‘Porridge it is, then,’ Jerenik said, with another sigh. They were interrupted by a call from the lookout.
‘Sail to the north,’ she called. A small triangle of brown could just be made out on the horizon, framed between the steep sides of the entrance to the bay. It was moving erratically.
‘What in the stars are they doing?’ Mata wondered aloud.
Dastrin took out his telescope and trained it on the vessel. He licked his lips. ‘No signal. This should be interesting.’
Zastra took out her own telescope. ‘It looks like a fishing boat. Small, single sail, no obvious weapons. It can surely mean no harm.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ Dastrin snapped. A harsh shriek cut through the air and the migaradon launched itself upwards. The fishing vessel tried to spin round but something was wrong with the rudder and it could only crab sideways as the migaradon closed. The beast circled once and then dived down, snapping the mast between its claws like a twig. The little boat rocked violently. One of the sailors was gesticulating and another jumped overboard in panic. The migaradon stove in the side of the boat with one swipe of its huge tail.
‘Lower the yacht!’ cried Mata. ‘There may be survivors.’
Zastra was already tugging furiously at the ropes that held the yacht in place.
‘Stand down!’ ordered Dastrin. ‘If they don’t have the signal, they are responsible for their own fate.’
Mata looked about to argue the point, but Dastrin silenced her with a look. Zastra refused to believe that Dastrin wouldn’t help the fishermen. She loosened one rope and moved the next, before she was hauled away by Burgal.
‘Please!’ she begged. ‘They’ll drown if we don’t help them.’
‘One more word and you’ll be in the punishment barrel.’
Once more, Dastrin trained his telescope on the fishing boat, licking his lips in anticipation. Zastra shrugged off Burgal and strode towards the captain. She was determined to make him listen. Before she had gone two paces she was lifted off her feet. A strong arm gripped her waist and a hand pinched her windpipe, smothering her angry protest. Starved of air she ceased struggling and found herself deposited unceremoniously on the foredeck. Livid at such treatment, she spun round to confront her attacker.
‘The punishment barrel is not pleasant,’ Ithgol remarked.
‘I don’t care,’ she croaked. ‘Don’t you see what he’s doing? He’s a monster.’
She felt someone grab her arm. It was Mata.
‘Be silent,’ the Watchmaster hissed. ‘You can do nothing. The Kyrg has saved you certain punishment.’
‘I didn’t ask him to. Those poor sailors…’ Zastra tried to wrestle herself free. Mata maintained her grip.
‘It’s no good. Captain Dastrin will not let us save them.’ Zastra took a couple of breaths to try and calm herself. She was shaking with anger.
‘How can you stand it?’
‘Because I must. I have a wife and family in Golmeira. They depend on the money I send. I will not risk their living for a futile gesture. You must learn to accept what you cannot change.’
‘No one should ever accept such things,’ Zastra muttered bitterly.
‘Go and relieve the lookout until you have calmed down. That’s an order.’
Mata shoved her towards the mainmast. Jerenik slapped her on her back as she made her way past. ‘You and the Kyrg best friends now? That was a nice hug he gave you. I didn’t know you were so close. Tell me, when’s the wedding?’
‘This isn’t funny, Jerenik. We can’t let this happen again. We have to do something.’
‘Anytime you come up with a plan, mountain girl, I’m in.’
Chapter Twenty-four
Ixendred set down his pen and re-read the last lines of his report. With the help of the Kyrg mercenaries his push into Sendor had been successful and the rebels had been forced to retreat to the Caves of Karabek. Sendor was at last under Golmeiran control. His only concern was that he still hadn’t captured the experienced General Alboraz or either of Mendoraz’s children. They were almost certainly hiding within the caves but every time they found an entrance, the Sendorans were waiting in ambush and by the time he sent reinforcements, the entrances had been blocked off. It was impossible to pin down his enemy. As he was pondering how he could explain this to Grand Marl Thorlberd without looking weak, his tent-flap was yanked open.
‘Writing to my father, Ixy? There’s really no need. I’ve already sent a message telling him of our success.’
And taking credit for it all, no doubt. Ixendred put down his pen.
‘We still haven’t captured Kylen or Zadorax. Your father will not deem this mission a success until they are caught.’
‘It’s only a matter of time. I’ve got a plan which will succeed where you have failed.’
Ixendred strove to maintain a polite tone in the face of such insolence.
‘Much as I admire your enthusiasm, Rastran, your father holds me responsible for your safety. I shall not allow you to endanger your life in some ill thought-out scheme.’
Rastran grinned with an air of knowing superiority.
‘I have a new weapon, just arrived from Murthen Island. Something so deadly that even the legendary Caves of Karabek will be no obstacle.’
‘Weapon? What weapon? Why has no one told me of this?’
Rastran merely smirked.
‘I order you to tell me.’
‘Remember your place, Ixy. You do not make demands of the Grand Marl’s son.’
Ixendred slapped his desk with the palm of his hand.
‘It is you that must remember your place. Your father put me in charge of this mission, not you. You obey my orders.’
‘Not any more. You have failed. I told my father as much.’
‘I’ll bet you did.’
‘I’ll need just two troops. One of ours and one of the Kyrgs. We have discovered another entrance to the caves and will attack tonight. You can watch if you’d like. It will be a valuable learning experience for you. Although I’d advise you to keep a safe distance.’
With a triumphant smirk, Rastran left the tent. Battening down his anger, Ixendred questioned all his captains and lieutenants about Rastran’s plans, but none admitted to any knowledge. In the end he dismissed the youth’s comments as arrogant bluster. To make certain, he gave explicit orders that no troops were to leave camp without his permission before he retired to bed.
In the middle of the night he was jerked awake. The ground beneath his thin mattress was shuddering. Staggering up, he pulled back the flap of his tent. Across the valley a great fire illuminated a cloud of dust that spread upwards to block out the light of the stars. A gaping hole had been torn in the side of the Karabek Mountains. In the light of the blaze, he made out bodies in strange, unnatural poses scattered across the rocks. Most were wearing uniforms of the Golmeiran army. Ixendred hastily pulled on his own uniform and strode from the tent.
‘What’s going on?’
The nearby soldiers looked at him wordlessly, stunned expressions on their faces.
‘Well?’ barked Ixendred. One of the soldiers roused herself.
‘L-lord Rastran’s new w-weapon,’ she stuttered. ‘I had no idea…’
She gaped at the ruined face of the mountain. The sound of marching feet, muffled and ragged, signalled the return of Rastran and the remnants of what had been two troops. He swaggered into the camp, followed by a handful of Kyrgs and Golmeiran soldiers. Ixendred looked with dismay at their torn uniforms and pitifully small numbers. Less than a quarter had returned. He strode up to Rastran and placed his palm on his chest, forcing him to stop.
‘What in the stars have you done, boy?’ He was shaking with fury. Rastran tried to throw him off, but Ixendred would not be moved.
‘Get your hands off me, Ixy. I have shown those savages the strength of Golmeira and I’ve finally captured one of Mendoraz’s brats. Bring him here.’
A fair-haired boy, no more than twelve yea
rs old, was dragged forward.
‘This is the boy Zadorax. I know his face. He once soiled the grounds of Golmer Castle, he and his animal of a sister.’
‘She was too much for you,’ Zadorax said defiantly. Rastran shoved him to the ground.
‘What was that?’ demanded Ixendred.
‘I told you. Weren’t you listening? It’s my new weapon. Sintegrack it’s called.’
‘What happened to my men and women? Where are the rest?’
‘We misjudged the power of the sintegrack.’ Rastran shrugged. ‘Some slowcoaches were caught up in the blast. Don’t worry, they can be replaced.’
‘A life is not to be surrendered so lightly, boy.’ Ixendred ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached. ‘Each is someone’s son or daughter.’ Even as he uttered them, he saw that his words were wasted.
‘I’ve finished listening to you, Ixy.’
Rastran signalled towards a lieutenant. ‘Make arrangements to take the prisoners down to Castanton and put them on the next ship bound for Murthen Island. They will prove useful for our experiments.’
‘What experiments?’ Zadorax tried to look brave, but his voice wavered.
‘Wait and see.’ Rastran smiled unpleasantly. ‘You can be certain that your sister will follow shortly, as soon as my next batch of sintegrack arrives. Not even the Caves of Karabek will save her.’
Chapter Twenty-five
The Wind of Golmeira put in briefly at Port Castanton. Dastrin ordered the release of more of the crew’s wages and Zastra realised with a shock that it had been more than two years since she had been pressed into service in her uncle’s fleet. She wondered whether Fin would even remember her. The thought of escape was never far from her mind, even more so after the events at the Pyramid Isle. The word mutiny, once mentioned by Jerenik, had never again been spoken in Zastra’s hearing but Dastrin was an unpopular captain and his distinct lack of presence whenever there was any fighting had not gone unnoticed. Only fear of the barrel, or worse, kept the crew in line. Zastra longed to act, but didn’t know who to trust. Except for Jerenik, it was impossible to tell who might be willing try and take over the ship.
Dastrin returned from a trip ashore and ordered the Wind of Golmeira to head south. No one knew where they were going or why. They sailed well beyond their normal range. Some of the more experienced crew members began nod and mutter to themselves in a knowing manner.
‘Looks like we are heading for the Sand Islands of the Southern Kyrgs,’ Mata remarked as she and Zastra plotted their daily location.
‘Why in the stars would we do that?’ Zastra had no desire to meet more Skurgs. It appeared Mata was correct however, as their course continued to take them directly towards the Skurg homeland, driven by a helpful wind from the northwest quarter. It grew noticeably colder as they ventured further south. At last, a cry from the lookout indicated that land had been sighted and two islands emerged on the horizon, one behind the other. They lay across the ocean, long and flat, each with a raised bump almost like a head at the eastern edge. The one at the rear was much larger than its neighbour and was shrouded in haze, looking almost like a large shadow cast by the smaller island.
‘I always think they look like a pair of sleeping lizards,’ said Mata. ‘A baby and its mother.’
Dastrin ordered the Wind of Golmeira to retreat and take station just out of view of the reptilian islands. They tacked back and forth across the same stretch of water for another two days.
‘I don’t like this,’ muttered Jerenik. ‘Why are we waiting around in Skurg territory like fishbait?’
The rest of the crew seemed to share his feelings and the mutterings and unrest increased as the days went by. Finally, Dastrin called the officers to his cabin.
‘About time,’ remarked Jerenik.
‘What are you in such a hurry for?’ Yashni asked. They rarely saw her since she had gone to work with Tijan, but she had been released when the healer had been called to Dastrin’s cabin with the other officers. ‘Surely you don’t want to attack the Skurg homeland?’
‘I don’t like sitting here waiting for Skurgs to decide how they’re going to cook us,’ Jerenik returned. ‘What’s going on, d’you think?’
‘We’ll just have to wait and see, I suppose.’
‘Or maybe not.’ Jerenik winked and disappeared down one of the hatches that led to the lower underdeck. Yashni stared after him.
‘Where’s he going?’
‘Who cares?’ Zastra shrugged. ‘Enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts.’
The timbers of the ship creaked and groaned as they sailed up and down on the now familiar tack. Zastra’s eyelids began to droop and she dropped into a doze. She was roused by the bell that summoned all hands. Rubbing her eyes, she followed the rest of the crew to assemble before the quarterdeck, finding Ithgol and Yashni in the crowd.
‘Where’s Jerenik?’
‘Close,’ Ithgol sniffed. ‘I can smell him.’
A dirty face poked up from the hatch amidships. It was Jerenik. He slunk over to join them.
‘Where have you been?’ Zastra wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘You smell as if you’ve been rolling around in the head.’
Lieutenant Jagula called for quiet and Dastrin addressed the crew.
‘The Skurgs have stolen something from one of our ships. We have orders to take it back. We should have been joined by reinforcements. As they haven’t bothered to show up, it looks as if we must complete this mission alone. Since we know little of the island’s defences we will send an advance party, under cover of darkness. Know this. This mission must succeed. I will not accept failure.’
The crew broke up and Koltan informed Zastra, Ithgol and Jerenik that they were to join the advance party.
‘Bet our brave captain won’t be joining us,’ muttered Jerenik.
‘Shh,’ whispered Zastra. ‘You’ll get us in trouble.’
‘We’re already in a world of trouble, mountain girl. I overheard some of our esteemed captain’s discussion with the officers. There’s more to this mission—’
‘You there,’ cried Jagula. ‘Quiet down or there’ll be trouble.’
Zastra was ordered to Mata’s cabin before she could find out what Jerenik meant. Mata was not one of those going with the advance party but she looked grave nonetheless.
‘Be extra careful tonight,’ she said. ‘Be ready for anything.’
She informed Zastra that she would be tasked with navigating the boats to the landing point on the island. They went over the route and the navigation plan but Zastra found it difficult to concentrate. Mata’s concern and Jerenik’s cryptic remarks made her wonder what they were getting into. As if attacking the Skurg’s home was not dangerous enough, there was clearly something they weren’t being told. She couldn’t shake the feeling that their luck was about to run out.
Chapter Twenty-six
The Wind of Golmeira had two boats; the yacht with a sail and a large dinghy powered by five pairs of oars. Both were lowered into the sea and packed full of sailors. Dastrin had used the cover of darkness to take the Wind of Golmeira closer to the lizard-shaped islands. The boats were to make it the rest of the way. As they pushed off, Zastra noted that Jerenik had been right. Captain Dastrin had not joined them.
Under the close attention of Lieutenant Jagula, Zastra used the light wind to guide the yacht toward the islands. There was little moonslight but she used an occasional glimpse of the stars through gaps in the cloud to keep their course. The dinghy kept close by, rowlocks muffled and the oars placed into the water with unusual care to avoid making any splashes. If the Skurgs heard them coming they would be dead as soon as they hit land. Their only hope lay in stealth. An occasional whispered exchange kept the boats together.
‘Are you sure you’re steering right, girl?’ muttered Jagula after they had been sailing for some time with no sign of land. ‘It’ll be the barrel for you if you get us lost.’ Jagula seemed unusually tense. Zastra glanced up at the sky. She
believed she was still on the course that Mata had planned for her but there had been no gap in the clouds for a while. If the currents were even a little stronger than she had accounted for, they could be in trouble. Then, to her relief, she heard the welcome sound of waves lapping against a shoreline. She just hoped it was the correct island. As the hulls of the boats scraped onto a shelf of shale, Zastra strained her eyes and ears for any indication that they had been seen.
‘Our flekk of a captain set us down too far away,’ someone whispered. ‘After rowing for so long I’m too tired to move, let alone fight. All so he’s at a safe distance.’
‘Quiet down,’ Jagula snapped in a hoarse whisper. The boats were pulled up and hidden as best they could manage in the dark and then Jagula led them along the shoreline and up a sandy incline. It was almost impossible to see anything but Jagula seemed to know the route. The sandy surface beneath their feet changed to solid stone as they climbed and the slope began to level off as Jagula ordered them to halt. There was no shelter and a chilly wind swept around them, gritty with sand. Zastra began to shiver as the sweat from the uphill march grew cold against her skin. Her woollen jacket provided little protection, so she huddled up next to Jerenik, grateful for the warmth of another body.
‘I n-never knew you c-cared, mountain girl.’ He blew into his cupped hands to warm them.
‘Someone needs to stop your teeth clattering, or the Skurgs’ll wake up and wonder what the racket is.’
As dawn began to break over the horizon, Jagula gave the order to move forwards. They were at the top of a hill that sloped down towards a large wooden dome. The dome was surrounded by a wide circle of grass, itself enclosed by a tall fence of wooden stakes sharpened to points at the top. There was no sign of life.
Murthen Island: Book Two: Tales of Golmeira Page 12
