The Staff of Ramah
Page 33
Chapter 27
The port city of Goram was bustling with activity as was always the case, even well into the dark hours of the night. No one took notice of the old fish boat captain as he limped his way back to the docks from a long evening of drinking in the harbour pub. The stagger in his walk had nothing to do with the many pitchers of ale that he had consumed. It would take much more than that to make this old sea dog forget himself. His crooked stride was the result of his left leg, which had been nearly chewed off by a shark when he was just a young man. It was just one of many close calls in the life of “Ol’ Pete” as everyone called him. Tonight Pete was drinking to try and forget the burning red eyes of the man he had taken out to sea in the morning hours. He never gave a name, and the man had not spoken much either, but those eyes were something very hard to forget.
“W.w.w.what was with those eyes Jonah? I wonder...” Pete muttered to his dog walking beside him. Jonah had been Pete’s faithful companion for a great many years and had a limp to match his owner. He was not a very big dog, so none of the store owners minded when Pete brought him into the building, but he was big enough, and mean enough, to protect his owner if need be. It had taken every effort on the fisherman’s part to keep the protective dog at bay while they carted the red-eyed man across the inlet to a strange little island that Pete had seen before, but never really paid any mind too. Something inside both dog and man was telling them that this black robed stranger was not one to be trifled with. The parting words that had been given to him were the real reason for the bout of drinking.
“You will tell no-one of me and this island or you will face the wrath of Belial himself,” the man had said in a voice that sounded like more of a hiss.
Who in the world is Belial and what have I ever done to him? Pete was not one to take heed of threats usually, but the evil intensions of this man were way too obvious to miss.
“I j.j.just got a f.feelin’ that he woulda gutted us like a couple of Jackfish if we hadn’t takin’ him where he wanted to go, eh Jonah?”
The dog never said a thing, as usual, and that was the way Pete liked it. Jonah was a good listener and he never made fun of him for stuttering either. The two limping figures hobbled off slowly toward the little harbour shack that they called home. If he was not drunk enough to fall asleep, then there was always the bottle of hard stuff that he kept in the pantry for emergencies. Sleep would not come easy this night, but it would come, eventually.