Murthen Island: Book Two: Tales of Golmeira

by Marianne Ratcliffe

‘Let’s give it a try.’

  Her stomach plunged as the wooden square lurched into the air. Flailing her arms, she managed to keep upright as the hatch flew up from the deck and span out over the sea. Just as she began to feel she was balanced, the hatch tipped over and dumped her unceremoniously into the water. Spluttering she rose to find she had landed close to Port Krysfera. As she waded ashore, dripping wet, she noticed Nerika and some of the settlers had gathered to watch and were having a good laugh at her expense. She called for a canoe to take her back to the Wind of Golmeira. After five more attempts and five more cold baths in the sea, Zastra was well and truly fed up. She gathered Orika and Dobery into a small huddle.

  ‘I’m s-sorry,’ Orika said dejectedly. ‘I can do it with just the wood, but it goes wrong when you’re on it.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Zastra tried to sound encouraging. ‘We’ll get there.’

  ‘Perhaps if you let Orika into your mind?’ suggested Dobery. ‘She may be able to sense how you are balancing and work with you rather than against you.’

  Zastra was doubtful. She had secrets she couldn’t risk anyone else finding out. Only desperation had induced her to open her mind to Orika when they took the transport. Dobery raised his palm.

  ‘She doesn’t have to see everything. You can lock the important things away. Remember how I taught you.’

  ‘It would be nice if we didn’t have all these spectators,’ Zastra remarked. Orika nodded vigorously in agreement. The crowd on the beach had grown and some had even brought cushions and rugs so that they could watch the entertainment in comfort.

  Zastra arranged for the yacht to be lowered and Dobery and Orika joined her as she took the little sailboat out of the bay and round to the far side of the island, out of sight of Port Krysfera. They started to practise. Opening her mind to Orika improved things. The flying hatch no longer seemed to fight against Zastra, and there were moments when she felt almost in control. The main problem was that her defensive mental walls kept snapping back into place, a reflex of her years of training. Once that occurred, she inevitably ended up crashing into the water. By the time the sun began to set, Zastra was soaking wet and shivering with cold. She began to think longingly of Pitwyn’s bath-house.

  ‘That’ll do for today,’ Dobery said. ‘We must not put too much strain on Orika.’

  Zastra didn’t argue. She took the yacht back to Port Krysfera, dropping Orika off at the Wind of Golmeira on her way. She noticed a two-masted ship had joined the others in the bay. She left Dobery at the jetty and made her way to the bath-house, overjoyed to find there was a spare bath waiting. She pulled the lever to fill it up and had just placed one foot in the hot water when a figure burst through the linen curtain and into her chamber.

  ‘What the—’ Zastra yelped. She plunged into the steaming water in an attempt to hide her nakedness. The intruder stopped short. It was Kylen.

  ‘Oh, um, sorry, I didn’t realise you’d be…’

  ‘You didn’t realise that I’d be in the bath? And yet this is a bath-house.’

  I’ll just, um…’ Kylen flushed. She appeared almost as mortified as Zastra. She quickly averted her eyes and shuffled back behind the curtain. ‘Sorry!’

  Is there nowhere I can get some peace? Zastra eyed the entrance to her chamber warily, but the curtain remained closed and eventually she reckoned it might be safe to stand up and reach for the soap. With unfortunate timing, Kylen chose that moment to pop her head back round the side of the curtain, making Zastra jump so sharply that her foot slipped on the base of the tub and she fell backwards into the hot water. She surfaced, spluttering, wiping her wet hair from her forehead.

  ‘It seems your bad luck with water continues,’ Kylen said with a grin.

  Zastra scoured the room desperately for something to cover herself. There was nothing within reach, so she folded her arms across her chest protectively and glared at the intruder.

  ‘What do you want?’

  Kylen coughed.

  ‘I only wanted to know when you’ll be ready to try this plan of yours. We’ve had word from Drazan that Thorlberd is sending reinforcements to Murthen Island. We’ve got to get there before they do.’

  ‘Who’s Drazan?’ Zastra attempted to regain her composure, but her skin tingled uncomfortably. Where are those towels?

  ‘The captain of the Flower. Didn’t you see it in the bay? The little ship with the two masts. He’s been scouting the Golmeiran coast for information. He’s a mindweaver, like Polina and Dobery, and he’s found out things about Murthen Island.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Weren’t you listening?’ Kylen strode forward, oblivious to Zastra’s spluttering protests. ‘Reinforcements. For Murthen Island. Due to leave Port Trestra before the next Moonscrescent.’

  There they are. Zastra finally spotted a neat pile of towels lying just by the entrance, well out of her reach unless she left the protection of her bath. She gestured toward the pile.

  ‘Chuck me a towel then. I suppose we’d better start out at once.’

  Kylen took the top towel from the pile and handed it to Zastra, at least having the decency to keep her eyes directed towards the floor while she did so.

  ‘Um… we can’t leave until tomorrow. Mata insists the Wind of Golmeira won’t be ready to sail before then.’

  Zastra froze, one leg on the lip of the tub.

  ‘So this could have waited until after I’d had my bath?’

  ‘I suppose so. Although knowing how long you like to spend in here, it could have been tomorrow before you got out.’

  Zastra reached for the bar of soap and threw it forcefully in the general direction of the Sendoran. Kylen skipped out of the way.

  ‘Hey! No need for that.’

  ‘Get out. And tell everyone else to leave me alone, unless there’s an actual emergency.’

  Kylen disappeared and Zastra sank back into the bath and pulled the lever for more hot water. She closed her eyes.

  ‘Oh Zastra? Lady Zastra, have you finished yet? I have something… These new shoes won’t try themselves on. You must try them, really you must. They are just the most lovely…’ A curly-haired shadow fell across the linen curtain.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you,’ she heard Kylen remark pleasantly. ‘Do go straight in.’

  Chapter Forty-one

  Rastran looked complacently out of his window. The sea was flat and calm, uninterrupted as far as the distant horizon. Beneath his position the Bractarian Guard patrolled the walls of the fortress. He hoped his cousin would be foolish enough to attack. What did she have? A handful of ships, crewed by traitorous scum. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

  There was a knock at the door. Linsak, the chief mindweaver on Murthen Island, begged leave to enter. Rastran smirked. He knew that Linsak, much older and more experienced than him, resented both his presence and the authority he had as Thorlberd’s son. He found her ineffective attempts to hide her dislike quite amusing.

  ‘What is it?’ he snapped, feigning annoyance. In reality, he was bored and welcomed the diversion, but he liked to put people on the defensive, knowing they dared say nothing in return.

  ‘My progress report, as you requested,’ Linsak said, with forced politeness.

  ‘I hope there has actually been some progress this time?’

  ‘Indeed, my Lord. One of our younger mindweavers has revealed an exceptional ability, unlocked by the cintara bark.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘He was able to crack a sword blade with his mind. Not much as yet, but something we can work on.’

  ‘What use is that? I suppose his ability is limited to metal?’

  Linsak nodded. ‘As far as we know, a person can only mindmove a single substance. As my Lord Rastran knows from his own ability. It is unfortunate that we lost one such gifted child to Lord Thorlberd’s niece.’

  Linsak’s face showed nothing, but Rastran felt her insolence. He himself had been on the leading warship when Z
astra’s forces had attacked the convoy. He had ordered the captain make for the safety of Murthen Island. It had been the right tactical decision; the migaradon should have finished the rebels off, but to some it might look as if he had run away.

  ‘She was lucky. Next time it will be different.’

  Five warships lay in Murthen Island’s harbour, ready to strike out at his command, and he had more mindweavers under his control than anyone in the whole of Golmeira. He would take personal satisfaction in killing his cousin. Or better still, capturing her and taking her in chains to his father. She had got the better of him all those years ago at Golmer Castle, but that had been kids’ stuff. Now he was a man, fully trained. You have no idea of my powers, Zastra. Your crossbow skills won’t save you this time.

  ‘What about the Sendoran problem?’ Linsak asked. ‘The last batch were too weak to be much use. Many died before we could even begin to probe their minds. If my Lord would allow them a little more food and perhaps some basic medicines we might have enough healthy Sendorans to work with.’

  Rastran waved his hand dismissively.

  ‘They deserve no such thing. If they die, they can be replaced. Sendor is full of such animals. Why waste good food and medicine?’

  ‘Losing the latest shipment has deprived us of new subjects, and my Lord Rastran’s temper…’ The sentence was choked off, uncompleted.

  ‘Those that resist deserve to die. It is a lesson to the rest. That one that spat at me deserved his fate. Which reminds me, you’d better have him cut down. No doubt he’s beginning to smell.’

  Linsak twitched her nose as if to imply that it was Rastran who was giving off a bad stench. She was really starting to annoy him. Rastran leant back against the windowsill and folded his arms.

  ‘So what you are telling me is that you have made no progress overcoming the Sendoran resistance to mindweaving.’

  Linsak shuffled nervously. ‘Their minds are so different, it is difficult to interpret what they are thinking. We have found a way to access the dream centre of their minds. The nightmare planting is going well.’

  ‘What use are the nightmares of savages to me?’

  ‘Manifold, my Lord. We can disturb their sleep, leaving them exhausted. Some we have even pushed into insanity. The threat of this has loosened some tongues, although most stubbornly refuse to co-operate.’

  ‘And the boy? Zadorax.’

  ‘Every night since last Moonscross, we have forced him to live in a nightmare world of our creation. He will break soon, I guarantee it.’

  ‘You’d better be right. I need him to tell me the secrets of the Caves of Karabek. I want to know every entrance.’

  ‘I thought Master at Arms Ixendred was in charge of taking the caves? He has written yet again, requesting delivery of more sintegrack.’

  ‘The only remaining sintegrack is here on Murthen Island. I will not trust it to anyone else. Once the brat has told me the layout of the caves, I will lead the attack myself.’

  Linsak raised an eyebrow. Was she mocking him? He tried to probe her, but she blocked him easily, her face blank and unconcerned. He wished he could get rid of her, but after a number of previous incidents, his father had insisted that Rastran could only punish his subordinates when they visibly failed.

  ‘Get out of my sight,’ he snapped, taking some satisfaction in dismissing her with such deliberate rudeness. He turned his attention back to the unbroken line of the horizon. No sign of a sail to break the monotony. Come and play, Zastra, if you dare. I’ll make sure you regret it.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Kylen paced up and down the deck with increasing impatience as Zastra ordered Mata to drop anchor until the tide was high enough for the Wind of Golmeira to pass safely through the treacherous channel of the Western Spur. Zastra refused to let the Sendoran’s loud sighs and angry looks pressure her into premature action. Only when the waves had risen high enough to lap against the tidal line of algae and seaweed did she give the order to raise anchor. It was the first time they had traversed the channel in this direction and it would do no one any good if they ran aground on one of the sandbanks. The prevailing wind was against them so she ordered the dinghy be lowered to tow them through. Once they had made it safely back to Sea of Golmeira, Zastra set a course for the Pyramid Isle. Justyn and Nerika refused to countenance an attack on Murthen Island until Zastra had proved it was possible to defeat a migaradon. To their knowledge, the closest migaradon was on the Pyramid Isle. Zastra left the ship in Mata’s capable hands while she and Orika practised. Zastra added to her growing collection of bruises and cuts as they battled to control the flight of the wooden hatch.

  ‘Perhaps you should try wearing a saucepan on your head?’ Jerenik’s helpful suggestion came after an unexpected dip of the raft had caused Zastra to bump her head on the foresail yard.

  Zastra bit back a sharp retort. It was bad enough that she was aching all over, without Jerenik making fun of her. She probably should discipline him for insubordination, but she didn’t want to begin life as captain handing out punishments. She had no desire to be like Dastrin. She was rescued by Mata.

  ‘Saucepans, is it?’ snapped her second in command. ‘Well, the galley is a mess since we don’t have a proper cook. I want it sparkling, saucepans and all. Anyone else with a liking for smart comments can help you.’

  The grin was wiped from Jerenik’s face and the rest of the crew turned back to their tasks with a new-found eagerness.

  Kylen and Dobery had insisted on joining the expedition. Kylen shared Zastra’s cabin while Dobery took a bunk in Burgal’s old berth together with Ithgol. Jerenik, much to his annoyance, had been sent back to bunk with the rest of the crew. That evening, Zastra invited Mata, Ithgol and Dobery to join her and Kylen for supper. Kylen did not think much of the idea.

  ‘I refuse to eat with a Kyrg. If you’d seen what they’re doing to my people, you wouldn’t either. They are savages.’

  ‘I have no more reason to like Kyrgs than you,’ replied Zastra, ‘but Ithgol has proven himself worthy of my trust. Sendorans were called savages once. I would have thought you’d have more sympathy for Ithgol than the others, not less.’

  ‘Pah!’

  ‘Well, I’ve invited him now,’ said Zastra, exasperated. ‘I won’t uninvite him.’

  ‘You’re the captain.’ Kylen gave her a sardonic salute.

  The supper was a disaster. Kylen sat at one end of the table and glowered. Ithgol was as uncommunicative as ever and even Mata seemed ill at ease and only responded to direct questions. Zastra tried to act as a good host, encouraging Mata with some general questions about sailing and navigation. Dobery joined in now and then, but with Kylen and Ithgol conducting their own private glaring competition the atmosphere turned heavy and an uncomfortable silence descended over the dining table. At least the food was good. Before they had set off, Pitwyn had sent across the finest produce from Port Krysfera. There was also fresh fish, caught direct from the sea only that day. Dobery passed Zastra a jug of sauce.

  ‘Do you think you and Orika will be ready in time?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ sighed Zastra. ‘You’ve seen us. It’s a matter of chance whether I fly or crash onto the deck.’

  ‘Zastra will succeed,’ stated Ithgol. Zastra stared at him in surprise. It was the first words he had uttered the entire evening. Kylen pounced on him.

  ‘What do you know? Your opinion is wanted as little as your presence. Why are you even here? To spy for the other Kyrgs no doubt.’

  ‘I am no spy,’ Ithgol growled. Kylen shoved aside her plate of food.

  ‘Why should we trust you? Zastra fights for Golmeira, I for Sendor, but what do you fight for?’

  Ithgol’s eyebrows bunched together. When he spoke, it was as though the words were being squeezed out of him.

  ‘Zastra is my comrade in arms. That is enough. If you were not so puny, I would punish you for your insults.’

  ‘I’m not afraid to fight.’ Kylen stood up
with such force that her chair tipped backwards. Ithgol rose to meet her challenge.

  ‘Stop this!’ cried Zastra. ‘We mustn’t fight amongst ourselves. We’ve more important battles. Kylen, have you forgotten that Ithgol helped rescue you from the transports? You should be grateful to him, instead of being so rude. And Ithgol, I won’t have threats in my cabin.’

  Kylen picked up her chair and sunk back into it sulkily.

  ‘Just don’t turn your back on him,’ she muttered.

  Ithgol remained standing for a moment. Then, with a small nod toward Zastra, he kicked back his chair and marched from the cabin. Dobery and Mata quickly muttered their excuses and departed also. Zastra rounded on Kylen.

  ‘How long are you going keep this up?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘This stupid anger with everyone and everything. Even those risking their lives to help you. Ithgol will prove invaluable when we try to save Zax and the others.’

  ‘I have more on my mind than hurting the feelings of some Kyrginite savage.’

  Kylen flung herself into her bunk, turned towards the hull and yanked her blanket over her head.

  Zastra and Orika had improved to the point where Zastra was able to fly in a complete loop around the ship, balanced on the hatch cover. Whooping with exhilaration, she swooped down to where Mata and Kylen were standing together at the stern. In response to her unspoken command, the raft halted and hovered a foot above the deck, allowing her to hop off with a flourish.

  ‘Well, that leaves only the small matter of a giant flying beast to face,’ Mata said drily. ‘We should reach the Pyramid Isle early tomorrow if the wind holds.’

  ‘At last.’ Kylen glowed with excitement.

  Zastra picked up the square of wood, suddenly feeling queasy. She retired to her cabin, but found it difficult to sleep. It didn’t help that every crewmember wanted to knock on her door to wish her luck. She supposed they were trying to be kind but she just wanted to be left alone. In the end, Ithgol took it upon himself to stand guard, which soon stopped the flow of visitors. As she lay on her bunk and stared at the planking above her head, she made out the sounds of the ship. The wash of the water beneath the bow, the pitter-patter of bare feet as the watch trimmed the sail and the hum of voices and clattering of pans below decks as the rest of the crew prepared supper. They were noises she had grown used to and found oddly comforting. The lives of all these people depended on her and the damaged mind of a frightened girl. So much could go wrong. Zastra gave up trying to sleep and went to find Orika. The girl insisted on living in the healer’s room. She was awake and when Zastra sat down beside her she rubbed her eyes.