by Lee LaCroix
“I think I understand. I will do what I can,” Novas told them.
“You are doing this kingdom a great service, son. Your work may be the decisive point in the war against the Blackwoods, and it will not go unrewarded,” Garreth told his boy.
Novas nodded, and he was thanked by Berault again.
Shortly after, the conversation turned to gossip and rumour, so Kayten and Novas excused themselves from the meeting, and Garreth and Berault were left in discussion. It was night when the two left the Salty Dog, and a full moon in a cloudless sky added its light to the placid city street. They found themselves a seat on a stack of ale barrels grouped outside the tavern in the mouth of the alley. Neither one of them felt like retiring to their rooms quite yet, and they were quite content to watch the comings and goings of the bar’s patrons and the street’s cautious night travellers.
“Are you nervous, Novas? Or afraid? Considering the Blackwoods we’ve seen so far, they seem to be an unforgiving and merciless bunch,” Kayten inquired, looking over at him.
“Most of the Blackwoods we’ve encountered have seemed as run down as any other denizen of the Lower Quarter. I see that desperation can force a man to do unfeeling and unthinkable things. Like Lord Vyse, it’s the men who control the Blackwoods that worry me. For they stoke the fires of villainy within their men and attempt to justify the wicked means to their lucrative ends. I do not fear them. I fear myself, and what I may have to do to see this plan through,” Novas explained and paused to collect his thoughts.
“Life in the forest is much simpler than existing here. Nature maintained the balance of life and death, and man and animal alike could prosper. In this city, man has destroyed that fine balance in their hunger for power and domination. They have erected laws, dominated trade, and established military might in order to divide and dominate life’s natural course here. The only freedom here is the one that’s imposed upon us, and the one that we can make for ourselves. I can see that many live to survive as I did in the forest, but there are also men who would take those means from them, and those men live to control. Those are the men that must be stopped,” Novas continued as he balled a fist inside his hand and looked over to Kayten.
“When did young Novas become so wise, I wonder?” Kayten replied with a small laugh after breaking his glance.
“I’m not sure, Kayten. This journey and this city are changing me. Never before has my blood boiled so hot. I think I understand what inspires Berault and drove Mont to his death. I can only hope my luck will be different,” Novas responded.
“I hope for that too, Novas. I hope that for us all,” Kayten reassured him as she placed a light hand on his shoulder.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Novas entered the gates of the harbour and scanned the docks for the Obsidian. He was dressed in his most ragged hunting leathers, and he had folded a bandana to keep his hair out of his face. Together with his black eye, he was a portrait of desperation, and he hoped that would help him sell his newly created identity. As he was searching the piers, the first mate of the Fortitude shooed him away from their loading area. The sailor exclaimed that Novas was a bilge rat and accused him of wanting to pilfer the ship’s goods as if he could haul away any of the large shipping boxes himself. This encounter gave Novas a little more confidence in his disguise, and he continued his search in earnest.
He found the Obsidian not far from the Fisherman’s Barge and tried to look aloof as he watched the ship from a distance. The ship was not the largest man of war in the dock nor the most grand. On the masthead of the ship that faced away from Novas, there was a polished ornament of jagged edges made from the heart of the wood. This was definitely the Obsidian, Novas thought.
Four crewmembers went about their duties on the ship’s deck while two personnel waited at the end of the gangplank. Novas remained sitting at the Fisherman’s Wharf and tried to determine whether or not this really was the Blackwoods ship. While the men onboard instead wore their salty sea rags, they had a gruff demeanour common to either sailors or the Blackwoods henchmen. Novas watched some of the crewmembers unloading crates covered in a tightly fit cloth tarp. He saw them carry the crates from the ship and pass through the gate leading towards the Trade District without event. However, one crate came down the line with cloth that billowed in the sea winds, and a burnt in logo featuring a sword, an axe, and a hammer over a black tree was revealed. Novas cracked a wide smile at this discovery but calmed himself in order to maintain his cover. Now sure that this was the ship he was looking for, Novas decided to make his approach. Trying to remain relaxed and aloof, Novas paced over to the docks and attempted to appear like he was inspecting the ship. As he neared the gangplank, the two men stood in front of its path.
“Something I can help you with, boy?” one of the guards asked with a sneer.
“I am looking for some work,” Novas answered, eyes wandering around the vessel.
“On the ship?” the other one questioned as he rolled his eyes.
“Not here,” Novas replied.
“Bugger off then. We don’t have no work for sea fodder like yourself,” the first one demanded.
Defeated, Novas turned away and walked down the dock before summoning up the courage to try again. He returned and stood in front of the men again.
“I’d like to speak to the Captain,” Novas commanded with an edge in his voice.
“About what?” the first one questioned with some annoyance.
“About finding some work,” Novas replied.
“Well, you’ll have to go through us first,” the second guard explained after sharing a glance with the first.
Novas sized the men up. They were a small measure taller and toned than him. He looked them both dead in the eyes, whipped out his hunting knife from his belt, and flexed his fingers around its grip. The two men threw up their arms and laughed.
“Real stones on this one,” the henchman muttered with a gruff smile as he slapped his round belly, “Go up the plank, take a left to the quarterdeck, continue to the center door, and knock three times.”
Novas nodded and walked with confidence across the ship, trying not to pay attention to the suspicious glares that the rest of the crewmembers were giving him. He stopped at the door that was surrounded by two stairways at the center of the ship and gave it three quick and strong knocks. A slat opened up in the door, and one large eye peered out before the slat closed a second later.
“Come in!” a voice boomed from behind the door.
Novas turned the handle and let himself into the room where he was presented with a room filled with rustic treasures and strange curios. An ancient bust of bronze, a limbless statue of a lady, and a collection of jeweled shells decorated the walls. Behind a roast fowl and three bottles of mead, a man sat at a desk on the far side of the room. He didn’t fit the portrait of a sailor or a pirate captain that Novas had in his mind, for the dining man was dressed nearly as fine as Lord Vyse had been. Novas looked the man over from his black, collared overcoat to the sunsteel insignia on the front of his silk white shirt, and the man did the same for Novas. Unmoving eyes looked directly at Novas from a face smooth like seamless cream. Dark hair was slicked back on the top with a fine stubble around the captain’s stone-cut jaw and chin. Seemingly bored but still completely alert, he waved Novas in with a motion of a knife, and Novas walked in.
As soon as he shut the door however, Novas was grappled from behind, and a short blade was placed before his eyes and then rested on his throat. Novas became very still and very nervous. Beads of sweat began to form at his forehead. Did they know who he was? Did they know he worked for the rebels? Did they know about the Crossroads or the courtyard? During the few seconds of danger, Novas’ mind began to reel, but he kept his cool as the man behind the desk continued to size him up. With a nod from the captain, the shadowy henchman released Novas and gave him a shove towards an open chair opposite to the desk before returning to his place behind the door.
“Sit,” the man demanded, pointing his knife towards the chair.
Novas took a seat, and the man put down his cutlery.
“What do you want, boy?” the man inquired and stared at Novas with squinty eyes.
“I am looking for some work with the Blackwoods,” Novas explained.
“With the Blackwoods?” the captain replied, chuckling. “What do you want with them?”
“I need to survive. I need to eat. No one in the market will hire me, and my family threw me out. I hear whispers in the dark, and they say that the Blackwoods will hire anyone who will do anything. I’m so desperate,” Novas groveled.
The man nodded and continued to examine the boy. He threw Novas a hunk of fowl that Novas was quick to devour.
“Thank you,” Novas replied with a bowed head.
“Your tale is common as birds in the sky or fish in the ocean. You’ll need to prove yourself before we can provide for you,” the man explained, continuing to nod. “My man Griff is looking for more willing men for his operation outside the city. Can you travel?”
“Yes. I may be famished, but I am strong and can follow orders,” Novas replied.
“Good… good,” the man stated as he pulled out some materials from his desk.
The captain began to scrawl upon a parchment of paper with a quill dipped in ink, and he flecked dark spots about in his hurry. When he finished what seemed to be a message of sorts, he flipped the page over and began to design some geographic locations and directions.
“Here. Take this. Use this to get to the mill, and the letter to convince Griff that I’ve sent you. Don’t you dare lose that letter. His men are far less trusting than I. They’ll cut ya,” the captain explained as he handed over the parchment.
“Thank you. I won’t forget this,” Novas spoke as he bowed his head and rose from his chair.
“Neither will I,” the man replied with a glare that unnerved Novas long after he had left the ship.
Chapter Fourteen
Like trying to escape the gaze that had burned into him, Novas crept back into the Lower Quarter from the harbour entrance and took a roundabout route to ensure that he was not followed. He struck down every dirty alleyway he knew of that led back to the Salty Dog and watched his back the entire time. He slipped from the side alleyway into the tavern in seconds and was into the safety of his room not much later.
When Novas arrived at the room, it was empty. He assumed his father was in the courtyard with his instruction duties, and Kayten was continuing her smithing work. Novas packed some bread and cheese left over from yesterday into his pack along with his canteen, and he equipped the second-hand longsword, hunting bow, knives, and quiver to his vestments. He felt a bit hesitant about being so heavily armed, for he might have to use his weapons for a purpose he did not agree with. However, he had to see this plan through to the end, and he thought he would feel safer travelling alone when he was armed. Novas locked the room door and headed out into the streets, falling in with the flow of the busy street like blood pumping through the heart of Malquia.
Soon after leaving the southern gates, he looked back on the stone arches of Amatharsus and felt a mixture of anxiety and excitement in his journey. He was leaving his only family behind and the allies he had fought beside. He felt ready. He felt like he could do whatever that needed to be done. He vanquished any uneasiness and strode away determined to put to good use all that he had learned.
Novas followed the perimeter of Amatharsus northeast until he came across the road that was marked specifically on the diagram. The dirt road was worn down into two paralleled grooves from the passing of caravans but was still smooth and free of potholes. The grassy isle in the road’s middle was Novas’ path as it led away from the city. The road followed a declination into a valley of upturned earth, which featured rocky plains with yellow and green grasses and light gray boulders scattered about. A shepherd dressed in a light blue and brown robe sat on top of a large boulder at the summit of a hill and held a carved walking stick with a curved design at its top. He oversaw his flock of sheep that grazed in silence; bountiful puffs of white that wandered around like the clouds above. The sun was high in the blue sky that day, and the sparse clouds could not offer Novas cover as unforgiving heat bore down upon him and his sizable load of traveller’s equipment. Beads of sweat formed at his brow even if he was standing still. With his hands on his knees, Novas took some deep breaths, wiped the sweat away, and continued down the road, for he had still not come across the marker indicating a change in direction on his map. He may have been very warm, but he still felt fit regardless of his stay in the city, and his travels continued on.
Novas stopped under the shade of a tree that lay outside of the path and refreshed himself by splashing some water on his forehead and into his hair. With the watchtowers of the city in sight, it was easy for Novas to forget that the roads were unsafe for the incautious, and he redoubled his efforts to keep a sharp eye on the roads. However, Novas had only passed two caravans on his journey so far, and their crews had stared him down as if he were a danger all the same. When he was sure the road was clear, Novas put his hands behind his head and lounged against the tree, watching a group of farmers threshing a nearby field of wheat. Some of the labourers were reaping, others bundling, and some transporting the bundles to a cart for transportation. They worked with such a natural unity and comfortable ease that it made Novas feel woeful to think that the Blackwoods could endanger their way of life. He knew he had to act before these fields would go unseeded and untended, and the people were plunged into starvation and poverty any further, so he rose up and continued his journey again.
Before long, a fork in the road appeared before a wide forest, which was complete with a splintered signpost that was marked on Novas’ directions. Novas looked at his directions, to the signpost, then back to his directions, and he felt puzzled. Novas looked around at his surroundings in order to solve the mystery. The road continued northwest and southeast, but not northeast in the direction that he needed to go. He strode up and down the two paths for a time and looked for an offshoot, but none were immediately present. He returned to the intersection and waded into the foliage of the forest.
He felt at ease now that he was disguised in the forest’s cover, for he could end is watchful vigil of the road and was also hidden from the tiring eye of the sun. He was shocked when the discordance of the busy city had finally left him, leaving only the familiar melody of woodland sounds to ease him. He had not wandered far before a more recognizable dirt path appeared before him in the direction that he needed to be going. So inclined to his nature, Novas began to follow the winding path through the wood that was thick with narrow trees. He bound up and down a series of hills and valleys and across a swampy meadow. Novas knew he was on the right track when he came across a makeshift bridge that traversed a wide stream, and he figured there must be some civilization not far from there. Novas put down his pack and pushed through some forest tangle to get to the streamside where he wet his hair, splashed his face, and cooled himself off before he drank deep from his canteen and refilled it. As he sat near the water, a robin landed on a wooden perch sticking out of the streambed and seemed to twitter at Novas as it swiveled its head in his direction.
Once he was cooled down, Novas returned to the path, crossed the bridge, and continued on. At the top of a hill, Novas looked down upon an opening in the forest where many trees had been felled to construct a mill. However, the sound of the mill’s grinding labours were absent from the forest that day as the area was filled with loitering woodsmen. Summing up his courage, Novas left his vantage point and made his way down the embankment. Novas’ comfort in the woods made his steps nearly silent. When Novas broke through some foliage closest to the camp, two of the guards drew their weapons in surprise.
“Stop! Who goes there?” one of them yelled, holding his hand up in a halting gesture.
Heads rose from around the mill, and more people made
their way out of the woodwork to see what the commotion was about.
“My name is Rast. The captain of the Obsidian sent me from the capital to find work with Griff. Where is he?” Novas responded.
Novas spoke deep and clear and looked his questioner in the eyes, trying to make a strong impression. The worker sized Novas up while the rest of the camp watched in interest. The cabin door flew upon, and grizzled man with an eye patch and mishmash clothing of dark furs appeared.
“I am Griff. Hurry and get in here,” the man commanded with a glare.
Inside the cabin, there was a desk, some chairs, a table, and some cots for sleeping alongside some chests with personal effects. In the corner behind Griff, sat a stack of Blackwoods-stamped boxes filled with cloth and tools. Griff gestured to the chair opposite to his, and Novas unlatched his pack and equipment and took a seat.
“Who are you, boy? And what are you doing here? We kill trespassers, you know,” Griff demanded before showing a mouthful of clenched teeth.
“My name is Rast. I’ve come from the capital to find work with the Blackwoods. The captain of the Obsidian sent me. Here, take a look at this,” Novas spoke as he passed the letter over to Griff.
The man took the letter, inspected it, put down the letter, and then looked over Novas.
“That bastard’s been sending me weak-willed seadogs for too long now. I’ll tell you this right now, they don’t survive long here. The work we do here is dangerous. It can be unpleasant, and you’ll never be a rich man,” Griff informed Novas.
“I am willing to do anything. I don’t need riches, I need food,” Novas protested.
“Anything? Well, we definitely have that sort of work,” Griff remarked as he crumpled up the letter and tossed it aside. “We need more men to intercept merchants on the important trade routes into Amatharsus and take the goods off their hands. The more men we have, the larger caravans we can intercept, which often times have the most valuable treasures. A Blackwoods courier delivers a handsome payment for every crate of stolen goods we send to them. They pay me well enough to keep their monopoly on the trade market intact, and I pay you underlings as I see fit.”
