King Jarrek woke him. Outside his pavilion tent, Mikahl saw that the rain had stopped. It was still dark and cloudy, though, and Jarrek looked to be ready to ride.
“If you want something useful to do, Mik,” Jarrek started in a whisper. It had been awhile since anybody had called Mikahl ‘Mik,’ but it didn’t offend him. In fact, the use of the nickname gathered his full attention. Kind Balton and Lord Gregory had always called him Mik. Loudin of the Reyhall had as well. All those men he had loved and trusted. He felt he was safe in putting King Jarrek among them in his heart.
“When you’re done with that craven king,” Jarrek continued, “ditch the general, but keep thirty swords and thirty bows. Take them and backtrack Pael’s path through the Wilder Mountains. You’ll come out of them just north of Castlemont proper. Ride down on Dreg the slaver who Princess Rosa told us about and free those folks he’s working in the mines. It’ll give you a chance to get a look at Locar and the breed giant lord who is supposedly ruling there.”
“Aye,” Mikahl nodded, and clasped his friend’s hand. “I may do just that. You be careful in O’Dakahn. That’s a command.”
“If I fail, Mik…” King Jarrek’s voice trailed off, but his eyes met Mikahl’s and the desperation in them was plain to see. The man cared deeply for his people. Mikahl nodded that he understood what hadn’t been said, that if the unthinkable happened, he would find a way to finish what Jarrek was about to start. Then the Red Wolf, King of Wildermont, whirled and stalked off into the night.
General Spyra was full of questions the next day, but Mikahl just told him the facts. Yes, King Jarrek and his men rode south to O’Dakahn. No, he hadn’t decided what he was going to do after Dreen. “Most likely, General,” Mikahl said. “I’ll send you and most of the escort back to Xwarda. I’ll stay on a bit in Dreen, I think, and test King Broderick’s loyalty, as well as his patience. If it comes to anything with Dakahn, I’ll have what’s left of the Valleyan host at my command.”
His words hadn’t really been intended as a jab, but they came off as one. It wasn’t until five days later, when they rode into Tip under the midday sun, that the General bothered to speak to him on a personal level again.
“Since we’ve made exceptional time, Your Highness,” the General’s expression was pinched—he clearly did not want to be asking anything of Mikahl —“I ask that we let the men recuperate the rest of the day. The captains have asked me to see if they might hunt the tip of the forest so that we can all feast on fresh game this night instead of rations.”
“A hunt?” Mikahl’s grin was wide and genuine. “That’s an excellent idea, sir. The best idea I’ve heard since I can remember.”
Tip was located on both banks of the Southron River where it flowed out of the Evermore Forest. The forest reached southward along the banks and the town had been built at the forest’s most southern finger-like point, thus earning itself the name Tip.
Like the Pixie River, the Southron River created a natural border. West of the Southron River was Valleya, and between the Southron and Pixie Rivers lay Seaward. The town sat on both sides of the bridge, but the Valleyans had swarmed in after Pael’s horde had come through and taken most of the Seaward side over.
Since the Valleyans had taken over the town, it had started to be rebuilt before winter came. While Dreen, Valleya’s capital city, had been destroyed by Pael’s rampage, the rest of the kingdom of Valleya had been left untouched. There was no shortage of men and resources. New building had increased the place to a size bordering on city status. Nevertheless, the thick run of the Evermore Forest that clung to the river north of the city was still rumored to be a hunter’s dreamland. Apparently the vast and sudden increase in populace hadn’t scared away any of the game—at least that’s what the locals were saying. They also warned that some dark beast had taken up residence in the woods and that a few men had gone missing because of it.
Mikahl borrowed a longbow and a quiver of arrows from one of the archers, then set out on the Valleyan side of the river with a group of Highwander archer captains. General Spyra stayed in town and kept everything moving along in an orderly fashion. The Seaward side of the forest was hunted by the remaining archery captains, one of whom boasted the official rank of Queen’s Ranger. Needless to say the ranger’s experience paid off. The group hunting the Seaward side of the river returned an hour before dusk with two does and a stag draped proudly across the backs of their horses.
Open cook fires dotted the night, and the smell of fresh cooked meat filled the air. The men were all in good spirits, save for General Spyra. The sun was going down and the High King was nowhereto be seen. The General was sworn to protect High King Mikahl, but couldn’t do so if he didn’t know where he was. One of the Valleyan horse ranchers, obviously a wealthy man by the size of his entourage, approached the General as full dark was setting in. The man had a concerned look on his face as he spoke.
“There’s a devil boar loose out there, General,” the man said, indicating the Valleyan side of the river where the High King and his group had gone off to hunt. “It’s as big as a wagon and evil. It’s killed a half dozen men since the snows melted. It’s been out there all winter. Them men of yours might have gotten into a pickle with it.”
Spyra paled. He knew exactly what was out there in the forest. The demon-boar, and a few of the wyverns Pael had summoned into the battle of Xwarda, had escaped the might of Mikahl’s sword. The wyverns had flown away, but the demon-boar had fled into the Evermore Forest near Xwarda. It had taken wounds from his men in the battle, and they’d assumed it found a place in the forest to die. The Queen’s Rangers searched after the snows melted. It was no wonder they found no sign of the beast. It had come west.
The General took a few deep breaths, gathered his cool, and began yelling out orders in the darkness. It took a few minutes longer than it should have, due to the relaxed state of his men, but the General’s Blacksword cavalry formed up as ordered, each with a torch blazing in hand.
“Where to, sir?” a sergeant at the front of the group asked. His horse was prancing and whinnying.
Just then, an explosion of sapphire light erupted from the middle of the forest to the north. It was followed by a sizzling crackling sound. The light shifted from blue to lavender then to a deep angry crimson. In the shocked silence that followed, the sound of faraway voices shouting, and a harrowing scream carried to Spyra and his men. Then the distant red illumination sputtered and failed, leaving the forest bathed in silent, silvery moonlight.
“To the High King!” the General yelled at the top of his lungs as he heedlessly spurred his horse toward the ruckus in the woods. There was no doubt what the source of the colorful light had been; all of the Blacksword soldiers had seen Mikahl’s infamous sword Ironspike lighting up the night while he was fighting the demon-wizard Pael. The question was, why had the light suddenly sputtered and disappeared, and whose voice had that been screaming out in such horrible agony?
Chapter Nine
They were given the Royal Compartments on the Seawander. There were two sleeping rooms, each five paces long and three wide. They had side by side cushioned bunks shelving out from the walls. A net faced storage ledge ran high on the wall, and a small writing table filled the space at the foot of the beds. There was a brass oil lantern dangling from a short chain overhead, and as it swayed, the stark shadows it threw exaggerated the movements of the ship tenfold.
The two rooms were joined in the middle by a third, which was paneled with polished mahogany and had a round window that the crew kept clean enough to actually see through. The viewing portal, as it was called, was situated at the end of a booth table that could easily seat six men. There was a cushioned divan and an enclosed privy at the other end of the room. All three cabins were carpeted in plush sea-blue shag and trimmed with elegant brass works. As far as quarters on a ship went, this was the lap of luxury, but since none of the four companions had ever been to sea before, they thought it was cramped at bes
t.
Oarly went straight to a bunk in the room he and Brady were to share and wasted no time getting rolled up in a woolen blanket. The dwarf asked that his meals be brought to him and that he not be disturbed. He then pulled the covers up over his head and lay stock still. All this he did to the amusement of the others a full hour before the ship was scheduled to depart the docks.
The other three only stayed below long enough to drop off their things. They were too excited to miss watching the land fade away as they took to the ocean. While they stood at the rail, Hyden had Brady and Phen go over the checklist of supplies for the tenth time. Rope, blankets, grappling hooks, lanterns, oil, arrows by the score. There were also shovels, axes, picks and other digging tools, not to mention the tents, field rations, foul weather gear and other necessities like soil cloth and healing herbs. They had thought of everything, or so they hoped. It was a good thing, too, because by the time they had finished discussing the supplies Captain Trant was bellowing, “All hands aboard!” The ship was departing Old Port for the open sea.
At dinner the night before the Captain had told them a little about the Seawander. At just over two hundred feet long she was no ordinary ship. Built to carry Queen Willa and other nobility, instead of a cargo, it was sleek and ballasted for optimal speed. She boasted three masts that reached high into the sky and the Captain promised that they could fly enough canvas to outrun any Dakaneese pirate ship they came across. What’s more, the transom was lined with Wardstone, just like a river-tug, and the water-mage on board could make the ship go as fast as a double-decked rower, and that was against the wind. As proof of this, the ship lurched away from the dock without a single sail set and carved a sharp wake as it picked up speed and made its way through the harbor.
Men in fishing boats waved their hats and cheered the Seawander as she passed. A moment later, as she slid through the shadow of a monstrous ship, the crew of the galley called down to them in languages that neither Hyden nor Phen could name. Members of the Seawander’s crew called back up to them in clipped but joyous shouts. The hulking cargo vessel towered over them in the water so much so that Hyden and Phen both had to crane their necks to take it all in.
Talon swooped and terrorized the flocks of noisy white gulls that were following along behind them. He rolled and spun and showed off his aerial prowess to the smaller sea birds as if he were their superior. The gulls seemed more impressed with the bits of food that were being stirred up in the ship’s wake, but still kept a wary eye on him.
Deck Master Biggs called out orders, his voice booming through his thick seaman’s beard. The first mate repeated them, and like monkeys, men took to the rigging and unfurled the yellowed canvas of a dozen or more sails. Soon the Seawander began picking up speed. As she left the protected area of the port she began rising and falling with the swells. Each time she came down a great splash of spray and foam shot out from under her and blew back across the deck. Phen gripped the rail tightly with one hand and thrust his other fist up into the air urging the ship on. Brady found the bowsprit figurehead, a mermaid of polished ironwood, and leaned out ahead of the ship with her, letting the wind blow his long brown hair back behind him.
“Look!” Phen exclaimed.
Hyden searched the sea where Phen was pointing but didn’t see a thing. Then all of a sudden a delfin fish, as big as a man, sleek and green leapt out of the water alongside of them; another one shot out of the sea, then another. Soon a dozen of the smiling, snouted fish were arcing through the air racing and dancing with the ship as they went.
Talon swooped down amongst them, and through his familiar link Hyden could hear their joyous laughter and mirth. They were like a group of children playing in the summer sun.
Phen streaked across the deck toward the bow to tell Brady about the delfin. Deck Master Biggs caught him up about half way, flipped him around then half dangled him over the side rail. With a threatening, yet playful, look on his face, the Deck Master snarled, “There be no running on me deck, boy! No more warnings!”
When Deck Master Biggs pulled him back onto the ship and let him go, Phen’s eyes were the size of chicken eggs, but his terrified grin was even wider than before.
The delfin followed them for some while, and before they knew it, land was no longer in sight. The Captain said something to the Deck Master who looked behind them through his long glass then pointed. Biggs said something to the first mate, who came over to where Brady, Hyden and Phen were now leaning on the rail enjoying the delfin show and Talon’s antics.
“Keep a watchin’ as you are,” the man said with a discolored, gap-toothed grin.
Hyden let his eyes trail behind them to where the Deck Master was pointing his looking glass. For a moment he saw a surging swell on the water behind, then it was gone. It came again, only closer this time. There was a single sharp spiked fin as big as a man’s leg breaking the water at the peak of the swell. Then it was gone again, back into the rolling sea. Then all of a sudden a fish the size of the Seawander herself leapt clear of the surface beside them. Its toothy mouth snapped shut on a pair of delfin as the terrified screeches of the rest of the pod caused Hyden to cringe and Talon to veer sharply away.
“Wow! It’s a sabersnout, Hyden,” Phen exclaimed loudly.
“Just so, lad!” Captain Trant boomed from somewhere. “Don’t fall over the rail now.”
Talon was so startled by the monstrous fish that he came swooping down out of the air onto the deck and landed badly among a roped down stack of water barrels.
The delfin were long gone when the sabersnout leapt through the air a second time. Its glossed black, dinner plate sized eye looked directly at Hyden Hawk. The satisfaction it felt after having just eaten a fresh meal was no less than the joy the delfin had been feeling when they were at play. If it could have, it would have eaten Hyden as it had the two unlucky delfin. Thus is nature, Hyden told himself as the big fish splashed gracefully into the rolling ocean and disappeared.
The Captain’s table was in the galley, and that evening they were invited to eat with the officers of the ship. The fare was quite a bit better than the promised sea biscuits and salted meat. It was actually fresh venison and honey pork with hard bread and seaweed casserole. The table was treated to hilarious entertainment courtesy of Babel, the Captain’s little blue-haired mango monkey. The monkey was the size of a newborn child and, as the first mate played a ditty on the flute, it whirled, tumbled, and spun across the table as gracefully as the ballerinas that sometimes danced in Queen Willa’s auditorium.
They tried to get Oarly out of bed to attend the dinner, but not even the lure of wine or stout ale would get the dwarf to leave his cabin.
After dinner, back in the Royal Compartment, Brady listened while Phen and Hyden took turns reading out of the Index of Sea Creatures. They spent a little time reading about delfin and the sabersnout, but curious as they were, they read on. They read about the cloud fish that squirted inky poisonous fluids into the water to stun its prey. They read about the ever hungry marsh threshers and the rare flying sea turtles whose bright turquoise shells were worth a small fortune in gold. They read into the evening until eventually all three of them were plagued with yawns. Finally, long after the moon had presented itself, they all fell asleep to the smooth rocking motion of the ship as it carved its way westward through the ocean.
Phen found himself at the ship’s rail before the sun was even up. He was heaving his supper to the fishes. Brady was right beside him. Oarly was sick as well, but had locked himself in the privy down in the Royal Compartments. Sick or not, the dwarf was determined to stay below deck the entire journey.
“It’s not right,” Phen whined. “I wasn’t sick yesterday.”
“Neither was I,” Brady said glumly, just before lurching another load of bile out into the sea.
“I don’t know where it’s all coming from,” rasped Brady when he was done. “I know I haven’t eaten that much.”
“Aye,” Phen agreed then s
tarted to heave.
“Here,” the first mate said, stepping out of the darkness. “Drink ye a few swigs of this, lads, and your guts’ll settle.”
Brady took the offered flask and was about to sip from it when the man cut in again sharply.
“Ah! Ah! Ah! Wipe you fargin mouth first,” the man all but shouted. “Do ya think I wanna taste your innards?” Even in the darkness, the gaps in his teeth were visible.
“Sorry,” Brady mumbled. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve then took a long pull from the flask. The burn of the liquor was harsh, especially in his throat. When it got down into his belly, though, the roiling there dispersed into a warm fuzzy pool. Phen took two quick swallows and nearly choked.
The next day, save for the crew, Hyden had the deck to himself. Oarly, Phen, and Brady were all below. Phen and Brady were sleeping soundly. Oarly was still locked in the privy, but snoring loudly between his less frequent rounds of dry heaving.
After conferring with Deck Master Biggs, Hyden scaled up the main mast’s maze of rope ladders, yardarms, and rigging, up to the crow’s nest at its top. From there he could see the horizon in all directions. There was no land in sight. It was a little unsettling, but not so much as when he looked down to see that the little ship below him wasn’t actually below him at all. It was off to the right at the moment, riding up the face of a swell. Ever so slowly it passed under him and he felt the crow’s nest swaying quickly out to the right of the ship as it eased down the other side of the wave. Not since he first started climbing the secret hawkling nesting cliffs to harvest their eggs with his clansmen had he felt such a tingling rush of vertigo.
Kings, Queens, Heroes, & Fools Page 8
