet, Elorin waded out to meet it. “Thank goodness you’ve come,” she gasped. “Our ship sank while we were on our way to Kelendore to trade and we have been marooned here.” She beckoned to Celedorn who had been hanging back. “This is my brother, Dorgan, and I am Elorin.” She saw shock register on the fisherman’s face as he saw the three long scars on Celedorn’s cheek but carried on relentlessly with her story. “We have been marooned here for days. We lost everything when our ship foundered and have been living on oysters. You have no idea how glad we are to see you.”
The man dragged his eyes from Celedorn and looked at Elorin’s earnest countenance. His expression softened a little. “You two look as if you have been through a rough time. I’m sure you could do with something to eat other than oysters. Come, I’ll take you back to the boat.”
On the return journey, Elorin who had been pondering the problem of how to get the fishermen to leave before nightfall, had sudden inspiration.
“You’ve turned up in the nick of time, you know,” she told Sorgis. “These woods are full of Turog. More and more seem to be gathering here. I don’t think they know of our presence yet, but it could only be a matter of time.”
The fisherman looked at her speculatively. “You say there are many?”
“Dozens,” said Elorin comprehensively, ignoring a slight choking sound issuing from Celedorn.
“That’s bad news indeed. We were hoping to stay for at least a week. I’d better tell the Captain that.”
As they approached the vessel they could see that the other two fishermen had returned to the ship, clearly anxious to find out what was going on. Friendly hands reached over the side to help them up. Sorgin obligingly repeated their story to his crewmates. But one young man, less tactful than his fellows, stared at Celedorn in round-eyed fascination and blurted out: “How in hell’s name did you get those?”
Celedorn stiffened but before he could respond, Elorin intervened. “My brother was attacked by a sea eagle who thought he was after her young. They are fiercely protective of their nests you know.”
“Aye, that they are,” agreed an older, grey-haired man who was the captain. “A nasty misfortune that, young man.”
Celedorn shrugged indifferently. “Accidents happen.”
Letting the subject go, the Captain said: “Now, you’ll be wanting something to eat and I see you’ve lost your shirt. Sorgin here is about your size. He’ll lend you one. We’ll stay for the rest of the day collecting what we can, but in view of your news we dare not stay any longer. We’ll be putting to sea at sunset. Unless we hit it lucky and find a large pearl soon, our trip will have been wasted. Those damned creatures can always be relied upon to turn up just when you don’t want them. You two have been lucky to have survived here for so long without being caught.”
“Have you found any pearls?” Elorin asked, steering the conversation onto safer topics.
“A few small ones. Enough to pay our costs but not much more. I take it, when you were living off oysters, you didn’t find any?”
Elorin shook her head. “Not one. I so much wanted to see a silver pearl.”
The Captain smiled at her indulgently. “Well so you shall.” He reached into his pocket and produced a tiny pearl which he set in her hand. For a moment she was disappointed, for it looked grey and dull, but then the light caught it and in its depths it began to glow with a silver light like the brightest moonlight. Reading her thoughts the Captain remarked: “Some call them moonpearls. You should see their light when the full moon shines on them. King Orovin’s crown is made entirely of the finest moonpearls. They are ten times more valuable than the white ones. It makes it worth our while taking the risk of coming to these dangerous shores.”
�
��Thank you,” she said, handing it back to him. “I wish I had something to give you for all the trouble we are causing you, but we lost everything.”
“I see your brother kept his sword.”
She laughed. “Oh, you’ll never part him from that. It has accounted for quite a few Turog in its time,” she said, quite forgetting that Celedorn was supposed to be a merchant.
The Captain looked at her thoughtfully. “I would say it has. Now if you’ll follow me down to the cabin, I’ll get you some food and a shirt for your brother.”
Celedorn had remained silent during this exchange, deeming it prudent not to draw attention to himself, but the Captain suddenly turned to him and asked him what goods he had intended to trade in Kelendore.
“Cloth,” replied Celedorn curtly, not feeling he had quite Elorin’s talent for invention. “It’s all at the bottom of the sea now.”
The Captain shook his grey head sadly. “I suppose it represented everything you had.”
Celedorn nodded, hoping that he looked appropriately crushed.
“The sea is a cruel mistress,” continued the older man, “full of moods and whims. You may love her or hate her, but you must always treat her with respect.”
When Elorin had finished her meal, she went back on deck and was soon engaged in helping the fishermen, chattering gaily and soon making friends with them. Celedorn emerged from the cabin some time later, wearing a white shirt and minus his beard.
Elorin abandoned her task of sorting the oysters and came over to him. “What took you so long?”
He ruefully rubbed the injured side of his face. “Shaving is tricky.” He nodded towards the crew. “I see you’ve made friends.”
“Yes. They all come from Sar-es-Marn and fortunately know nothing of Calbon. I was dreading one of them asking me if I knew his cousin who lived there, but I think we have got away with it.”
“I’m not so sure. The Captain has been giving me some strange looks, however, it may not mean anything.” He raised his eyebrows quizzically at her. “I never realised you were so talented. It’s worth the risk of discovery, just for the excitement of finding out what kind of tale you are going to invent next.”
She laughed. “I have been impressing upon them the numbers of Turog we are supposed to have seen. I, for one, am not keen to spend another night here and somehow I feel that if I tried to describe to them what happened to us last night, they would be convinced I was either mad or drunk.”
“They wouldn’t think that if they had ever seen you drunk.”
She folded her arms in chagrin. “Well, isn’t that just typical of you to remind me of that. I suppose you make no allowance for the fact that I was half starved and scared to death.”
To her surprise, his smile vanished and he frowned a little. “Are you still afraid of me?” he asked quietly.
“Only when you try to be nice to me,” she replied saucily.
He gave a crack of laughter, as she knew he would.
“I think the least we can do is help to gather oysters today,” she remarked. “I feel guilty about tricking them into leaving when they have found nothing of value.” She looked at him significantly.
“Oh, very well,” he conceded ungraciously and began to pull off his boots. “Hand me one of those nets and try to remember that we wouldn’t be in all this trouble if it wasn’t for you.”
By the time the sun began to sink westwards, four moonpearls of fine quality had been found and Elorin’s conscience rested a little easier. The fishermen assured her it was enough to make their trip worthwhile. But as the clouds became painted with lemon and gold, Elorin grew more and more disquiet and stood in the stern of the ship anxiously watching the darkening shore.
The Captain, noticing her restlessness, came and stood beside her.
“What is it?” he asked. “Do you see something?”
“No, not yet but we have dodged the Turog for so long that I will find no peace until this accursed shore is left behind. Night-time was always the worst. One could never tell what might be creeping about in the darkness of the woods. In the end we abandoned the forest in favour of the islet where you found us. I don’t think we could have survived another night here.”
“You and your brother did well to survive for so long.” The Captain looked at her curiously. “He’s a good deal older than you isn’t he?”
Elorin, aware of being drawn into dangerous territory, replied: “Yes. He’s ten years older than me. In fact he is my half-brother.”
“Ah, that would explain it.”
“Explain what?”
“The fact that you don’t look anything alike.”
Elorin warily took the gambit. “He is thought to favour my father, whereas I look like my mother.”
“He has the look of someone who knows how to handle that sword.”
“Yes,” she agreed cautiously. “Father thought that he should know how to protect me - especially when we are travelling over land.”
Her companion chuckled. “You mean, through the mountains. I doubt even your brother could deal with that scoundrel Celedorn.”
Her heart thumped. “No, I suppose not.” She shot him a suspicious glance but he was looking at the sky, apparently satisfied with her replies.
“A good breeze has sprung up and the tide is on the turn. Time to leave, I think. We have done well enough and must not press our luck.”
As the sun finally departed in an orgy of molten gold, the little boat spread her wings like a swan and drifted down the estuary until it crossed the sandbar.
Celedorn sat in the stern looking back towards the departing shore, his expression inscrutable. Elorin sensed that one of his black moods had descended upon him and left him alone. Strangely, the emotion she detected in him was regret but she was unable to guess the cause. The sailors, too, with unexpected sensitivity, left him to himself, and he sat until the darkness descended upon the sea and one by one cold pinpricks of light pierced the deep blue canopy of the sky.
The Captain had surrendered his tiny cabin to Elorin, deeming it fitting that she be accorded some privacy with no other company than her brother. Elorin, revelling in the fact that she had somewhere to sleep that was not the hard ground, very soon availed herself of the opportunity. She awoke only once during the night when Celedorn softly entered the cabin and lay down with a sigh on the other bunk.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Nothing,” came the quiet reply out of the darkness. “Go back to sleep.”
“I’ve spent a great deal of time in your company recently, enough to tell when something is troubling you. Tell me what it is.” she said, sympathy suffusing her voice.
“Nothing,” he replied roughly.
“But.....”
His patience, always a little fragile, snapped. “You might think you know me but you don’t,” he declared sharply. “Just try to be a little less busy.”
She chuckled softly, unimpressed by his ill humour. “Said with all your usual charm.”
He didn’t reply but she sensed that he was smiling in the darkness.
When she awoke in the morning, Celedorn was already up and was seated in front of a small mirror concentrating on the delicate operation of shaving around his scars. She watched in silence for a moment, admiring his skill. He seemed to become aware of her scrutiny because without turning around, he remarked: “The fishermen are getting anxious about the weather. I don’t quite understand it, because I have just been on deck and there isn’t a cloud in the sky, but they are all standing in the bow looking to the south-east and shaking their heads.”
“Do you know anything about boats?”
“Not a thing - which could prove awkward if I’m asked to help raise sails or steer. Don’t forget that you did say we owned our own boat.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I thought I’d better stay out of the way in case I’m asked to give an opinion about the weather, so I came down here and as you see,
am profitably engaged in keeping at bay the beard that so incurred your displeasure.”
“I’ll go up and find out what’s going on. They probably won’t expect me, a mere female, to be expert but.......” she paused uncertainly.
“But?” he prompted.
“Well, this might sound odd, but I feel perfectly at home on this boat, almost as if I was used to the sea.”
“Perhaps a clue to your life before Relisar’s bungling interference.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed, “but as usual when I try to pin down the memories they slip away.”
She combed out her hair and re-plaited it, then feeling more presentable, she ascended the short ladder to the deck.
All four fishermen were in the bow looking worried, much as Celedorn had described.
“Good morning, Captain,” she greeted him. “A fine morning.”
He shook his head. “For the moment perhaps but if I read the signs aright there’s trouble brewing.”
“Trouble?”
“Look here,” he pointed to the sea and instantly she recognised what he meant. Although the sea was blue and calm there was a long unbroken swell from the south-east. The little boat rose slowly on the sloping face of each glassy wave and sank smoothly down its tail as it passed underneath. There were long, calm valleys between each wave, but the vessel arose and descended so smoothly that the movement had not been perceptible in the cabin.
“The south-east is where the storms come from at this time of year,” she remarked, surprising herself by her knowledge. “This long swell means bad weather too distant to yet be visible.”
“Aye, that it does,” the Captain agreed, “but it’s the length of this swell that worries me. Some heavy seas must be running to produce it. There’s a small fishing village in Serendar just across the border with the Forsaken Lands where the Harnor plunges into the sea. It hasn’t much of a harbour but I think we’d better try for it. There’s no shelter any closer. From this point southwards to the Harnor, the coast is all cliffs and hidden reefs. Not for a king’s ransom would I go in close to it. Mind you, the breeze is coming offshore so we’ll have our work cut out tacking against it, if it comes on rough. Still, we may make it to Serendar in time. No need for doom and gloom just yet.” Noticing her anxious expression he smiled at her and changed the subject. “There’s freshly caught mackerel for breakfast - a nice change from oysters, I imagine.”