The crew let out a roar and Jelninolan and Uldini saw this as a sign that their magic was working. A shimmering net of blazing lines was arcing in a low semi-circle over the ship, with bowsprit and rudder marking either end, and the crow’s nest as its apex, so that the sails were almost touching the magic dome that enclosed them. Ahren could not feel any difference as the wind tore at his clothing with increasing force, but he had no other option other than to believe, along with the others, in the age-old wisdom of the two magicians.
And then the storm was on top of them. A wall of wind and water struck the ship with such force that it seemed as if the whole world had conspired against every living creature on board. Freezing rain stung Ahren’s eyes and he hid his face in the crook of his arm while he frantically held on to the taut rope, which prevented him from being washed overboard. Hardly had Ahren recovered from the first shock, when the first enormous wave was on top of them, released by the seething mass of the ocean. The ship was tossed around like a cork, and danced up and down in a tempestuous chaos of surging water, as thunderbolts flashed down from the heavens.
Ahren screamed the fear out of his body and it bothered him not a whit if anyone could hear. Now the apprentice saw how the magic was working, that the ship was being protected, and this gave him courage. None of the lightning bolts that were flashing around them hit the ship directly, and although wave after wave crashed over them, the deck for the most part was spared the deluge, as if the water was being diverted at the last moment.
Ahren threw a worried look over his shoulder at the captain’s cabin, but absurdly enough, Culhen seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly. The wolf’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth and he splashed around in the water that ran out through the portholes, then he sought refuge on the captain’s hammock when the next flood of water surged in through the portholes, and finally he jumped back into the water when the levels dropped again. In spite of the dramatic situation Ahren had to smile. Then a gigantic wave made it past the protective magic.
It slammed him full force against the mast and he felt a crunching pain in his chest. Ahren took an agonising intake of breath and the dull pain indicated a painful bruising. He turned to face the next wall of water, better prepared this time, even if the next impact sent fiery darts through his damaged ribs.
He had just forced himself to control his breathing when he heard a terrified scream behind him. He turned his head and saw that Jelninolan, torn loose by the water, had been washed over the high body of the quarterdeck. Her rope must have loosened and now she was clawing at the railing, while Khara was furiously trying to tie another knot in the wet, slippery rope. Another wave was approaching and Ahren drew his knife out of his belt and got himself ready. He hoped that the elf would survive this wave, for as soon as the wave passed, he would cut himself loose. If he were quick, he would be with the two women before the next mountain of water rolled over the ship. With full concentration he watched the surge of black that seemed to want to swallow him up, and he steeled himself for the fearful heartbeats when the ocean would steal away his breath. As he waited in a state of tension, the wave seemed to get bigger and wider until his whole world seemed a seething mass of water. Behind him he heard frantic shouting, but he kept his eyes fixed on the wall of water. He wasn’t going to miss the right moment.
The wave smashed into him like a sledgehammer and pressed the breath out of his lungs as it tried to break his connection to the mast. Ahren felt after a few heartbeats the tug of the wave slowly decreasing and so he cut the rope that had been preserving his life. The wave still managed to knock him off his feet and carried him a few paces towards the afterdeck before the apprentice managed to get up on his feet again. He quickly pulled himself up onto the higher platform, ignoring the steps which would have cost him precious time. The wood was wet and slippery but Ahren had climbed in worse conditions, and so he pulled himself up with some agility. There were only ten paces to the back railing where Khara was trying in vain to pull Jelninolan back on board. The last mass of water had lifted the priestess over the railing, and it was only the girl’s desperate grip that was stopping the priestess from being pulled into the black depths below.
Now the elf was hanging on the outside of the wet railing and her enraptured face told Ahren that on account of her magic she was in no position to help herself. He raced to the two women like a madman and grasped Jelninolan’s wrists with force, while at the same time bracing his two feet against the wooden railing. Then he threw himself backwards and pulled with every muscle in his body. The body of the elf was thrown in a high arc and flung back onto the deck as Ahren’s body weight and muscles worked in harmony to save the priestess from her certain death. Khara gave a cry of relief but Ahren leapt to his feet again as fast as he could and turned to look at the prow.
The Queen of the Waves was already diving into the next valley and another wall of seething water was racing towards them, which would sweep both Jelninolan and Ahren away if he didn’t act quickly. He spun around. Khara had pulled the conjuring Jelninolan back up onto her knees. The priestess’s rope was fluttering in the wind and he didn’t have time to catch hold of it. And so with his knife he quickly cut the rope around Khara’s hips, ignoring her protests. He grabbed the new end of her rope and performed a scurrilous dance around the two of them and knotted his end of the rope into a complicated design that Falk had drummed into him again and again.
The wave was crashing over the front of the ship by the time he had finished his preparations. He embraced the two women in an almost ridiculous gesture and slung his prepared end of the rope around the strut of the rear railing. And just as the surge of the unfettered sea reached them, he pulled the Elfish knot tight and pressed himself and his companions against the wood of the railing. The complex coils of the rope intertwined with each other, and although on account of its tightness Ahren could hardly breathe, the wave was unable to shift them from their place. The pull of the water subsided, Ahren’s breath came back into his lungs and when he opened his eyes, he was looking at Jelninolan’s and Khara’s thankful eyes, not a hand’s breadth away from his face. Khara’s almond-shaped eyes glistened and she shouted in all seriousness over the noise of the wind, ‘you save my lady. Me thankful’.
Ahren tried to shrug his shoulders, which completely misfired on account of his self-created shackles, and he mumbled flatly, ‘who’s counting?’
Then the next wave crashed over them and they made themselves as small as possible in order to minimise the power of the storm.
Ahren wasn’t sure how long the storm had them in its claws. He could have sworn that it had lasted the whole day, but when it finally died down the midday sun broke through the clouds. Every breath had been torture, the wet rope had dug into his back, and his arms and legs were trembling from the effort of the enforced embrace he had maintained for the duration. Finally, a sailor came over and admired his handiwork.
‘You tied yourself up well, squire. You do know there are easier ways of holding onto a woman’, he laughed, ‘although I do admit holding onto two is trickier, especially when one of them is a magician’.
His good humour evaporated when he saw the two women’s stony faces. He cut the rope quickly and disappeared as fast as he could to the other end of the ship, where he sought out some work that would keep him out of their sight for as long as possible.
The three newly released companions groaned and sighed as they rubbed their arms and legs, trying to reinvigorate their stiff limbs, and then they limped down to the main deck where Uldini, Falk and the captain were standing. Bits of torn rigging and sail were hanging loose everywhere and Ahren noticed with unease that there was a long crack in the mainmast, and one of the crossbeams of the mainsail had fallen off. His change of position had saved him from serious injury or worse, and he swallowed hard.
Culhen was scratching at the inside of the captain’s cabin door, and Ahren released him as he approached the others. The wolf seemed to have sur
vived the storm unscathed and was more relaxed than he’d ever been since they’d come on board. The animal had obviously enjoyed the pitching and heaving and Ahren came to the conclusion that his wolf was a real water rat. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever share his friend’s love for the water after the events of the morning, but he was glad that Culhen had enjoyed himself so much.
He came up to the others and saw concerned faces, staring at the horizon.
‘Our plans are clearly making the Adversary nervous. First the attack on your spirit, then the attempt to destroy the ship, and to top it all, this’, said Falk without looking at Ahren. Instead, he indicated to several shadows on the horizon, which Ahren took to be little islands making up an irregular chain.
‘The Deserted Islands’, explained Uldini, unasked, into the stillness. ‘Once the home of a peaceful and trusting tribe of fishermen and divers who had known no war. Until HE, WHO FORCES came to them at the beginning of the Dark Days with lies and promises. They believed his promises, for news of his terrible deeds had not yet reached them. The whole tribe gathered together, and each accepted a necklace that HE had brought to them as gifts. Once every man, woman and child had put on their necklace HE activated a treacherous trick. The pieces of jewellery contracted, and they couldn’t breathe. Gills developed under the necklaces and the people ran into the sea so that they wouldn’t suffocate. And so, HE enslaved a whole civilisation. The necklaces couldn’t be removed, and anyone who tried, died. Anyone who disobeyed his orders died. And that was how the Lost Tribe came into being. They’ve been living for centuries in the waters around their erstwhile homes and no ship willingly sails into these waters, for very few make it back. The few who do, talk about nightly ambushes, of pale creatures that climb over the railings, pulling the crew into the water in ghostly silence.’ Uldini’s voice had become quieter and quieter, and when the captain gave him a meaningful look and indicated to the terrified crew, the Arch Wizard stopped speaking altogether,
‘I’ve already plotted a course that will lead us away from the Deserted Islands. This time tomorrow we’ll be in safe waters’, said the captain.
Uldini looked over at Jelninolan questioningly, but she just shook her head weakly. He sighed and addressed the mariner again.
‘Unfortunately, we won’t be able to support you in your fight with the Lost Tribe, should it come to pass. Protecting the ship from the storm has expended all our energy, and both of us are exhausted. We urgently need to relax, or we risk over-extending ourselves. If that happens to a wizard, then he loses control of his magic. And none of you want to experience Lady Jelninolan’s power, or mine for that matter, unshackled on this ship.’ An uneasy silence followed Uldini’s words.
‘The crew of this ship consists of seasoned soldiers’, said the captain loudly. ‘We’re no lily-livered merchants or cowardly pirates. We will protect The Queen of the Waves through the night and carry out our order of bringing you safe and sound to the Silver Cliff’.
Ahren was sure that the captain’s little speech was primarily aimed at his own crew rather than the passengers. And so, with renewed courage and determination, the sailors were soon busying themselves by examining the storm damage and repairing everything that was salvageable.
Falk drew his apprentice aside and whispered, ‘you’d better lie down. It’s going to be a long night, and if we are attacked, then our bows and arrows will have a lot to do.’
Ahren gave a reluctant nod. In his mind’s eye he could see again the moment in the ballroom when in the blink of an eye he had dispatched seven lives. The thought of perhaps having to kill again in the dark of the night filled him with dread.
Falk laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and pressed it gently but firmly.
‘I know that you want to avoid bloodshed, but if you can think of no other way of keeping the Lost Tribe away from our ship, then we will have to fight as soon as they attack.’
His master’s hand was on his neck now, and he pressed hard with his calloused fingers and fixed his steely eyes on Ahren.
‘Whatever you do, remember that your actions have an effect on your companions too. I didn’t want to mention it but I know that in Jelninolan’s rooms you deliberately shot at the dagger-carrier’s shoulder so as to spare him death. Imagine what might have happened if he had decided to stab Khara in the back rather than steal Tanentan. Or if his theft had been ultimately successful. Would you have been able to live with the knowledge that your deeds had made this possible?’
Ahren went as white as a sheet and he held firmly onto the railing. His decision to shoot the man in the shoulder hadn’t been a conscious one, and yet Falk’s conclusions were correct. The young man had never considered all the things that could have gone wrong if things had worked out differently.
His master gave him a look that bore witness to the fact that he understood what was going on in Ahren’s mind.
‘This is one of the hardest lessons this world will present you with. The knowledge that you have taken a life is terrible. But the knowledge that you haven’t saved a life because you haven’t lived up to your responsibilities can destroy even the most battle-hardened warrior. So decide wisely, which action you think is best to take when you are in a conflict situation’.
The stilted language the Forest Guardian was using didn’t go unnoticed, and as he continued to speak Ahren understood the reason for it.
‘These are the exact words my mother told me as she sent me on my way many hundreds of years ago, when it was my turn to do battle in the Dark Days against High Fangs and Low Fangs, Dark Ones and mercenaries, highwaymen and pirates. My mother’s advice may be several hundred years old but its value hasn’t diminished with the passage of time.’
Ahren needed time to digest this information. He nodded as if in a daze and retired to his cabin, where he collapsed into his hammock. It was hard to imagine that Falk, when he started out as a Paladin, had been plagued by the same doubts as his apprentice. On the other hand, the old Paladin had had a considerable amount of time to come to terms with himself and his deeds. And even that hadn’t been totally successful. He had only found his way to inner peace when he was with the elves and was made Forest Guardian. Even if it was hard for Ahren to accept, he alone had to figure out how to deal with his enemies and the obstacles that would lie in his path. And he would have to figure it out quickly. If anything were to happen to one of the others because he had hesitated or spared an enemy, he would never be able to forgive himself.
Falk’s mother must have been an exceptional woman. His master didn’t talk much about her, but she must have been one of the last Paladins able to hand on their service to their successor. She had been granted the right, after long service to the gods, to grow old in the circle of life and to finally die. Something denied to Falk and the other Paladins for centuries.
Ahren’s thoughts went around in circles and the many questions and choices weighed him down so much that he couldn’t solve a single problem satisfactorily. Exhausted, he finally dropped off to sleep and dreamed of the ocean waves crashing over him and in whose depths, he could see the faces of all those he would kill in order to save the others he had been destined to protect.
The night arrived more quickly than he’d hoped. A hand shook him roughly awake, and then the sailor was gone on deck again. Ahren could hear steps rushing to and fro and shouts of encouragement. There was the sound of hammering coming from different parts of the ship as the crew hastily continued their repairs.
Ahren took the bow out of the oil cloth, which protected it from the damp sea air, so that the wood wouldn’t warp or become swollen. He felt the bow in his hands with a feeling of unease. He hadn‘t touched it since the night in the king’s palace, either for practice or to maintain it. The wood glistened softly in the weak light that came in from outside, and the cord of Selsena’s hair was in perfect condition.
He tested the weapon by extending it and realised that when it was stretched to the last third, he still did
n’t have enough strength to tauten it fully and keep it upright for an extended period. The thought that this bow still hadn’t reached the limits of its capabilities frightened him, but he decided to push aside his concerns for the night. Unknown enemies might attack the occupants in this constricted space of hammered-together planks, whereas the whole ocean would be home territory for the attackers. This possibility made Ahren’s desire to avoid bloodshed a little less attractive. But if, against all expectations, the opportunity arose to negotiate, he would grasp it with both hands. And if they were lucky, there might not be any attack at all. Having considered all the possibilities, he gave a sigh and stepped out on deck.
After three paces he stopped and looked around in amazement. The rigging had been completely repaired or bound together so that no rope hindered the sailors any more. There had to be replacement sails on board, for three of the four sails had clearly been changed. The mainsail had been reefed, no doubt to take the pressure off the mast, and the mast itself had been strengthened where it had cracked, with heavy planks which had been hammered on with enormous steel nails.
The true surprise however lay in the pointed spears that were affixed all along the railings, each a forearm apart from the next, and pointing outwards. As far as Ahren could see, the defence measures went all around the ship. The crew clearly didn’t share his hopes for a quiet night and a peaceful solution.
The captain slapped him on the shoulder proudly.
‘Surprised, squire? I told you, this isn’t any old defenceless merchant ship. The spears are really designed against a normal boarding and the angle is wrong because the tips are pointing upwards and we’re expecting the attackers from below. Still, it should slow them down a little.’
Ahren nodded, dumbstruck, and the mariner continued.
‘If you like, you can keep an eye out for danger from the crow’s nest. Your bow would come in very handy, and you can store the arrows in the basket.’
The Naming Page 23
