by C. M. Gray
There it was again! Muffled sounds of yelling and shouting could be heard from outside, somewhere close. He reached over and shook Pardigan, who stirred and woke in a groggy haze.
'What? What's the matter? What's happening?' He looked around obviously confused that it was still dark. 'Quint? What's…'
'Shhhh… listen,' instructed Quint. He got up, walked to the window and forced it open with a thump from the heel of his hand. Yells and groans accompanied by sounds of a struggle floated up through the misty night. Next to him a bright glow globe appeared to light the night then floated swiftly down towards the sounds, the mist and darkness parting around it. Mahra stood beside him moving her hands to guide the glimmering light. Pardigan opened another window and gave her a questioning look.
She shrugged, 'Loras taught me a few tricks, glow globes are really quite easy,' she glanced back towards the sounds and wrinkled her nose, 'Whatever's down there smells awful.'
They peered into the dim street for something to be revealed, and didn't have to wait long. As the globe approached the sounds, it revealed several soldiers vainly attempting to stop a huge shaggy creature, wrapped in animal skins, from pulling sacks out of a warehouse. They watched as it shuffled in and out of the building dragging sacks into a pile in the mud. It didn't seem to be aware of the soldiers' efforts to stop it. The glowing light floated closer and the creature glanced up, a huge smile creasing the craggy face. 'Pretty thing,' it gurgled in a deep wet voice.
'It's a howler, and a very happy one by the look of him,' observed Quint with a grin. 'I've never seen one before, have you?'
Pardigan shook his head, and Mahra murmured, 'No, and it spoke, I had no idea they could talk.' They all looked on, entranced by the huge simple looking creature.
The howler towered above the men around it. One long hairy arm reached up to try and swat the glow globe while the other remained hanging loosely at its side almost touching the ground. It gazed up happily at the glowing ball as the soldiers tried ineffectually to move it. Evidently, the creature really stank. The soldiers were dashing in to jab at it and then moving hurriedly back covering their mouths and noses.
It let out a strange cooing noise and rose up on its huge feet to swat again at the light. Lank stringy hair framed a fleshy almost human face that was creased in a simple smile. Finally, realising it wasn't going to touch the globe, it wiped its nose on the back of its hand, pulling a huge stream of snot away in the process, and chuckled up at the ball, taking one last half-hearted swipe before lumbering back into the warehouse in search of more loot.
'It's like a big baby!' exclaimed Pardigan as the howler came back out carrying another sack. It continued to ignore its attackers while occasionally swatting a spear away that got too close.
It had stopped and was scratching its head pondering the growing pile of stolen goods when out of the misty darkness and into the pool of light, strode a tall hooded figure dressed in black from head to foot, his swirling cloak billowing behind him. Without breaking step, the stranger moved through the soldiers, reached out and gently touched the howler on its forehead in passing, and then continued on as the huge beast slowly collapsed to the floor without a sound. Looking up at the window of the Inn, the hooded form pointed a gnarled finger at the three friends. All three quickly ducked down expecting an attack, but it was only the icy fingers of fear that reached them. The spectral shape drifted on until he the mist slowly swallowed him, once again leaving no clue to his passing. As one, they turned from the window and rushed down the stairs and out into the night, only to be stopped by a guard.
'There's nothing to see here young'ens, go back to your beds,' he tried to push them back towards the Inn but they stood firm and he soon gave up trying. Two soldiers were replacing the sacks in the warehouse while another attempted to prod the glow globe with his spear.
A soldier crouched over the dead howler with a scarf covering his mouth, inspecting it for any sign of the attack. He stood up shaking his head, confusion evident on his face. He walked away and they got their first clear look at the howler's face, still caught in a happy smile. In the centre of its forehead was a black mark in the shape of a hawk.
Pardigan turned to Quint, visibly shocked. 'It was him wasn't it, and he knew we were here, I'm beginning to wonder who's hunting who?' They backed towards the Inn looking around at the dark, misty night uncertainly. Mahra clicked her fingers and the glow globe disappeared with a small pop and murmurs of annoyance from the soldiers as the dark of the night rushed in to reclaim the street.
Quint motioned to the others. 'Let's get back to the room, I think the rules have suddenly changed, and no one thought to warn us.' Returning to the Inn, they ran back up to their room somewhat shaken.
'He saw us, but walked on. He knew we were there, but didn't attack us, just that poor stupid howler… why? Why would he do that?' Pardigan rechecked the bolts on the door before slumping down on the end of his bed. Mahra stood silently by the window, gazing out into the night.
'I don't know, Pardigan, I really don't know, but that was Matheus Hawk and he's up to something, that's for sure, and the strangest thing of all was that he knew we were here.
* * *
Chapter 6
The Black Ship
While The Jenny battled through more rough seas, below decks, the shaking and groaning of the ship went mostly unnoticed by Tarent, his brow creasing in concentration as words appeared magically in the book he held close to the swinging lantern. That Matheus Hawk was in Barnham Bolt was a shock, but that the hunter had been aware of his friend's presence was downright unsettling. Quint was obviously worried, and if Quint was worried, then Pardigan was bound to be even worse. Here they were, chasing the Hawk, only to discover that he was toying with them. Quint had requested some direction, but Tarent was no wiser to what was going on than he was. He picked up the book and began to write:
…I can't work out what's happening either, just be careful!
I'll meditate on this.
We're two days from putting ashore then will look to meet you on Morgasta's coast.
Nothing to report here except rough sea and bad weather.
Good luck over the mountain,
Tarent.
He tapped the pencil against his teeth, thinking. If Matheus Hawk was flaunting his presence like this, what was going to be waiting for them once they landed in the northern territory?
'Sail! Sail to port!' Tarent heard the cry above the sounds of the storm lashed boat and folded the book before stowing it in his bag. Climbing carefully from his bunk he saw that Loras had already dashed out, and Magician Falk was replacing the books the two had been studying.
'Unfortunately, I don't think I'm much of a sailor,' grumbled the old man as he stood up bracing himself against the movement of the boat. 'I feel awful, you go on ahead young man, don't worry about me, I'll be along presently.' Tarent smiled at the old Magician and made his way up on deck.
Reaching the top of the ladder, he had to pull hard to open the hatchway, when it finally shifted it swung back with a bang, the force of the gale immediately taking his breath away. He clambered out and glanced up. Below the grey boiling mass of clouds, the wind was howling through the rigging, tearing at the straining canvases - one of the huge sails had ripped and was flapping wildly. Tarent watched entranced for a moment as two sailors edged along a spar, the wet rigging treacherous as the sail cracked violently below them, risking their lives as they tried to catch hold of it. Gathering his cloak about him, Tarent staggered across the deck to where Loras was standing with two of the ships' crew clutching the handrail looking out to sea. Loras turned to him as he came alongside and shouted over the howl of the wind.
'She's over there,' he pointed towards a grey horizon filled with turbulent clouds. Lightning flickered, and thunder rumbled as the boat was buffeted by yet another huge wave that hit with a 'boom' and sent foaming water washing across the deck. At first, Tarent couldn't see anything as he squinted his eyes ag
ainst the salt soaked air. But then, as the boat climbed the next wave, he saw the other ship some hundred or so spans away to their port side as it burst through the spray, it was heading directly towards them. The ship was far larger than The Jenny. Black sails, slick with rain, billowed from its masts while black featureless pennants streamed from the end of each spar. It did not look friendly; in fact, it reminded Tarent of some demonic sea creature, conjured from some old sailor's tale that had risen from the deep.
Loras turned to Tarent. He was soaked to the skin and shivering from the cold, all spells forgotten. Cupping his hands he shouted and Tarent leant towards him, to hear properly.
'Look at the flag on her topmast,' he grabbed for the rail as the boat rolled beneath them. Tarent searched the black ship for the flag and then glanced back to Loras and the crewmen. It was then he noticed the fear on the men's faces and realised that the little trader was turning away from the bigger ship attempting to flee.
'It's a pirate, isn't it?' One of the men nodded then turned away, staggering across the deck to help turn the huge ship's wheel. Tarent glanced back to the pirate ship as it rose upon another wave, water streaming across its decks, the skull n' crossbones flag flapping above the huge black sails.
'What shall we do?' shouted Loras. 'I could probably sink it, but…'
'But that would be murder,' came the voice of Magician Falk, straining against the wind. The old Magician had finally joined them at the rail, his robes flapping. 'We need to question these pirates before we do anything. They may have seen The Esmerelda and know where she was bound, we should do nothing.' They stared across at the black ship as it steadily approached, breaking through the top of each huge wave then crashing back down to meet the next. Every wave bringing the vessel closer to them, The Jenny was running, but it was a race they already knew to be lost.
* * *
Bartholomew Bask stumbled down the rocky slope. He was breathing hard and running for his life. Behind him, baying like a pack of rabid dogs was a small group from Morgasta's camp. A stone hit him on his shoulder, and several others clattered around him but he stumbled on without looking back, each haggard, drawn breath loud in his ears.
There had been no gold, no riches and no respect from Morgasta or her army. The skulls had been ripped from his hands and he'd then been humiliated, beaten and finally ignored. When they'd dragged him from Morgasta's tent, he'd made one last plea to the Hawk. But the tall hooded figure had stared down at him with a look of disgust and then turned away while his wretched demon had screeched at him.
Dazed and confused Bartholomew stumbled on.
The group currently tormenting him had been with him since his rough eviction from the tent. They'd pounced upon him immediately, pushing and pulling at him, and once someone had even bitten him, accompanied, of course, by howls of laughter from the others. They were herding him out of the camp and into the mountains, but Bartholomew cared little for which direction he was being pressed. He simply needed some respite from this present torment so he could sit and think on his situation. Bartholomew had always prided himself on having a quick mind but in Morgasta's tent events had moved so quickly that he had little opportunity to use it.
The scrabbling sounds coming from behind him were getting close again. Bracing himself for whatever new ordeal was about to take place, he pushed on, even as his body wanted to drop.
With breath rasping in his ears and his heart beating so hard it felt as though it would leap from his chest, he still found time to curse Matheus Hawk for getting him into this mess, for abandoning him in the middle of this… this rabble of an army. He would have his revenge against the Hawk, oh yes he would, he would most certainly have his… 'Oof!' A heavy blow took him between the shoulder blades sending him sprawling to the floor and he gasped, trying to fill his aching lungs, yet it was only fear and despair that filled him as he realised he couldn't breathe. He was aware of several blows to his prostrate body before losing consciousness, accompanied by voices and laughter, and then nothing as the blackness, thankfully, now, took him.
* * *
The two boats came together with a crunching, bone jarring 'boom' and the shrieking of stressed timbers, throwing people to the deck on both boats. The roar and screams of the pirate crew rose above the noise as the two boats drew apart and grappling hooks were thrown from the black ship, in a matter of moments the two vessels were bound securely together. There wasn't any resistance from the crew of The Jenny. They'd known capture was a foregone conclusion long before being boarded, yet fear and a frantic desperation had driven them on before finally reducing them to beaten men, unable to do anything about the black nightmare as it descended upon them.
The pirates swarmed across, cackling and calling, attempting to bring fresh fear along with them to those on the captured craft. Brandishing an assortment of knives, swords and cudgels, they swarmed through the rigging, down the hatches and around the deck, bullying the terrified crew together into a group on the main deck. A small pirate, dressed in the same dull black cloth as all the others, instructed Tarent, Loras and Magician Falk to…
'Move yer sorry bones wiv them others and be quick about it,' he looked at them and spat on the deck. 'Children and old men, you have no value, move!'
'Let's just do what the nice pirate says, shall we boys?' whispered Magician Falk. 'We don't want a scene… not yet anyway,' he gave a wintry smile to the pirate and joined the crew. Looking back, the old Magician was dismayed to see that both Tarent and Loras hadn't moved; he beckoned urgently.
Loras shook his head in dismay, but with no real alternative the two friends also complied and joined the group, where they all stood, shivering in the cold, awaiting their fate.
Somewhere in the group, one of The Jenny's sailors began to whine and beg uncontrollably, the others tried desperately to quieten him but the noise continued. Tarent cast about, but couldn't see who it was. A big mean looking pirate pushed through the group and Tarent saw the pirate's hand holding a cudgel, rise up, and then he brought it down with a thump onto the poor unfortunate's head, with little warning or ceremony, bringing the noise to an abrupt stop. Leaving the group of captive seamen the pirate glared back at the rest of the captives, daring any other to step out of line and appeared almost disappointed that they remained silent and docile as the fallen seaman was dragged away and tipped without ceremony over the side.
When order was judged to be restored, the small sailor put a whistle to his lips and sounded three short blasts, and, moments later, the pirate captain swung across, landing with a thump in front of the terrified seamen.
The Captain was a huge, intimidating figure. Slick black oilskins were wrapped about him to keep the weather at bay and belted at his waist with a twisted scarlet sash were two pistols and a heavy sword. The trader's crew shuffled nervously under his gaze. Tarent regarded the Captain and judged the man tainted by chaos, it shone clearly in his eyes and the exaggeration of what he wore. Upon his head was crammed a wide flamboyant hat, held safely from being dislodged by the wind by long red tethers tied beneath a heavily bearded chin. Within the thick black beard were tied smoking cannon fuses that hissed and spluttered, wreathing him in smoke to offer him an air of madness. He stomped past the captives inspecting them closely with a piercing gaze, and came to a stop in front of Loras and Tarent, before ruffling Loras's hair.
'Want to be pirates, do yer boys?' he gave a crooked smile exposing the black rotting stumps of what were once his teeth and then walked on.
'I'm so glad Pardigan isn't here,' whispered Tarent. 'We'd be in a right mess if he were here.'
'Well this is still a bit of a mess,' whispered Loras in return. 'And if he messes my hair up again he's going to regret it. I'll turn those fuses into snakes.'
'Shhhh,' Magician Falk frowned at them as the bearded pirate finished his inspection and turned to address his cowering prisoners.
'Very well me fine sailors, in case you haven't noticed, pirates have boarded you. I am
Captain Tregawn of the pirate ship, Black Destiny, yer may have heard of me?' he leered around at the trembling captives. We shall be taking this fine ship, relieving you all of anything of worth and ransoming any of you that have any value. Although, by the look of it, we'll be feeding most of you to the sharks.' This brought laughter and jeers from the other pirates and fearful mutterings and prayers from the crew of The Jenny. Tregawn continued to play to his audience, walking up and down inspecting them all closely like cattle in a market, offering some of the captives a place in his crew, and others the promise of release if they told where any valuable possessions might be hidden.
'I'm getting a bit tired of all this,' whispered Loras, 'this is delaying us, shall we do something, or what?'
'Shhh, there are too many of them,' cautioned Magician Falk, but the boys ignored him, and Loras leaned across to whisper into Tarent's ear, 'And I'm getting a bit fed up with him, what's his problem? Is he scared?'
'Maybe he's a bit worried about how we can deal with them, don't forget, he hasn't seen us do much yet,' replied Tarent. 'Let's just see if the pirates have seen The Esmerelda, then you can tickle him with the snakes, alright?'
'Excuse me Captain Tregawn…,' began Tarent, but he was interrupted by an astonished glare from the pirate, he was evidently not used to being interrupted.
Walking slowly towards them, Tregawn played to his crowd. 'Are yer volunteering to join the crew of the Black Destiny, boy, or merely asking to be thrown to the fishes to end yer misery?'
More laughter followed this from the pirates with a few calls of 'Throw him over Captain,' and 'He ain't no pirate 'e's just some skinny drip of fish bait!'
