Murthen Island: Book Two: Tales of Golmeira

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘I suggest we run,’ said Jerenik. A large bunch of very angry looking Skurgs had stumbled from the burning dome and were gesticulating towards them. Jerenik nudged Zastra in the ribs.

  ‘They don’t look very pleased with you.’

  ‘With us, you mean,’ returned Zastra. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  They made for the beach. The three ships anchored close to the shore and dropped their boats. Yerdan made a grab for Zastra’s sword but she saw his move and ducked under his arm, hooking her leg between his and tipping him over. He looked up to find the tip of Ithgol’s scythal laid against his throat.

  ‘Please,’ Nerika begged through gritted teeth. ‘We mustn’t be caught.’

  The boats were closing on them, but were not yet as close as the Skurgs who had bunched together at the top of the beach.

  ‘We don’t have much choice.’ Zastra drew her sword. ‘Tell me quickly, are you with Lord Justyn?’

  Nerika nodded.

  ‘We’ll tell Dastrin that you are merchant sailors captured by Skurg pirates. You must say nothing about us destroying the sintegrack or we’ll all be done for.’

  ‘Hey,’ Jerenik protested. ‘I didn’t agree to risk my life for these ingrates.’

  ‘Shut up, Jerenik. Together we might have enough for that mutiny you were bragging about. Ithgol, are you with us?’

  Ithgol grunted. Zastra was getting used to interpreting his different types of grunt and she took this one for agreement.

  She turned back to Nerika. ‘We were all pressed into service and have no desire to serve Dastrin or Thorlberd. We—’

  ‘Down!’ barked Ithgol. They ducked as a volley of crossbow bolts whistled over their heads. They stayed down as Golmeiran sailors and Kyrgs rushed past them and piled into the Skurgs.

  It proved a one-sided battle and the Skurgs were quickly overpowered. Zastra and the others were taken aboard the Wind of Golmeira to face an irate Captain Dastrin, who demanded to know what had happened. Zastra bent her head deferentially.

  ‘We were captured after our attack failed. They locked us up with these Golmeiran merchants. Then there was this terrible noise and the earth shook so much that the door of our jail caved in. We saw your sails. Thank the stars you came back.’

  ‘Are you telling me that the sintegrack has been destroyed?’

  ‘Sintegrack?’ Zastra feigned innocence. Dastrin glowered at each of them in turn.

  ‘Who are you?’ he narrowed his eyes at Nerika.

  ‘We’re from the Daydream, a trader out of Castanton. We were carrying a cargo of tobacco back from the Far Isles when a storm blew us off course and into Skurg waters.’

  ‘Why didn’t they kill you?’ Dastrin queried. ‘They usually kill everyone. He turned back to Zastra. ‘You too. Why are you even alive?’

  ‘They wanted information about the Golmeiran fleet,’ Yerdan interjected. ‘Of course I had none but they tried pretty hard to make me tell.’ In the full light of morning his bruises stood out clearly and he could barely stand. Mata stepped forward to grab him before he collapsed.

  ‘Someone take this man to Tijan.’

  ‘I am most displeased.’ Dastrin glowered. ‘Failing in your mission and allowing yourselves to be captured. It is unacceptable. I have a mind to have you all put in the barrel. However, we are shorthanded after the heavy losses incurred by the advance party. Burgal, show them my displeasure.’

  Zastra’s arms and back stung as Burgal and his Kyrgs set about them with their straps, but she knew better than to protest. Jerenik and Ithgol also took their punishment in silence.

  ‘You new people are now members of the Golmeiran fleet.’ Dastrin proceeded to give his usual lecture to Nerika and the others. Jerenik leaned towards Zastra as she rubbed the stinging red marks on her arms. ‘The sooner we take over this ship the better. I’ve had enough of that flekk Dastrin and his punishments.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Zastra was eager to talk to Nerika again but it was difficult to find any time alone. Her first opportunity came a few days after they had left the Sand Islands, when they were both sent up the mainmast to grease the sheaves. Nerika lost no time in bringing up the subject.

  ‘What’s your plan? When are we going to take this ship?’

  ‘We can’t do anything with these two other vessels for company. I’ve tried to find out how many in our company would join us. Dastrin isn’t popular, but we have to be careful. If it gets back to him that we’ve even mentioned mutiny we’d be killed without hesitation.’

  ‘I can’t afford to wait. Me and Yerdan are known to quite a few folks in Thorlberd’s fleet. We’re fortunate none of them are on this ship. Lucky, too, that there’s no mindweaver on board.’

  ‘I’m happy to listen to suggestions.’

  Nerika dipped a rag into the pot of oil that Zastra held for her and began to smear it around the sheaves. ‘We’d be heavily outnumbered and those Kyrgs are good fighters.’ She nodded in the direction of Burgal and his charges.

  ‘We have Ithgol.’

  ‘He’s only one and I wouldn’t trust him. He’s a savage.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Zastra insisted. ‘I trust him. If he says he’ll fight with us then I believe him. Our only chance is when we’re given weapons. They keep them locked away in the hold and only Dastrin has the key. We have to wait for our next engagement and be ready to seize any opportunity.’

  ‘Hey there, Layna,’ came a shout from below. ‘Are you done yet? Because the bilges need pumping.’

  Zastra groaned. ‘Ever since we rescued you, I get all the lousy jobs.’

  ‘Don’t blame me. Losing the sintegrack certainly annoyed your Captain Dastrin, and that was all your own doing.’

  Days passed and still the Wind of Golmeira stayed in formation with the other vessels. They couldn’t stage a mutiny when two ships were ready to come to Dastrin’s aid. Zastra continued to try and recruit mutineers. Six of her Watchmates had agreed to take part but others she approached had refused, too scared even to listen. Luckily, they did not inform the officers of Zastra’s plans. One person she desperately wanted to recruit was Mata, but it would a huge risk even to ask the question. If Mata did not agree to join them, she would be bound to report Zastra, especially now she had been promoted to lieutenant in place of Jagula. Yet, with her years of experience, Mata would be a valuable ally and Zastra sensed that she had no fondness for Dastrin and the way he ran his ship.

  Zastra was still being schooled in the arts of sailing and navigation. One afternoon, Mata took her to the top of the mainmast to observe the other two vessels. This was Zastra’s chance. As she wondered how to approach the subject, Mata pointed to the nearest ship.

  ‘See how the Lodara sits too far forward, dipping her prow into the sea as if she were trying to dive in? Her captain should shift more weight towards the rear so that she sits up more. He could get a twenty percent increase in downwind speed at least.’

  Zastra took a deep breath.

  ‘Do you think Dastrin is a good captain?’

  Mata frowned.

  ‘Doesn’t matter what I think. It’s my duty to obey. I made that vow when I joined up.’

  ‘But you chose this life. Many of us have been forced into it. It doesn’t seem fair.’

  ‘Aye, it used to be that you joined the fleet because you wanted to serve. I did, like my mother before me. Folks shouldn’t be forced to do things they don’t want to. I love the sea. It has been my home since I was a young girl and I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. I’ve always been proud to protect and serve Golmeira.’

  ‘Are you still proud? After the way Dastrin let those fishermen die at the Pyramid Isle?’

  Mata chewed her lip thoughtfully.

  ‘What if we refused to fight for him?’ Zastra asked tentatively.

  ‘He’d have you killed.’

  ‘Not if we took the ship.’

  Mata stared at her, open mouthed. ‘Do you know what you are suggesting? It�
�s suicide. Even if you succeeded, what would you do then? Thorlberd would hunt you down and I don’t like to think what he’d do to you.’

  ‘We could join with Lord Justyn. Take on Thorlberd, rather than just run.’

  ‘Lord Justyn? Pah! I saw the tip of his sails once and he couldn’t run away fast enough. Justyn doesn’t scare Thorlberd. No, Layna, put this mad idea out of your head before it gets you killed.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Not another word or I’ll have to report you. You’ve a good career ahead of you in the fleet as long as you put aside this foolishness. What ho? What’s this?’

  Mata stiffened and squinted at the northern horizon. Zastra followed her gaze and made out a tiny white blur, too small and too low for a cloud. Mata cupped her hands and hailed the deck.

  ‘Sail to the north!’

  They scrambled down the rigging. The white blur closed, transforming into a single-masted courier that flew towards them, coming about with an elegant flourish to fall into line with the convoy. Almost before the little ship had completed its turn, it dropped a boat and the captain was rowed across to the Wind of Golmeira to exchange brief words with their captain. Dastrin immediately ordered Mata to signal the other ships’ captains to come aboard. Zastra glanced meaningfully at Jerenik. He winked in acknowledgment and waited until Koltan’s back was turned before disappearing below decks.

  The meeting was a long one. Eventually the captains left Dastrin’s cabin and returned to their ships. The courier headed back towards Golmeira and Dastrin ordered Mata to set a course to the east. The Obala and the Lodara, followed their lead.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Zastra asked Mata.

  ‘Somewhere in the south-eastern corner of the Golmeiran Sea by our heading. And yet no land is charted there.’

  Zastra’s attention was distracted by Jerenik, who was strolling with apparent nonchalance towards the prow of the ship. A rotten stench clung to him. She joined him with a polishing cloth in hand. As they made a show of cleaning the copper rails Jerenik made certain no one was close by before he spoke.

  ‘Special mission,’ he whispered. ‘A convoy is headed for somewhere called Murthen Island. Our beloved Grand Marl does not think the present escort of two warships is enough to protect his precious cargo. We are to be reinforcements.’

  ‘Murthen Island?’ Zastra creased her forehead. ‘Never heard of it.’

  ‘Ain’t you supposed to be a wondrous navigator?’

  ‘Are you sure you heard right?’

  ‘’Course. I ain’t deaf.’

  ‘Where do you go?’

  ‘Down into the bilges and then back towards the rudder. There’s a small gap that you can slip through as long as no one changes course. I can squeeze upwards til I’m right beneath Dastrin’s cabin. I used a hand-drill to make a small hole in the floor so I can hear what’s going on.’

  ‘No wonder you stink.’

  ‘I’m just lucky my natural charm makes up for it. I wonder what this precious cargo is. Even Dastrin doesn’t seem to know. It’s all very secret.’

  Koltan came towards them and Zastra and Jerenik redoubled their polishing. Koltan inspected their work closely, pointing out several patches where the shine was not up to his standard, before he was pulled away by the sight of Ithgol making a mess of a bowline.

  ‘How many have you got?’ whispered Zastra.

  ‘Eight,’ he returned. ‘You?’

  ‘Six, not including Ithgol. With Nerika’s six that only gives us twenty. That leaves us considerably outnumbered. It’s so frustrating. I know how much everyone hates Dastrin but they are all too scared to do anything.’

  ‘It don’t look good.’

  ‘We have to try. Next time they give us the weapons I’ll be in the mast with the crossbow. That’ll give us an advantage. We must hope that others join us when they see we mean business. Do you know anyone who’s good at sewing?’

  Jerenik raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘I don’t see how needlework is going to get us out of this mess. Unless you think Dastrin can be bought off with a bit of nice embroidery. What were you thinking?’

  ‘A flag.’

  ‘A flag? I don’t see how that will help but Ithgol is pretty handy with a needle.’

  ‘Speaking of Ithgol, I think it’s time he got some new tattoos.’

  Jerenik chuckled.

  ‘He’ll not like it.’

  ‘Use some of that natural charm you keep boasting about.’

  That night a squall came, short but brutal. All hands were roused to lower the spars and pump out the water as wave upon wave crashed over the deck and threatened to overturn the ship. The rain drove down viciously, adding to the confusion. Zastra joined Mata at the helm to offer her assistance.

  ‘We must run before the wind!’ Mata yelled, struggling to make herself heard over the howling gale. ‘If we try to turn, we’ll broach. We must hope there’s no land in our path or we’ll run aground for sure.’

  Mata ordered the crew to swap out the normal jib for the storm jib. It seemed a precious small piece of material to stake their lives on but too large a sail would split with the force of the gale and leave them without any means to direct the ship. The rudder fought them hard and it took Mata and Zastra’s combined strength to keep the ship before the wind. They lost sight of the Lodara and the Obala as the swells grew higher and heavy storm clouds blocked out the moons and the stars. Mata, ever the teacher, showed Zastra how to feel the sea with the rudder, paying no heed to the huge waves that swept over the quarterdeck railings and slammed into them. It was terrifying, exhilarating and exhausting all at the same time. Hour after hour the ship ploughed through the dark, uncharted sea, the crew hoping that only open sea lay in their path.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Morning came and the storm disappeared as if it had never existed. Two of Zastra’s crewmates could not be found, most likely swept overboard by one of the huge waves that had burst across the deck. Off to windward lay the Lodara, largely unscathed. The outline of the Obala was just visible in the distance, its rear mast snapped off at the base. It took several hours for the three ships to regroup and reset their course, adjusting to the slow pace of the damaged Obala.

  ‘Sail to the south.’

  ‘South?’ Dastrin’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you certain? The convoy should be coming from the north.’

  ‘Aye, Captain,’ came the reply. ‘Two ships. One of them’s in trouble. Broken spar.’

  ‘I suppose we should see what’s occurring.’ Dastrin snapped his fingers. ‘Signal the other ships to investigate. We shall follow. Make ready for battle.’

  Nerika walked past Zastra. ‘I recognise those ships,’ she whispered. ‘They belong to Lord Justyn.’

  ‘Then this is our chance.’ Zastra’s heart began to race. The crew were given their weapons and Zastra gave Jerenik the signal. It was time to take the gamble of their lives.

  Dastrin positioned the Wind of Golmeira at the rear of the line, with the Lodara at the front. How typical of our brave captain, Zastra thought, as she climbed up to her new position at the head of the foremast. Even the damaged Obala was sent on ahead of them. She peered round the peak of the foresail and looked back towards the rear mast. Ceran, one of their co-conspirators, had been stationed there. She didn’t have to worry about him. The woman at the mainmast could be a problem. She would have to keep an eye on her. The Lodara began to engage the enemy, its catapults spewing fire and rocks into the air with great enthusiasm. One of Justyn’s ships was sending piles of burning material towards the Lodara in return. Zastra checked her crossbow. All three bolts were loaded and ready.

  On the deck below, Nerika and her fellow rebels strode towards Dastrin. Jerenik, Ithgol and the rest of their mutineers surrounded the Kyrgs. This was the moment.

  ‘We refuse to fight for the dictator Thorlberd,’ cried Nerika in clear, ringing tones. ‘Dastrin, you are relieved of command.’

  Even from her position high in the foremast,
Zastra saw the colour drain from Dastrin’s face. He looked around desperately for Burgal. The Kyrg issued an angry roar and rushed at Nerika, flailing his scythal. Zastra took aim and fired. Burgal collapsed to the floor. Another Kyrg made to follow and Zastra shot a bolt through his foot. He howled in pain as his foot was pinned to the deck.

  ‘Anyone else who moves will be shot,’ said Nerika.

  ‘Shoot her down,’ squawked Dastrin gesticulating wildly towards the other sharpshooters.

  The archer in the mainmast turned her crossbow towards Zastra. Ceran in turn pointed his bow at her.

  ‘Drop it,’ he yelled. The woman looked from one to the other and obeyed, her bow shattering as it hit the deck.

  ‘You’ll never get away with this,’ stammered Dastrin. ‘I’ll have you all put to death.’

  Nerika stepped towards him. There was a flash of metal and, with a vicious jab, she stabbed him in the ribcage. He slumped to the deck.

  ‘Kill all the officers!’ she cried. Zastra’s eyes widened in shock. This was not the plan they had agreed. The crew shifted uneasily and the Kyrgs adopted their fighting crouch. The small band of rebels and mutineers were heavily outnumbered. The situation did not look good. Zastra slid down the backstay and sprang onto the deck.

  ‘Lieutenant Mata!’ she cried. The new lieutenant was staring down at Dastrin’s body in open mouthed shock. ‘You are now officially captain. Order the Kyrgs to stand down before more blood is shed.’

  The Kyrgs inched forward, aggression rattling in the back of their throats. ‘Hold your positions,’ Mata commanded. The Kyrgs stopped in their tracks, just as Zastra had hoped. Ithgol had been right about Kyrgs and their slavish obedience to the chain of command. Zastra took advantage of the moment of calm.

  ‘Listen to me,’ she cried, jumping up onto the lid of the punishment barrel to address the crew. ‘We have all fought together as friends and crewmates. We do not wish to fight you. But I will not serve a Grand Marl who rules by fear and tyranny and makes us his slaves. Those ships over there belong to Lord Justyn, who stands against Thorlberd. We can join him. This is your one chance, here and now, to escape from servitude to a murdering tyrant.’