by R. E. Palmer
‘What if that creature is with them?’ Jedrul peered at the shadows of their captors looming on the wagon’s canvas. ‘Don’t think I could strangle him before he conjured up something horrible.’
Toryn spoke. ‘I heard he’d be out cold for a couple of days after his trick with that stone. Mind you, the same raider said Uldrak was wary of this lady we’re being taken to.’
Jedrul chuckled. ‘Now that makes me feel so much better.’
Nander scowled at Toryn. ‘And what do you know of the world? You don’t look old enough to shave.’
Jedrul stiffened. ‘Don’t you talk to young Toryn like that. He took down that ballista with a single arrow. Saw it from the parapet.’
Nander sneered. ‘A fat lot of good that did. Might have been better to take a bolt through the chest and end it quick.’
Roold hushed Nander. ‘He managed more than you, Nandy.’ He beamed at Toryn. ‘A fine shot from a fair distance, young man. I think we can make you an honorary Archonian considering our predicament.’ He turned to the other men. ‘Any objections?’
Toryn felt his chest expand as the men, apart from Nander, signaled their approval. It was only a shame Hamar could not be with him. He nodded to Roold. ‘Thank you, Captain?’
‘Roold will do.’
Toryn had to ask. ‘When Hamar and Elwold fought the raiders at the end, Hamar asked Elwold if he was ready for the plains? Hamar never spoke of any plains to me. What does that mean?’ The men in the wagon bowed their heads.
Roold nodded. ‘And quite right he didn’t. He’d have sworn the Oath. It’s known only to those taking it, but seeing as you’re one of us now, I don’t think—’
Nander cleared his throat. ‘He’s not yet. We’ve not done the initiation, and he hasn’t sworn no oath.’
Roold held up his hand. ‘Never known you to be bothered about proper ceremony. But you’re right. Once we’re out of this mess we’ll do it the proper way. But we’ll take it as read it will be done, but seeing as we don’t know what’s lies ahead, I think it’s only right and proper to inform the lad. We don’t want him waking up not knowing where he is, should the worse happen.’ Roold straightened as best he could. ‘Did your friend, Hamar, put Elwold out of his misery?’
Toryn whispered. ‘Yes. Elwold was on his knees. A Ruuk said he had plans for him. Hamar fought off two and… finished Elwold with one blow.’
Roold nodded as Toryn spoke. ‘Hamar was a good Archonian, one of the finest. I’m sure we’d all have been honored to have fought by his side and let him hasten our way to the Plains.’
Toryn bit his lip. ‘He was, and not a bad farmer either.’
‘Then he’ll be at home on the Plains of Evermore. It’s where we go if we die with a sword in our hand, or at the hand of a brother when our honor is at stake. It’s said the rich soils of the plains grow the finest wheat for bread, and, of course, hops for ale, and—’
‘Must be over-crowded after yesterday.’ Nander sneered. ‘Come on, we all know it’s just a tale to make us fight.’ He looked around. ‘You can’t honestly believe we’ll all get a farm in Evermore, can you? There can’t be enough to hand out to all those who’ve died in battle. Knowing our luck, we’ll wake up in a pigsty.’
Jedrul laughed. ‘Then you’ll feel at home.’
Roold glowered. ‘Come on, lads, don’t mock the Promise. It’s written we all get a farm. It’s written in the Archon’s hand, and that’s good enough for me.’
But Nander refused to be silenced. ‘Then I’ll make you this promise. If I wake up after taking a sword in my gut, only to find I’m farming a field next to you, Roold, you’re welcome to all the ale I can brew.’
Roold tutted. ‘If they put me next to you, I’d happily drink the lot if it means I stay too drunk to listen to you rambling on.’ The men laughed. Toryn joined in, already understanding why Hamar called them his brothers.
‘Got one!’ Jedrul held up his chain. ‘Here, look. I’ve prized this link open with a spike I pulled out of the wood.’
‘Outstanding work.’ Roold patted Jedrul on the shoulder. ‘Now the rest of you get to it, there has to be more links we can break.’ The raucous laughter outside grew louder. ‘They’re well on their way. I reckon in a few hours we’ll have our chance. I doubt this disorderly bunch will think to leave anyone sober enough to watch over us.’
Nander licked his lips. ‘I hope they don’t eat all the meat. My stomach thinks my throat has been slit.’
‘Well, let’s hope your belly doesn’t turn out to be right.’ Roold winced. ‘Any of you come across that green poison before? My head still hurts.’
‘I…’ Toryn stopped as all eyes fixed on him. ‘I have. Me and Hamar saw rocks ooze that stuff and destroy a Singing Stone.’
‘A Singing Stone?’ Roold gasped. ‘That can’t be good, oh no, not good at all. I’ve never had the luck to find one, but Elwold, rest his soul, spoke of them. Where was this?’
Toryn’s stomach churned at the memory. ‘About a few leagues south of Greendell.’
Roold nodded. ‘That’ll be the Wend Gap.’
‘Wait.’ Nander frowned. ‘I heard you came from Greendell to report the attack. What were you doing in the Gap? Why not take the road?’
Toryn felt his face flush. ‘We… Hamar…’
‘Give it a rest, Nandy, stuff’s happening that’s well out of the ordinary. I think we can ignore a minor misdemeanor.’ He laughed. ‘Come on, think about it. What would a veteran with Hamar’s reputation and his grandson be going to Greendell for?’ He winked at Toryn. ‘I would say Hamar had a bit of business there, eh?’
But Nander was not convinced. ‘How do we know he’s not a spy? Funny how the attack came shortly after they arrived.’
Roold reprimanded Nander. ‘Leave it, you can’t go accusing a veteran, a veteran who’s shown his loyalty to a fellow brother only hours ago and made the ultimate sacrifice. You should… shush.’ He cocked an ear and whispered. ‘It’s gone quiet. Surely, they can’t be asleep already.’ The wagon lurched. Roold groaned. ‘No, we can’t be on our way? So soon?’
Jedrul sighed. ‘Seems these fellows aren’t the ragtag bunch we had them down to be.’
Roold tried to sit but fell back as the wagon dipped into a trough. ‘Or they fear Uldrak’s boss more than they desire the taste of a fine ale. This isn’t good news.’
‘We’re turning again.’ Jedrul stuck his head out of the canopy leading to shouts of protests from their captors. He dropped back. ‘South? Must have passed the worst of the marshes.’ He grabbed a rail. ‘Better hold on tight, lads, we’re in for a bumpy ride through Mawlgrim Mire. Let’s hope the bog grims are tucked in deep for the night. Wouldn’t fancy one of them digging its long, grimy fingers into my throat.’
Toryn told hold of the bar behind. ‘Bog grims?’
‘It ain’t all flies and mud, lad. I’ve heard there’s creatures living under the sludge, and they’re quite partial to human flesh when they can get it.’
Roold laughed. ‘Don’t listen to him. It’s all nonsense. You should know better, Jed, than to listen to those tales.’
Jedrul shook his head. ‘I know plenty who’ve seen them. But if you don’t believe me about the bog grims, at least hold your noses if you have a hand to spare. I’ve heard the mire don’t smell too good either.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Must be taking us back into Dorn. But that don’t make sense.’
Roold groaned. ‘There’s only one place south from here where they’ll be taking us.’ He pulled up his chains. ‘I know where this mystery lady of theirs dwells. Back on those links, lads. I don’t care if I have to chew my own hands and feet off to get out of this wagon, I ain’t letting them take me to Wyke Wood.’
27. the Old Lady of the Seas
Elodi took a deep breath of salty air, hoping to settle her stomach. She stood at the helm of an ancient, but proud ship as it sailed out into the choppier waters, away from the protection of West Haven’s bay. The messenger bird had de
livered but a few words, but those few words had sent a shudder through Archonholm.
Sorcerer. Large force. Bulstrow dead. Mines lost.
Elodi had dropped the hastily scrawled note on the Vice-Archon’s desk as if it burned her fingers. The mines of Drunsberg had fallen into the hands of the Ruuk. Taken by a force that, according to the Archon, should never have made it passed the watchtowers on the border. But to have the strength to take what should have been an impregnable position held by his own men, was a hammer blow. Only a year ago, she had accompanied her father to inspect the new fortifications. She could remember the look of relief on his face, satisfied he had done enough to secure the supply of resources so vital to the defense of the Five Realms. Sadly, the modifications had obviously not sufficed.
Sorcerer. The word had twisted an icy blade in her gut. There had to be a wyke in the north. And not just a sorcerer who could sour milk and stunt crop growth; this one must wield significant power to have taken the mines. The Vice-Archon had dismissed the mention of a sorcerer as the panic of a desperate man, or one trying to make an excuse for failing to hold their line. But Elodi knew the men of Drunsberg would only yield to a far superior force. This confirmed her worse fear. She knew exactly where the creature leading the raid must have originated: Durran Wood had not lost its centuries-old name for nothing.
The Vice-Archon had brushed aside her request for a meeting with the Archon. Wendel had insisted the Vice-Archon did not have the authority to refuse without consulting the man himself. But the Vice-Archon had invoked emergency wartime powers and informed Elodi the Archon was at rest, preparing for the tough months ahead, and could not be disturbed. But Elodi and Bardon knew otherwise.
Wendel had referred to the emergency laws and demanded Archonholm send a sizeable force north to march on Drunsberg. But while the Council eventually agreed they should retake the mines, events in the south took priority, thus few resources could be spared. Just how few shocked Elodi. The Council allocated a miserly one hundred Archonian Guard for the task, and most of them recently trained, meaning Harlyn’s army of part-timers would have to be deployed. Yet, even if she re-assigned the bulk of her army, the force would still number less than six-hundred. But if a wyke held Drunsberg, she feared six-hundred casualties and no mine would be the only foreseeable outcome.
But to Elodi’s surprise, the Council gave her a ship moored at West Haven to hasten her return to Calerdorn. Other news had also encouraged her at a time of otherwise grim events. In a rare move, the Council had granted Bardon’s men from Keld permission to take the Kolossos Pass. If they could negotiate the treacherous route, they would arrive in Dorn in around ten days, but Elodi was reluctant to use them for anything other than the defense of her city. The relief company, sent from Calerdorn at Captain Bulstrow’s request, had turned back on discovering a siege underway by a superior force. She did not blame them. They had numbered only fifty and would have achieved nothing more than adding to the high toll, paid in vain.
The ship swayed. Elodi looked up to see they had cleared the headland. To the south, the steep slopes of the Caerwal Mountains dropped and sliced into the sea. On a rocky outcrop, the West Watchtower, dwarfed but not overawed by the mountains, kept an unerring eye on the open waters. But the sight did little to ease Elodi’s stomach. Beyond the watchtower, gigantic waves surged, swirled and collapsed as if a monster of the deep stirred up the seas to rise against the land.
Elodi looked away, thankful for the Archon’s invocation to keep the way north closed to Golesh ships. Her vision blurred as her head sought to come to terms with the swelling sea. But the guards on the main deck fared worse than Elodi. Most of her fresh-faced soldiers hung over the side, struggling to keep their meagre breakfast rations from the fish. What chance had she of retaking Drunsberg? These soldiers were barely out of training. Only the captain, Gundrul, an aging ruddy-faced man from Lunn, and a handful of the others appeared to be older than Elodi. And to her dismay, Gundrul looked only a few years younger than Tombold.
She turned her back on the carnage below and fixed her eyes on the coast. The green hills of Tamarand would watch over them until nightfall before giving way to the estuaries and flat lands of Gwelayn, the southern ward of Kernlow. But while part of Elodi longed to see the jagged cliffs of Dorn, she knew as they sailed into the cooler climes, the seas would not be so tolerant of their presence. The ship’s captain believed they could make the port of Calerdorn within six to seven days, but much depended on the will of the prevailing wind.
The ship rolled and dipped. Elodi tried to ignore her unsettled stomach. She recalled the three days it took to reach the port of West Haven. Elodi had welcomed the chance to gallop the open road on Sea Mist. She had no love for the ceremonial carriage and was thankful it would make its empty way back to Calerdorn by land. But while she rode west, Bardon, the man she now regarded as her closest ally, headed east.
The deck rose. Elodi pulled her hand from the taffrail as yet another splinter dug into her palm She turned and stumbled towards the helmsman. He thrust out a thick arm. ‘Steady, ma’am. Don’t want to be falling overboard, do we now.’
‘Thank you. And… sorry.’
‘No need, ma’am. First time at sea?’
She swallowed. ‘Yes, and for my horse.’
‘The horses will be fine below deck, ma’am. They soon get used to it.’ He cursed as he lost his grip on the wheel. ‘As I was about to say, it’ll be best for you also. The sea breeze ain’t too kind to a lady’s soft skin, ma’am. You can see what it’s done to me over the years.’ He laughed. ‘And I’m sure you don’t want to end up with a face like mine.’ He rubbed his cheek. ‘Just need the barnacles and I’d be mistaken for a rotting hull.’
Elodi recalled the old fishing boats in Calerdorn harbor. He made a good point, but she did not want to hurt his feelings by agreeing. She looked up to the sky. ‘I prefer to be in the fresh air, and… where I can see land.’
‘Then may I be so bold to suggest, ma’am, you keep your eyes on the horizon out to sea. Helped me my first time out of port. Staring at land that doesn’t move can make it worse in my view.’
She turned to away from the coast. ‘Thank you, I shall try it.’ But the sight of endless water added another knot to her stomach. As a child she had dreamed of sailing into the unknown beyond the horizon, but that had been from the safety and stability of solid rock beneath her feet. She tried to take her mind from the voyage. ‘I didn’t catch your name earlier, helmsman.’
He smiled. ‘I’m rarely asked, ma’am, and helmsman sounds a tad grand for what I do.’ He stepped out from behind the wheel and took a bow. ‘Helmsman Horace at your service, ma’am.’ He grinned. ‘And may I say what a pleasure it is to have the good Lady of Harlyn onboard.'
Elodi nodded, instantly regretting the move. She swayed, keeping one eye on the nearest rail as she swallowed. ‘So… tell me, Horace, how long have you been at sea?’
He eyed the sail billowing overhead. ‘Since the tender age of ten, so getting on for forty years.’
Elodi could not prevent her eyebrows from rising — his face suggested it had been longer. She smiled. ‘And have you sailed to Calerdorn before?’
He laughed. ‘I don’t think you understand, ma’am. I may have been at sea many years, but only the few miles up and down this stretch, and then mainly hugging the coast. I’m a fisherman by trade and we catch all the fish we can handle in the warmer waters and rarely have to go out of sight of land.’ Horace wrapped his strong arm around the top spoke and wrestled back control. ‘Not sailed the open seas much, and rarely out of sight Traitor’s Isle yonder. But don’t you worry, ma’am. I’ve had a few years learning how to handle a proper lady of the sea like this old beauty.’
She eyed the coast. ‘Can we stay this close for the entire journey?’
Horace scratched his chin. ‘Not with a draft this deep. The old maps show too many rocks ready to rip us apart. We’ll have to head out when we reach Noor, furth
er still at Dorn before we can turn in and sail for Calerdorn.’
Elodi turned back to focus on the hills. ‘And Captain Blunden? Does he have knowledge of these waters?’
He laughed louder this time. ‘Old Blowers?’ Horace bit his lip. ‘Not really. He’s the skipper of our fishing boat. It’s all new to him as well, but don’t you fret, ma’am. He knows the ways of the sea. Blowers has navigated these waters for many a year, even went as far as the port of Rhydor in his youth, or so he says.’ He patted the wheel. ‘But it don’t matter, ma’am. This old bird knows the way. She would have sailed this route hundreds of times back in her day before the wars ended.’ He nodded to her hand. ‘That’ll explain the splinters, ma’am. The Celestra is older than the Caerwal Gate itself.’
Elodi’s stomach tightened a little more. ‘Thanks, just what I needed to hear.’
‘Pardon, ma’am? My hearing ain’t what it used to be.’
‘I said, I’d be interested to hear more about this old ship, the Celestra you called it?’
He beamed. ‘Her. It’s a she, ma’am. And yes, her name is Celestra. A fine old name for a fine old lady.’
Elodi repeated the name and found it eased her mind. ‘What would she have been used for back then?’
Horace grunted as he heaved the wheel against the current. ‘She may have carried soldiers in the worst of times. But otherwise it would have been cargo, most likely wine, flour, livestock and cotton.’
Elodi jumped as the deck creaked. ‘How did the Celestra survive this long?’
He chuckled. ‘We can thank the shipwrights of old, ma’am. They reasoned it would be wise to keep the odd ship sea-worthy. But of course, they also fought for their trade. No shipwright worth his salt wants to waste his skills building carts, huts and barns.’
‘I should imagine not.’
‘Besides, they couldn’t bear to see them slowly rot. But over the years as they died and with fewer wrights replacing them, they only had the numbers to save this old girl.’