by J. W. Webb
Cale felt a bit guilty about Hagan. He had been genuine in his offer of loyal and useful service. But situations change. You have to keep your options open. One look at mountain-sized Barin had left him no doubt which would be the winning side, outnumbered or not.
Cale realized it had been rash to swim out in hope he could board the ship, rash and foolhardy. He’d just wanted to be with the Queen, though. And now he was. And when she smiled that sassy smile of hers, well, he would slay armies for her. It was love, unrequited, but he didn’t mind that.
Cale didn’t know much about their plans, his new comrades. That wasn’t important. He was sure that things would work out. They had him with them, anyway. Cale was a great believer in providence. Sometimes things get rough, but you know, in the end you always win through. Just gotta keep an eye out for the hazards. He breathed deep, relishing the salty air, reveling at the pitch and roll and the sparkle of the wintry water below.
Aside the Queen, Cale liked Roman. The big gruff fighter had been kindly to him and had put him at ease. Bleyne was a strange one; he kept to himself and shared little. What an archer, though! Cale was in awe of his witchy skill. He did comment to the bowman once, but Bleyne hadn’t responded. That one would take a bit of working out.
Of Barin he was in total awe. Who wouldn’t be? The man was gigantic, his fists like dinner plates, and that shaggy blonde beard gave him a hulking haystack appearance. He’d winked at Cale, though, and grinned through those grizzled whiskers. Heartily relieved, the boy realized he’d found another ally.
Fassof and the crew ignored him totally, but then they ignored everyone. They were fine sailors, in Cale’s evaluation of such matters. Not that he knew anything about boats—rather, ships. He knew the difference now. The northmen exuded vulgar confidence when they vaulted about the rigging and did the stuff that sailors do.
Cale hadn’t warmed to Galed much, the balding squire being highly critical of his manners (which weren’t the best he had to admit) and appearing rattled at the obvious affection Queen Ariane had for him. Squire Galed was a nitpicker who had taken it upon himself to criticize Cale at every given opportunity.
Corin was different. Alone of the party he kept his distance from Cale, except to scowl at him once or twice. There was something scary about Corin’s eyes. Cale knew that his inherent charm would never work with that one. He caught his eye, and the longswordsman turned away to talk to his friend Barin.
“He doesn’t like me,” Cale muttered trying to hide his nervousness. “It wasn’t my fault back there in the smithy. I didn’t hurt anyone.” The Queen turned in his direction. “Why does he hate me?” Cale asked her.
“Corin doesn’t hate you, Cale.” Her words were soothing, kindly. “He’s just a troubled soul. He’s been through a lot, and something about you reminds him of his past. Besides, you need to shape up.” Her words were sterner. “You are lucky I didn’t skewer you for siding with Hagan and his gang.”
“I didn’t know you back then.”
“Hmm.”
Ariane knew the boy’s presence on board rankled Corin. She also knew those steely eyes held no hatred for the lad: rather sadness, and a haunting self-doubt.
“He’ll come round. Just wait and see.” she awarded Cale that dazzling smile, and Cale’s eyes lit up. He was happy again. The Queen liked him, so nothing else mattered. He was her sworn man, Cale decided, now and forever.
Hagan’s mercenaries couldn’t match up to this sort of company, particularly Borgil the badger eater. Cale was meant for better things. He was on the up. He smiled warmly up at his Queen as the great ship fled the rising sun and charged glorious into the west.
Barin had kept a constant watch throughout the remainder of that night, choosing to take the helm himself and let grumpy Fassof get some sleep. Corin had joined him at first light, grumbling about Roman’s virulent snoring, which had easily eclipsed the boom and thud of the waves.
He’d reached over to a bucket of seawater, immersed his head, and swore profusely at its icy touch. For an hour he took turn at wheel, greeting the others as they emerged amid sleepy eyes and yawns.
To stern, the sky washed pinkish grey. Corin glanced up as a skein of geese wended south, their honking cries low over water. Bleyne was already up, watching keenly from the prow. Corin glanced at the diminutive archer, then adjusted the borrowed priest’s cloak to rebuff the chilling wind.
“A fine morning,” Barin gave out. He looked fresh and alert despite his denial of sleep. Corin wished he felt the same.
“Any sign of pursuit?” he croaked. He studied the distant cliffs away to port and some miles off but saw nothing.
“I doubt our friends will trouble us again on this voyage,” replied Barin. “They’ve little to gain, and if they return to their island without booty they will be a laughing stock among their peers.” Barin rubbed his beard thoughtfully, shaking small chunks of three-day-old cheese loose from its knotty curls.
“No, I expect they’ll lurk near Morwella and lie in wait for a fat, unsuspecting merchant ship on its way east to Vangaris Port!”
“How long will it take us to reach Crenna, Captain Barin?” Queen Ariane joined them. The boy Cale stayed put. Corin noted Ariane looked tired, her eyes betraying shadows of a restless night.
“Four or five days, Your Highness,” responded Barin, “depending on the weather. The swell will grow as we enter the Western Ocean’s expanse. Storms are common out there, particularly with winter approaching.
“Excuse me a moment.” Barin yelled up at a bleary-eyed member of the crew. They were rather grumpy this morning. They’d drunk profusely last night, celebrating their victory over the pirates. Thick heads abounded. “Oi… shitehead!”
“What?” groaned the crewman, a stout bearded fellow with a jewel-encrusted dagger hanging from his belt.
“You look like a dog’s breakfast, Cogga! Cease ya friggin’ in the riggin’. Go below, tell that idle slug Ruagon get some food on the way for the Queen and my friends!” ordered Barin.
Stout Cogga grumbled his way below deck. Half hour later, the rotund galley master surfaced with a huge steaming plate of fresh mackerel. This was consumed gratefully by all.
Corin picked his teeth clean, then turned to Ariane.
“What are our plans on arrival?” he asked her.
Ariane didn’t answer at first. She sipped her herb tea, needing time to think. She recalled a visit made to the island long before.
“I came to Crenna as a child accompanying my father, the King,” she said eventually. “That was just before Rael Hakkenon seized control. In those days the islanders were our allies, and the pirates kept at bay over on the wild western coast.”
Ariane took another sip and winced slightly as the hot liquid found an exposed nerve in a tooth. She continued.
“The main city is called Kranek. It lies on the southern side of the island. Kranek has a huge harbor, where Rael Hakkenon keeps his fleet of Sharks. He doesn’t term them ships. High up, behind the walls of the city, and under the shadow of the mountains, is the massive Keep, where he and his loathsome minions reside. Beneath that tower of stone is where Prince Tarin will be held prisoner, of that I’m certain.
“We have two choices,” she added. “We can either moor up on the north side of the island, which is more rugged and uninhabited so we are unlikely to be noticed. Or… we can sail round to the western side, which I do not know. That way is longer but not so mountainous, thus would prove less rigorous than crossing the island from the north.”
“There is a third way, Queen,” interrupted Barin with his mouth still full of fish. She chose to ignore that fact, but Galed’s frown was evident, the squire having just surfaced green-faced from below.
“We could sail into Kranek harbor,” Barin urged, oblivious of their horrified expressions, “and moor alongside our pirate friends!” He grinned, the idea amusing him greatly. Galed rolled his eyes in disbelief. He glanced sharply at Cale, who joined them in breakfas
t and was currently grinning up at Galed like an unhinged cat. Galed swatted the boy’s ear.
“I’ve been to Kranek many times,” Barin was saying. “Valkador has no quarrel with Crenna. I am sure we can pull it off if we keep our heads. Err…maybe that’s the wrong terminology.”
“Oh, and there’s every chance of that,” mumbled Galed.
“That was before yesterday,” said Corin, thinking of their clash in the harbor. “But it might work, Queen, if we pretend to be harmless merchants!”
“There is no such thing,” cut in Roman, who also joined them, smelling breakfast.
Ariane sipped her tea. “I like not this suggestion,” she told them. “Nevertheless, I shall consider your words. How about we fare below, escape this chill? I need warmth to think clearly, and we need to know exactly what we are doing.”
Barin nodded. He bade scowling Fassof take the wheel whilst he join the Queen in the comfort of his master’s cabin. The others followed except Bleyne, who still watched hawk-like from the prow.
Cale shadowed the Queen. The boy took a seat nearby, keeping a wary eye on Corin, but the longswordsman was busy laughing at Roman Parrantios. Ariane’s champion was swearing prolifically, having cracked his head on a beam. Corin marveled how Barin put up with all this low, bone-crunching timber. He must have to go about on his knees. Roman looked pale as he nursed his sore head, much to Corin’s amusement.
“It’s this northern ale,” he complained. “They put something evil in it.”
“Enough wining, Roman! Go get Bleyne,” snapped Ariane. She frowned at her champion, irritated by his banter. “Clarity in this is crucial. I want everyone present. So get your bloody act together!”
“Sorry.” Roman made a hasty exit.
By the time a subdued Roman returned with the archer, the others were already deep in conversation. Galed spoke out vigorously against Barin’s bold plan. He favored crossing the island by foot. But Barin shook his head.
“It is too mountainous, squire, too treacherous and steep—particularly for your short legs!” He poured himself a large flagon of ale, gulping it down in seconds. “Ah, this is my proper breakfast.” Barin wiped his mouth and belched. “What do you think, Bleyne? You haven’t said much to date. What would Elanion’s servant advise?”
“I have little knowledge of Crenna,” responded the archer with his habitual half smile. “But there is need for haste, therefore I believe we have no alternative but to go with your plan, master Barin.”
Corin yawned. “Personally I think we should let him rot on that bloody island—no offence, Highness.” Ariane glared at Corin, but he persisted. “I mean, this seems a reckless venture just to rescue a wayward Prince.”
“Did you not listen to the Goddess, Corin an Fol?” Ariane felt her face flush with emotion. “Were you asleep back there in the glade?”
“Of course not, and I’m on it—just think we’re heading right for the spider’s web. I’ve more cause to loathe Rael Hakkenon’s boys than anyone here. Doesn’t mean I want to throw my life away.”
“We need to locate those shards, Corin,” Barin intervened. “In their recovery lies our only chance of victory. Prince Tarin will know where they are.”
“Barin’s right, Corin. This isn’t just about Tarin.” Ariane placed a hand on Corin’s shoulder, making him jump slightly. “The Goddess wouldn’t send us to our deaths. I know this. The Tekara’s remains are not in Caswallon’s hands. Neither do the pirates possess them. If they did, the game would be over already.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Call it royal intuition.” Ariane smiled at him, and Corin noted how her hand remained on his shoulder. Cale noted that, too, and curled his upper lip. “I know we still have a chance,” she said. “Elanion will protect us.”
“A fool’s chance,” muttered Corin. “But since we’ve got to do this, let’s sail right on in, get the job done, and bugger off again.”
“My sentiments exactly,” added Roman whilst Cale announced this the best plan he could think of on such short notice. Roman cuffed the boy’s ear, but Cale just grinned at him.
That left only Galed, but as usual, the squire was outvoted. Ariane ignored his protestations with an imperial wave of the hand.
“Time is against us, Galed. That much I concede,” she said. “We must rescue Prince Tarin before it is too late!”
“But, Highness—
“Shut up!” Resigned, Galed did as he was told whilst Ariane studied each of the companions in turn, measuring their resolve.
“Do we concur, gentlemen?” Ariane asked then. They nodded, all save Galed, who was sulking, and Cale, who was scratching his ear. And Bleyne, who wasn’t really doing anything. “Good. That’s settled, then. We will take captain Barin’s advice and sail openly into Kranek harbor. Then it’s down to luck and the Goddess.”
“And good sharp steel,” Corin added.
“That too, should we require it.”
That day passed bright and cold. To the south, distant cliffs smudged the horizon. Corin stared at them wistfully.
“The north coast of Fol,” he informed Roman as they watched from the port rail. “My home lies beyond those bluffs. I would be retired there if I hadn’t become embroiled in all this… excitement.”
Corin wished his path lay that way instead of ahead to the island of his enemies. Roman didn’t respond. He seemed lost in thought. After a while he made his excuses and went below.
Corin watched Roman leave before venturing aft and claiming a bench. Here for a time he moped silent in the sunshine, his mind troubled and wandering. Crenna—they were sailing to Crenna. Why was this happening to him?
A soft sound caused Corin to look up suddenly. The Queen folded neatly beside him.
Where had she come from? Corin had had no idea she was above deck. Caught off guard, he grunted hello and shuffled along the bench to allow her more space. He noticed she shuffled after him, closing the gap again.
Behind them, smiling-boy Fassof worked the wheel. Aside the mate and the odd crewman, Ariane and Corin had the aft deck to themselves.
“I’m sorry you’ve been caught up in all this,” Ariane said softly, her eyes on the watery horizon.
Corin shrugged. “I was between jobs.”
“Silon hinted at gold, didn’t he?”
“He did…but,”
“You will receive it. I promise.” Ariane’s eyes were unsettling him in a most peculiar way.
“That’s not why I’m here.” Corin felt awkward now gold had been mentioned. “Coin was what got me moving, but now I’ve met you all, I—”
“No need to explain. I understand.” Ariane awarded him a look that could have meant anything. She was tough to read, this Queen. But then, he’d never been good at understanding what went on inside a woman’s head. He generally left that region alone and focused inside their skirts instead. A woman’s mind was a dangerous place. Evidently Queens were no exception to the rule.
“You are a good man, Corin an Fol. But you undersell yourself.”
Corin frowned. Where was this going? Was she coming on to him or just being nice. For once, he edged toward caution.
“I’ve never done good things, Queen, only bad. I’m no worse than most of my kind, but no better either. I just am.”
“And what exactly is your kind?” Ariane’s lip curled slightly, hinting at amusement.
“Oh, you know, brigand, mercenary, general ruffian. I was in the Wolves after all.”
“Thrown out, I heard. Quite a legacy.” It was Corin’s turn to gaze out at the ocean. So nice of Silon to mention that to her.
“Mine is a checkered past, Ariane.”
“Aye, but an interesting one, I’ll warrant.” Her gaze fell toward the horizon again. “But the past doesn’t concern me, longswordsman. The future, on the other hand…” Ariane sighed and made an odd gesture with her left hand. Apparently he wasn’t the only one feeling awkward here.
“I’m glad you’re wit
h us, warrior. I need strong men beside me. And I appreciate how hard it must be for you to visit Crenna.”
“I’ve always felt guilty I haven’t visited before.”
“What could you have done? Nothing can bring your kin back, Corin.”
“I know, but killing a few Crenise would sure make me feel better. And I worry for you, Queen. I lack your total faith in the Goddess. It’s not that I don’t believe Elanion will help us, but sometimes shite just happens anyway.”
“Then believe in me instead. It’s love that keeps us strong, Corin an Fol.”
Corin struggled to reply to that last sentence. By the time the words came, the Queen had already got up and left him.
I will always be there for you, Ariane.
Corin blinked and gulped air. What had all that been about? Had he missed something? He thought about following her, but she’d already vanished below decks.
Idiot.
Confused Corin blinked again and resumed his survey of the water. He found he could no longer concentrate. Damn that Queen.Was she playing games with him? Corin fidgeted and glared at the horizon. Were they bound for anywhere else, he would smile, but the thought of Ariane trapped on Crenna gave him scant room for joy.
Ahead was nothing but sea and sky, blue on blue. Clouds raced above, hurrying in from the west, and white horses crashed and foamed at either side of The Starlight Wanderer’s wake.
Chapter 21: The Challenge
Days passed without event. Barin’s crew, moody and sober, drove the ship on apace. The travelers amused themselves as they could. Corin played dice with Barin and laconic Fassof.
Cale watched dolphins chasing the bow whilst keeping as close to the Queen as she’d let him. Roman drilled the eager boy and reluctant Galed in the use of the broadsword, whilst Ariane watched pensive from the prow, her thoughts on the days ahead, on Prince Tarin, and the kingdom she had left behind. And on Corin an Fol.
Perched close by, standing permanently at the prow, was the solitary figure of Bleyne. What he was thinking no one could guess. Far behind, the rocky cape marking Fol’s western tip dwindled into wintry distance.