by Martin Owton
Kusso perched on a tree branch and sat looking outwards, moving his head from side to side like an owl, and from time to time sniffing the air. At one point he laid his hand on the hilt of his knife which had Wiston reaching for his own sword, though he could hear nothing untoward. The moment passed and Kusso relaxed.
Wiston opened his eyes to see Kusso still keeping guard. Mist still hung about the hillside, all silent save for the drip of water from the wet trees. His headache was diminished, but he was sunk in a deep depression. This morning he had believed that there was nothing in these hills that could stand against his men-at-arms. Now those men were scattered across the hills with, mostly likely, many dead.
“What was that….thing came out of the mist?” Wiston asked. “It smelt…” His mind recoiled from the memory.
“Warua,” said Kusso. “Fighting Spirit. Big priest call it. Big magic. Never see it ever. Grandmother tell me story.”
“A demon.” Wiston’s throat grew tight at the thought. “Martis save us. No wonder it stank.” He pulled himself to his feet. “We’ve got to get to Lord Merrek. He must know of this. If that ….thing gets to Cuiport unchecked then we could lose the whole city.”
“Warua gone. Big priest need big strength to keep Warua here. Not strong. Not yet.”
“We have to tell the mages. Maybe they can fight it if they’re warned.” He fervently hoped they could; if not then disaster loomed. Here was something useful he could do to regain his position.
“Can you get me to Lord Merrek?”
CHAPTER NINE
Aron looked down at the collection of buildings at the foot of the slope; a score of low thatched cottages and wooden sheds hunched on the foreshore around a single two-storey building. A dozen open wooden boats lay upside-down on the stony beach, their nets hung on poles around them beside the small river they had followed down from the hills. The narrow bony finger of a rocky breakwater pointed crookedly out to sea.
“I hope that large building is the inn,” he said as the wind whipped across his face.
“It should be,” said Edith. “Mama said there’s an inn here.”
“It could hardly be less comfortable than last night’s lodgings,” said Maldwyn.
They had crammed into a shepherds’ hut up in the hills, huddled together for warmth. In the moments of sleep Aron had snatched, he had dreamed of Celaine; jumbled fragments only, but enough to tell him that she was still alive. If the inn had private lodgings then Edith should try to reach Celaine tonight.
They pushed their mounts forward down the steep path as someone hung a lantern above the door of the large building, a yellow star in the gloom of the late afternoon. A pair of dogs appeared from a gateway to bark as they passed followed by a child who stared at them wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Further down the path more figures emerged from the cottages to stare.
“I guess they don’t get too many visitors,” said Aron.
“It’s the horses,” said Maldwyn. “Not many this side of the hills. They’re not used to seeing riders.”
“Is this still part of Nandor?” asked Aron. “Do they know you here?”
“Yes, the village is called Treermouth after the river, but there is no manor hereabouts,” said Maldwyn. “The revenues come direct to me. I was here once as a child, but I have no memory of it.”
“Then we become mercenaries now. That means we need to do something about your hair, my lady,” said Aron.
“What about my hair?” said Edith. She put her hand up and clutched at her fall of dark curls.
“You won’t see any soldiers with hair like that,” said Aron. “Especially not archers. It might tangle in your bowstring.”
“I can put it up,” said Edith.
Aron shook his head. “That works for a day, but it’s not going to convince anyone for longer.”
Edith’s face fell and Aron knew that his next words would go hard with her. “You’re going to have to cut it off.” It hurt him to say it, and he knew he would miss the sight of her sweet face framed by dark curls. “Put it up under your hood now, and we’ll cut it tonight.”
Edith gathered up her tresses, stuffed them awkwardly into her hood and pulled it down past her ears. She looked at Aron. “Your hair is getting long too.”
Aron caught the edge in her voice. He lifted his hand to the back of his neck and ran his fingers through his hair which was nearly to his shoulders. “You’re right. That’ll need to go to.”
Maldwyn caught his eye and grinned at him.
“Yours too,” said Edith and Maldwyn’s expression changed from amusement to concern.
“If that’s the worst damage you suffer before you get home then you’ve been very lucky,” said Aron to Maldwyn. He turned to Edith. “You’ll need to keep your face dirty to conceal that you’re not shaving. It won’t stand up to close inspection, but we’ll just have to keep people from getting too near.”
“The dirt should help with that,” said Maldwyn.
Edith stuck her tongue out at him and put her heels to her horse.
The large building was the inn they sought. As the only member of the party who had no Nandor accent, Aron went in to buy lodgings. The innkeeper scowled at him when he asked for rooms and stabling for the party, but the sight of silver quickly turned his mood. The inn had two rooms for travellers and Aron took them both, but there was no stabling. More coins produced the offer of a shed for the horses overnight. Aron asked about a ship to carry them up the coast, the innkeeper shrugged.
“Depends on the weather. Cuttlefish should be in sometime soon. Skipper might take a few passengers.”
“I’ll make it worth his while,” said Aron.
“Depends on how much cargo he’s already got.”
Aron knew that was as much information as he was going to get. He went back outside to the others to pass on what he had learned. They unsaddled the horses and a skinny boy came out to direct them to the shed. The boy filled a water trough in the shed, and for a couple of copper coins found some hay.
They lugged the packs and saddles up the narrow stairs to the dusty rooms under the eaves and piled them in one corner. Each room had one wide box bed with room, at a pinch, for three.
Maldwyn prodded the straw mattress producing a cloud of dust. “Glynis would not approve,” he laughed.
“She can go back and sleep in that hut,” said Edith.
“I’ve slept in worse,” said Aron. “And Keshan may be far worse.”
“Did the tavernkeeper say anything about dinner?” asked Maldwyn.
“Herrings,” said Aron.
Edith and Maldwyn both pulled faces.
“All the more for me,” said Aron. “I doubt there’ll be food on the boat.”
***
The corners of the room began to blur as Edith struggled to keep from vomiting up the draught Aron had prepared. The foul taste of mushroom broth mingled uncomfortably with the sharp fishy odour of the lamp oil. Edith swallowed hard and tried to focus on Celaine, imagining her as she had last seen her. She looked at Aron, but his face was drifting out of focus.
“Think only of her and you will find her,” he whispered. “Reach out to her in the mist.”
“I know,” she whispered back.
She stood up as the floor disappeared in swirling white clouds and stepped towards the door. The clouds enveloped her and she passed through a chill moment of total whiteness before a new set of walls solidified around her. Away to her left three men sat around a fire; after her experience last time with the horses she was confident they could not see her.
One of the men stood and walked over to a figure curled up at the foot of the wall and bent to test the ropes binding them. He then went a few paces out into the dark and pissed noisily. As he returned Edith got a good look at his bearded face in the firelight. That must be Broll.
Edith moved over to the bound figure and knelt down.
Celaine,” she called.
Celaine did not stir. “Celaine. It’s
me, Edith.”
“Edith,” Celaine whimpered and struggled to pull herself up. Edith threw her arms around her and lifted her to a sitting position. Celaine buried her face in Edith’s shoulder and shook with sobs. Edith held her and looked around; they were in an old barn with half a roof. Outside Edith could hear restless horses and the wind tossing the trees.
“Where is this?” asked Edith. “How long before you get to Keshan? Have they given any clue?” She felt Celaine stiffen at the name, but persisted. “We’re in a village on the coast. Aron is with us. We’re waiting for a boat to take us to Keshan. How long have we got?”
“Don’t know. Broll said we’ll be there soon.” Celaine said so quietly Edith could barely hear her. “We’re out of the hills and we crossed a big river today. The land’s quite flat and boggy and there’s lots of flies. I got bitten all over.”
“We’ll be there when you get to Keshan,” said Edith, wishing with all her heart it was true. “And I’m going to kill Broll.”
“I knew Aron would come,” said Celaine and clutched Edith closer. Edith rocked her gently, wishing she could do something to bring harm to Broll and the rest of the bandits. Mist began to gather in the corners of her vision; she held more fiercely on to Celaine, but her solid reality began to dissolve. The mist rose and darkened until Edith could see only the glow of the fire. The darkness drew back and she was looking at the smoky flame of the oil lamp back in the room with Aron and Maldwyn. A smile broke across Aron’s face as she focused on him.
“We were worried,” he said. “You were gone a long time.”
“It didn’t seem like long,” said Edith, looking away.
“Did you find her?” asked Maldwyn.
“Yes,” said Edith. “It was very dark so I couldn’t see her very well. She said they’re out of the hills, and they crossed a big river today. They expect to be in Keshan soon.” She paused and looked back at Aron. “We won’t get there before them, will we?”
Aron frowned. “If there’s a boat tomorrow, then possibly. I don’t really know how far it is.”
“You didn’t ask the tavern keeper?” said Maldwyn.
“No. He was suspicious enough without me mentioning Keshan. We need him to get us a boat.”
Edith glanced at Maldwyn and realised something was different. “You’ve cut your hair.” She looked at Aron; his hair was much shorter too, but one side was shorter than the other giving him a curious lop-sided look. “Both of you.”
Maldwyn massaged the back of his neck with one hand. “We did it while you were walking the mist.”
Edith suddenly felt cheated; she should have been the one to cut Aron’s hair. “It looks terrible,” she said. “I’d have done it better.”
“He looks like a soldier now,” said Aron.
“And you look like a clown,” said Edith. “At least let me even it up.”
Aron sighed, pulled out his belt knife and passed it to her hilt first.
“Sit down” said Edith, taking hold of the knife and looking carefully at his head. She took hold of a tuft and cut at it, the keen edge easily sliced through the dark hair. Another tuft, another cut and soon she held a handful of hair.
She stepped back to analyse her work. “That’s better. Get me a mirror and I’ll do mine now.”
Aron reached into his pack and brought out the small hand mirror he used for shaving. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ve seen your efforts. Just hold the mirror for me and tell me when it’s short enough.” She lifted a hank of her dark hair in one hand and tried to recapture the anger and frustration she had felt when she was with Celaine. The connection made, she carved off a handful and dropped it on the floor.
“Mind your ears,” said Maldwyn.
Edith glared at him. “If you want to be useful get rid of this,” she said as she took hold of another handful. “I don’t want to have to see it.” If she did she feared she would lose her resolve to continue. She sliced through the tress and discarded it.
Maldwyn swept up the hair with his hands. “What’ll I do with it?”
“I don’t care,” said Edith. “Just don’t burn it in here.”
She tilted her head and gathered another handful. “Hold the mirror still,” she said to Aron. He said nothing but watched her intently, dark eyes following the movement of her hand.
“Don’t look at me.” She carved through the handful and Maldwyn took it from her. Aron turned his head away and she continued her cutting.
“Is it even?” She felt around her head with her hands; already her head and neck felt cold.
“No,” said Maldwyn.
“But it looks like a soldier’s haircut,” said Aron.
Edith handed Aron back the knife as the energy she had focused subsided, leaving her suddenly very tired.
***
Shortly before noon the next day a two-masted trading ship rode the tide into the bay. Aron and Maldwyn halted the sword exercises they had been doing with the Nandor soldiers, and watched as it dropped anchor inside the breakwater. Immediately two boats were launched from the beach and rowed out to it.
“I expected it to be bigger,” said Maldwyn. “It’s almost the same size as the river boat we went on last year.”
“The river boat had a flat bottom,” said Aron. “This one should be much deeper draught, but even so there’s not going to be much space. We’ll have to decide who is going with us. The rest can take the horses back to Nandor.”
“We have yet to persuade the captain to take us,” said Maldwyn.
“Gold usually works,” said Aron.
“So I’m learning,” said Maldwyn. “I hope he doesn’t want too much. Who knows how much we’ll need in Keshan?”
“True. But if we hold back now, we won’t need any in Keshan because we’ll be too late to do anything.”
One of the boats pulled away from the side of the ship, a passenger sitting facing the two rowers.
“I’ll wager that’s the ship’s captain,” said Maldwyn. “He’ll be going to the inn.”
“Best to let him get a drink in his hand before we try to do business with him,” said Aron.
The captain indeed had a tankard in his hand when Aron and Maldwyn found him sitting beside the fire in the tap room of the inn with the innkeeper. A short broad-shouldered man, he looked them up and down before speaking.
“I hear you’re looking for passage up the coast.”
“That’s right,” said Aron.
“Keshan is it?”
Aron nodded.
“Thought so from the look of you.” He scratched at his grizzled beard with his free hand. “I don’t like going too close to Keshan. Dangerous waters.”
This was the moment to show him the gold. Aron turned to Maldwyn palm outstretched. Maldwyn pulled out a leather pouch from within his tunic and undid the drawstring. The captain’s gaze followed.
“We need passage for eight.” Maldwyn shook two heavy coins into Aron’s hand.
“I can take six at most.”
Maldwyn took another coin out of the pouch.
“Your gold doesn’t make my ship bigger.”
“Six then,” said Aron. “How long to get to Keshan?”
“Four days if the weather holds.”
“No way of doing it faster?”
“I’m not sailing at night. That coast’s tricky enough by daylight. There’s all manner of shoals and currents.”
Aron laid the three coins on the table. “Half now, half when we get there.”
The captain reached for the coins. “We sail with the tide tomorrow.”
“But it’s only midday,” said Maldwyn. “There’s hours of light left.”
“Tide’s dropping now, and I’ve cargo to unload, then more to take on.” The captain glared at him. “By the time that’s done, tide’ll be too low for us to get over the sandbar.”
“We’ll be ready first thing tomorrow then,” said Aron. He passed the rest of the coins he held back to Ma
ldwyn and hustled him out of the taproom.
***
Huddled against the rail of the poop deck, Aron watched the coastline slip slowly by in the bright sunlight. He had found keeping his eyes on something fixed helped a little to settle his queasy stomach. But only a little; he still felt miserable. He’d tried to position himself in the driest space available but still the water found him. Edith shrieked with laughter as a larger wave splashed salt water over them.
“Still feeling bad? I saved some of the bacon from breakfast. You need to eat something,” she said as she wiped the spray from her face.
“You eat the bacon,” said Aron. “I’ll eat when I’m ready.”
The thought of food disgusted him. He had eaten nothing since they had boarded the ship two and a half days ago, existing on plain water and, on occasions, throwing that back up. Even when they moored in sheltered water overnight, the motion of the ship upset him and he drifted in and out of a sleep that brought no rest. Now he felt weak, light-headed and constantly nauseous.
There was a cry from the bow. Edith stood up to look.
“There’s another ship,” she said. “It’s heading towards us.”
A crewman ran to the doorway that led to the captain’s tiny cabin below them.
Aron struggled to his feet and looked to where Edith pointed. Out past the bow a narrow ship with one square sail and a single bank of oars was butting its way through the grey water.
The captain emerged from his cabin and hurried up to the bow, the crewman behind him. He stared out at the approaching ship; the third crewman joined them and short conversation ensued that the wind carried away from Aron’s ears. The captain made his way over to Aron and Edith, a worried look on his face.
“You’re fighting men, so you’ve the chance to earn your passage.” He pointed at the other ship. “Corsair. I’ve paid my dues to the Captains in Keshan, and I’ve the pennant to prove it. That isn’t going to stop them so you have to or we’re all fishbait.”