The Darkness at the Edge of Noon: a Thalassia novel

by Patrick McClafferty

  “Aye aye, sir.” Bar was watching the flood of green forms coming down the long dock with growing apprehension. “They be close, sir.”

  Men were piling into the ship, jumping in as best they could. Twenty sailors left, then ten. He heard the steady chunk of the crossbows from bow and stern, and then the clash of steel from marine weapons. All the sailors were in.

  “Marines! Back on board. Mister Barr. Get us the hell out of here!”

  “With pleasure, sir.”

  The Marines were on deck now, fighting a holding action as the overloaded boat wallowed out into the harbor.

  “Stop right there, Mister Barr.”

  “What?” The voice of the First Mate sounded incredulous.

  “Right there, I said.” The boat was sitting about thirty feet from the end of the pier. The presence of the sailors so close seemed to drive the beasts even more insane. The deluge of creatures poured down the dock off the end and right out into the water, howling and screaming; clutching at the air with sharp talons. They all fell several feet shy of the boat. Logan sighed. He’d been right; the beasts couldn’t swim. The local sailors were quiet, stunned into silence. The dock was empty.

  No, not quiet empty. Halfway down the long empty dock sat a big creature, all four of its arms folded, studying the scene. After a few minutes it stood and loped silently back into the woods.

  “Mister Barr. I think that the attack is over for the moment. We can unload our unexpected guests now.”

  “Aye, sir.” The big First Mate was grinning widely. “Never heered o such a thing. Ye be right lucky there, Capin. Right lucky.”

  “It wasn’t luck, Mister Barr.” Maeve was standing next to the helmsman, wiping gore from her short sword. “THAT, was good sound tactics.”

  “Aye, so it was, Missie, so it was.”

  The Lainie Mairi kissed the pier as gently as any lover, and men began to jump out. Some kissed the dock, while others began to cheer.

  The quiet voice in his head murmured.

 

 

  The sigh seemed to echo in the vaults of his mind.

 

  Logan stood at the tiller of the Lainie Mairi, quietly cleaning the blood from his sword with a rag, while the rest of the Marines and crew stretched their legs on the dock. The air was filled with the bitter stench of Zzzkntti blood, and the almost tangible smell of human fear had subsided. He looked up when he felt the boat shift slightly as someone else stepped aboard.

  “Who’s the captain of this here boat?” The voice was rough, deep and belonged to a mountain of a man who stood a full hand taller than Logan and outmassed him by what Logan guessed was at least ten stone—or maybe it was just the heavy furs that he wore. He stopped in front of Logan with his hands on his hips, dark eyes glaring, his forked and plaited beard quivering.

  Logan put his sword back in his scabbard and looked up. “I am.”

  “Ye reckless little shit!” The man stepped closer and Logan could smell smoked fish. “Ye know what yev done?”

  “I’m sure that you’ll tell me.” Logan replied caustically.

  “Why, yev deprived me an my men of a lively and frolicsome afternoon of killing these beasties. We’ve been at this for a long time and we know what we’re doing.” It was definitely smoked fish. Smoked fish with onions, Logan added.

  “I was in a hurry.”

  “In a hurry!” The big man in the furs barked out a laugh, then swept Logan off his feet in a massive bear hug. “Bless you for being in a hurry and for saving my men.” The arms set a slightly bruised Logan back down on the deck. “My name is Beinir. I’m the Chieftain here. Welcome to the city of Gjøvik.” Benir kissed Logan on the cheek and his eyes watered from the smell of fish and onions.

  “My name is Logan MacKennitt. I’m glad you’re here, Chief Benir. I have something that might interest you.” Moving to a canvas covered shape in the center of the deck, Logan pulled back the corner of the tarp.

  Beinir bent over, then jerked back. “Is that what I think it is?” His thick hands, scarred from years of fierce fighting, were shaking.

  “Iron, Chief. Seven or eight hundredweight.”

  “What a gift!” Beinir breathed in a tone of awe.

  Logan was smiling. “Not quite a gift, Chief. I’m but a simple trader. I’m here to deal.”

  The big man’s eyes were still focused on the bars before him. “Name your price, then. Swords made from this iron may jes turn the tide of battle fer us.”

  A gull screamed and dived into the water, snatching up a morsel of Zzzkntti flesh that had been floating there. Others were circling overhead, waiting for the men to depart.

  “We can discuss that later, Chief. Right now we should get the iron off the boat, and into some safe place. If the boat were to sink right here you might have a hard time recovering the treasure.”

  Beinir stood up and stretched. “I’d just have my men go swimming.” His face broke into a laugh. “Let’s go get us something to drink. Fighting is hot work, almost as hot as watching other people fight.”

  “That’s the best suggestion I’ve heard in ages.” He looked at the mass of men milling about the dock. “And my men and sailors?”

  “Why, bring them in, of course.” The Chief patted his noteworthy paunch. “Tonight we feast your victory.”

  “And tomorrow?” Logan replied, stepping over the railing onto the dock.

  Chief Beinir gave him a knowing look. “Tomorrow we recover from tonight. The next day we’ll talk business.” The Chief’s quick eyes glanced at the number of fur clad men on the dock. “Alex!” He bellowed in a huge voice. “You and Ryker grab the iron off this boat, load it into a cart, then haul it into the city. Put it in the safe in the foundry.”

  The two men made obscene gestures, and one went so far as to tell Beinir to stick it in his ear, but they wasted no time in attending to the cargo.

  Beinir glanced up at the sun, just touching the treetops. “It will be getting dark soon. Although ye killed many of the monsters there still be many more. They breed like blowflies, and they come out at night.”

  “I know, Chief.” He slapped the big man on the back. “I know very well.” His eye caught the sight of Barr on the dock. “Mister Barr. Would you please have your men secure the ship for the night? The sooner they finish that task, the sooner they can get inside to start drinking.”

  The big First Mate’s eyes lit. “Aye, sir. I’ll get em right on it.” He turned to the seamen and began shouting orders.

  “Padraig!” Logan called into the milling mass of bodies. “Please assemble the squad and have them follow me into the city.”

  “Yes, sir!” Came a muffled shout.

  Beinir and Logan pushed their way through the slowly dispersing crush of bodies. “So, Mister Logan. You said that yer a trader?” The big man asked slyly.

  Aileen appeared through the crowd, sword strapped to her back and a flute case in her hand. Grady came out just behind her grinning and holding a guitar. The handle of a sword protruded above his shoulders. Slowly the rest of the squad appeared, weapons on backs, instruments in hand.

  Chief Beinir frowned. “What sort of people are ye, anyway?”

  “Can’t you tell?” Logan’s voice held a tone of mock amazement. “We’re troubadours!” He waved his arm grandly.

  “Strangest bunch of musicians I’ve ever seen.” The Chief growled.

  “Some of our crowds are less than appreciative.” Logan was smiling.

  “I’ll bet THAT doesn’t last long.” Beinir said dryly.

  “You’re right, Chief.”

  “Well, you won’t find that sort of attitude here. All we have for music is a few drums.”

  “Ahhh,” Logan let out a long sigh. “To play for a captive audi
ence.”

  Jade murmured dryly.

 

  Jade began to laugh.

  Gjøvik was a city built for war. Logan goggled as they walked in through the gigantic studded portcullis. A foot thick of shaped ironwood, it almost matched the drawbridge for sheer colossal strength. At the end of the fifty foot entryway through the city wall there stood a second equally thick portcullis. Dark arrow slits lined the walls on both sides.

  The Chief noticed Logan’s worried look. “Don’t worry, lad. Should the monsters break through the raised drawbridge and the first portcullis, the entryway will become an abattoir, a killing zone.”

  “Have they ever—” Logan couldn’t continue.

  “No, lad. The monsters have never gotten through the drawbridge, let alone the portcullis.”

  “Oh.” Logan replied in a small voice.

  The city walls were made of blocks of rough dark granite, and Logan couldn’t imagine the labor involved in cutting and moving the incredible amount of stone. He reached out and touched the cold rough granite as they passed. The chisel marks looked old, thousands of years old in fact.

  “There was already a city here when we arrived.” Beinir said in an embarrassed voice. “We just modified it a wee bit. We added another hundred feet to the top o the wall, added the fosse, the drawbridge, the portcullis and the abattoir. This must have been a peaceful land at one time.” He sounded incredulous, as if the very thought was beyond his comprehension. “They didn’t even have a front gate to keep the animals out.”

  Logan thought to himself, looking at a strangely shaped sweeping section of wall. Jade’s voice was barely a whisper in his mind.

  A cold chill ran up Logan’s back.

  “Say, Chief.” Logan asked conversationally, although he wanted to scream. “Have you ever found any other entrances or exits from this city, besides the main entrance?”

  Chief Beinir glanced over his shoulder as they walked out into the central courtyard. “No, just the one. Why do you ask?”

  Jade’s voice whispered.

  Logan swallowed and tried to keep his composure. “Our scientists and historians have studied the monsters quite extensively, Chief. They discovered, quite by accident mind you, that the creature’s nests always have more than one exit and entrance. Always. Without exception.”

  “Maybe that’s the way things work where you’re from, laddie, but here we’re quite safe.”

  “Are you willing to bet your life, and the life of your wife and children on that?”

  Beinir stopped dead in the middle of the bustling courtyard and turned to face Logan, a troubled expression on his hard face. “You’re just a barrel of laughs, you know that?” His dark eyes, almost black, were piercing. “And where did your scientists say that these other exits might be located?”

  He thought desperately.

 

  “At the points of the compass, Chief Beinir. If the main entrance is called North, then the rest will be at South, East and West. At exactly the same level.”

  Beinir gave him a flat look. “I hope you’re wrong, outlander.” He waved a meaty arm at a passing fur clad man and, when the man came over, gave him rapid directions. “If you find anything you come and tell me—IMMEDIATELY!”

  “Yes, my Chief.” The man was backing away rapidly. Then he turned and ran.

  “I hope that you’re wrong, man, because if you’re right we are screwed.”

  “No, you’re not, Chief Beinir. If you find other exits you seal them up, and then send runners or ships to other cities to warn them. That’s what you do.”

  The big man crossed his thick arms, and gave Logan a long speculative look. “Who are you, and who do you work for?”

  “My name is Logan MacKennit and I’m a simple trader.”

  “Bullshit!” Beinir exclaimed. “Try again.”

 

 

  Jade’s voice sounded different, for some reason.

 

  “All right, Beinir. Have you heard of the Goddess Rhiannon?”

  “Yeah, she’s dead. So?”

  “Sorry, Beinir. Rhiannon’s very much alive and I work for her, along with the other members of my squad.”

  “So, you’re not troubadours?”

  Logan glared. “We also play music.”

  “Rhiannon is dead. She’s been dead for a hundred years or so, and all her priestesses are dead too.”

  The voice in his head commanded.

 

  Logan reached his hand up and touched his chest. Chief Beinir stopped talking in mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open.

  Logan recognized the auditorium sized living room, with the fire pit in the center burning whole logs. Couches were big, low, overstuffed and numerous, and lamplight cast a comfortable yellow glow. Carpeting on the floor was dark, maybe green or brown, Logan guessed, and stretched the width of the room, disappearing into the shadows at the edge. Despite the fire, the air still held the scent of lilacs.

  “Welcome to Medin, Chief Beinir.” Logan lied.

  “I... You...” Beinir was still stammering when the goddess walked in. Tall and graceful, her long red braid hung over her left shoulder almost to her waist. She came over and gave Logan a quick kiss before she turned to the cowering Chief. Her kiss tasted of strawberries and left Logan wobbly kneed.

  “I understand that you don’t believe in me, Chief Beinir.” Her voice was soft and controlled, but Logan frowned.

  “I do now, Goddess.” Beinir said with some enthusiasm. “ But I thought that you were dead.”

  “Obviously you were mistaken.” She smiled, and Logan could see the devastating effect it had on the Chief. His eyes actually glazed. “And you will do what,” she put her hand possessively on Logan’s shoulder, “what my agent tells you to do, won’t you?”

  “Oh, yes.” Beinir was smiling stupidly. “Absolutely.”

  “That’s nice.” She purred and waved her hand. Chief Beinir froze.

  Logan frowned and waved his hand in front of the frozen man’s face. “Can he see or hear us?”

  “Of course not.” The goddess turned to Logan, a playful look in her eyes. “Well?”

  He grinned. “The voice was pretty far off. You got the hair right on, however. The cheeks and the nose are close, but you missed it on the freckles.”

  “You’re very observant, aren’t you?” Selene moved closer to him, and he began to sweat. “You must have been very close indeed to notice my sister’s freckles. Very close.”

  Logan felt the flush creep up his neck and onto his face. “I, ahhh...”

  Selene laughed lightly, touching his face with a soft hand. “We’re going to have to do something about you, young man.” Logan swallowed convulsively and she laughed again. “But not today.” She kissed his cheek and suddenly he and Chief Beinir were standing back in the crowded courtyard.

  Beinir’s eyes were wild. “Did that really...” He let the sentence trail off.

  Logan touched the cheek where Selene had kissed him. It still tingled and his feelings were confused. “Yes, it really did happen.” Logan sighed. “What do you have to drink around here? I’m as dry as dust.” It was as good an excuse as any at the moment.

  “Oh, gods, yes!” Beinir was off toward a wide arched door at a run, his boots clattering on the well-worn cobblestones. “Mead!” He roared to no one in particular. “Mead right NOW, dammit!”<
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  Chapter 13

  The drinking hall in Gjøvik was a reasonably sized room, some thirty paces across and set deep within the solid wall of the city. The domed ceiling disappeared into the upper shadows, but the walls that Logan could see were covered with bright man made tapestries depicting epic battles with men in strange armor fighting fearsome dragons. A crackling fire in a huge mantled hearth shed flickering light over the scattered couches, low tables and heavy comfortable chairs.

  Logan only managed to drink one tall ceramic bound leather mug of the local sweet strong mead before Chief Beinir demanded music from the traveling musicians. Two hours later they finally quit, more out of sheer exhaustion than anything else. Most of the locals were drunk already, and the Chief was nodding in his high-backed chair. Logan snagged a tankard from a passing tray, and headed for a couch set back into the deep shadows close to the wall. He was nearing the bottom of the tankard when a soft voice interrupted his musing.

  “They must be dark thoughts indeed.” Maeve’s voice murmured quietly as she sat beside him. “Your face looks like thunder.”

  “That’s usually enough to keep others well away.” He returned sourly.

  “Call me stupid, then. What’s bothering you?”

  Logan laughed. “You’re many things, Maeve Stella, but stupid is NOT one of them.”

  “It’s a woman, isn’t it?” She returned with a sharp insight, her dark eyes intent.

  “Not just a woman.” He grumbled, staring down into his empty tankard.

  “Ahhh.” The dark haired woman smiled. “A goddess then. Are you having a problem with Rhiannon?”

  “No.” Logan replied quickly, then... “Well, yes, I guess.” He frowned. “No. Hells, I don’t know.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “Both? You have romantic attachments to BOTH goddesses?”

  Logan put his head into his hands and let out a miserable groan. “I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

  “What does your heart say?” Her voice was steady, but her eyes were filled with compassion.

  Logan looked up. “I guess my heart says Rhiannon, but she’s not here right now, is she?”