Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 03] - The Ancient Legacy(V1.0)

by Mitchell Graham

  "Of course," Edrington said with a wave of his hand. "Probably just a lot of religious gibberish."-

  "But a man was ready to die for it," Fikes told him. "Surely there must be something of importance there."

  "To the Church most likely," said Pruett. "The clergy here are a bit odd in their ways. At least that's what my fa­ther always told me. They don't think like we do."

  "Quite so, quite so," Edrington agreed. "Well, keep at it, Lane. Maybe it will turn out to be a case of diamonds."

  The remark produced the obligatory round of laughter.

  "I will," Mathew replied with a smile.

  The steward returned with a glass of wine, handed it to him, then went back to his position by the dining table.

  The quarters reserved for the captain of the Daedalus were not overly lavish, but they were certainly well-appointed. It was obvious that Phillipe Edrington had spent a good bit of money on the decor.

  The woodwork was rich and dark, and three separate rugs covered the decking, dividing the room into different sections. An oil painting of Phillipe Edrington in full uni­form hung on the wall over the sideboard. Mathew thought that whoever had done it must have seen a great deal more in his captain than he did. Not only were the shoulders in the painting wider, the chest was deeper, and Edrington appeared somewhat taller than he was in real life. The artist had obviously taken some license with the jaw as well, giving it a strength and conviction that it nor­mally lacked.

  "As I was saying," Edrington went on, "our plans have changed. I was originally going to take the ship to Boswell before we returned home, but it appears this will now have to be postponed."

  Mathew started to speak, but a slight shake of Fike's head stopped him.

  "A communication I received before we weighed an­chor has changed all that, gentlemen. We are not going to Mirdan after all. We are going to Oridan, or northern Ori-dan, to be more precise."

  "Oridan?" Pruett said. "May I ask why, Captain?" "You may. You'll know soon enough anyway. I intend to rendezvous with two Alor Sataran ships in eight days' time. It seems Oridan's exiled king and his supporters have been harassing the shipping in that area for the last year or so. The local government has been frustrated be­cause they've been unable to do anything about it. They have retained our services to aid them in getting rid of De-lain once and for all. If we are successful, the operation should result in a handsome profit, and... I say, Mr. Lane. You look as though someone's been walking on your grave."

  "My apologies, Captain," Mathew said. "I was born in Elgaria. We moved to Sennia when I was young. I'm afraid I've never gotten used to the name Oridan."

  "Ah ... quite so," Edrington said. "Perfectly under­standable. Though I must request, you keep your feelings private should we have contact with anyone from Alor Sa-tar. Felize is officially neutral and we can't take sides."

  "Begging your pardon, sir," Fikes said, "but wouldn't that be exactly what we are doing?"

  "I don't see it that way," Edrington replied, his eyes darting briefly to Mathew and away again. "Regretful as it is, Elgaria is no more. Therefore, we cannot be taking sides, because there is only one side to take, and that is Alor Satar's. We are being employed by them to do a job." "Like the Vargothans," Mathew observed. Startled, Edrington turned around. "Not at all," he said. "The Vargothans are a provisional government and we are acting at their request. As I said a moment ago, if we are successful—and I certainly expect us to be—it will result in a very tidy profit for everyone here, eh? Gentlemen, I must know that I have your fullest loyalty and support. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Lane?"

  "Aye, Aye, Captain. You may rely on me to do all that I can."

  "Excellent, excellent," Edrington replied, clapping Mathew on the shoulder. "Your services have always been invaluable."

  "Exactly what is it the Vargothans want us to do, sir?" Fikes asked.

  "I don't have all the details yet. But as I understand it, the basic plan will be for us to lure Delain out. Along with two other ships, we'll be posing as a merchant convoy. Once we have him under our guns, he'll have no choice but to surrender ... or be blown to pieces."

  "Sir, do you really think it's wise to make an open en­emy of Delain?" Pruett asked. "There are still a lot of peo­ple in his country who support him."

  Edrington held his wineglass up to the light and exam­ined its contents. "History tends to be written by the win­ners, Mr. Pruett. You would do well to remember that." Pruett looked down at his feet. "Yes, sir, I will." "The simple fact is that Delain has lost and Alor Satar has won. It would be far more dangerous to make an en­emy of the latter. No, gentlemen, it is we who will win in the end, and without ever having struck a blow, eh? The Vargothan government is willing to pay a pretty price to rid themselves of this problem. A wise businessman must take his opportunities where he finds them."

  Phillipe Edrington raised his glass in a toast and his of­ficers followed suit. Mathew's wine was untouched when he put it back down.

  7

  At Sea, On Board the Daedalus

  The journey to Elgaria lasted slightly less than eight days, and they arrived in Moreland Bay late in the afternoon. As soon as the Daedalus passed the headland, Mathew saw the two ships that were waiting for them. Both had dropped anchor about a mile offshore, using the land for camouflage and positioning themselves well into the bay to avoid being seen by any passing ships.

  When Lieutenant Fikes was satisfied that they had suf­ficient room to maneuver, he gave the order to tack and the Daedalus came around and dropped anchor. At Mathew's suggestion, as a cautionary measure he ordered the gun crews to stand ready and had a guard boat put into the water. Cannons were the most valuable commodity the Daedalus possessed.

  Phillippe Edrington came on deck, looking resplendent in his new cloak and best uniform. Despite an offshore breeze and mild temperatures, he was sweating profusely. A silver monocle dangling from a cord attached to his vest swung back and forth as he walked to the starboard rail.

  "What ships do we have there, Mr. Fikes?" he asked.

  "The Revenge and the Maitland, sir," Fikes replied, put­ting down his farsighter.

  "Very good. Call away my gig, if you please."

  "Aye, sir."

  "You will be in command of the ship in my absence. Where is Mr. Lane?"

  "Here, sir," Mathew said, coming to attention.

  "Mr. Lane, you will accompany me to the Maitland. We are going to meet with their commander and his offi­cers. They have a number of questions regarding the wa­ters in this area that you will be able to answer." "My pleasure, sir."

  Five minutes later Edrington was lifted into the air on a chair attached to a hoist. With his plump legs dangling, the side crew carefully lowered him into his boat. Knowing the officers on the other ships were watching, Mathew climbed down, using the boarding nets.

  Just below him the crew of Edrington's gig were doing their best to hold the boat steady alongside the hull in the tossing waters. Mathew waited for a second and leapt, but his foot caught on the gunwale and he pitched forward. Fortunately, Brown caught him.

  "Good on ye, Mr. Lane," the coxswain said under his breath.

  "Thank you," Mathew mumbled, taking a seat. The seas were running at just over two feet, and it took quite a while to make the trip to the Maitland.

  "Ship oars," Brown bellowed as they tied alongside the Vargothans.

  Phillipe Edrington took the lubbers hole and emerged on deck blinking against the light, while Mathew clam­bered up and over the side using the nets again.

  The Maitland was larger and heavier than the Daedalus, and the complement of men it carried was easily three times their own. Mathew looked around and noticed a pair of evil-looking contraptions—war cata­pults—one located at the bow and the other in the stern. He had seen their like before when the Wave Dancer was captured in the Tyraine harbor. It had been his first con­tact with the Vargothans. Off to his right an honor guard was welcoming Phillipe Edrington on board.
Behind them a complement of crew members stood smartly at attention.

  The governor and captain of the Maitland were already on deck waiting for them. The captain was a man of about fifty with cold blue eyes. He was nearly a full head taller than Edrington. Mathew met his glance and nodded, but there was no acknowledgment from the other man. The snub didn't concern him. Of all the people in the world he detested for their cruelty and callousness, the Vargothans were at the top of his list, and he wanted as little to do with them as possible.

  "Ah, here is Mr. Lane," Captain Edrington said. "Thad-deus Lane, may T present Andreas Holt, the governor of Sheeley Province here in Oridan."

  Mathew's jaw clenched when he heard the name "Ori­dan," but he let nothing show on his face. He had a role to play, after all. "Your servant, sir," he replied.

  The governor was a barrel-chested man whose shoul­ders seemed to be straining at the fabric of his coat. His hair was jet black and his eyes nearly the same color. A strong, aggressive jaw and a thick neck barely separated his head from his shoulders. He reminded Mathew of what a bull might look like if it had been transformed into a man. Holt gave him a tight-lipped smile and shook his hand, then he introduced him to the ship's captain, Tabbert

  Kennard.

  "A pleasure," said Mathew. "Your servant as well, sir."

  Kennard and Mathew also shook hands, but instead of releasing his grip, as Mathew expected, Kennard continued to hold on. "You don't have a Sennian accent, Mr. Lane."

  "You're quite right, Captain. I was born in Tyraine. My family moved to Barcora when I was nine."

  "I see. No sentimental feelings about visiting the old homeland again?" the captain asked, continuing to hold

  Mathew's hand.

  Mathew smiled and slowly disengaged his hand from Kennard's. "The only thing that makes me sentimental is money. The last time we lost a prize it positively brought tears to my eyes."

  The governor responded with a short bark of a laugh and clapped Mathew on the back. "A man after my own heart."

  "Exactly so," Edrington added. "Now, how can we be of help, your excellency?"

  Holt looked at Edrington, then at Mathew. "We can talk in my cabin, gentlemen."

  Compared to Phillipe Edrington's cabin, the great cabin of the Maitland was spartan. Though it was at least twice the size, the only items it contained were a bed near the window, a dining table with four chairs, a lone chest, and a small writing desk. No decorations hung on the walls, save for a detailed map of the Elgarian coast with its new name.

  Holt observed Mathew's reaction and said, "I trust you'll pardon the appearance, but I've had insufficient time to do this cabin up as I might have liked. Most of Captain Wilde's personal effects were sent home to his wife."

  "Perfectly understandable," said Edrington. "It's al­ways difficult to change things over from one master to another. I know that from firsthand experience."

  "Yes," said Holt.

  Mathew saw the look that passed between Holt and Kennard, something his captain had failed to do. "You purchased the vessel from Captain Wilde, then?" he asked.

  "Something like that," Holt responded.

  "Now, gentlemen," said Edrington, "how may we be of service to you?"

  "I think we should wait to discuss the particulars until Captain LaCora arrives," said Holt. "He should be here momentarily. I believe I saw his boat pushing off about the same time yours did. Perhaps you would care for glass of wine while we wait?"

  "Most kind of you, sir," said Edrington. "Did you say Captain LaCora?"

  "Yes. Raymond LaCora. He's the captain of the Re­venge ."

  "Of course," Edrington said with a pleasant smile. "No point telling the same story twice, eh? A glass of wine would be most welcome."

  The governor smiled and inclined his head, then he rapped his cane twice on the floor. "I'll send for my stew­ard. Would you also care for some wine, Mr. Lane?"

  Mathew leaned back against the bulkhead. "No. Thank you very much."

  The steward appeared a moment later and stuck his head into the room.

  "Bring Captain Edrington a glass of port. Will that do, Captain?"

  "Admirably, sir. Admirably," Edrington said.

  A minute later the steward returned carrying a glass of wine on a silver tray. Mathew noted that he was wearing a short sword.

  Edrington downed his glass in a single gulp. "An excel­lent port, Governor. My compliments."

  A feeling of growing disquiet began to form in the pit of Mathew's stomach. This was the first time he could re­call seeing a captain's steward who needed a sword to carry out his duties. Edrington was typically oblivious.

  "Another, Captain?" the governor asked. "Or perhaps something to eat?"

  "You are too kind, your excellency."

  "Not at all. A sandwich, perhaps?"

  "Why, that would do quite well."

  The steward looked at the governor for a moment, sketched an ungainly sort of bow, and withdrew once more. The moment he did, Mathew began to search for another way out of the room, positive now that they had walked into a trap. Not only were the governor and Ken-nard carrying swords, everyone he had seen on the ship had been armed.

  "If you'll excuse me for a moment," he said, pushing himself off the bulkhead. "I'd like to see that my coxswain

  has tied our gig up properly. The seas seem to be picking up, and I wouldn't want it to break loose of the mooring."

  Captain Kennard got to his feet as well. "No need, Mr. Lane, I'll have one of our men check on it."

  "Please don't trouble yourself. It will only take me a moment."

  Without waiting for an answer, he crossed the room, opened the door, and nearly collided with Captain Ray­mond LaCora, who was just coming in.

  The captain was a large man at least forty pounds heav­ier than Mathew and a good bit taller. A prominent scar ran from his hairline to the top of his right eyebrow. Mathew stepped aside allowing him to enter the room.

  "Ah, Captain LaCora, we've been expecting you," the governor said. "Kennard and I have just been entertaining our guests. This is Phillipe Edrington, captain of the Daedalus. And this is his navigator, Thaddeus Lane. Gen­tleman, I present Raymond LaCora of the Revenge."

  "Always a pleasure to meet a fellow captain," Edring­ton said, coming to his feet and shaking LaCora's hand.

  Mathew did the same, conscious of the strength in the other man's grip.

  "Mr. Lane was just on his way to check on Captain Edrington's gig," the governor explained. "With the seas running higher, he wants to make sure it's properly secured."

  "It's fine," LaCora said. "We tied alongside you a few moments ago."

  "There, you see, Mr. Lane, nothing to worry about," Edrington said.

  Mathew looked at his captain, then at Kennard, who smiled back at him.

  "Well then, now that we'-re-all here, perhaps we should get down to business," the governor said.

  "Of course," said Edrington. "Tell us how we can help you."

  "As you know, we have a problem with the former government of Oridan—King Delain and the remnants of his army, to be exact. We know that they are based in the Jarosa Mountains and for the last two years they have raided our towns and killed our soldiers without provocation."

  "Horrible," said Edrington.

  "Yes, it is horrible," the governor agreed. "But the problem has recently gotten worse. It seems Delain has acquired two warships and has been attacking villages all along the western coast of Oridan from Sturga to Ster-mark. The ships are fast and well manned. Thus far we have had no success in curtailing his activities. Our allies grow impatient with these attacks and the loss of their property and they insist that something be done about it. According to our sources, Delain has been been using a place called Half Moon Bay to operate from."

  "And what allies would those be, your excellency?" Mathew asked. .

  "Alor Satar to name one. They've suffered the most

  losses."

  "May I say you'v
e come to the right place, Governor," Edrington said. "My men and I will be more than happy to assist you. If I understood your letter correctly, your plan is to draw Delain into the open by posing as a merchant vessel. Of course, I was unaware that he had two ships un­til this moment, but I dare say that won't be a problem. Naturally, the compensation will have to be adjusted."

  "Naturally."

  "By God, sir," Edrington went on, pounding his plump fist on the table for emphasis. "I believe you have the right idea. Faced with being blown out of the water or surren­dering, the king will have no choice in the matter."

  "Former king," the governor corrected.

  "Yes, yes, the former king. My apologies, sir."

  "You're quite sure you'll be able to handle Delain's ships?" LaCora asked.

  "Without a doubt, Captain. Without a doubt."

  "And you, navigator," LaCora said, turning to Mathew,

  "the waters off the northern coast are dangerous this time of year. Do you anticipate any problems?"

  "I shouldn't think so," Mathew replied, "assuming he comes to us, of course."

  "Why does he need to come to us?" LaCora asked. "If Delain is using the waterways near Srurga to hide in, going in after him would be foolish. There are thou­sands of bays and inlets where a ship can conceal itself. It would be highly unlikely for us to find him at all, unless we stumble on him by accident."

  "You've heard the governor say that we intend to lure him out," Edrington said. "He'll throw down at the first sight of us."

  "Perhaps on the open sea, or possibly if we catch him against the shore under the right conditions," Mathew said. "Meaning no disrespect, but a river action is another mat­ter. If they get close enough to board us, I wouldn't want to wager on the outcome. Delain is no fool, or so I've heard." "How many cannons does your ship carry?" Kennard asked.

  "That would be a subject for you and Captain Edrington to discuss, Captain. It's not my place to say," Mathew replied.

  "Well, I can't see anything wrong with telling our friends about our armaments," said Edrington. "We carry forty guns including two long nines; one in the stern, and one in the bow. A bow chaser, we call it." Fool, thought Mathew.