“So, all we need to do is scour the lengths of one of them, scuttling like rats in the dark, and hope there is a hole in the ground from which we can drink water that has the potential to burn our throats as it flows down from our mouths. And if we don’t find it in the first cave we enter, then we just repeat the process a hundred times, for all I see around me are cave mouths, and who knows what dwells in the darkness within. I appreciate your wisdom, Sanrick, but I don’t see how your discovery has helped us in any way.” Elsa said in a dismissive tone.
There is the Elsa I remember. Arrogant, stubborn and with too much of the Faerson blood coursing through her veins.
“We do not need to enter all of them. The smell of the springs is too strong, and it is likely that in the confines of a cave, it would be even more severe. We only need to enter the caves where we smell can smell the springs,” said Sanrick.
“And what is the smell like?” Elsa asked.
“Like burning flesh,” Sanrick explained.
“How do you know?”
“I read it in a book.”
“And do you know how burning flesh smells?”
“No, do you?”
“Yes.”
“How?” Sanrick asked, fearing the answer.
“I have had men burned before my eyes.”
Of course, you have, you insane woman.
Their search began with the cave next to which they ate the bird, and after an hour of walking, crouching and crawling through its labyrinth of dark passages filled with the salty smell of seawater, they finally decided to look into a different one. This one did not smell of burning flesh, but only a burning finger or a toe, according to Elsa. Sanrick wanted to ask her if she knew how every part of a human body smelled when it burnt, but then he decided not to delve deeper into the maniacal mind of his sister.
The cave with the smell of a burning toe also yielded nothing but low roofed spaces and narrow passages that ended in a wall or branched into even more passages. Sanrick had begun missing the horses and the flat terrain of the forest already, as he labored his way through steep rocky paths and climbed over raised platforms with the help of his left arm, sorely missing the convenience and the strength of his right. The wound below his shoulder had begun healing itself, and soon he knew it would transform into a little stump extending from his shoulder. However, the pain still sometimes made him weep, and although the puss had stopped seeping out from the wound, but the blood never did. Every day, the piece of cloth that Elsa had tied over his shoulder and remaining chunk of his upper arm would be covered in small patches of red, and the smell of the cloth, covered in blood and remains of the puss, would reach his nostrils, and Sanrick would start weeping again, this time not from the pain, but from the feeling of disgust he felt for himself.
I am a king. Or am I still? The people of Harduin accepted the fat, craven king that was appointed to rule over them, although grudgingly, but asking them to be ruled by a fat craven cripple of a king would be pushing it a little too far, unless I returned with the key to their survival. In that case, they might overlook a missing arm.
Noon turned to dusk, and dusk turned to night. The veil of stars above their heads sparkled in all its glory, as the sea calmed, and the waves lost their anger. Inside a cave that was devoid of any passages and was just big enough to host the two of them, the siblings had their dinner, another seagull that fell to the skill and accuracy of Elsa Faerson’s arrow. They took their food in silence, only broken by the sound of the sea and the occasional cawing of a bird in the sky.
“Did I ever tell you about the night our mother died?” Elsa’s soft voice echoed in the cave. Sanrick looked at her and could not understand how a woman so mesmerizing, be so stern and stone-hearted. Elsa had left her armor along with the horses. She had decided that the need for agility and speed was greater at the moment than the need for defense again swords and arrows, and Sanrick had followed suit. Her tunic was tied in a knot over her smooth belly that heaved lightly as she breathed. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders, and they still looked luxurious and wavy, even after facing extreme hardships during the past few weeks. Her emerald green eyes twinkled in the soft light of the moon that slanted through the opening of the cave.
“Yes, in bits and pieces. You said you were there when it happened. You said she was brave throughout.”
“Oh, she was more than just brave. She was fierce. She was a lioness protecting her cubs,” Elsa said, and Sanrick noticed a shadow of grief pass over his sister’s face, “You and I would both be dead if it weren’t for her. I remember those days so vividly. Lord Erling was the governor of Elesdon, and at the time the river pirates would sail down River Neuwin and meet up with the bandits near the town of Stonecrow, and then attack and plunder Elesdon, leaving children orphaned and women with babes in their bellies. Father never really liked Lord Erling, so whenever he would ask father for help in defending his city, father would ignore him, and the matter would be forgotten, until the pirates and the bandits would again attack Elesdon.”
“But father did go to Elesdon once, didn’t he, to put an end to the raids?” said Sanrick.
“That is when trouble knocked on our doors, trouble in the form of Lady Shimera, the beautiful wife of Lord Erling. She wept before our lord father, told her about the atrocities of lord Erling, told him how he would beat her bloody whenever she refused to sleep with him, told him how, once in a fit of anger, he had had her whipped until the skin peeled from her back, leaving scars that looked like claw marks from a tiger. That is when she had slipped out of her silken gown, naked and beautiful, to show the scars to our father, and that is when the honorable king Oskar Faerson fell in love and forgot that he had a wife and children in East Shade. For months, he kept visiting Elesdon, to meet with the lady Shimera, not even attempting to hide his meetings from Erling, who would listen to his wife’s passionate moans as the king of Harduin pleasured her in the next room.”
Sanrick had never heard this part, and he wondered why Elsa was recounting the story, now of all times.
“That must have made Erling torture her more than ever?” Sanrick guessed.
Elsa chuckled, “You get a few privileges when you are bedding a king, and in lady Shimera’s case, that privilege came in the form of Sir Amos Dilley, the most fearsome knight in Harduin, who stayed back in Castle Windhook to keep an eye on her and her safety. Finally, after months of keeping his affair a secret from mother, he decided he was going to invite lady Shimera to live with him at East Shade. I still remember entering mother’s bedchamber that night, and finding her sprawled on the floor, weeping hysterically, her face bloody from the scratches she had inflicted on herself in rage and hysterics. But what could she do? Tears are worthless in front of a king, even if they are the tears of a queen.”
Sanrick had only been seven when Lady Shimera had first entered the Hall of Fire at Castle Embers, and dined with King Oskar, his wife, Queen Iris, Elsa and himself. He remembered being too young to appreciate her beauty, but he did remember her eyes, kind and understanding, with a mysterious glint in them that made her seem transcendental. But that had all turned out to be a façade.
“A great feast was held on the night of our mother’s death. I remember feeling dizzy from the smoke of all the hookahs and pipes which all the great lord and knights of the kingdom were smoking, and so, I escaped the hall and made my way to the observatory tower. There, amidst all the candles flickering around me in gilded candleholders, wearing a silken golden gown with a netted silvery veil, staring out onto the Serpent Sea, I found lady Shimera waiting for me. I did not know if she knew I would visit the observatory tower then, or if it was mere chance, but there we were, standing on top of the world, while the world celebrated below, in the Hall of Fires,” Elsa stopped for a heartbeat, as if she was lost in the memory for a bit, and then she spoke again, “she sauntered up to me, and held my face in her hand, adorned with sapphire rings more expensive than the king’s crown itself, and asked me w
hat brought me up here, on top of the observatory tower. I had replied that it was too loud in the hall and I needed quiet. I had then asked her why she was not in the hall, to which she replied, ‘I am in no mood for wine, child, for I do not need wine tonight to make me feel alive. Thinking of what this night will bring, is enough to quicken my pulse’. Then she had turned around to leave, before looking back and whispering, ‘you are beautiful Elsa, your beauty can be your greatest weapon. Go down and observe how men behave when they are drunk, start getting used to their inebriated state, for there are only two instances where men are most vulnerable, the first is when they are drunk and the second is when they are inside a woman, mix the two and there is nothing that you cannot get a man to do’, and then she had left. I was only ten and four then, but her words were engraved in my mind like scriptures on a holy stone. Later that night, she opened the castle gates, lowered the drawbridge, and sneaked men it, who put the barracks and the stables to fire, with men inside, drunk and passed out in various stages of undress. By the time the royal guards came out and understood what was happening, half of the army and horses were burnt alive. I was watching everything from the window of my bedchamber, as men and women were fleeing the stables and barracks, shrieking in agony as the fire melted their skin and reached their bones. Some stabbed themselves to death to escape the pain, and that is when I realized death by fire is the most painful of all the deaths. Men who had escaped the fire were being trampled to death by flaming horses, while the horses themselves were jumping off the drawbridge and into the moat, only to be eaten by the crocodiles. That is when mother had burst through the door, and you were in her arms, sleeping and unaware of the horror unfolding all around you. We were fleeing through the corridor that connected the Tower of Coals and the Tower of Ash when she found us. She was still wearing her golden gown, but it was all bloody and torn. She had been fighting herself. She held an axe in her hand, with blood dripping from its edge, but her face was set in stone. I remember mother telling me to hold you in my arms, and to run back to my bedchamber and lock the door if she were to die, and then she had unsheathed her dagger and run toward lady Shimera. I saw her fight with a dagger against an axe, I saw her fight as gracefully as the way she danced when she would be most happy, and I saw her slice open Lady Shimera’s throat while an arrow from one of Lady Shimera’s men pierced her chest,” said Elsa, moonlight falling on her face, bathing it in a soft milky glow that aggrandized her beauty, “I held you in my arms as she died, asking me to take care of you, while you were just waking up, your sleepy eyes staring at me with confusion and annoyance. I had vowed to take care of you, and I do not mean to break my vow, no matter what. Even if you think I am a cruel woman lacking compassion.”
Sanrick had been staring at the star-filled sky while Elsa was speaking, but now he looked at her and saw the same care in her eyes that he had grown up seeing. He wondered if she was using this story to manipulate him, but in reality, he did not care. He knew his sister was unlike any other girl of her age, in fact, she was unlike any other boy of her age. She was ambitious, cruel and cunning, but she loved him, and he loved her too.
A light sea breeze had begun to blow, bringing with itself the smell of salt and ash. A cloudless sky, shimmering and twinkling like a crystal studded crown of a king, was bathed in the bluish white light of the moon, glowing large and round, with small grey patches against the backdrop of white. The sea was now hardly visible, except the white foamy waves which would come out of hiding every now and then and shine like pearls on the black surface of the sea. The gulls had stopped cawing and silence pressed all around, uninterrupted and unhindered. And in that silence, Sanrick and Elsa heard the sound of a whetstone whetting a sword.
Sanrick’s breath caught in his throat, as his gaze shot to Elsa. She was already on her feet, signaling Sanrick to stay where he was, and not make any noise. Her sword was already out of its sheath, and the Harduinian princess had begun creeping towards the mouth of the cave. The sound signified that the person was using slow long strokes, taking his time with the movement, and it was coming from a few feet below the cave.
Elsa was now outside the cave and moving towards the edge of the cliff, where a drop of about thirty feet ended at the mouth of another cave which they had previously searched. Sanrick began crawling towards Elsa, trying to get a proper look at what was going on. He was almost outside himself when he saw a shadow move behind Elsa, creeping closer and growing larger as it neared his sister. Sanrick was about to scream when a figure in a hooded cloak leaped out of the shadows and tackled Elsa to the ground, with a blade glinting at her neck.
Sanrick looked on in horror as the assailant and Elsa rolled around on the hard-rocky surface of the cliff, while the blade of a dagger danced dangerously close to her throat. The sound of whetting had halted, replaced by the grunts of the hooded man and Elsa, as they wrestled on the floor. Just when Sanrick thought the attacker had overpowered Elsa, he stopped and backed away, throwing the dagger to the side. Elsa used this opportunity to pounce on the man once again, bringing her dagger down in an arc in an attempt to stab the man’s heart. But just before the tip of the dagger could pierce the flesh and puncture the beating heart of the hooded stranger, the man screamed, and Sanrick instantly recognized the voice, “Stop! Stooop! It is me, Olver! Calm yourself, woman, it is me.”
Elsa froze in shock. Even from a distance, Sanrick could see her eyes become as wide as a pommel of a sword.
“Why did it take so long for you to find us?” Elsa asked, slumping to the ground, breathing heavily from the physical exertion.
“You knew I was alive?” Olver asked.
“Obviously, she did. We etched our names in the well, didn’t we?” Garen Swolderhornn pulled himself over the edge of the cliff, his greatsword slung over his back, his long hair tied back in a ponytail
Chapter Eight
The Boy on the Ship
“YOU MISSED A SPOT, BOY, don’t let teh’ captain see, or it will be beetle juice for yeh’ bony ass for dinner, with the side of a crisply roasted slap across yeh’ ugly face,” the sailor with the stinky smell and the crooked jaw yelled across the deck of the Sailing Misery. A few other sailors sniggered, while some were content with smiling.
Morgyn Mills had already noticed the spot, and he was about to scrub it off before Leon had opened his mouth and vomited a slew of japes at the boy’s expense, something he had gotten used to as a helper-boy on the Sailing Misery. It wasn’t a bad job, much better than what Dirk did; Morgyn was better off cleaning spilled rum and sweat from the wooden floors of the ship, as opposed to cleaning shit stains from the privy three decks below. However, the advantages of working on the upper decks came with a few concerns as well, one of them being the constant harassment faced by Morgyn from the sailors onboard. Being the youngest, with a body that looked more like an arrow than a quiver, he had expected to be the fool, the clown and the butt of jokes all combined into one, but sometimes, he wanted to throw the pail of dirty water on their rotten faces, or better yet, grab one of them by the back of his neck and thrust it in the water until his legs would stop flaying and his heart would stop beating.
However, today was not one of those days. Morgyn was in good spirits. The winds had finally picked up the pace, and the sails were bulging out in a glorious arc like the belly of a woman with child.
Not too long now. Once I reach Mattisport, the captain will pay me, and then I can go back to my Ma. Won’t she be happy to see me, and the copper coins that I will bring along with me.
The captain himself had been a source of misery for Morgyn, constantly belittling him for tasks which Morgyn completed with utmost sincerity and hard work. Once, when Morgyn had forgotten to bring him a horn of rum after his nightly walk around the deck of the ship, he had stripped him of all his clothes and made him stand as the figurehead of the ship, posing like a mermaid, with his legs intertwined and his hands on his waist. He was commanded to smile, and every time his lips lost thei
r curves, a whip would rise in the air like a crazed serpent and land on his back with a stinging pain.
All for my Ma. I will endure everything for her.
It had been seven days since the trading galley had left Ferryport of Indius for Mattisport of Calypsos, carrying in its hold a variety of exotic spices, herbs, and oils, only found in the vast plains of Indius, and soon, after making landfall at Mattisport, the goods would be carried to Starhelm, where they would be sold to buyers from all over Aerdon, in the biggest marketplace of the realm.
Three more days, Morgyn kept telling himself, as his hands worked tirelessly, moving back and forth, scrubbing away with all their might.
“Tis’ time for food. Take a break and grab a plate from the kitchens”, the good-natured Sal shouted, climbing down from the crow’s nest, as a different barrelman began the climb to the top, to take Sal’s position.
Morgyn nodded and raced toward the forecastle of the ship, then climbed down the wooden ladder, and jumped off on the second deck, where the kitchens were situated next to the living quarters of the crew. In a few minutes, the boy was back on the upper deck, with a steel plate laden with buttered bread, lentil soup and a boiled egg in his hand. Morgyn enjoyed having his food below the open skies, as he watched the deep blue of the sea all around. In those moments of peace and quiet, he would squint his eyes and try to look for the shore on the opposite side of the Serpent Sea, but just like many others who wandered the open seas for any sign of the hidden island of Dreadlands, he could not find anything.
“It wasn’t the beetle soup after ol” Leon swaggered toward Morgyn, his long wiry hair slicked back, his mottled skin and beady eyes gleaming in the sunlight, “what is that? An egg? Why does this good for nothing whoreson get an egg? It just leaves less for us, ain’t it?” and with that, the squat broad-shouldered sailor picked up the egg with his callused finger, hardened by working the running rigging of the ship, and stuffed it in his mouth.
The Passage of Kings Page 18
