“It must have been an accomplished wizard to affect the weather like that,” Aiden remarked sourly.
“The talents of those arrayed against us are formidable,” Sir Denholm uttered with contempt, looking out over the sea. “To think that such people dwell within our own Kingdom, and yet hold His Majesty’s law, and indeed the life of his only child in such callous disregard beggar’s belief. I take it those are the papers you risked life and limb for?”
“Yes, just give me a moment to go through them,” Aiden said, focusing his attention upon the documents.
“‘Captain Freegard, the plan has changed,” he read aloud. “‘Target on board ship leaving Culdeny. Intercept by all available means and retrieve.’ The handwriting is quite elegant, and stands out from the barely legible scribbles on the rest of these notes. I think that wizard received a message, wrote it down, and handed it to the captain.”
“They were part of the whole conspiracy?” Sir Denholm growled. “Dash and blast it, are we beset on all sides by scoundrels and traitors?”
“I can’t even imagine the cost of hiring pirates, mercenary armies and rogue wizards,” Aiden murmured to himself.
“Whoever is behind this has deep pockets, Mister Wainwright, very deep pockets indeed,” Sir Denholm replied brusquely. “But we shall find them and bring them to justice, sir. You look like you could use a meal and some rest. I must see to the repairs of my ship, and ensure that we arrive at Fairloch as quickly as possible.”
“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d like to help out for a bit,” Aiden offered. Captain Sherrard gave him an appraising look.
“Have you ever worked on a ship before, sir?”
“I used to help my father make wagons back in my home town,” Aiden replied with a tired grin. “How different could it be?”
Chapter Three
Over a year had passed since Aiden had last picked up a hammer, and it had been a bittersweet experience. It was a last-ditch attempt to win favour from his father, who disapproved of his son burying his head in books for hours at a time. Due to an unforeseen hammer-related accident, the experience had not ended well, so it was with dubious enthusiasm that he took up his tools and with the remaining crew of the Redoubtable, set about patching up the ship.
Nellise had been busy tending to the crew who had been wounded during the short, fierce battle with the pirates, and many of them owed their lives to her ministrations. Just over a dozen men had been slain outright, a difficult loss to maintain on a ship already struggling with a reduced complement.
Although Aiden was kept busy, he occasionally glanced around to see how she was faring and more than once saw Nellise recoil from the occasional friendly pats on the back or shoulder. The fear on her face at the prospect of being touched by strange men was evident, even if they were upstanding men of the royal navy. When her work was done, she quickly disappeared below.
There was a subdued cheer from the beleaguered crew as the final repairs were completed a short time later, and Aiden was treated to multiple pats on the back as he handed his tools back to the quartermaster. He was quietly pleased with his handiwork, even if he had missed breakfast. Aiden excused himself from the main deck and went inside to put on a shirt and search for some food, leaving Sir Denholm the difficult task of captaining the crippled vessel to the safety of port.
The wafting aroma of beef stew drew him down towards his cabin, but he stopped short when he realised the smell was coming from the ladies’ room. There was no longer a marine on guard as he approached, the poor fellow having been one of the first to perish in the battle with the pirates.
He knocked twice and then turned the handle and entered to see all three ladies sitting around eating their fill of a hearty stew from a pot sitting on a table. What was more surprising was that Pacian was in one of the beds, covered up to his neck in blankets as he slowly sipped stew from a bowl.
“My, my, don’t you all look comfortable,” Aiden remarked, closing the door behind him.
“You’re talking about me, aren’t you,” Pacian retorted, his voice sounding strange. “I’ll have you know that I’m sick, and our lovely ladies are taking care of me.”
“You’ve caught a cold?” Aiden remarked, unconsciously heading over to the food with his mouth watering. “When did this happen?”
“He’s pushed himself too hard, these last few days,” Nellise explained, sitting at the foot of the bed. “The tonic of kahve he was taking wasn’t helping, either.”
“Is that what you call it?” Aiden asked rhetorically, recalling the bitter brew that had kept them all on their feet after they should have collapsed.
“Why hello, Aiden, would you like to have some of our food?” Criosa interrupted with exaggerated courtesy. To his surprise, Aiden noticed he was ladling into a bowl without being aware of it.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, my stomach seems to be in charge of my hands right now,” he apologised.
“She’s just teasing you, Aiden,” Sayana pointed out tiredly from her own bed. An empty bowl sat on the covers next to her with another in her hands. “I’ve learned she does that a lot.” Criosa returned Aiden’s smile with an impish look, which had quite an impact on the young man.
“So you’re conscious, Sy? That’s a change,” he remarked awkwardly under the intent gaze of the blonde princess.
“Yes, I do that sometimes,” Sayana replied dryly, causing Pacian to smirk in-between bouts of coughing.
“What I mean is, you’re okay, and that’s a good thing,” Aiden blurted, blushing at the continuing attention from Criosa. “I was worried after you’d passed out earlier.”
“As was I,” Nellise added. “I understand the situations we encounter may call for it, but you push yourself too far, Sayana. Your health may suffer if you continue this way.”
“I don’t do it on purpose,” the sorceress replied, her voice weak with the continued effort of conducting a conversation. “My abilities have grown with all the practice and good food I’ve had access to in recent weeks. I just can’t seem to eat enough to keep my strength up.”
“It’s probably all those big, impressive things you’ve been doing,” Criosa said dismissively. “I’ve seen a few powerful wizards perform similar feats before, but never anything of this magnitude before - pushing the ships apart like that with your mind. Incredible! You must let me peruse your spellbook one day.” Sayana glanced at Aiden briefly at this request, for she didn’t have any books.
“Anyway, we’ve at least another day of sailing before we reach Fairloch,” Criosa continued, oblivious to their silent exchange, “so you can just lay back and rest. I’ll see to it that you’ll have as much food as you can eat, even if I have to steal from the captain’s own plate.”
“He might be a bit upset about that,” Aiden remarked with a raised eyebrow.
“Well he’s certainly not going to say no to me!” she smirked. “Forgive my buoyant mood, but I’m rather pleased with the heroics from all of you, today. Sir Denholm informed me that the pirate ship was in the employ of the traitorous blaggards who sought to take me captive, and once more, you’ve thwarted them.”
“At the cost of many lives,” Aiden pointed out soberly. “I don’t know who is behind all this, but they’ve no compunctions about killing anyone that gets in their way. You might spare a thought for those that have died in your service, Highness.”
“I’m not ambivalent to their sacrifice, Aiden,” she answered quietly. “But I am comforted by the knowledge that their skill and dedication brought about another victory for us.”
“You’re welcome,” Pacian mumbled with his mouth full.
“What exactly did you contribute?” Aiden asked of his old friend, as he sat at the foot of Sayana’s bed, the only free space left in the small cabin.
“I guarded the princess with my very life, I’ll have you know,” Pace informed him. “Took down a sneaky bugger who managed to get through the front line somehow.”
“
What did you do, sneeze on him?” Aiden inquired, drawing a laugh from Criosa that dispelled her pensive mood.
“I stabbed the bastard, like I always do,” Pacian growled, coughing briefly. “Managed to keep from sniffling and coughing long enough for him to think I wasn’t hiding in the doorway.”
“And I’m grateful you were there,” Criosa said, patting him on the leg.
“Say, couldn’t you cure Pacian of that cold?” Aiden asked Nellise as the thought occurred to him.
“Yes, why haven’t you?” Pacian added, suddenly interested in the direction of this conversation.
“I’ve spent the last hour tending to the wounded men of this vessel, and I am spent,” Nellise explained patiently. “A common cold combined with exhaustion wasn’t precisely a high priority Pacian, and a day or two of rest and reflection will have you back on your feet, ready to annoy us all with your endless quips.”
“Reflection? On what?”
“On stabbing Commander Black in the throat with a knife, after he had surrendered,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, that,” Pacian mumbled. “We didn’t actually see him die, you know, so it’s possible he pulled through.”
“Yeah, people get stabbed in the throat and keep living all the time,” Aiden remarked sarcastically. “I’m with Nel on this one. Get some rest and try to think about how you might avoid killing helpless people in the future.”
“So it’s nothing to do with being tired then, you’re just out to punish me,” Pacian muttered.
“It’s a little of both,” Nellise clarified, giving him an unremitting gaze that made him squirm. The sound of someone knocking on the cabin door could be heard.
“Aiden, would you mind?” Criosa asked him politely. Upon opening the door, he saw Travis, the captain’s steward, standing there with a platter of sausages and buttered bread, and a small bowl of apples.
“The captain sends his compliments, Your Highness,” Travis said, “and hopes you and your entourage will enjoy this meal.” He brought in the food and placed it on the small table, and was about to remove the pot of stew when a puppy-like whimper came from Sayana’s mouth, prompting laughter from all present, except the momentarily confused steward who eventually figured out the strange noise was a signal for him to leave the remaining stew for her to finish off.
“You know, that almost sounded like a joke,” Pacian observed. “Could it be that you’re developing a sense of humour?”
“Why is that funny?” she asked, somewhat confused. “I observed wolf pups in the mountains do that to get more food,” she explained, leaning forward to grab the pot and continuing to eat.
“Oh, well, I guess that makes sense,” Nellise said awkwardly, exchanging a quick glance with Aiden, who had nothing to offer on the interesting revelation. “Alright, I think that’s just about enough conversation for now,” the cleric continued, standing up and smoothing her robe. “I think it would be appropriate for Pacian to return to his own cabin, so Aiden, if you would be so kind as to help him up?” He complied, helping his grumbling friend out of bed and across the hallway, where he was deposited onto the lower bunk to promptly fall asleep.
“He doesn’t let anything worry him, does he,” Criosa whispered from the doorway, peering inside. “He’s been through a war, witnessed death, and been responsible for some of it with his own hands, yet he sleeps like a babe.”
“Don’t be jealous, Your Highness,” Aiden replied in an equally quiet voice as he moved back towards the door. “Pace has a twisted sense of morality that lets him do those things with a clear conscience, but he paid a heavy price to get it.”
“Perhaps, though I am still envious,” she said pensively. “Anyway, Nellise and I were going to take a stroll around the ship for some fresh air and to personally thank the crew. I would ask you to join us, but I can see the fatigue in your eyes so I shall let you rest.”
“I appreciate that, Highness,” Aiden said, inclining his head slightly. “Perhaps we’ll talk later.” She smiled and nodded, then quietly closed the door. Thankful he didn’t have to hold himself together any longer, he clambered up onto the top bunk and finally lay back to unwind from the difficult morning.
Aiden had hoped to sleep for a while, but despite the hectic morning, his body was convinced it was daytime and he should be active instead of lying about in bed. Still, his mind drifted as he listened to the sounds of the sea, only rarely interrupted by the shouts of sailors, or the thumping of feet on the deck above.
Images from the strange dream he’d experienced the other night danced through his mind, some disturbing, some merely curious. Aiden had figured that the dragon, Salinder, had something to do with it due to the strange purple fog that had been present, but if so, what message had he been trying to send? Sayana covered in letters, the same letters as the cube he had recovered from Ferrumgaard had upon it… on an impulse, the young man snapped fully awake and reached down for his pack to retrieve the enigmatic object.
He examined the curious object closely, but after a minute determined there wasn’t even a trace of lettering on any side. He had thought that perhaps it used to have symbols on it, but had been worn away with time – unfortunately, the evidence just wasn’t there.
Aiden lay back on his bed, holding the cube above him as he pondered the possibilities. On an impulse, he touched the cube to the shard of the orb that hung around his neck, but it yielded no result.
Feeling stymied by the strange mystery once more, he despondently dropped the cube back into his pack and pushed all thoughts of it from his mind.
*
They spent the remainder of the day below deck, making good use of the time to catch up on rest. Their safe arrival in Fairloch was in the hands of the crew, and there was nothing more for Aiden and his companions to do except wait. Travis continued to serve them filling meals through the rest of the evening, and Aiden slept well that night, his dreams undisturbed by strange imagery for once, although Pacian’s heavy snoring did wake him on more than one occasion.
Shivering with an unexpected chill the next morning, Aiden climbed down from his bunk and put on an extra layer of clothing. He started to climb back into bed, when he happened to glance out of the porthole and was struck by a sense of foreboding. Early morning light was filtering through a leaden sky onto the grey seas, and Aiden found himself staring out at a bleak scene in the distance.
Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air near the horizon, and occasional flashes of lightning could be seen, briefly illuminating a distant island. No details could be seen this far away, but a feeling of dread welled up for no discernable reason. Uncertainty plaguing his thoughts, Aiden left the cabin and headed upstairs, emerging onto the main deck to get a better look.
There was noticeable tension amongst the crew as they worked hard to nurse the damaged ship along its way, the men obviously feeling the same sense of foreboding that had prompted Aiden to investigate further. Moving to the rail, Aiden saw Criosa and Nellise looking out over the water, heavy cloaks keeping the ladies warm against the bitter chill.
“I was about to say ‘good morning, Aiden’,” Nellise greeted him in a quiet voice, “but that would seem to contradict what lies before us.”
“I’ve seen bad weather before,” Aiden remarked, “but for some reason, looking at that island sends a shiver up my spine that has nothing to do with the temperature.”
“It’s called the Isle of the Dead,” Criosa explained solemnly. “The wrecks of dozens of ships are littered along its coast, their crews having been thrown off course by the bad weather that frequently plagues this region.” Turning to look around at the crew, Aiden could see a few of them taking a minute to doff their hats and stare solemnly at the graveyard of sailors.
“We’re fortunate to have sailed through this area in fair weather,” Ronan mentioned, working nearby. “I’ve been through here a few times in rough seas and I count my blessings that I haven’t met my end on that bloody island.”
&
nbsp; “There’s more to it than that,” Simons added, looking around furtively. “Some say that there’s a necromancer on that island, who’s slowly building an army of the dead. And when enough sailors have died on its shores, they’ll march across the sea and destroy the world.”
“Some people will believe anything,” Ronan remarked dryly. “I wouldn’t pay much attention to such ravings, ladies.”
“Perish the thought,” Nellise agreed, unperturbed as always by the mention of the supernatural. “But I think I have seen enough of that grim place, and shall return to my cabin for the remainder of the voyage. Your Highness,” she finished, inclining her head slightly as she headed down below.
“Rather formal, isn’t she,” Criosa commented to Aiden as he leaned against the rail next to her, trying to appear casual about it, but feeling self-conscious nonetheless.
“Yes, how dare she be so formal when addressing royalty,” he drawled.
“That’s not what I mean,” Criosa continued, arching one eyebrow slightly in a way that made Aiden’s legs quiver. “We’ve shared some close moments since we came aboard, and she’s still distant. I know why, of course,” she added hastily, “but… she’s keeping me at arm’s length.”
“It’s quite understandable,” Aiden said. “Given time, I’m sure she’ll recover well enough.” Criosa looked like she wanted to say more, but remained silent. It was a slightly awkward moment between the two, although the princess carried herself with more aplomb than Aiden did. The long silence was eventually interrupted by Sir Denholm, who was making his morning inspection of the ship.
“God has seen fit to bless us with fair winds this day,” he remarked, looking up at the grey skies with an expert eye. “If the weather holds, we shall see Fairloch before nightfall.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Criosa responded, “it will be lovely to be back home again.”
“I suspect, Highness, that you may find your home a little less hospitable than you remember it,” Sir Denholm cautioned. “Your life is at stake, and forces plot against you and your father. Were I in command of your personal security, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight until the crisis had been resolved.”
In Defence of the Crown (The Aielund Saga Book 2) Page 5