‘Hurry! We have to leave now,’ I said, as Eliza lowered herself down from the whale rib onto the deck.
‘What about the sails?’ she cried.
‘Never mind that now. We have to leave.’
The horse staggered to its feet and leapt through the air, just missing the deck of the ship by a whisker as the wind caught what was left of the sails, driving us out of the cove. Defeated, at least for the moment, it turned back to the beach and took flight, disappearing into the shadows of the cliffs. Above us, the torn strip of the fore sail flapped in the wind.
Chapter 31
‘Can we still sail?’ asked Eliza, gazing anxiously up at the torn fore sail as the cove slid slowly into the distance.
‘We can only hope for fair weather to see us through to the Isle of Wight,’ I replied. ‘I fear the sail as it is won’t carry us through another storm.’
We now had only an ordinary compass and maps to rely on to guide us to the Isle of Wight, but George's maps were clear and detailed, having drawn them himself.
Dawn came, but the sun was invisible in the grey sky. I kept a close eye on the clouds, fearful of what they might be carrying, but for the moment at least the only change in the sky seemed to be a dark speck that had appeared and was growing gradually larger. I watched as it drew nearer, and a few moments later Bill alighted upon the wheel beside me.
'Look, Bill has another note,' I called to Eliza. He eyed us keenly as I read its contents aloud.
3rd November 1648
Dear Eliza and Tom,
I fear that I must inform you that Devere has imprisoned your father, Eliza, and is holding him captive in the room below me in Mrs. Tucker's house. He is not hurt but is naturally worried about you. I have been communicating with him through the chimney, and he has asked me to inform you that he is well and asks you not to turn aside from your journey. I would reiterate that point: doing so will not only guarantee that Devere acquires that which he seeks but is likely to place your father in greater danger. While events remain uncertain and the dragonskin is out of his grasp, he is keeping me and your father alive as bargaining chips.
Following your father's imprisonment and your disappearance, the Guild appears to be in uproar. I strongly suspect Devere has not disclosed the real reason for your disappearance; doing so would risk exposing his plans for the dragonskin and reveal that he has known for some time that it was not truly lost. It is safer for him that the Guild knows nothing of the dragonskin.
As far as I can tell, trumped up charges of treason against the Guild have been levelled against you both. As such, the Venatorian will undoubtedly be sent forth with instructions to track and kill you on sight. Suffice to say that he is the greatest hunter the Guild has known and can track a week-old scent in the wilderness without the use of his hounds. While you are at sea, you are out of harm’s way, but as soon as you reach land he will be on your trail. I am doing all I can to summon those I can trust to assist you and keep you safe, but for the meantime keep to the water!
Elsewhere, negotiations with the King are still on-going, but the agitators in Parliament are growing restless. Make of that what you will; I cannot guess what their next move will be. I will write again as events unfold.
God speed. George.
'Father!' cried Eliza. 'I have to go back!'
'Eliza, you read George's words! If you turn back, it will only go worse for your father,' I said.
'Not if we give Devere what he desires. We can bargain with him: the dragonskin for Father's life.'
'No, Eliza,' I said. 'I will not let you do that. Do you really think Devere will let us or your father go free once he has the dragonskin? It’s too late. We cannot turn aside. Listen to sense; you talked sense into me when I wanted to dock in Osmington Mills.'
'Your family weren't in danger,' replied Eliza miserably.
'We are all in danger. We knew the risk we faced before we set out,’
Eliza sobbed. 'Don't fret,' I said, offering her my handkerchief.
Eliza took it and dabbed her eyes, but I knew her fears could not so easily be assuaged. I glanced up at the sails, wondering anxiously how much faster we might travel. To my horror, thick black clouds were gathering and now lingered ominously overhead.
Chapter 32
'Is it just rain or another storm?' asked Eliza, following my gaze.
'I hope just rain,' I replied, but even as I spoke I felt the wind pick up. 'Here, keep the wheel steady while I trim the sails.'
Bill hopped from the wheel to the deck to take shelter. Drops of rain began to fall from the leaden sky, and I felt the sea churn beneath the ship.
'Are we far from land?' asked Eliza anxiously.
'Yes,' I replied, returning to the wheel to steady the ship. 'We have no choice but to ride this out.'
Overhead, darkness was gathering beneath the clouds. The wind whipped the sea up into great swells of foam-capped waves that tossed the ship about and broke against the hull.
'Tom!' I heard Eliza scream as I worked desperately against the buffeting wind to trim the sails. I glanced behind me to see the cause of her dismay and froze.
From out of the depths, a monster emerged and towered above the mast. Its being was like that of a serpent, with scales the colour of the murky depths of the sea and whiskers that billowed around its cavernous mouth. It raised itself up like a column out of the water and lashed the side of the ship with its tail.
I scrambled to the cabin to reach for the Venatorian’s bugle as another surge swept over the side of the ship, taking the serpent with it. At once, the monster collapsed and drifted down like a feather floating to the ground.
'What the...?' I cried, dashing to prow to see what had become of it.
There, tossed about upon the surface of the water, lay the serpent, nothing more than a paper cutting, the ink that coloured it bleeding away into the sea.
''Tis one of Bridget's illusions, to be sure!' cried Eliza.
'Aye, but this storm is no illusion,' I cried as another surge sent the ship heeling on its starboard side. 'We shall be blown off course!'
Another furious swell raised the ship up then deposited it again in the trough. The damaged sails flapped limply overhead in the gale.
'Can we not steer out of it as before?' Eliza shouted above the gale.
'The wind is too strong,' I replied, lashing myself to the wheel and tossing Eliza a rope to do the same. 'Does the magic still work if the sails are damaged?'
'I don't know,' replied Eliza. 'It is woven into the fabric. I suppose if the fabric is torn....'
At that moment, a deep rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, followed a second later by a crack. A flash of light blinded us momentarily, then the crackle of fire vied with the noise of the wind.
'The mast!' I cried, leaping towards it. Flames engulfed the crow's nest and were spreading to the sails.
'Fill that bucket with water!' I yelled.
A moment later, I had scaled the mast and was dousing the flames while Eliza drew more water. The ship rolled almost horizontal over the raging waves.
'Another one,' I shouted as I looked in dismay upon the smouldering sails, burnt almost top to bottom, and the blackened mast. It had escaped the worst of the fire, but the sails were now beyond salvage. I drenched them with the final bucketful of water, extinguishing the last of the flames. On the deck below, Eliza looked on anxiously as I inched my way back down the mast, my body pressed to it by the force of the wind.
'What will we do?' she cried above the roar of the wind and sea.
'We will be lucky if we even stay afloat in this storm,' I yelled back as one immense wave crashed over the side. 'The sails are destroyed!'
'Devere will be behind this,' shouted Eliza. 'It is another of the Agriculturian's spells, I'm sure!'
'Well, it is working,' I cried.
It was all we could do to keep the ship upright as the sea surged beneath us and the wind tore mercilessly at the tattered sails, driving us furt
her and further off course.
'We shall be drowned!' cried Eliza.
'Into the cabin!' I yelled before the words had even left her mouth, for behind her a monstrous wave like a towering cliff reared up, poised to pour its destruction onto the mangled vessel. I fought my way up the deck to the relative safety of the cabin, dragging Eliza with me just as the wave crashed onto the deck, but there was no escape. The torrent lifted me like a piece of debris carried by a stream, sweeping me along wherever it went. I felt Eliza's grip loosen and her hand slip from mine as the waves pinned us down, and it seemed we would be drowned together, ship, sails and all, as the raging sea engulfed us.
Chapter 33
By morning, the storm had blown itself out, and a clear blue sky emerged, striped with ribbons of cloud. The ship rested upon a sandbank not far from land where the sea had deposited it. High above, the remains of the sails drifted mournfully in the breeze.
'We have run aground,' I declared as the first light of day confirmed my fears. 'We shall have to take the life raft and paddle to shore.'
'Where are we?' shivered Eliza. Her face was pale and drawn, and her clothes soaked through.
'Far from where we need to be,' I replied. 'I suppose we should be thankful we weren't drowned.'
I climbed down into the raft, holding it steady for Eliza to follow with what she could salvage of our precious supplies. Bill, forgotten up until that point, crept out from below the wheel and took flight.
The shore was a good distance to paddle to, and we were both eager to feel dry land beneath our feet after the previous night's adventures. I squinted into the distance as the land drew closer, but there was no telling where we had been had washed up, or if we were even still in English waters.
'There is a pebble beach just ahead,' I said. 'We should aim for that.'
The little raft jolted as the tide washed us up amongst the pebbles. Eliza coughed and spluttered as we dragged it up the beach, away from the creeping tide. Shivers convulsed through her, and she sank to the ground, too weak to stand.
'Stay there,' I said. 'I'll find something to make a bit of fire.'
I gathered together what dry kindling I could find among the trees that bordered the beach a little way off, and a few minutes later we were huddled around a fire eating a frugal breakfast with our wet cloaks spread out to dry. Eliza gazed out mournfully at the stranded ship in the distance. 'Father will be devastated about the sails,' she murmured. 'He put all his magic into them.'
'They served their purpose even after they were destroyed,' I said, 'The ship didn't sink, and we are still alive, and the dragonskin is safe.'
'Aye, that is true,' Eliza replied, ‘but we have yet to get to the Isle of Wight without a ship. What of the Shadow Horse? It will track the dragonskin and ride to us like a gale.’
‘We can only press onward as best we can,’ I replied grimly. ‘Come, let us head towards the road and see what is about. I’d like to know where we have landed.’
I stomped out the fire, and we gathered together our packs of dwindling supplies and damp clothes. A well-used track led us from the beach through the trees and up towards a road where a few cottages clustered nearby. There was nothing to be seen that might indicate where we were.
'We shall have to follow the road and see where it leads us,' I said.
'Is that wise?' asked Eliza. 'I have heard highwaymen stake out the roads for travellers in isolated parts like this.'
'We should be safe in daylight,' I replied. 'Come, we need to find out where we are.'
We joined the road and followed it as it wound its way along the coast, past patchwork fields and the occasional farmhouse or wooded copse where trees grew in thick clusters, their wizened branches shivering in the breeze. Eliza wrapped her cloak about her tighter as the wind swept in from the sea and blasted the few withered leaves that still clung to their bare branches. All around, the land looked empty and mournful.
After more than an hour, we had gone barely four miles and had reached a fork in the road. Before us, a wooden post with arrows pointing in each direction leaned beside a stone marker upon which was carved Plymouth 80 miles, Exeter 110 miles, London 300 miles. An arrow pointing left was marked Helston, and to the right Coverack.
'Plymouth, Exeter and London,' I read aloud. 'If Plymouth is closest, then we must be somewhere in Devon or Cornwall. Cornwall, I suspect, as Plymouth is still eighty miles away.'
'Is that very far from the Isle of Wight?' asked Eliza.
'Yes,' I said, taking out the map she had retrieved from the ship and spreading it upon the stone marker. 'The Isle of Wight is here, and Cornwall is here.'
'That is almost half the width of the country!' exclaimed Eliza. 'How are we ever going to get there on foot?!'
'I have a plan,' I replied, 'but we need to find a larger town or village. Now see, the right-hand way must take us east because the sea is on our right, but I suspect it follows the curve of the coast and will take us for miles along unnecessary detours. If we take the left-hand route towards Helston, we will be heading slightly north and are more likely to come upon the larger roads and the towns they pass through.'
For the rest of the day, we made slow progress, hungry and exhausted as we were. We passed through the town of Helston, where a handful of ships loaded with tin were moored on the river which flowed past the town to the west. Men returning from their work in the tin mines passed us on the road but said nothing more than 'good day'.
By dusk, the lights in the hamlet of Trenear twinkled below us where the road meandered down from the little hill we had climbed. A copse of trees stood a short distance from the road and sheltered us from the wind. The shades of evening were deepening beneath them.
'We should stop here for tonight,' I said. 'I doubt we shall find anywhere better before dark.'
Eliza agreed wearily and followed me into the trees. There was plenty of dry wood with which to make a fire, and before long we were asleep, wrapped in our cloaks with our feet to the fire.
An icy morning welcomed me when I awoke. The grass was rigid with frost, and wisps of mist drifted through the trees and hung over the fields all around. The muted light of dawn was just peeping above the horizon as we gathered our belongings and made our way back towards the road. I consulted the map as we walked.
'We should try to reach Truro before sun-down,' I said. 'It cannot be more than about fifteen miles from the look of this map.'
'Why do we need to go there?' asked Eliza
'I am going to try and purchase a pony,' I said. 'We may be able to trade the flintlock for one. I don't know how much longer we will be able to travel by road with the Venatorian tracking us, but if we have a horse or pony, we could go a good step further before we have to abandon the roads altogether.'
Morning was receding to afternoon when Eliza stopped and looked up at the sunless sky.
'It must be past noon,' she said, 'and we have been walking all morning. Can we rest a while? My feet are burning.'
'Very well, just a little while,' I said. I was anxious to get to Truro, and our pace had been slower than I would have liked.
Eliza threw herself down onto a bed of bracken beside the road while I wandered a little further away to forage for late-autumn berries in the brambles and hedgerows that bordered the road. There were plenty, and I filled my pockets with as much as they could carry before heading back to find Eliza.
Tired as I was, I glanced about at the land slowing down ready for winter and marvelled at its beauty. Drops of moisture twinkled in the silvery threads of a spider's web that spanned the posts of an old farm gate, and the russet and gold leaf cover shimmered in the clear water of the tinkling stream that skirted the woods away to the left.
A little way ahead, two pheasants pecked at a bed of fallen leaves. Slowly, I drew the pistol from my pack and crept a little closer, but as my finger moved to the trigger, they took flight, startled by a scream that turned my blood cold.
Chapter 34
/> 'Eliza! I cried.
Dropping the berries I had collected, I raced back to the road and ducked behind the hedge only just in time to see Eliza being lifted onto the back of a large horse by a man dressed in riding gear and armed with a long rifle. Four others were mounted beside him. They too were armed with rifles slung across their backs, and their riding boots and cloaks were muddied as though they had ridden far and through rough terrain.
Instinctively, I returned my finger to the trigger of the pistol and positioned it through a gap in the hedge, then I paused. The man had jumped onto the horse behind Eliza and had his arms around her to prevent her from leaping from the saddle. I couldn't be sure, but it looked as though her hands were tied. It was too close; I had never fired a gun before, and I dared not risk hurting Eliza. I watched helplessly as the men spurred their horses and set them to a gallop before disappearing behind a bend in the road.
Leaping through the hedge, I sprinted after them. I wasn't sure why, for it was clear I had little hope of catching up on foot, or of rescuing Eliza from five armed men, but I could not countenance the idea of giving up without even attempting.
Breathless, I stopped for a moment and gazed out at the land before me to where the road wound its way around the foot of a low hill. I could shave a mile or so off the distance I had to catch up by cutting across it. The slope of the hill was gentle, and the grasses and sedge around it grew low and looked not impossible to cut through. Quitting the road, I plunged into the tangle of brambles that bordered it and ran as fast as the tussocky and uneven ground beneath my feet would allow.
My heart thudded, and my chest burned as I gasped in the gelid November air. I tried not to imagine the five riders galloping onwards day and night as the road rushed past them, leaving me far behind. They would be a good few miles ahead very soon if they continued at the speed they had set off at, but if I could only catch them, perhaps I could persuade them to accept a trade- Eliza for what little I had to offer them. Reason and common sense objected, but I swiftly suppressed them. I simply couldn't leave her at the mercy of a band of highwaymen, but then a yet more terrifying thought forced its way into my mind: what if they weren't highwaymen? What if they were sent by Devere, and they fully intended to take the dragonskin- and me and Eliza as well?
A Skin of a Dragon (The Guild of Gatekeepers Book 1) Page 12
