“Talk to you? Do you expect me to believe that?” I said.
“Go see for your self,” he says.
“It's guarded,” I replied. He waved away my objection with a trembling hand.
“We will go together. I will tell them you're with me and that I can't carry the cask by myself today.”
So we descended below the water line and into the hold where the guard stood on sentry duty whilst the other two slept in their hammocks on either side. None of them ever left that small chamber and even the Bosun had to come and empty their chamber pots for them.
“What do you want?” the guard said to my drunk companion.
“I have come to tell you that my boy here needs to go inside for another cask of pork,” said the Cook.
“Wait here, you know the rules,” barked the guard at us. “One at a time.” To me he said, “Make it quick and touch nothing that doesn't belong to this ship.”
I can tell you that I was fairly shaken as I crossed the threshold once the guard had slid the four steel bolts across the door and in the gloom of the hold I could barely make out the four distinct shapes that sat there under old sail cloth. I knew that even before I approached that the shapes would be those evil devices that you had frightened us with back in the 'Helm. I lifted the cover off one and saw the throbbing tubes, the stomach-turning green light and the pulsing, mechanical action. I found my cask and left as quickly as I could in an attempt to mask the horror that would so clearly have been read upon my features.
The following day brought fresh calamity in the form of a drastic course change that only the Captain was aware of and which greatly disturbed our man at the con. The ship came about and broke away from the trade routes and all haste was made to fly westward towards what myself and the faithful crew believe is the island of Therngard. It is here that we believe that the Captain intends to deliver his evil cargo yet none of the crew feel strong enough to argue without hinting at a full blown mutiny.
After a full day of sailing and many questions posed to the Captain, he retreated to his cabin and has not been seen since. Land will be on the horizon tomorrow and we fear that any action we may wish to take will have to be enacted before the end of the week. What that action might be, I cannot tell.
Regards,
Shankworth.
Without pause and deeply involved in the letters, Haggart tore open the final packet and found only two slips of paper, one of which was to be Shankworth's final words to his friends, the other was the instructions for the cabin boy.
My friends,
This is my final letter and it is with deep sorrow and regret that I must write it. This morning we were met by two smaller craft - ugly black vessels flying colours unknown to any of us and they wasted little time in coming alongside us and allowing their Captain to come on deck. He was a monstrous creature, tall and pale with the face of Death himself upon him - a scar of putrid flesh running down from his brow to his chin like a great split in his skull had been crudely stitched up, and he met with our Captain with all the malice and threat he could muster.
“You are late,” he hissed once we had welcomed him aboard, albeit unwillingly. Our Captain was gaunt in the sunlight he'd avoided all yesterday and we could see him trembling before this man.
“The weather was not favourable,” he managed to stammer before the two of them disappeared into the cabin where we could not longer hear them. It was then that Jas approached me and begged me to join the crew in their escape - a desire voiced by all but four of the crew. I asked them what they planned and they said that they would wait until this black character returned to his own ship and sailed away before assaulting the Captain's cabin and killing any who stood against them. Then they would turn the ship around and throw the blasted machines into the deep before setting sail for Slow.
It seemed the only alternative to handing these machines over to this demonic being and I assured them of my support. It was at this point that I warned them that, should the mutiny fail, I would sink the bloody thing myself to ensure that these horrible creatures writhing in the hold would never see dry land again.
They agreed and the time has been set for mid-afternoon as the watch is changed. I have left these letters and instructions with the cabin boy who will take the only cutter this ship carries and sail to the nearest port should we fail to take the ship and be forced to scuttle her.
It has been a great honour to have known you, Captain, and please bear no guilt for whatever may happen to me - I came aboard this ship of my own accord and if I am sacrificed in order to help your cause, I know that it will not be in vain. The moment I saw the machines for myself I knew that Haggart's suspicions were accurate and these people, whoever they may be, must indeed be stopped.
I only hope that my small contribution to that end will have made a difference.
Your friend,
'Shanks'
8.
“Money gained through looting can never bring you happiness - but it can make you comfortably miserable.”
- Alfred Dern
“So you've read them all?” asked the Captain as they walked slowly out into the daylight. It was the first time Haggart had left his room and he leaned on his friend's arm as they went.
“Yes. So you believe Shanks is dead?”
“There's been no survivors rescued as far as I know. Only the cabin boy who was entrusted with the letters came out alive.”
“How is he?”
“He'll never sail again. He believes it was wrong for him to survive and feels a great deal of remorse because of it.”
“Where is he now?”
“He signed on to a caravan heading south. It would pass his village and so he's decided to go home.”
“That's a shame. I can understand his feelings though.”
“We all can,” said the Captain, leading him out to a terrace that overlooked the western side of the city. The buildings, the small huts interspersed amongst some of the more ancient dwellings were exactly as he'd seen in his mind when Dagna had spoken to him.
“Has he appeared yet?” he asked, sitting down on a bench of intricate metal design.
“Who?” asked the Captain.
“Dagna the elusive.” The Captain laughed.
“No,” he said, reaching under the bench and dragging out a basket. Two dusty green bottles, corked, sat on top of a chunk of cured ham and a half-loaf of bread. There were two pewter flagons as well and the Captain filled both with the spiced wine. “I found this in the cellar in the kitchen. It's the best I could do I'm afraid.”
“It'll suit me,” said Haggart.
“There was an enormous sponge cake as well, steamed like they used to make at Year's End in the Army.”
“Jam and cream?”
“Aye.” Haggart looked at the basket.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Where is it?”
“Oh,” he said, “I ate that before coming to get you. Figured the sugar might set you back. I was doing you a favour really.”
“Gee, thanks.”
They sat there, eating and drinking as the afternoon wore on. Haggart had managed to sleep through the winter and spring was starting to extend its fingers across the tops of the city, nipping at the frost and the tree tops, bringing with it the memory of summer. People came and went. Servants. Scholars. Once even a group of children managed to scale the eight foot drop in front of them that separated Haggart's chambers from the houses around it. They poked their heads over the top of the stones and smiled. That was until the Captain bellowed at them to get back down before they broke their necks.
“Miserable git,” said Haggart.
“Those kids have been following me around since we arrived. They keep asking for shoulder rides.”
“I hope you obliged.” The Captain just grunted. Haggart changed the subject. “Tell me about Master Amos.”
“What's there to tell? The Courier hadn't been lying - all the records sh
ow that he was passing information to the Gorm.”
“And you believe it?” asked Haggart.
“It's not just the records. I spoke to his relatives, his friends, any one who was willing to speak about it. They all agreed with what's been written down.” Haggart shook his head.
“I still can't believe it.”
“I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt,” said the Captain.
“How so?”
“I think he was on to something and he saw that the only help might come from the Gorm. I know, it sounds ridiculous but something in my guts tells me he would never have betrayed what he believed in. He was doing something, trying to get help in some way but it back fired on him.”
“That's a pretty big conjecture to make,” said Haggart.
“I know.” The Captain drank the last of the wine and Haggart looked out across the city and sighed.
“I think that as soon as I'm back on form we should set off,” he said after a few minutes.
“Sturgenvad?”
“Yes. As soon as possible, now that winter is done. We'll need a boat.”
“The King's Bane is in port and will be leaving for the Bone Isles in one week. I’ve arranged birthing for three of us, horses and all.”
“You've already worked this out?” said Haggart. He was beginning to feel the effects of the drink already.
“Aye lad. I gave it some serious thought last night. John and Lorrie should remain here. She's doing really well since we arrived. John will want to stop with her, that's for certain...”
“So they're...”
“It was pretty obvious, don't you think?”
“I guess so.”
“Well that means you, me and Talbert, much as I'd prefer John's bow to his but that's the way it's sliced. What do you think?”
“You're the Captain, Captain,” said Haggart, grinning. “And when we get there?”
“Find the builder. Or find out what happened to him and destroy that cavern where they're building those bloody machines. Then kill Jurgenbraw. Again.”
“Let's hope he stays dead this time.”
“Aye. I'll make sure of it.”
The following week was taken up with preparations for the journey. The Captain organised three stout horses capable of bearing the harsh climate and bought fresh clothing from the Smithy. Haggart concentrated on regaining his strength, spending most of this time in the gardens doing old Army drills that came back to him after the first few swings of his sword. Often times John would help or the Captain when he could spare the time. Haggart hadn't seen Lorrie since he'd woken but he trusted that she was finally busy living her own life. Somewhere deep down there was a sense of relief - that he hadn't failed the daughter as he'd once failed her mother.
The weather on these days was mostly dry thanks to the chill left behind when Winter crept away into the night. Only once did it rain and it drove them back to Haggart's room with a warm fire and a little too much wine. There was still no ale to be found within the city despite a reconnaissance mission by Talbert to find some who only managed to return with a crate of more spiced wine.
“It's the best I could do,” he said, filling a pan with the stuff and setting it over the fire to warm. “There hasn't been a delivery for weeks now and there doesn't look like there'll be one soon, either.”
“It doesn't bode well,” said the Captain.
“When are you leaving?” asked John.
“Tomorrow. The King's Bane leaves on the morning tide. It will take us to the only port willing to let the ship dock - Minavad. After that it's a month of riding across the frozen lands of Haggart's home,” replied the Captain.
“The place of my birth, but I wouldn't say it was my home. Here is my home, bought with much blood and sweat and even a few tears,” said Haggart. “Minavad is a rough place. Many pirates use it as a refuge and take their spoils there to sell on to the tribes.”
“I'm sure you three can handle them,” said John. “I just wish I could join you. But I agree, I am needed here. Lorrie will not want to be left alone - nor can I blame her.”
“You're a good lad,” said the Captain, raising his flagon to him. “We'll bring you back a trophy or two.”
There was a knock at the door and John went to answer it. “This should be Lorrie. I asked her to take a break from her studies. This will be our last meal for a while, I guess.”
Lorrie came in with a stack of notes under her arm and a large wine glass in her hands. She'd tied her hair back and strands of it were escaping down her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed.
“Sorry I'm late. I lost track of time,” she said, smiling. She sat down on the rug near the fire and laid out her notes.
“I see you're having trouble tearing yourself away,” said the Captain with a grin.
“These are for you three. They're sketches I’ve drawn up of the land around Sturgenvad and marked some of the possible locations of the workshops where they might be building the machines. I’ve done my best but the spy's reports weren't the most... elegant.”
“Thank you, Lorrie. You are not the same girl who left the 'Sundered Helm' any more,” said Haggart, examining the maps. “I remember nothing of that land - only the cold. I was too young.”
“Most of the detail comes from the Ambassadors King Aaron sent during his reign to try to form an alliance with them sometime before their invasion, 1285 or there abouts.”
“Did he succeed?” asked Talbert.
“I would suspect not,” said the Captain, “given that they invaded us, mate.”
“Oh. Of course.”
“All but one survived,” continued Lorrie. “He was the one who brought back the most detail. Tribe numbers, the most travelled roads through the ice, that sort of thing.”
“Anything we need to know?” asked the Captain.
“It's all here in my notes. You can read them on the ship, I suppose. Briefly, they still do a lot of trade with Minavad - animal furs, fats, woven products. To the east a tribe discovered a vane of Iron ore and are in the early stages of mining it. They lack the manpower though and it's generally thought that Aaron chose to ally with them based on the possibility that there might be a lot more under those mountains.”
“Why hasn't the Council thought to make the most of this find?” asked Haggart. Lorrie sighed and took a sip from her wine. The fire danced in the glass.
“I think they've always been more concerned with cleaning up the mess Aaron left behind. Though they consider the long reign of his to be, on the whole, a good one that brought a lot of prosperity to the land and kept our enemies at bay, it was in the last few years the the Council thought he'd gone too far. People began to suffer. Taxes rose to pay for things that I don't think even the Council know to this day - though one must have been to produce these machines.”
“The answers are more than likely in Surgenvad,” said the Captain.
“Exactly. The fingers all point to Jurgenbraw.”
Lorrie raised her glass without looking away from a distant point only she could see. John followed and together they raised a toast.
“To friendship,” said John. “And a safe voyage - there and back.” They all echoed it and Haggart, despite the dread of what was to come, felt at that moment more alive than he ever had.
*
John and Lorrie met with them at the eastern gate to say a final goodbye. The skies had opened up their swollen grey clouds and brought a chill edge to the rain. In long leather cloaks made of patch-work animal skins, Haggart, the Captain and Talbert stood holding their horses reins, eager to be on their way.
“Take care,” said Haggart as he embraced his son. “Remember what I told you - if the worst should happen and it looks as though the city will fall, then flee. Run north to the coast and wait for us there. The small village of Tarbeck-on-Salan. It'll be easier to rendezvous with you there than come all the way to the City - remember that!”
“I will, Dad,” he replied. Haggart kissed L
orrie on the cheek and held her for a moment.
“Thank you,” she whispered to him. “For everything.”
“Thank you for your forgiveness.”
“We'll see you soon - I'm sure of it.”
“I know...” She pushed him away, wiping the tears with the sleeve of her robe.
“Let's be off,” said the Captain, putting a foot into the stirrup of his mount and rising up into the saddle. Haggart and Talbert did the same and together they turned the heads of their horses from their friends and began to ride away. In minutes they'd left the walls and were on the King's Road once more, the rain beating a steady rhythm on their backs. The Captain took the lead whilst Talbert trotted behind, his crossbow slung from his saddle and swinging gently with the motion of the horse. Haggart was glad to be free of the weight of his armour but not from its protection. The Captain had bought them all replacement clothes - leather armour that wouldn't suffer in the freezing temperatures they'd be facing like steel would have done. Any steel they did take had been heavily oiled, especially their swords that would be prone to freezing inside their scabbards.
“I hope you don't mind a bit of sailing, Talbert?” asked the Captain, shouting over the pattering rainfall. “Have you ever been to sea?”
“No, I have to say I haven't,” he replied. “I'm guessing you two have. Often.”
“Aye, you could say that. Once nearly drowned. Twice saw the biggest whales you've ever seen.”
Haggart's Dawn Page 18
