by J P Nelson
“At close range?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What, pray tell, would close range be?”
“Sir … to be effective, with the launching weapons we have, I would estimate a maximum of forty, maybe forty-five rods. We are not likely to have a good target and we do not want to anger the fish.”
“Fish?”
“Yes, sir, sharks are fish. For best efficiency, we would need to hold fire until it rose up to attack.”
“Excuse me?”
“It will be at its most vulnerable when it rises up to attack, if it does so, sir.”
“Yes, of course.”
Jha’Ley noted a sense of disappointment from Ambrose. Effecting a smile, he remarked, “Very well done, ensign. Your input will hold much weight come promotion time, and should we go to battle with this fish.”
The young man’s face displayed his pleasure, “Thank you very much, sir.”
Seedle stopped by Jha’Ley, “Commodore?”
“Yes?”
“Sir, I was just below and Mister Fhascully wished your presence with Mister Caroll.”
Jha’Ley turned and quickly headed below. In mid-stride, he called back, “Thank you, Mister Seedle.”
At Caroll’s hammock he saw Fhascully seated upon a stool. The big man was upright in his canvas with feet resting upon the floor.
Standing upon Jha’Ley’s arrival, Fhascully said, “Sir, our patient has become something of a problem.” Looking over his glasses to Caroll he added, “He refuses to lay a’bed according to orders.”
“Must we administer disciplinary action? We could refine him to quarters to hear Mister Killian banter coarsely all day.”
Off to one side, a gruff looking soul looked up as if to say something, then held quiet when he saw it was Jha’Ley speaking.
“How are you my friend? You should be resting.”
“I … shall be well … sir. My strength … returns. Fresh air calls me … within … is healing.” Caroll smiled weakly.
Jha’Ley noticed his left hand was tightly clenched. Caroll looked to his hand and slowly opened it. The pair of ivory dice was at palm center. Caroll glanced to the table upon which the bowl of water rested, then dropped the dice upon it.
Caroll grinned and looked to the commodore, “My thought … two sixes … do they not … still triumph … a five and four?”
Flashing a smile of his own Jha’Ley replied, “Yes, indeed they do.” Directing attention to Fhascully he remarked, “I believe I have been trumped. Could we see that Mister Caroll gets some time in the wind?” Back to Caroll he added, “And much of Mister Easley’s soup.”
It was another two days before the girl regained consciousness. The first person she saw was Kravieu. She spoke no words, but was quiet and slow to come around. Studiously she gazed around the captain’s quarters as Kravieu spoke to her in soothing words, first in Vedoic, then all three dialects of Lychiwal.
He turned away when she asked in the Merceil dialect of Vedoan, “Please, do not leave me …”
Kravieu was quick to her side and gingerly took her hand, “I shant depart your presence, my lady.”
Weakly, she squeezed his hand, then reached up to him with her other. Embracing Kravieu tightly about the neck, she began to sob, at first with reservation, then powerfully and without control.
Holding her as he would a child, Kravieu the father let her cry as he reached out to her, “You are now safe, my lady, you are safe.”
___________________________
By the time the ships came within sight of Kohnarahs Bay, the girl was strong enough to talk and move about a bit. She became rather attached to Kravieu, and the big man who she dreamed pulled her out of an endless dark fog, Caroll.
Her name was Kaeya and she was eleven years old. Her mother’s family lived in Lychiwal, and her father, Fransis, had been a merchant from Vedoa. The family had run a mercantile in Sterine, a large coastal town on the Nahjiuan Sea’s eastern shore.
Two years ago her father decided it was time to return to modern civilization. Her mother, older brothers and younger sister went ahead to locate a place in Lychiwal for a store. She and her father would make preparations and follow the following year with their wares, which was a year ago.
They weren’t wealthy, but they had done well for themselves and would be able to begin their new enterprise in good stead. Francis had been a shrewd trader, and her mother was an excellent seamstress, one of the best. Kaeya said the people in Sterine would not be happy to see them go.
The Sin’Cho’s captain, Sora, was related to her mother. He had known the Severn Passage well, and all was going smoothly until the giant fish attacked the ship. It had all happened so fast, she said. She had been topside and saw into the giant, dead-looking eye of the thing as it came up and took a bite out of the side of the ship.
Her father had grabbed her and ran into the berth-deck and told her not to move. It was the last she saw of him.
She said, “His last words to me were, ‘I love you.’”
It wasn’t until the violence stopped that she moved from her place. Half the crew was gone, taken by what the survivors called the Daemon Fish. She was all but forgotten for a long time.
The ship drifted for what seemed like forever, then finally it was stopped by the ice. As they drifted, some of the crew led by the first mate wanted to take her and enjoy their last days. But there were a few who refused the notion led by their captain, talking about honor and such. As it was, a fight broke out and half of who were left were killed.
Later, another fight broke out and the captain was killed in a mutiny. She was left alone, but most of who were left took what supplies they could carry and departed the ship. She heard them talk of setting out for the settlement of Indow, a day’s sail from Cape Victoria along the Bay.
The only man to stay with her was a wounded fellow named Ched. She had tended him until he died. Together they had drug the bodies below. Over the next year she survived the best she could, burning everything to stay warm, rationing the stores of meal, seed and dried meats. There were things she ate she didn’t want to talk about.
When she was starving, she had even thought of eating the bodies of the crew. But their bodies were hard frozen by that time, and she remembered stories of how cannibals of Pel’Fynqiuah, on the northwest side of Nahjiuan Sea, sometimes became Windigos, and she wanted no part of that.
She had lost all track of time, and finally hope, when she burned the last bit of rope she had strength to chop and crawled under the stack of hides, which were her father’s, and fell into deep sleep. That was when Jha’Ley’s team found her.
It took Kaeya a while before she was able to hold much down in the way of real food. Lots of folk think if you have gone hungry for a while, you should and would be able to really put down the vittles … I mean, be able to eat a lot. But that isn’t the case.
When you go hungry, and I know how it feels, your stomach shrinks until you can’t hold much of anything at all. Sometimes it gets so bad, all you can hold down is a mouthful or two, or maybe a cup of soup. If you try to force it down you can get really sick.
As gaunt as she was, so skinny as to be practically all bones and skin, there wasn’t a whimper or whine from the girl. Kaeya’s story got around the three ships real fast, and when she was able to get up and about she became something of the expedition sweetheart. She was emotionally mature and big of bone for her age, but not yet budding into womanhood, if you get my drift, which can bugger many a man out upon the sea.
There are some fine female sailors, don’t get me wrong, and Sable Sinclair is one of the most successful pirates to sail the sea, but on the whole you don’t find many women on ship’s deck in our time.
Kaeya was friendly, comfortable among the fellows, and uncommonly intelligent. Enough mates of her size donated clothing, and with her hair tied behind and inside her coat, you couldn’t tell her apart from the fellows.
She was standing at the bow, hol
ding lines and watching the sea as Kravieu remarked to Jha’Ley, “She is a courageous one, is she not?”
“Yes, she certainly is.”
“Have you made a determination as to what course of action you are to take with her?”
Jha’Ley’s posture became a touch awkward, “Ah, no. To be sure, I am not certain. She has family in Lychiwal, of which I have no misgivings in returning her. But we have work to do, first. She has shown no desire to return to Sterine, and in Kohnarahs Bay she is a stranger.”
He drew in his breath and glanced to the flanking ships, “As you know, once we establish a point and timeline for rendezvous, the Clarise and Ubank will continue westward, around the Conjon Mountains, into the Nahjiuan Sea, then to pursue Belmond Glacier. There will be no place for Kaeya with us … and I am in a quandary.” Jha’Ley shrugged his shoulders and opened his hands in punctuation.
“Perhaps I may offer solution?”
Jha’Ley looked to him, “I am all ears …”
“What if I should take her to ward?”
Jha’Ley raised one eyebrow and listened.
“I am civilian, not bound by regulation. Kaeya is quite astute and knows her way with a ledger. She could act as my apprentice and assistant. My function is to tarry with Captain Ervis in negotiating trade within the Bay, therefore you shant need concern yourself as you trek about the edge of the world. Upon your return, we then complete her transport homeward… and… she will have received schooling which may pose benefit for her family trade.”
“Do you think she would agree to such?”
“I have shared words with her in regard to such possibility. Kaeya thought it a splendid design.”
Jha’Ley thought of it, then squeezed Kravieu’s shoulder, “Most excellent, sir. Then, let it be done.”
Once reaching the rocky outcropping which identified Cape Victoria, the trio of ships entered the Kohnarahs Bay bearing south along the coast, Indow being their destination. This town had not been on Jha’Ley’s original agenda, but he was resolute to learn if the deserters of the Sin’Cho had succeeded in reaching their goal. If so, he had plans for them.
Indow was not a particularly large or friendly town, but when three ships full of men with coin to spend pull up to the dock, hospitality becomes the word of the day.
Jha’Ley saw no problem with giving the crew some time on the town, so for three days they laid over. In the meantime, they took fresh water and refurbished supplies. Ervis would take the pulse of trade, later, but information was of primary importance, now.
There had been no sign of the Sin’Cho’s deserters, and when the story of the mutiny and Kaeya’s being left in the wreck became known, even the most hard-nosed men became outraged. It just was not the way of their people.
Two men of hatred for one another would pause a fight to work in tandem to save a child, or woman for that matter. Of course, some of the women of Kohnarahs were as tough, if not tougher, than the men. We are talking natives, incidentally, known as Kohnar Folk or Kohnarites, and they are a breed unto their own.
Do not confuse Kohnarites with Ovorus, which is their word for anyone who is not native in breeding and birth to the Bay. And when speaking of the Bay, you would do well to do so with reverence.
They have a unique language, some say the oldest of all human tongues. But with vessels of Lychiwal and Mittugahr making regular ventures to trade, most were familiar with Vedoic, which was a universal language among sailors of the Mon’Cique Ocean.
Jha’Ley was in the Red Dog Saloon nursing a tankard of dark, strong ale, casually watching some of his crew enjoy themselves. Most of what he heard spoken, he did not understand. This was a town of fishermen and miners and it was at close of the working day. He understood fighting was not uncommon, he just hoped his men did not get involved in any serious altercations. They had been warned against such, “Do not forget, you are representatives of the Vedoan Navy,” he had admonished them.
Rising from his seat at a table in the back of the room, the commodore weaved his way to the bar’s end and leaned against the edge. A man walked up to the bar just beyond arm’s reach, placed a coin and ordered an ale. The tender drew the brew, but Jha’Ley noticed a wary look upon the tender’s face as he set forth the tankard and took the coin.
The man was about Jha’Ley’s own height, light brown hair and carried himself well. His coat was pulled back on the right side, revealing some strange kind of stick carried in a sheath tied down low on his leg. The stick was about two feet long, but about eight marks from the top, what must be a handle grip extended out and forward of the stick perhaps six marks. On his back was a sheath that housed a wide blade, much like a machete, and a long grip and wide cross-guard.
Tasting the steaming mug, the man seemed aware of everything about him, but he offered no comment to anyone. ‘He is not looking for trouble,’ thought Jha’Ley, as he read the man’s body language, ‘just minding his own business. He is definitely not a miner, and does not look to be a fisherman.’
Turning to the tender, Jha’Ley casually asked, “I was curious if you might know a name …”
The tender passed him a lingering glance.
“… This fellow lived in the Bay some thirty to thirty-five years ago and became guide for a ship and her captain …”
The tender was bland, this captain brought good business with him, therefore being sarcastic was not in order, although Jha’Ley could hear it in undertones, “Many man live in Bay. Bay is much big place.”
Jha’Ley smiled congenially, “Of course, the Bay is approximately twelve hundred and fifty miles east to west, almost half that north to south, and is where the legends say human civilization began. But this man was well known, at least in his time, and he sailed with Captain Greybeard and his ship, the Kelshinua. His name was Whort Hahry.”
The tender was about to reply …
… When a big man suddenly grabbed the shoulder of the fellow standing beside Jha’Ley, his right fist poised to deliver a heavy blow. Faster than anyone else could react, the defender turned into the grabbing arm and somehow seized the attacker’s hand. With a wrist-cranking movement, the attacker flipped into a full somersault, landing hard on his back.
A second and third attacker, looking to be miners, rushed in with arms wide to grab. The defender spun about and kicked one fellow in the stomach, then without stepping his foot down, looked in the opposite direction and brought the inside of his foot to smash his assailant into the jaw. Teeth flew across the room.
Without stopping motion, the next fellow caught a stiff side-kick into the hip, followed by a round-kick into the left side of his face, followed by a blurred motion as the defender stepped back and executed a spinning crescent-kick into the right of his face.
Yet another man stepped from the crowd with a blade, ready and in motion. Without missing a beat, the defender spun about, drew the stick from his holster, holding the handle with the shaft under his forearm, he struck the knifeman’s elbow with a bone-breaking crunch. Reaching over and seizing the blade, the defender whirled while spinning the stick in hand and thrust hard into the belly of the assailant, then reached up and hooked his head with the stick and threw him hard to the floor.
The defender cast a glance about the room looking for another assault. Jha’Ley saw another three men start to advance when someone yelled out, “To cares Mondo, ‘tis Toagun Sealer you have set upon.” Seedle, who was there, said the three men stopped of a sudden, the man who was apparently Mondo turned a sickly shade of white, put up his hands and stepped back.
The man identified as Toagun Sealer returned to his drink, took a healthy swallow and looked to Jha’Ley, “I know the man. I’m going to see him myself.” He passed a cross glance to the tender, “You need to be careful the kind of jackasses you let into your saloon.”
Back to Jha’Ley he said, “Follow me. Let’s go somewhere where we can talk.”
Chapter 23
CRUNCH … CRUNCH … CRUNCH … The soun
d of snow compressing beneath snowshoes dominated the evening air. Six men hiked an old trail in single file to the high up abode of Whort Hahry.
The old man made his home on the north side of Johnstone Isle, the large island between Capes Victoria and J’Mieya. He liked the light and the summertime midnight sun of the northern territory.
Fort William was on the south side, where the Qua’Korr and Ubank were currently docked. In the meantime, Clarise waited patiently at the village of Tormandia, currently recognized as the northernmost settlement in the world; current population, four hundred twelve.
Travel by dogsled was common on most of the isle, the parts that were travelled, that is. But the cove in which Tormandia was nestled was as if cut right out of the jagged cliffs. Fhascully was itching to study the hot springs in the caverns below, a vast multi-level system which lended to the village survival throughout the year. But at the moment, he was part of the team trekking their way around spruce forest ranges to Whort Hahry’s home.
Caroll wasn’t with them this time. Jha’Ley insisted it was too recent since his near-death illness, so the team included Jha’Ley, of course, Fhascully, Seedle, Dessi, and a Marine corporal named Carlson.
Each man carried a crossbow, cocked and ready. The territory wasn’t known for brigands, but you never knew, and there were some big predators a person really didn’t want to run into.
The man leading the way, however, the Toagun Sealer fellow, his weapon was unlike anything Fhascully had ever seen. He carried an over-and-under crossbow called a Beckerson Mark VI. There had been only about a dozen of them made. The Mark V had the unheard of range of over three hundred rods, but held one bolt. The Mark III and IV both held two bolts at the ready. But the VI not only held two bolts with the range of the V, but if you fired one at a time, the mechanism would somehow counterbalance itself and redraw into cocked position.
