Murthen Island: Book Two: Tales of Golmeira

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘Stay out of this, Kyrg.’ Nerika rounded on him. ‘Unless you wish to be locked up with the rest of your murdering kind.’

  ‘He’s with me,’ Zastra interjected. ‘He has fought many times by my side with honour and courage. We would not have succeeded today without him.’

  There was a commotion at the side of the ship. A gig pulled alongside and a young woman with dark shadows beneath her eyes hauled herself wearily on deck. Justyn rushed over to assist her, his face alive with concern. ‘Polina. Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m alive, for which I’m grateful,’ the young woman responded. ‘We lost some good men and women, including Captain Fogan. He was crushed beneath the rear mast when it collapsed. As you can see, all our masts are gone and the hull is leaking in a hundred places. We can hardly pump the water out fast enough. For the moment the Caralyx is helpless.’

  ‘I’m sorry about Fogan. He was a good sailor and an even better man. How long before you can sail?’

  ‘At least a day, maybe more.’

  Justyn frowned.

  ‘That’s not good. We can’t just sit here and wait for Thorlberd’s fleet to pick us off.’

  Zastra coughed.

  ‘Might I make a suggestion?’

  Polina turned towards her and Zastra felt a sudden probe dig into her mind.

  ‘Stay out of my head!’ she cried. Ithgol growled and grabbed Polina’s throat. Justyn and Nerika both whipped out their swords. Zastra felt the probe withdraw.

  ‘Easy, everyone,’ she said, striving for composure. ‘Ithgol, stand down.’ Ithgol reluctantly released Polina, who stared at Zastra in puzzlement.

  ‘Are you a mindweaver?’

  ‘No, but I can tell when someone is prying and I don’t like it.’

  Dobery raised his hands in a gesture of calm.

  ‘Zastra, this is Polina, a fellow mindweaver, as you have discovered. We are all friends here.’

  ‘Friends don’t go peeking into private thoughts.’ Zastra was in no mood to be forgiving.

  ‘I like to know what I’m dealing with. I don’t trust strangers, especially those that ally with Kyrgs,’ Polina remarked stiffly.

  Dobery coughed diplomatically.

  ‘Zastra, I believe you were about to make a suggestion.’

  Zastra took a breath and re-ordered her thoughts.

  ‘Polina, do you think the Caralyx will be able to stay afloat?’

  ‘I believe so,’ the mindweaver replied.

  Zastra gestured towards the Obala and the Wind of Golmeira.

  ‘Our ships are undermanned at present. We could transfer all our prisoners to the Caralyx and divide its crew amongst the other vessels. If the Caralyx cannot sail, the prisoners will be no danger to us. Sooner or later they will get picked up, or else limp to shore.’

  ‘It would be safer to kill them all,’ protested Nerika. ‘They’ll tell Thorlberd all about us.’

  ‘And say what? That Lord Justyn is still free and I am alive? This he knows already. I will not agree to the murder of surrendered prisoners.’

  ‘What say you, Dobery?’ Justyn turned to the old man.

  ‘It is a good plan.’ Zastra’s old teacher gave her an encouraging smile. ‘We cannot guard all these prisoners safely and I know that you, Justyn, would not slaughter defenceless men and women.’

  ‘Very well. But I insist Nerika be given command of one of your ships, if my people are to be in your crews.’

  Despite her growing dislike of Nerika, Zastra didn’t think she could protest.

  ‘The Obala has no captain at present,’ she conceded. ‘I’ll talk to Brindik and if he has no objection, then neither do I.’

  ‘Let’s see to it,’ said Justyn. ‘The sooner we head back to Uden’s Teeth, the better.’

  ‘Uden’s what?’

  ‘A refuge. Somewhere Thorlberd doesn’t know about.’ Justyn beckoned one of his crew. ‘We need to regroup.’

  Ithgol snorted. ‘Running and hiding. Is this all Golmeirans do?’

  Justyn gave him an icy glare.

  ‘Do you think we can beat Thorlberd, with all his fleet? Not to mention mindweavers and migaradons. I will not throw away the lives of my men and women just so you can avenge your parents, Zastra. To survive takes all our strength.’

  ‘An old friend once told me that survival alone is not enough.’ Zastra glanced sideways at Dobery. ‘I’m not saying that we should march on Golmer Castle tomorrow. But today I learned that many would stand against Thorlberd, if given hope. If they see there’s something to believe in. Dastrin’s mission was to protect a cargo of great value to Thorlberd, headed for somewhere called Murthen Island. We should find out what is so important that Thorlberd sent three ships to protect it.’

  ‘Murthen Island?’ mused Dobery. ‘I’ve heard that name before, although it seems to be a great secret. Thorlberd sends his best scientists and most powerful mindweavers there. I’ve had no luck finding out what goes on there, or even where it is.’

  ‘If it is more sintegrack, or anything like it, we would do well to know about it,’ Zastra insisted.

  ‘So you can destroy it again?’ Nerika remarked bitterly. ‘It’s hardly worth the risk.’

  ‘Pol, what do you say?’ Justyn addressed his mindweaver who frowned thoughtfully.

  ‘It does seem like an opportunity we should not let pass by,’ she conceded.

  Justyn turned to Zastra.

  ‘By a small majority it seems we are in favour of this plan, such as it is. Let’s see to the repair of our ships and offload the prisoners onto the Caralyx. Then, Zastra, you set course and we will follow. Let’s hope you know what you are about.’

  Zastra’s first action was to speak to Brindik about Nerika taking charge of the Obala. He made no objection.

  ‘They respect me, right enough,’ he said, ‘but because I’ve been one of the crew, they don’t see me as a captain.’

  Zastra sent word back to Nerika and then she and Ithgol returned to the Wind of Golmeira. The crew cheered them as they came on board, slapping Zastra on her back and thanking her for their release from Captain Dastrin. Even Ithgol received a few nods of acknowledgement. Mata had been busy in their absence, making sure the ship was ready to sail. On Zastra’s instructions, she oversaw the removal of the prisoners to the Caralyx and took the opportunity to requisition the Caralyx’s yacht to replace the one they had lost at the Skurg sand island. Ithgol and Jerenik installed themselves in Burgal’s old quarters while Zastra found herself in Dastrin’s cabin. As the door closed behind her, she sank into a chair, not even noticing how comfortable the stuffed leather was compared with her old bunk on the foredeck. She was suddenly weary. It seemed an age since they had sighted Justyn’s ships and made the decision to mutiny, although less than a quarter of a day had passed. Their desperate gamble had paid off and they had won. She thought of Justyn’s parting words. Did she really know what she was about? She was now responsible for all those who had agreed to stand with her. Responsible for their lives and maybe even their deaths. Weariness came upon her like a heavy cloak draped around her shoulders. She was glad that no one came to disturb her. Anyone coming through the door in those moments would have seen right through the illusion that she had worked so hard to create.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  When all the ships were ready to sail, Lord Justyn invited their captains to supper in the cabin of the Darkhorse to discuss tactics. Zastra brought food and wine from Captain Dastrin’s personal stores, which Justyn accepted graciously. He proved to be an excellent host, polite and attentive. In contrast, Nerika said barely a word to her. Zastra didn’t mind that one bit. She spent most of the evening catching up with Dobery.

  ‘I was afraid I’d never see you again. I felt how angry you were, back at Steepcrest, when you tried to stop me going back to Fivepeaks.’

  ‘I’m sorry I attempted to force you, my dear.’ Her old friend patted her hand. ‘You did what you felt was right and put your family first. I cannot
argue that you were wrong. We must all follow our own path and your instincts have always served you well. How in the stars did you end up on one of Thorlberd’s ships?’

  Zastra told him how she had been forced into the fleet and of her adventures since. In turn he related how he had decided to join Lord Justyn and so got himself work on one of Thorlberd’s supply ships, hoping the rebels would attack it.

  ‘It was the easiest capture we ever had.’ Justyn chuckled as he speared a large strip of salted vizzal. ‘Two ships, so we thought we were in for a battle. Pol induced one captain to order his crew to lay down their weapons and we took them easily. By the time we turned our attention to the other ship, Master Dobery had… what’s the word?’

  ‘Persuaded?’ suggested Dobery.

  ‘Quite so. Dobery had persuaded the crew to lock the captain away. We took their supplies and let them go.’

  ‘How many are you?’ Zastra asked.

  ‘Just what you see, plus two other ships. We also have some friends in Golmeira, but it has become increasingly dangerous for us to go ashore.’

  ‘Only four ships?’ Zastra was unable to hide her disappointment.

  ‘We were more, but Thorlberd’s fleet has hunted us down without mercy. We have lost many good friends over the years.’

  The mood darkened. Justyn ordered the next course to be brought in.

  ‘Where were you based when my uncle took power?’ Zastra asked. ‘I don’t remember a Lord Justyn.’

  Polina leaned forward.

  ‘He’s not a real Lord,’ she said in an exaggerated whisper. ‘But don’t tell anyone.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a secret any more.’ Justyn smiled ruefully. ‘I was an ordinary soldier in the guard of Seacastle. Our Marl, Krysfera, was a mindweaver and a brave woman. She held out long after the other castles had fallen, hoping someone would come and help us. We were punished for our resistance. Thorlberd sent three migaradons and a whole bunch of mindweavers who overpowered Krysfera, sending her mad, and then forced the guards to open the gates. At that point, we knew it was all over and many of us made for the sea. I’m not proud to say it, but I fought my way aboard the last ship just as it set sail. That ship was the Darkhorse. We left Seacastle burning behind us. The Darkhorse was so crowded that people began to panic and fight amongst themselves. Captain Fogan saw my uniform and asked me for help. We invented Lord Justyn to try and create order from the chaos. Pol was on board too, saw what we were about and helped reinforce the story in people’s minds. Since then, ‘Lord Justyn’ has become quite famous. We have gained recruits who wouldn’t have spared a moment for plain old Justyn, soldier of the guard. Still, it has been tough. We’d never had survived this long without Uden’s Teeth.’

  ‘Uden’s Teeth?’ Zastra queried. ‘You mentioned them before, but I’ve never heard of them. They aren’t on any of the charts.’

  ‘That’s because no one knew about them. It was only blind luck that we found them. Three of Thorlberd’s ships had us trapped against the Western Spur. We fled south towards the storm reaches, but couldn’t shake them off and they forced us closer and closer to the Spur until we were deep into the mist, where the spray from the sea merges with the steam from the Smoking Mountains. We could hear the surf pounding on land and we were sure we would run aground. Through a sudden gap in the fog, we spied a channel leading into the spar itself. We had no choice but to enter. We heard our pursuers break up against the rocks behind us. The channel was too narrow to allow us to turn round so we continued on, even as we felt the bottom of the ship scraping against the channel bottom. Later, we realised how lucky we had been. It had been high tide, and only then is the channel deep enough for a ship to pass through.’

  ‘Where did the channel lead?’

  ‘The other side of the Spur and a blue-green sea as calm as a lake. A few days’ sail from the channel we came upon a string of uninhabited islands, several with fresh water. The land was suitable for growing crops and filled with native animals, many unknown to us. It has proven a safe haven, too far beyond the borders of Golmeira for even a migaradon to reach. Every now and then we venture back to Golmeira when we need supplies, such as firedust and healing herbs, which Uden’s Teeth do not supply.’

  ‘Why the name?’ Zastra spooned some honeyed yellow root onto her plate.

  Polina gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘It’s my fault. My grandfather was called Uden. His teeth were crooked and, foolishly, I said that the islands reminded me of his smile. The name stuck.’

  The rest of the evening was spent in a further exchange of stories, until all the food was eaten. Zastra had not enjoyed herself as much in a long time. She lingered over her hot chala and was disappointed when at last the party broke up. She signalled for the dingy to collect her, knowing that all that awaited was her lonely cabin.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Zastra scanned the empty horizon for the hundredth time.

  ‘Where are these ships? I begin to wonder if Murthen Island even exists.’

  ‘If they’re out there, we’ll find them,’ Mata said in a low tone as she joined Zastra at the prow. ‘A piece of advice. Try not to show your doubts to the crew. They like to think their captain knows everything.’

  ‘But that’s impossible.’

  ‘You’ll be amazed how far bluff and confidence can get you. Trust me, a crew is a simple beast and likes clear directions, not worries and doubts. They are ready to follow you, but you must lead with confidence.’

  It hadn’t occurred to Zastra that the crew would be listening to every word she said and vowed to be more careful in future. They were interrupted by a cry from the lookout.

  ‘Signal from the Darkhorse.’ There was a pause, and then another cry. ‘Sail to the north.’

  ‘About time.’ Zastra strode to the side of the ship and pulled out her telescope.

  The Darkhorse changed course to pursue the strange vessel. Zastra ordered the Wind of Golmeira to follow and together with the Obala they converged on a large fishing boat. Justyn called out to the boat to ask if there were any islands nearby.

  ‘Nah,’ called back a stout woman who appeared to be in charge. ‘They’s no islands round here, ’cept the Mongrels. We’s from there usselves.’

  Zastra knew the Mongrels, a pair of low lying islands about a hundred leagues north of their current position.

  ‘Are you certain?’ shouted Justyn. ‘Is there nothing to the southeast?’

  The crew of the fishing boat looked at each other and whispered nervously.

  Ithgol banged his fist on the bulwark. ‘Tell us what you know,’ he bellowed. ‘Or I’ll eat you for supper!’

  The woman started back in terror and then pointed south by southeast.

  ‘I dunno ’bout no island, but they’s a patch of sea yonder where boats disappear, an’ ain’t never seen n’more. Some say they’s an awful monster lives in the clouds that eats boats whole and spits ’em out. Why don’t you go see, ’stead of botherin’ us poor fisher folk?’

  ‘Sounds like a migaradon,’ Zastra remarked. ‘Perhaps we are close after all.’

  Justyn seemed to agree and signalled the convoy to continue in the direction indicated by the fisherwoman. A day later four sails were sighted, line astern, on a converging course. The convoy displayed Thorlberd’s gecko-and-hawk standard. Zastra ordered the same flag to be raised up the main mast of the Wind of Golmeira. Mata assembled the secret signal they had found amongst Dastrin’s papers and lowered the grating. The subterfuge seemed to work. The convoy reduced sail and allowed them to close. Zastra walked round the deck, giving quiet instructions to her crew as they prepared for battle with as little show as possible. The catapults stayed below decks. They wanted to capture Thorlberd’s precious cargo intact, not destroy it, at least until they knew what it was. Her crew crouched behind the bulwarks, armed and ready. Ahead of them the crew of the Darkhorse did likewise. They closed to within hailing distance of the convoy and Zastra began to feel a heavy weight pre
ssing down on her mind, trying to control her. She resisted. Dobery leaned over the stern of the Darkhorse, cupping his mouth with his hands.

  ‘Mindweavers!’ he called. ‘They know what we are about.’

  A shout came from the one of the two ships in the centre of the convoy. Both were fat trading vessels, designed for carrying cargo rather than speed. What are they carrying that requires such protection? The weight on Zastra’s mind increased. She sensed that more than one mindweaver was attacking her, but her mental wall held firm. She strode forward. Secrecy was no longer required.

  ‘Prepare to board,’ she cried, but one by one, her crew slumped to the ground in an unseeing daze, Ithgol among them. Only Mata and a few others were able to fight the disabling power of the mindweavers. Without sufficient hands to the ropes, the sails slackened and the helmswoman staggered and fell against the wheel, causing the Wind of Golmeira to veer sharply to port. The Darkhorse forged ahead, on a collision course with the leading cargo ship. Zastra saw Dobery and Polina standing next to each other, fixed in concentration. She guessed they were somehow protecting the crew of the Darkhorse from Thorlberd’s mindweavers.

  Zastra and Mata dragged the inert helmswoman off the wheel and set course towards the rearmost cargo ship. There were precious few of Zastra’s crew left to board, but they were committed now. Zastra took up a grapnel. As the bowsprit of the Wind of Golmeira ground against the hull of their target, a terrible scream rang out and the weight of the mindweavers’ probes was suddenly gone. Zastra ran along the bowsprit and sprang across to the deck of the other ship, landing so hard she stumbled. She drew back in alarm as the planking buckled and popped beneath her feet, almost as if it were alive. What in stars is going on? A piece of wood snapped up from the deck and flew past her ear. There was a roar and the crew of the Wind of Golmeira, miraculously revived, surged across the narrow gap between the ships to join her. Not a moment too soon. A pack of Kyrgs and Golmeiran sailors charged towards her. Swords and scythals clashed as the groups joined. Zastra parried a blade and struck out, noting that Ithgol had appeared at her side to protect her flank. The deck continued to shiver and break up beneath their feet. A large splinter tore up from the deck and buried itself in the stomach of one of the Kyrgs. He collapsed with a groan. Zastra found it almost impossible to keep her balance as the deck shuddered beneath her feet.