by James Dale
"What's going on in there?" someone asked.
"Yeah," added another. "What made Gretta scream like that?"
Just then the huge man burst from the tent.
"Come back here you two!" he shouted.
"Run!" Heath cried and took off, darting and weaving his way through the crowd. Braedan started after the boy but found himself grabbed from behind. Without thinking, he elbowed his captor sharply in the ribs and the person let go with a painful grunt. He whirled with a spinning, roundhouse kick and blood flew from the man's shattered nose as he fell back into the crowd. Then he was off chasing after Heath, a handful of shouting bystanders close on his heels.
The boy was about thirty yards ahead of him, his slipperiness and speed of foot helping him work his way through the dense crowd. Braedan wasn't concerned about the lead Heath had on him, he was more worried about keeping ahead of those pursuing him. Five or six of the onlookers were still on his trail, probably more because it was a chance to beat on someone than out of any sense of justice.
Down the streets of Brimcohn went the chase. Though cluttered alleys, in and out of tents, with Heath prancing nimbly through the startled crowds and Braedan running over anyone who got in his way. The men following alternated shouting curses at his back and laughing with the thrill of the chase. It went on like this for about ten minutes then Braedan lost sight of Heath and soon after that, managed to shake loose from his pursuers.
He stopped to rest in the doorway of an old building and catch his breath. Where had Heath gone? He could have taken any number of side streets or alleys. He wasn't overly concerned about the boy's safety. Heath had been raised in Brimcohn and probably knew the city inside out. Much better than Braedan knew it from the brief tour the boy had given him. It would be irresponsible just to assume he was unharmed however. After regaining his wind, Braedan left his resting place and went in search of the Seawolf's cabin boy.
He began by back tracking along their route of escape, as much as he could remember of it, one block at a time, first circling, then moving on to the next one. He went cautiously at first, aware his pursuers might be lingering in the area. After they didn't reappear in the first three blocks and no one seemed to pay him any particular attention, he began stopping people he passed, giving them a description of Heath and asking if they had seen the boy. Usually their answers were short and in the negative.
"Who has time to notice every small boy?" they would ask. But their looks were hostile and he guessed they thought he meant the boy harm. When he tried to convince them otherwise, they would turn and walk away.
It was time consuming and frustrating. When he had covered at least half of the city this way, avoiding only the Street of Seers, Braedan noticed the sun beginning to set. He decided to find the Shark's Tooth, gather up Tarsus and Dorad, and enlist their aid in searching for the boy. He stopped at a group of men crouching on the ground, shooting dice.
"Excuse me," he began. "Could one of you gentlemen direct me to the Shark's Tooth?"
"One second," said the man whose turn it was to roll, and he gave the ivory cubes another toss.
"Ha!" shouted one of the gamblers. "A pair of widows! You lose again Dain! Pay up!"
"Damn," muttered the shooter, pitching some coins on the ground. "That's it for me boys. You've cleaned me out." He stood and looked at Braedan. "Must be new around here if you don't know how to find the Shark's Tooth."
"It's my first time in Brimcohn," Jack admitted. "I'm Jack Braedan, new second mate on the Seawolf."
"A good ship," the man smiled, then stuck out his hand. "Well met Brother. I'm Dain Breckson of the Southwind. I was headed to the Shark's Tooth myself when I was waylaid by these by these bandits."
"How far is it?" Braedan asked as they walked away from the game, already continuing with another shooter.
"Not far," Dain replied. "You'd have found the tavern yourself by continuing in this direction. It's usually the one that sounds like a war is raging inside."
The two men traveled only another block before they came upon the tavern. It was a stout building, two stories tall and constructed of wooden beams and limestone blocks. A painted sign hung above the door. It was a fairly good painting of a grinning shark. A shark with one gold tooth.
If there wasn't a battle raging inside as Dain had claimed, there was at least a small riot. Boisterous shouting could be heard coming from within, along with war cries and loud, foul worded singing. The door of the Shark's Tooth crashed open and a huge, ill-tempered man tossed another smaller man out into the street.
"An if'n I catch you preachin' here again," the man shouted at the heap lying in the street, "ye'll git more than a simple thrashin'!" The man turned and stalked back inside, wiping his hands as if he had touched something rotten.
Braedan moved quickly to the man, concerned for his health.
"It's just that blind priest of Yh’Adan," Dain called to him. "He's mad. Leave him be."
"You go on," Braedan replied, stooping to the man's side. "I'll be in shortly."
"As you wish," said Dain. "But he's not worth the trouble. Look for me inside and I'll buy you a drink. I was entirely truthful to those Bone tossers. I still have plenty of coin. Sailing on the South-wind has been profitable of late."
Braedan helped the man to stand and raised his chin. He was young, only a few years older than Dorad, and was indeed blind. A milky whiteness covered both his eyes, yet he still turned them up to Jack and seemed to meet his gaze.
"Thank you, my son," he said weakly.
"Are you okay?" Jack asked. The right side of his face was covered with scrapes from his fall. His lip was split and bleeding and his left eye was beginning to swell. The bouncer had not treated him kindly.
"Okay?" the priest asked puzzled.
"Are you hurt?"
"No, my son," the priest replied. "Your kindness and time will heal me." Jack released him and he started to fall. He caught the man and lowered gently him to the street.
"Maybe you'd better sit down for a minute."
"Thank you again, my son."
"I'm not your son," Jack replied. "Just someone who doesn't like to see defenseless people getting beat up."
"Defenseless I'm not," the blind man smiled, then winced from the pain of his split lip. "But the man who handled me so roughly is a child of Yh."
"What were you doing in there?"
"Spreading the word," answered the priest.
"In there?" Jack asked. "That's no place for a priest."
"Where should I be?" asked the blind man. "The righteous have no need of my message. It is the lost sheep that need a shepherd. It is the sick who need healing."
"You've got me there I guess," Jack admitted. "But I'm not going to let you go back in the Shark's Tooth. Find some other place to spread the word."
"Perhaps you are right," the priest sighed. "I shall find a different pasture in need of a shepherd."
"Good idea," Jack nodded. "Do you need some money? I've some gold."
"A priest of Yh’Adan cannot accept gold," replied the blind man. "Even one as lowly as I."
"Take this then," Jack offered impulsively. Reaching to the back of his neck, he unclasped the silver crucifix Molly Reese had given him, years ago it seemed. "It's not much, but every priest should have at least one."
Braedan dropped the crucifix into the man's palm and when his fist closed around it, he rose suddenly to his feet, standing tall and straight as if the cross had filled him with vigor and renewed strength. The look of pain vanished from his face and he almost seemed to glow with vitality.
"Where did you come by this my son?" the blind priest asked, a strange note of reverence in his voice.
"It's just a crucifix," Braedan shrugged. "It was given to be by a friend. As a gift."
"Then it is your strength I feel," replied the priest. "Give me your hands."
"Not again!" Jack moaned.
"Give them to me," the man insisted. There was a command in his vo
ice which could not be refused. Jack placed his hands in those of the priest.
"Ah," the man smiled. This time he didn't seem to notice the pain. "It is indeed time for me to depart. Keep the symbol of our Lord's suffering," he said, returning the crucifix. "You will have need of it in the future."
"I don't understand father?"
"We will meet again," the priest smiled. "By then understanding will have come to you."
He turned his blind gaze away from Jack and started off confidently down the street. There was a spring in his step and he seemed oblivious to his handicap. "Ready yourselves!" he cried as he walked away. "The Day of Return has come! Now is the time for faith! Now is the time for battle!"
Braedan was left standing in the street, watching the retreating form of the priest. Now he had something else to puzzle. He had joined Tarsus and Dorad hoping to find answers to his dilemma, but in Brimcohn all he had found was more questions. What had the fortune teller Gretta seen when she had attempted to read his future? Had this blind priest learned something where she had failed?
"God, I need a drink," he sighed.
Chapter Nine
Queen of the Seas
Braedan replaced the silver crucifix around his neck and entered the Shark's Tooth. The tavern was crowded, almost overflowing. The singing and shouting which had been loud enough outside, was deafening now. There was a band in the corner of the tavern playing a lively tune as drunken pirates staggered back and forth across the sawdust floor. There was one group of eight or ten buccaneers in a corner, swaying in unison as they clung to each other in their drunkenness, singing along with the band at the top of their lungs.
Swords and plunder and maiden’s clean,
A pirate’s life is the life for me.
We’re lowly villains and shameless liars,
But we won’t leave our brothers if the ship’s on fire!
Ain’t no land lubber that’s worth our steam!
A pirate’s life is the life for me.
We’re a crafty lot, we got rum for brains,
And we’ll dance from a rope at the end of our days!
"Jack!" a voice shouted above the chaos. "Over here!"
Braedan scanned the crowded tavern looking for the caller. At the bottom of a stairway leading to the second floor he spotted Dorad. He was sitting alone at a small, round table. Jack weaved his way through the riotous crowd and over to his friend.
"It's been a hell of a day," he sighed as he took a seat opposite the former prince. "Where's Tarsus?"
"He's with Heath," Dorad replied. "The lad came running back to the ship a few hours ago, babbling something about his mother being in trouble and men chasing you both."
"Thank God he's safe," Braedan said.
"What happened?" Dorad asked.
"Not a word until I get some beer down my throat."
"Done," said the young man. He shouted and waved his arms until he got the attention of one of the barmaids.
"What will it be boys?" asked the girl.
"I don't suppose you have any Sam Adams on tap?" Jack asked her.
She gave him a puzzled look.
"I didn't think so. Bring us two more of whatever my friend here is drinking."
"Coming up," she said, then someone else called her. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Tell me what happened," Dorad said.
Braedan recounted the afternoon’s adventure, relating the story of Gretta the Seeress in confusing detail, including the strange words she had spoken in that cold voice. He told Dorad the tale of the chase through the streets, how he had lost Heath during their escape, and of his search for the boy that had taken most of the afternoon. Of his encounter with the blind priest...he didn't quite know what to make of his words, but he told him everything.
"Seers and priests? Speaking with them can be...confusing," his friend remarked.
"No shit," Braedan muttered as the barmaid arrived with their drinks. She handed him one of the pewter mugs and he thanked her with a smile, taking a hearty swallow. The beer was dark and hoppy, reminding him of the lagers of Britain and Germany. He sighed with contentment as the girl placed the other mug on the table in front of Dorad and departed.
"What do you make of the fortune teller?" asked Jack.
"Are you sure she actually said Son of Bra'Adan?" Dorad mused, sipping his beer as he looked at Jack curiously.
“She did,” Jack nodded. “As best as I recall. She said there is only a whisper of blood in me. What do you think she meant by that?”
”Those who gaze into the future are a curious breed,” Dorad replied thoughtfully. “Your surname is…well, disconcertingly similar to a name of great renown in Aralon. She may have taken it into part of her act."
"That was no act," Braedan replied. "I've seen con artists before, and she wasn't acting. Gretta was scared shitless about something."
"Perhaps," Dorad shrugged. "Like I said, that part of the tale is strange."
"What about the fellow I hit in the bazaar?" asked Braedan. "I'm not going to get in any trouble, am I?"
"One fight will not make you a criminal in Brimcohn," Dorad laughed. "Doubtless your scuffle in the bazaar has already been forgotten. The fellow is probably nursing his wounds in some tavern, telling his friends how he fought off several attackers for the honor of some winsome maid. I wouldn't be concerned."
"Good," Braedan nodded. "I wouldn't want to be arrested on my first day in port."
"How about having your ears boxed by your captain for wasting his first day in port?" asked a voice behind him.
"What took you so long?" Dorad asked as Tarsus sat down beside him.
"What do you mean, what took me so long?” Tarsus huffed. “I've spent the entire afternoon running around trying to smooth out the chaos our friend caused in the bazaar. Gods, Jack! I let you loose on liberty and before half the day is gone all of Brimcohn is up in arms."
"How's Heath?" Jack asked, ignoring the barb.
"Fine," the captain answered. "Me and a couple of boys took him back to The Wounded Stag to wait for his mother. It seems he got this idea into his head sometime during the day that she was in trouble."
"I think that had something to do with Gretta the Seeress," Braedan explained to the Amarian. "That's when all the trouble started."
"So, I discovered," Tarsus growled. "I also paid a visit to the Seeress."
"How is she?" asked Dorad.
"The woman is well," the Amarian shrugged. "She recovered from her spell soon after Jack and Heath made their escape. She doesn't remember anything about the incident, but I wouldn’t recommend you go anywhere near her husband again. He's still in a huff."
"You don't have to worry about that," Jack told his captain. "I'm not planning to make any more trips to a fortune teller for a while."
"You know," Tarsus smiled. "It may be she saw what was in store for you tonight and passed out from shock."
"What are you talking about?" Braedan asked the grinning Amarian.
"Oh," Tarsus laughed. "Didn't you see us come in? I brought a friend with me. Here she comes now."
Jack looked in the direction Tarsus was pointing and saw Captain Kaiddra of the Huntress. He'd thought the woman alluring during that brief glimpse of her he'd seen on the high seas, but she absolutely oozed sexuality now. She was wearing a tight fitting, white silk blouse that left little to the imagination, scarlet slacks that clung deliciously to her long, shapely legs, and black leather boots that reached to her knees. Her long black hair was combed to a lustrous sheen and draped over her left shoulder. Around her head was a white, silk headband wrapped in diamonds and gold thread and in her ears were small, delicate rubies. She wore no cosmetics, it would have only detracted from her beauty.
The drunken pirates of the Shark's Tooth stared lustfully as she passed them without a glance, but they also gave her a wide berth. Around her slim waist she wore two vicious looking daggers. In her hands she carried two mugs of the same ale Dorad and Jack were dri
nking. She set them both on the table and slid into the seat next to Braedan.
"Here you go Tarsus," she smiled. Her voice was deeper than Jack remembered, but it only added to the captain's sensuality. “Though I still say the Huntress beat you here by more than half a day.”
"Your debt is paid Kaiddra," he smiled, then noticing Jack's expression, burst out laughing. "Your entrance seems to have struck my Master of Arms senseless."
"That was certainly my intent," she laughed. "Hello again, Jack Green Eyes."
"m'Lady," Jack smiled.
"You can dispense with the m'Ladies and captains. It will only keep us formal. We don't want that, do we?" she asked.
"No. No we don't...Kaiddra."
"Much better," the Queen of the Sea purred, placing a hand on Jack's knee. "I hear you were busy today."
"That's what we were just discussing," Dorad said, entering the conversation.
"You would not believe some of the stories circulating through the bazaar. Outrageous tales," Tarsus snorted. "But I would not deny any of them if I were you Jack. A good reputation can only help you in Brimcohn. Especially if you have anything to say at tomorrow's council meeting."
"What do you plan to say tomorrow?" Kaiddra asked Tarsus. “This Norgarthan problem is a serious matter.”
"I haven't given it much thought," admitted the Seawolf's captain. "I had planned to just listen to the advice of the other captains and go along with whatever the council decides."
"You can't be serious?" Dorad grinned. "When have you ever went along with anything the council decided?"
"Well what do you think we should do your royal Highness?" growled the Amarian. "Dazzle us with the wisdom of your twenty-three years."
"Let's not get nasty." laughed Kaiddra. "Dorad speaks the truth. When have you ever agreed to anything said by the council?"
"I still want to know what the pup has to say!"
"If it were up to me," Dorad replied. "I'd call up the warships of Doridan and we'd burn Norgarth to the ground."
"Well then," Tarsus said sarcastically. "Why don't you pen a letter to your father, or better yet, Duke Kiathan? I'm sure he would lend you Doridan's fleet for a month or two."
