by Ronald Long
As Ealrin spun on his heel, he saw the thief dart into another abandoned house across the road from the one he stood in front of. Holve and Roland were already in a dead sprint to not let him be lost again. It seems it will still be three on one, not two as the thief had obviously intended.
Ealrin burst through the doorway of the house the thief had run into. He saw a stairway leading up to a second level and heard scuffling above him. Without hesitating he ran up the stairs. As he came to the top of them, he caught a glimpse of Holve with his dagger drawn run out of a door. There was an upper deck of the house that Roland and the thief were already fighting on. Roland had his sword drawn and was furiously exchanging blade hits with the thief who had a short sword. He seemed to be no older then Ealrin himself. His blonde hair was wet with perspiration and his eyes were narrowed, not in hate, but something else. Was it fear?
As Holve ran to them the thief saw that he, again, was going to be outnumbered desperately. He deflected a swing of Roland’s sword with his own and then charged Holve, as if to tackle him. It was then that Ealrin could see what he was not sure Holve had: another blade the thief had drawn from his side and was aiming to throw at Holve before he crashed into him. Holve had his dagger drawn and was ready to receive the tackle, but not the second knife.
It wasn’t more than a moment in which Ealrin reacted. He had no weapon of his own, a fact he noted as he topped the first set of stairs and meant to remedy as soon as possible. Lacking a weapon, he threw the only thing he had at the thief: himself.
As the man leapt into the air to drive at least one knife into Holve and perhaps take a sword into himself as well, Ealrin came and rammed his side with his shoulder. Hard.
The thief was hit off his course, giving Holve the space he needed to jump aside and avoid the dagger that nearly cut his side. No longer in control of his body, the thief went crashing into the wall of the outside of the house and crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
The trio stood over their prey and observed him laying in the odd position. His body lay mostly on the deck of the house but his head was bent up and against the house. Ealrin knew the man was breathing, he could see his chest rise and fall in rhythm. And yet he also knew that when he came, this man would have a terrible ache in his head.
“He’s a young one,” said Roland, who had sheathed his sword back into his shoulder harness.
“No more winters than Ealrin here,” added Holve, who was now bending down over the man, removing the daggers from his limp hands and any other weapons he could find. Holve also saw that a small satchel was around the thirds neck.
"Oh, what have we here?" inquire Holve as he opened the small bag.
Sure enough, Elezar's locket was inside it, still whole and seemingly unharmed from its adventure. Ealrin was relieved.
"So what do we do with our criminal here?" questioned Roland as he took a step closer. Holve stood up and examined the man from a higher viewpoint. He seemed unsure.
"It'd be an awful lot of work to bring him back to Good Harbor. Plus we would need to tie him up somehow. What do you think Ealrin?" Holve asked, turning to him.
Hmm. The man was obviously a thief, Ealrin thought.
And he had stolen from a friend. How would he make sure the man faced justice for what he did. And, Ealrin wondered as he surveyed the man, what reason did he have for stealing the locket in the first place?
"There must be a wagon or cart of some sort here to carry him back to Good Harbor in. I'm wandering why he took the locket in the first place. Maybe Elezar would recognize him if he got a good look at him. At any rate, I think he should face justice."
Ealrin paused. What does justice look like in Good Harbor? He had seen no jail or stocks, let alone any type of justice hall or court.
"My friend, I believe that you are right and that he should face justice, but bear in mind: many people in Good Harbor are good people but who are so with a price. They find little reason to offer mercy. Thieves are treated no less than one who murders. Depending on what the city's council decides upon, this man may face the noose for stealing this locket."
Holve spoke the words with out hinting at what he believed was the right or the wrong course of action. In fact he spoke with an air of being removed from the situation. Was he trying to gauge what Ealrin's response would be?
At that moment, Ealrin decided that justice was right, but that mercy was needed in measures. He walked back into the house and looked around the second floor. Surely there must be something which which to tie up the thief? There! In an open trunk were several different looking tools, perhaps discarded by the previous occupant of this house when the goblins came to burn down the city. In it was a length of rope. More than enough to tie up someone so that they couldn't get away.
Ealrin returned and offered the rope to Roland.
"Tie him up well so that he can't escape. I'll go find a cart to put him in so we can transport him back to Good Harbor. I'll speak with the city council if I must. He stole yes, but we've retrieved the locket and there's no harm done."
Well, save for to his head, Ealrin thought.
"Maybe Elezar will be satisfied to have him work for him for a period of days? To repay him for the troubled mind he will have had."
Roland and Holve exchanged a glance and then looked back to Ealrin. Both seemed to be examining Ealrin in a different way.
Holve spoke first.
"Very well. Roland, tie up our thief. I'll go help our justice seeking friend here find a wheelbarrow."
And for the first time since meeting him, Holve gave Ealrin a true smile.
The effect on his face was instantaneous. It seemed as if Holve had grown thirty years younger in a moment. His face was bright and cheery.
For a moment.
He looked down at the man and the furrowed brow came back, along with his years.
Roland spoke and broke Ealrin from the thoughts of Holve he was having. Who was this man, apparently so angry with life yet who hid something within himself.
Was it joy?
"Fine with me. But know that if he should decided to come to on my watch I'll take the honor of returning him to his current state of consciousness!"
***
It was Holve who found what was left of a horse's cart. The bed of it was badly burned but would hold the weight of one without fear of breaking. The wheels were slightly uneven, but as it had two wooden poles jutting out to go on either side of a horse or other beast of burden, two of the three could pull the cart along while the third kept watch over the still quite unconscious man in the back.
It was slow going and the suns had already disappeared over the sea when they emerged from Lonely Pass. There was still just enough light to see the path they were to walk to return to Good Harbor. Roland joked as they came out from under the trees that perhaps punishment enough for the thief could be to listen to every story Soltack wanted to tell him.
Perhaps.
The trio arrived back in Good Harbor long after the night had set. The lights from the various houses and businesses in the city gave them light to see as they brought the man to the city's council. A weary looking man addressed them at the building and took them around to the rear, where he opened one door with a key, which led to a small hallway with six or so smaller doors leading off it. This was Good Harbor's jail.
They lifted the man off the cart and set him into the first room on the right. The room itself had no window. The only opening was a small barred rectangle high in the door and a swinging door on the bottom of the door Ealrin assumed was for food and waste. The only furniture to speak of in the cell was a bucket. Before they left, Ealrin insisted the guard leave the man a pitcher of water and some bread from Holve's pack.
The thief had woken up several hours beforehand and refused to speak. Well, perhaps it would have been best to say he was unable to speak. Roland had taken the opportunity to also tie a bit of cloth around his mouth to gag him. He didn't strain or try to get free of his ro
pes. Though doing so would have been quite a feat, Roland had used the entire length of rope and wrapped the man several times as well as made secure his arms, feet, and legs. He didn't even struggle now that they laid him down in the cell.
Ealrin himself bent down a cut the rope holding him fast. He undid the cloth so that he could eat and drink. Standing up he walked out of the cell and allowed the guard to close and lock the door.
"We'll come back in the morning and let you know what we've decided to do to you," Ealrin spoke through the barred window.
No response.
The three left the man where he was. Ealrin noticed Holve put a few coins into the guards hand and whisper something to him. The guard grunted and nodded his head. The three turned to walk to the Rusty Hook and the guard resumed his post at the front of the council building. It was only then that Ealrin had a thought: Who else lay in one of those cells in the jail of Good Harbor? And what was their fate?
The walk back to the Rusty Hook was made in silence. Holve had taken the locket out of his own bag and held it in his hand. Ealrin had seen the two interact a lot and knew that Holve would be glad to return this treasure to the old man. He also knew that he was glad he was able to help retrieve to help pay back the kindness of the innkeeper.
Heads turned when they opened the door and stepped inside the inn, where several patrons, though it was late, were sitting at tables drinking or around the fireplace staring into its warmth. The spring night had turned cold.
When Elezar spotted them he was across the room, attempting to stir a sleeping man who's grip was solidly on a wooden mug he had apparently been drinking out of too heavily. On seeing the trio, he left the man and walked over to them.
Holve held up the locket to him.
Elezar, despite his age, did a half skip to get Holve quicker. He let out a laugh of happiness and hugged Holve around his chest. He then turned to hug Rland, who stretched his arms out wide and broke out a big smile as well. Elezar playfully pushed him aside and turned to Ealrin.
"Many thanks to you three for returning my locket. It's the most valuable thing on Ruyn to me! Though I've still no idea why any thief would try to steal it," he said smiling at Ealrin and company.
"Perhaps you ought to quit calling it the most valuable thing on Ruyn, eh Elezar?" said Roland with a grin.
"Bah. Anyone who takes a second look at it would know that it's just a picture locket, barely worth a day's wages! It's the inside that hold value to me."
With that Elezar opened the locket. Inside were fashioned two small portraits to two women, one older and one just coming into marrying age.
"It's the only likeness I have left of my wife and daughter. They were killed in a goblin raid back twenty years ago. I miss them terribly, but because of this wonderful gift, I'm able to remember them as they were and carry them with me everywhere I go." He offered it to each in turn and Ealrin took it and held it gently in his hands.
Both women were plain looking, but both were smiling in a way that seemed to tell Ealrin that they were content. Elezar had given nearly none of his looks to his daughter, save for her nose and smile. The rest was a carbon copy of the other woman in the locket, Elezar's wife.
It was then that something strained Ealrin chest and would occupy his thoughts that whole night.
What had become of his family?
Chapter 11:
The White Wind
Elezar didn't recognize the thief. The best guess was that he smuggled aboard some recent ship that had come to Good Harbor. Though he never offered a name, he agreed to work for Elezar for half a moon as punishment for stealing the locket. Several days for stealing the locket and the rest the expenses Elezar would incur for feeding him a meal once a day during his working. His nights would still be spent in the cell.
He never apologized for thievery, but nor did his heart seem so blackened that he was beyond remorse. Whether he was trying to escape some fate from the Republic or Thoran or even Beaton, he was potentially just seeking refuge like others who come to Good Harbor. It couldn't have been his preferred choice to live. Probably just hungry and wanting to sell the locket for a meal. As Holve had said earlier: desperate.
The morning after the ordeal was over, the trio had woken early to have breakfast at the Rusty Hook. Elezar proudly wore his locket and showed with renewed passion. Every patron heard of his wife and daughter. Several times Elezar had to stop telling his own story, being so overcome with sadness for his departed family or gratitude for his locket's safe return. Meanwhile Holve, Roland, and Ealrin are their breakfast at a corner table and received several pats on the back for a job well done. Holve was not in a talkative mood it seemed, so Roland and Ealrin did most of the talking about their adventure to Everstand through Lonely Pass. It was after they had finished their meals that Holve finally spoke and gave Ealrin the news.
"My work here on Good Harbor is done for now. I'll be needing to make my way to Thoran. Roland is coming with me. The question is, what will be your course of action? You could stay here on Good Harbor. I could try to secure work for you in the city in one of the shops or even out on the farms of the island if you wished. Maybe even get you sailing again. Several merchant ships pass through here and they are always looking for honest sailors. Or..."
Ealrin had been contemplating his prospects all night. There was the chance to stay here on Good Harbor and to work. He wasn't sure about any craft that he knew much about. While walking through the stores before chasing after the thief he had tried to see if any of them would trigger a memory or a thought. No matter if he was at the black smith's or the fisherman's docks, the merchants haggling or the traders, nothing could clear the fog that prevented him from remembering who he was or what he had done before his crash. Not even spending time on a boat had made him remember much. It had only made him sick.
"I want to come with you both," Ealrin had said before he had given Holve the chance to finish. "This island holds nothing for me, save for the kindness of you and Elezar. I want to come with you. I don't know what I'll find, but I know that Good Harbor won't help me remember who I am."
Holve looked to Roland and then back to Ealrin. His face held a little less of a grimace.
"I had thought you'd decide on that."
"Hoping he'd decide that more like it," said Roland as he prodded Holve. He rose, adjusting his cloak over his back and picking up his harness of weapons. "Grab your things Ealrin, we're sailing out before midday!"
Of course, Ealrin's things were easily put on his person. All he owned in the world was his clothes. His white shirt was tucked into his brown leather pants and the coat rested on top, which bore the only identifying thing about him: his name. After the crash site had been cleaned up and picked over, it truly seemed that nothing more of value could even have been garnished from the wreckage.
Eight small patches of overturned and uniform earth were the only things that remained of the wreck, and each of those bore a wooden sign that simply said:
"Shipwrecked in Spring, Imperial Year 1001."
***
Ealrin looked back over the ship's railing at the city of Good Harbor, shrinking away in the distance. It wasn't home, he knew that well. Yet at the same time it was the only place he could remember so it pained him, if only a little, to be leaving. Instead of trying to remember what the place looked like and bore the image into his mind, his hands were busy sketching roughly the scene he saw now: Good Harbor at the edge of the sea with the mountain range stretching behind it. The forest covering the space between the grassy farmlands and the mountainous rocks that reached out for the clouds. The Lonely Pass that they had traveled only yesterday to return to the Rusty Hook. Yes, even the Rusty Hook must be drawn as well.
Elezar had sworn that the pack had been left by some traveler many moons ago and that it had cost him nothing. He had pleaded with Ealrin to take it as payment for returning the locket. No matter how much Ealrin had tried to reason that it was he who needed to be paying d
ebts, Elezar wouldn't budge. So Ealrin had taken the simple traveler's pack from the Elezar man as well as the hug he had offered him.
Elezar even let Roland hug him as they departed; as long as he promised not to crush his bones or pick him up off the ground.
Roland had happily indulged only one of those requests.
Inside the pack, Elezar had put what Ealrin knew was not simply left by any traveler. A bound leather volume with blank pages and a writing tool lay in the bottom, as well as a fine dagger that was not meant to be worn on around the waist or the ankle, but instead was fastened to the inside of your forearm. With practice, it could be released with the proper motion so that at any moment a knife could be in your hand within a blink of an eye. Ealrin was still trying to get it to work. No luck so far.
It was in the leather bound book that Ealrin sketched Good Harbor on the second page. The first had one note:
"Remember from this point on. Elezar."
After writing a short passage about being found, Holve, Roland, the Rusty Hook, the thief and Everstand, Ealrin began to write about and sketch The White Wind, the boat on which he sailed currently.
The White Wind was a fine vessel, nearly thirty paces long and ten across. Its main mast was taller than most trees Ealrin had seen on the island, with two more that rivaled it. Felicia, its captain, had said that once she had been used for war, but now with the Southern Republic no longer expanding its borders and the goblins fighting amongst themselves, it was tasked with the more mundane: like transporting cloth and other goods from the mainland to Good Harbor and ferrying back those who could afford the toll.
It was a fine day for sailing, Ealrin thought.
Many of the crew were already busy at their tasks. Even though the crew was mostly male and human, there appeared to be a large measure of respect and perhaps even a bit of fear for Felicia Stormchaser.
She was an imposing woman standing a head taller than Ealrin. Her jet-black hair fell down past her waist, tied up in a single braid. Her piercing green eyes surveyed the horizon around her as she steered the ship from its helm. With her rough and salty voice she barked orders that were obeyed without question. Men flew to follow her command. No one gave her a glance that bespoke of looking down upon her for the gender she had been blessed with. She was the captain of the White Wind. The chaser of storms. It was quite the impressive sight to see, Ealrin thought.
