Murthen Island: Book Two: Tales of Golmeira

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘Who are you to tell us what to do?’ came a distrustful shout from the midst of the crew. She thought of what Dobery had said to her, back in the mountains. If you have the courage to reveal yourself. Zastra filled her lungs, striving hard to keep the fear and doubt from her voice. Everything depended on them believing in her. Trusting her.

  ‘I am Zastra. Daughter of Leodra and Anara, and heir to the throne of Golmeira.’

  A ripple of shock spread across the carpet of heads. ‘I am living proof that Thorlberd’s reach is not yet so powerful.’ She gained confidence as they listened. ‘He tried to kill me and failed. There is still hope. I do not say it will be easy, but here is where we must make our stand. If not for yourselves, then for your children. To fight so they have a future free from oppression and tyranny. Who has the courage to join us?’

  A cheer broke out and spread across the deck. A large chunk of the crew broke away to join the small band gathered behind Zastra. Inexpressively moved, she saw that only about a dozen of the Golmeiran crew had not joined them. They lowered their weapons and surrendered.

  ‘Take them to the forward hold and lock them in. The Kyrgs too. We will release them when we find a safe place to land.’

  ‘These Kyrginite animals do not deserve to live,’ cried Nerika. Several of her comrades nodded in agreement and one of them raised a crossbow.

  ‘Stop!’ Zastra commanded. ‘We will not begin by murdering defenceless prisoners. Especially those who have fought by our sides with courage and honour. Take them below.’

  Ithgol and Jerenik ushered the Kyrgs below before anyone else could protest. Nerika grabbed Zastra’s elbow.

  ‘You’re making a mistake.’

  Zastra shrugged her off.

  ‘Mata, will you take command of the ship? You have the skills and experience.’

  ‘No, Layna. You have made your bid to lead these people and you must follow it through.’ Mata looked bemused. ‘Or Zastra, should we call you? You’re the captain now. But I will helm the ship for you.’ Barking out a series of orders, Mata coaxed the crew back to the sails.

  ‘What’s our heading, Captain Zastra?’ she sang out, loud enough for the whole crew to hear.

  ‘We will assist Lord Justyn. Attack the Obala.’

  Jerenik appeared carrying a large piece of cloth.

  ‘Time to raise the flag, Captain?’

  Zastra nodded and Jerenik unfurled the cloth. Ithgol had made a fine job of it. The hawk of Golmeira stood proud alongside the eagle of Leodra’s house. Zastra felt her throat catch as the flag was raised up the mainmast and her crew roared with approval.

  The Obala had no idea of the danger coming from the rear. At the front of the line, the Lodara was in a bad way. Two of her sails and part of her foredeck were ablaze. The smaller of Justyn’s ships was mastless and listing badly. Zastra had Jerenik distribute strips of red ribbon for her crew to tie round their arms to identify themselves. Their bowsprit rammed into the rear quarter of the Obala, and the ship ground to a sudden halt. Zastra drew her sword and raced to the prow.

  ‘With me!’ she cried, shocked at her own boldness. She leapt for the deck of the Obala. Ithgol led the rest of her crew across behind her. Zastra found herself face-to-face with the Obala’s captain, a dark-skinned woman who was wearing an expression of shock. It seemed to be the favoured look of the day.

  ‘Stand down in the name of Leodra,’ cried Zastra. ‘Any on this ship who oppose Thorlberd, stand with us!’

  The captain drew her sword and laid into her strongly. For some reason that Zastra couldn’t understand they had plenty of room and time to fight. Her opponent was left-handed and had both strength and skill. Zastra drew on everything she could remember of her training back at Golmer Castle, but it was not enough and the woman pressed her back towards the taffrail. Zastra would soon have nowhere to go. Parrying another strong thrust she stepped forward and struck the woman hard on the nose with the palm of her hand. Her opponent staggered back. Sensing her advantage Zastra charged, diving low to avoid a swishing blade. She grabbed the woman’s legs and knocked her off her feet. It was an ugly tactic but effective. Her opponent’s head struck hard against the base of the rearmast. As she lay stunned, Zastra pinned her hand to the deck with her right foot and held her sword against her throat. The Obala’s captain had no choice but to surrender.

  Zastra stood back, slowly realising why they’d had so much space to fight. Everyone else had formed a circle and watched. Ithgol had made use of the distraction to take command of the Kyrgs. Zastra acknowledged his nod. The tattoo trick must have worked, the Kyrgs believing Ithgol to be a high ranking guthan. A grey-haired man dressed in the grey vest and half trousers of a crewman stepped towards her.

  ‘By what right do you use the name of Leodra?’ he asked.

  ‘I am Zastra. I have every right to use my father’s name.’

  A man in a lieutenant’s uniform barged through the crowd. ‘Who gave you permission to speak, Brindik?’ He shoved the grey-haired man aside. ‘No upstart pretender shall challenge the rule of Grand Marl Thorlberd. Crew of the Obala, with me.’

  ‘I refuse,’ shouted Brindik. ‘And there’s many like me. Come, my friends. This is our chance.’

  He stepped behind Zastra and drew a pair of knives. About twenty other Obalans shuffled to join him.

  ‘Look around you, Lieutenant,’ Zastra cried. ‘You are outnumbered and the Kyrgs are with us. Do not do anything stupid to get yourself and your crew killed.’ Raising her voice she addressed the remaining Obalans. ‘Anyone who wants to stand against Thorlberd can join us. If you do not feel able to do so, you have my word you will not be harmed as long as you give up your weapons and surrender.’

  More men and women emerged from the crowd and stood behind Zastra and Brindik. The rest lowered their weapons and were led below, together with their Kyrgs, who obeyed Ithgol without question, even as he led them into a locked cage. Zastra was relieved beyond measure that they had not needed to kill any Golmeirans. Their plan to avoid bloodshed could not have worked better. There was no time for self-congratulation. The Obala was on a direct heading towards the larger of Lord Justyn’s ships and the angry mob on its deck had no idea that they were on the same side of this fight.

  ‘Nerika!’ she called. ‘Where is Nerika?’

  ‘Here!’ Nerika dashed to the Obala’s prow and waved vigorously, yelling across to the other ship. For a moment, it appeared she would not be able to make herself noticed, but then a man pushed through the crowd and returned Nerika’s wave. He was good looking, despite the veins of grey running through his sandy hair. A broad smile of disbelief spread across his face. He shouted something and his crew lowered their weapons. The two ships converged and Nerika climbed across and rushed forward into arms open wide in welcome. Yerdan was poised ready to step across after her. Zastra stopped him with her arm.

  ‘Is that Lord Justyn?’

  Yerdan grinned as if at a secret joke before stepping over. Zastra assessed the situation. Brindik had taken control of the Obala. Over on the Wind of Golmeira Mata was striding around giving instructions to the few members of crew left on board. The Lodara was burning, a floating torch from which men and women were leaping into the sea in a desperate attempt to escape the flames. Some were struggling to stay afloat. Zastra walked over to Brindik and waited for him to finish giving orders to two of his crewmates.

  ‘Looks as if you’ve got everything under control here,’ she said. ‘Do you need any help?’

  ‘We could do with more hands. Nearly half of my sailors are locked up below. We don’t really have enough to run the ship.’

  Zastra beckoned Ithgol and Jerenik.

  ‘Take our crew back to the Wind of Golmeira, but leave ten with Brindik. I don’t think we can spare any more or we’ll be shorthanded ourselves. I hope that will be enough?’

  Brindik frowned. ‘It’ll have to do. What’s our next move? You have a plan, I hope?’

  Jerenik grinned. ‘Pla
ns are boring. We prefer to make it up as we go.’

  Zastra gave him a frosty glare.

  ‘Um, right, back to Mata,’ he said. ‘Can’t stand here chatting all day.’

  Zastra turned to Brindik. ‘I hate to admit it but Jerenik is right. We just took our chance when we saw it. These ships belong to Lord Justyn. I intend to see if we can come to some arrangement. Will you come?’

  ‘I’ve enough on trying to organise this lot. They don’t all agree that I belong in charge so I’ll have to knock some heads together. Still, it beats serving a traitor. My son was in your father’s army and was killed the day your uncle took power. I will go along with what you decide, Zastra.’

  Zastra nodded curtly.

  ‘Lower some boats to pick up the poor souls from the Lodara before they drown. Offer them the choice to join with us or else be locked up with the others.’

  ‘Right. Not sure how we’ll cope with so many prisoners in our small hold.’

  ‘We’ll think of something,’ Zastra said, although in truth she had no idea how they would deal with that problem. Taking a deep breath she went forward to where the prow of the Obala touched up against Justyn’s ship. Its name, Darkhorse, was engraved into the side. A large shape loomed beside her. She shook her head.

  ‘I thought I told you to go back with Jerenik.’

  Ithgol merely cocked his head towards the Darkhorse and they stepped across together. An old man with a dark blemish across his left cheek fairly skipped across the deck towards her, amazement filling his face.

  ‘Zastra? Can it really be you?’

  ‘Dobery!’ she cried in joyful astonishment.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Kylen scanned the jetty. Castanton had always been a busy port and it was no different now Thorlberd was running things. The most easterly harbour within Golmeira, it was the last stopping point before the Straits of Lodara for vessels making the long voyage to the Far Isles. Two large warships were laid up for repairs, dwarfing the smaller trading vessels. Barquentines from the Far Isles, their hulls painted in bright colours, stood out like spring flowers amongst the dark hulls of the Golmeiran ships. The stone jetty was covered with cargo of all shapes and sizes, being unloaded or taken aboard. The air was heavy and damp, laced with the pungent odours of drying seaweed and rotting fish. They had been able to smell Castanton long before they reached the outskirts of the port. Their journey from Sendor, following the winding route of the Borderline River, had been long and arduous. It was too dangerous to travel via the river itself, since it was constantly patrolled by armed Golmeiran barges, so they had been forced to hack their way through the thick bamboo forest that grew right up to the banks of the mighty river that formed the border between Sendor and Golmeira. As if the bamboo wasn’t enough of an obstacle, the forest floor had been infested with prickly vine weeds, snagging and scratching their skin even through their clothes.

  ‘Come, Hylaz,’ she said. ‘We’ve lost enough time on our pleasant jaunt down the Borderline valley. We need to find a vessel to take us to Murthen Island. Assuming anyone knows where it is.’

  She pulled a cap out of her bag and positioned it carefully on her head.

  ‘How do I look?’

  ‘Like a thief and a crook. You’ll fit in very well here, my Lady. No one will recognise you.’

  ‘Unless you continue to call me my Lady,’ she remarked. ‘Now, put that awful wig on. We don’t want any Sendoran hair on display.’

  Hylaz began to rummage around in his small backpack as Kylen strode towards the jetty.

  ‘Oy. Wait up!’

  Kylen turned in disbelief.

  ‘Oy?’

  ‘Um…You did say I wasn’t to call you my Lady.’

  Kylen snapped her fingers to hurry him along.

  ‘Come on. Every moment we delay, Zax might be suffering.’

  They started with the most run-down vessels. Kylen figured their captains would be eager to earn some ready money without asking too many questions. The first boat they tried was owned by the ugliest woman Kylen had ever seen. She had only two teeth, one in her upper gum and one in her lower. Brown and rotten, the teeth ground against each other as she spoke.

  ‘Nah,’ the woman said. ‘Not even if I knew wheres in the stars you wants to go. I can smell a Sendoran, even ones looking like a doxy.’

  Kylen put a warning arm across Hylaz’s broad chest. She looked at the silver chain that had been thrust back into her palm.

  ‘You can’t be after more? Unless your cabins are lined with silks and you serve honeyed vizzal each night for supper.’

  The woman showed her gums in what might have passed for a grin.

  ‘You could offer me five times as much, I’d not take you. Grand Marl Thorlberd ’as said no Sendorans to leave the mainland. It’s my ’ead if theys catch me. An’ I quite like my ’ead.’

  ‘I expect she’s the only one who does,’ muttered Hylaz as they continued down the line of ships, but the answer, although not always so rude, was the same. No one would take them.

  ‘It’s hopeless.’ Kylen flung herself to the ground by the side of a warehouse. ‘Even if someone was prepared to take us, no one knows where this Murthen Island place is. Or if they do, they aren’t admitting it.’

  Hylaz sat down beside her. Kylen racked her brains, trying to think of a plan. Two drunks, unable to gain entry to a closed tavern, tried to catch her eye, but she ignored them and they shuffled away. A trading vessel pushed off and disappeared around the headland. Night drew in and lamps were lit. The drunks returned and one of them aimed an insult in their direction. Kylen paid no attention, engrossed in watching two fat Golmeiran ships being loaded up. Only a handful of crates had been taken aboard each vessel before the gangways were drawn up. Small cargo for such large trading ships. On the nearest ship, a dark figure in black robes emerged from the shadows of the quarterdeck and into the circle of light cast by a small jula lamp. A mindweaver. As Kylen watched, another black cloak entered the patch of light. Two mindweavers. One of the drunks weaved across her line of sight, blocking her view. Kylen motioned him away. He seemed about to argue, but then the tavern doors opened and he and his partner staggered into its welcoming embrace. Kylen nudged Hylaz, who was snoring gently at her side.

  ‘Ugh?’

  ‘Something on that transport is important enough to need two mindweavers to protect it. What could it be, do you think?’

  Hylaz rubbed his eyes and tried to stifle a yawn. When the two mindweavers were joined by a third, Kylen was even more certain something important was occurring. Mindweavers were a rare breed. To see three together outside a castle was unheard of. As the pale arc of remaining daylight disappeared over the horizon, the gangway on the trading vessel was lowered again. A line of shadows shuffled along the quay and started up the gangplank. Chains clanked. As they reached the deck of the ship, the jula lamp cast a faint glow on a line of prisoners. Most had fair hair that reflected the orange cast of the lamp. Kylen gasped.

  ‘Sendorans. Hylaz, I’m sure of it.’ She watched for a while to make certain, her mind racing.

  ‘I’ve got an idea.’

  ‘We can’t possibly rescue them, my La… um…’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of rescue. They can only be going to one place.’

  ‘You can’t mean…?’

  ‘I don’t ask you to join me, Hylaz, but I have to get to Zax. That ship must be headed for Murthen Island and I intend to be on it. Take a message back to Alboraz, to let him know where I am.’

  She scrambled up and ran towards the ship.

  ‘For Sendor!’ she cried, jumping at one of the guards and yanking her away from the prisoners. As the other guards rushed to their companion’s aid, Kylen made sure she landed some solid punches. She didn’t want it to look too easy. In any case, it was always pleasant to make a Golmeiran suffer. But when someone got her in a strong grip, she made only a half-hearted attempt to escape and was soon in chains and shoved into line. There was a
grunt and a thud by her side.

  ‘Seems like these two are eager to join our trip,’ said one of the guards. ‘Must have heard how much fun the Island is.’

  ‘Hylaz?’ Kylen hissed. ‘What are you doing? I told you not to follow me.’

  ‘My Lady, I know I’m supposed to obey without question, but I can’t think of anything more dangerous than telling General Alboraz I stood by while Lord Mendoraz’s daughter was captured.’

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Zastra rushed to greet her former teacher. Dobery had not changed much. Perhaps he was a little thinner than when she had last seen him but his face, far from handsome yet somehow wonderful, had not altered.

  ‘Zastra, my dear, how in the stars did you end up here?’

  ‘It’s a strange story,’ she said, unable to suppress a smile. Dobery raised an eyebrow in the direction of her Kyrginite companion.

  ‘So it would appear.’

  Nerika brought over the man with the sandy hair.

  ‘This is the girl. Claims to be Leodra’s daughter.’

  ‘Claims?’ Dobery was a picture of indignation. ‘Do not doubt it, Justyn.’

  ‘So you are Zastra.’ Justyn looked her up and down. ‘Master Dobery tells me I should make an alliance with you.’

  ‘Alliance?’ Nerika snorted. ‘She’s just a child.’

  ‘I stopped being a child many years ago, about the time my parents were murdered,’ Zastra returned grimly.

  Nerika blinked but quickly recovered her composure.

  ‘Perhaps if you’d not been so stupid as to destroy the sintegrack, you might have something to offer.’

  ‘I have two ships under my command. And we did save your lives. Or had you forgotten?’

  Justyn raised an eyebrow. ‘It sounds as if we have some catching up to do. But the last thing I need is more ships. A flotilla is hard to hide.’

  ‘Hide?’ growled Ithgol. ‘Cowards hide. The daughter of Leodra might ask what need she has of you.’