“You have no right to stop this ship!” he answered defiantly.
“Think of your men, Commander Trevor,” came the retort. “Do you want to see them killed by Valley arrows and swords? Brother against brother? Is that what you want?”
The point was well received. Trevor felt panic race through him. It was one thing to risk his own life, but how could he purposely direct his troops to die for his cause? He shied from the glances of Stacy and Elias. But he could not avoid the stares from his own men. They were looking to him for leadership. Was he their commander still, or not?
As the Brora stood poised to ram, he lifted his head and searched their faces. Most were wide-eyed youths, eager to do their duty and serve the Empire, but right now they were understandably confused.
“I can’t command you to open fire on fellow sailors,” Trevor said to them. “Nor can I ask you to break Valley law. But I will tell you this: This voyage has been approved by both the Newfoundland governor and the Valley Council at the Haven. None of you were forced to board with me last night, but you all did. And none of you were conscripted — you all volunteered. Now I release you of any obligation you may feel toward me. Those who would obey the order of the Windjammer’s captain are free to put down their weapons and withdraw below.”
With stunned and pensive looks the soldiers stood fast and held their places. “What will you do, Commander?” asked one.
Trevor wiped his brow and set his teeth. His words now could change the future of his entire life.
“I have decided to stand beside my friends, Captain Elias and Lady Anastasia.”
Elias felt pride; Stacy, tears. But neither made any move during this tense situation.
The soldiers looked at each other nervously. Either choice could easily prove to be the wrong one, they knew, what with the fierce Rhonnda Rangers viewing them as potential enemies on one side and the Windjammer’s troops aiming bows at them from the other. A long minute passed. Trevor became edgy. Tension rose like the heat. One or two of the men began to place weapons down on the deck, but angry looks from comrades stopped them. One of the lads shouted, “You’re our commander, Trevor! Give the order and we’ll follow!” Soon the cry was repeated by all. “Trevor! Trevor! Give us the order!”
The engineer sighed and smiled. “Right, then! To your quarters! Draw swords and prepare to fight!”
In a burst of enthusiasm the Rangers and the crew cheered loudly as the thirty soldiers took up strong positions all along the ship’s bulwark.
The gleeful Elias turned once more to the commander of the Empire ship. “Do as you will,” he shouted. “Turn aside or fight. But either way the Brora will cross the bay!”
The Windjammer’s commander studied the faces of his opposition. They were cold and hard, angry and determined. He could find no sign of fright or doubt. They were fully prepared — and prepared men are difficult men. But neither was he ready to give in. He called to his bugler and a shrill sound filled the air. Overhead, the hawks and falcons began to flap their wings amid squawks and cries. They took up diving battle positions, ready to bear down hard on the surging Brora.
Elias took a long breath. This was it, he knew. No more words. “Mr. Ashcroft! Full sails! We’re heading for the sea. And if that pile of junk gets in our way, we’ll smash her to bits!”
Ashcroft licked a dry tongue across a drier mouth. “Aye, Capt’n!”
The sails swelled; the ship lurched ahead. The tips of the steel battering rams lay a mere hundred meters from the Windjammer. The Empire ship turned at an angle, three quarters off the starboard. Elias prayed. Was she turning to avoid his rams and fight? Or was she turning to let them pass? He could not be sure. The next few seconds would tell.
From Beech am in the crow’s nest came the shout. “Capt’n, she veers! She’s turning about!”
Elias and Stacy stared in disbelief. “So she is, mister!” cried Elias with sudden glee. The Windjammer was not going to fight!
Stacy laughed with joy, letting the tears flow freely, and hugged Casca and Cicero. It had all been a bluff! Her father had been behind this. She should have realized it all along! He was the master of such bluff. The Windjammer’s purpose was to threaten, to cajole, to frighten. But never was she intended to harm anyone. Nigel would never let the Empire split itself apart. Spooner had known it all along. Even Elias had suspected it. How could she have been so blind?
Laughs and cheers rose as the fighting birds circling above the Brora returned to the perches of the Windjammer. The two ships slowly passed alongside each other in opposite directions. The Windjammer lowered her colors, acknowledging that the Brora had won the match of wits. Her commander saluted smartly, and with a wide grin the riverman returned it.
Stacy, amid the tumult of shouts and banter, ran to Elias. “That captain,” she panted. “Did you see what he did?”
Elias shrugged. “No, my lady. What did he do?”
She fumed good-naturedly. “He...he winked! He winked at me!”
Elias chuckled. “The scoundrel. But you can’t trust a sailor, my lady.” Then he winked also. “You should have realized that a long time ago.”
For a long while the fun and frolicking continued, even after the tall sails of the Windjammer were gone from sight. Elias looked admiringly at the dozen or so female Rangers as they tossed their bows aside. The girls would at least make the voyage more interesting, he mused, now glad they were aboard. And even the sight of the wolves, running madly to and fro, made him smile. Soldiers, women and wolves! What a combination to cross the sea!
At length the Brora had all but cleared the bay. Elias sighed and once more clasped his hands behind his back as he stood sternly upon the bridge.
“Mr. Ashcroft! Mr. Boniface!”
“Captain?”
“Wipe those silly grins off your faces!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Now clear the decks and prepare to sail! Do you think this ship is built for pleasure cruising?”
“No, sir!”
“Unfurl those sails, mister! I want every stitch we can draw. You see that body of water out there? They call it the sea — and I intend to cross it!”
The officers beamed. “Aye, sir!” Then to the crew: “Sound quarters! The party’s over! We’re on serious business — Empire business!”
Suddenly there was a flurry of frantic activity. Stacy stood aside and stared out at the ocean. Its vastness left her numb. It was beautiful, stunning to behold — even more so than Rhonnda had been that first time she saw it, aboard the Lady of Newfoundland.
Elias called her to his side. “Frightened?” he asked warmly.
The girl shook her head. “Excited.”
The riverman laughed. “You might as well take a last look back while you can. It’ll be a long time before we see home again. That is, if we ever do see it again.”
Stacy smiled. “We’ll see it,” she said with assurance.
“Oh? How do you know?”
The Lady of the Haven laughed, her eyes sparkling with tiny fires. “Let’s say I read it in a poem.”
Puzzled by this exotic, dazzling wolf-girl, Elias shook his head bemusedly and turned his attention back to the matters at hand. The Brora’s bow dipped, then pointed its way from Rhonnda Bay and into the open sea. She swelled ahead gracefully, no longer with the river current but with the ocean’s. Gold canvas blazed under hot sun, the emblazoned black hawk upon the mainsail shimmered, flexed its talons and seemed to come to life.
“Hard-a-lee, Mr. Ashcroft!” called Elias. “And set the course.”
Proudly the sailor answered, “Aye, sir! And what course shall I set? What destination shall I log?”
“West by northwest, mister — the Land of the White Wolves.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Ah, Khalea, the warmth of Khal upon me at morning, the whispers of Aleya through the leaves, that’s what I yearn for. The forest, Khalea. Our forest. Would that we were home.”
Stacy smiled warmly
at the sleepy face of Casca. The wolf rested his head in her lap, and she ran her fingers through his fur. It was a sultry night on deck, with a moonless sky illuminated by glittering stars.
“Poor Casca,” she whispered, resting her back against the smooth wood of the bulwark. From where they sat, beside the foot of the bridge ladder, she could see the mainsail swell like a flowing cloud, pushing the ship forward, ever forward, across the endless tide. Apart from the flapping of the flags and the gentle moans of well-aged wood, the only sounds were the light footsteps of Boniface pacing up and down the deck, watching and studying the constellations above, hands behind his back.
“Forgive me, Casca,” said Stacy as the wolf closed his eyes, “you never really wanted to make this journey with me, did you?”
Casca growled. “I wanted to come, Khalea. Too much of the grandfather is within me. But on a night such as this,” he glanced up at the half moon and sighed, “I can think only of Athena, and the pack, and our friends, and our own cub yet unborn.”
“You’ll come home to a fine hunter waiting for you,” said Stacy. “And he’ll be proud of his father’s adventures. So will Athena. A huntress enjoys nothing more than to glow about the deeds of her mate. You’ll be a hero.”
Lazy eyes laughed. “I would trade it all for a single glimpse of home. Wouldn’t you, Khalea?”
His question caught Stacy by surprise. In all the months since she had left the Valley she had not once thought of home, that is, her forest home. Her eagerness to make the journey, her idealistic visions of some great plan for the Empire had dazzled her. But here, on the endless sea, far from the spires of Rhonnda and even farther from the great walls of the Haven, she felt merely a speck against the colossus of the ocean. She wondered if, somewhere above, the Fates were laughing at the spectacle of this tiny ship daring the overwhelming power and authority of the sea. She bent over and kissed the wolf lightly on his forehead. “I do miss our home, Casca. Truly, I do.”
Stacy smiled. The wolf was sleeping contentedly, wagging his bushy tail in deep slumber. Just as well, she thought. No purpose in letting him know that her own heart ached as much as his.
But to be homesick was one thing, to be unhappy quite another. Stacy was not unhappy. Here, aboard the Brora these past seven days, she had made some of the closest friendships she had ever known. Real friends, such as blue-eyed Sandra, the calm and level-headed captain of the women Rangers, and sensitive Robin, with yellow hair and an enchanting smile. But most of all she thought of Heather and Melinda. Dark-eyed and proud, fiercely independent, how very different they were from the stuffy and pampered young women she had known at home. Stacy felt good just being around them. In the dank depths of the tiny cabins they bared the secrets of their lives, exchanged hopes and dreams and shared whispered romance.
It was long-legged Melinda she first met, that being the work of Elias, who had paired the two and assigned them to the broom closet called a cabin. But she soon realized that wherever you found Melinda, Heather was close behind. Smartly dressed in their Ranger tunics, crossbows slung over their shoulders, they appeared hard and tough girls, indeed. But beneath this coarse exterior they were gentle-mannered young women, as feminine as the most elegant daughters of the grandest noble. Often had the stern-faced ship’s officers been caught letting their eyes wander from duty whenever Heather and Melinda were about. And how proud Stacy had felt just the other day when Elias, in a fury about one thing or another, shouted to Ashcroft, “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep those women off the deck during morning hours!”
Frowning, the officer had said, “Aye, Capt’n. But which of the girls?”
“All of them, mister,” came the surly reply. “But especially Heather and Melinda — and Stacy!”
Leaning back, Stacy closed her eyes and smiled. Heather and Melinda and Stacy — she loved it!
Musing, she fell into a light sleep. The weather this past few days had been tepid. Elias had given approval to sleep on deck, providing, of course, that they did not interfere with the duties of the crew. The feeling of a long shadow over her caused her to wake with a start. All around was the night, the darkened rails of the ship. For an instant she believed that the “shadow” had been merely a dream. But then, as she peered to the forecastle, she saw the silhouetted form of a man. A giant of a man. Easily half a head taller than Elias, who was up until then the tallest man she had known, he leaned his great frame along the rail and held at the brace. His eyes, brooding and narrow, scoured the sky carefully.
Stacy watched him curiously. She had seen him before — but who was he? In the seven days of the journey she thought she had met or at least been introduced to just about everyone. His tunic was that of a sailor, she saw, yet there was something about him that said he was something more. It occurred to her that he must be one of the special hands Elias had signed aboard in Rhonnda. He certainly did not fit the part of a ship’s carpenter or cook.
She wanted to approach him, introduce herself and satisfy her curiosity. But something stopped her. Not that he frightened her, but she felt she would somehow be intruding on a very special privacy. So for a long while she stared in his direction, turning her eyes away whenever he happened to glance in her direction.
After some time the tall man moved from his place and stepped closer. Stacy looked up and smiled. His face was ruddy and lined, curly hair thick and white. His arms were muscular and powerful, his frame awesome. He seemed capable of tearing a tree trunk out by the roots with his bare hands. Unconsciously she moved her hand down toward her dagger.
The big man smiled broadly. “You needn’t be afraid of me, little wolf princess,” he said.
Stacy blinked. “I, er —”
The half-giant laughed. “No need to explain, little wolf princess. Many folk shy away whenever I pass. It’s something I’ve lived with all my life.” He sighed deeply. “One learns to know his limitations.”
From his way with words Stacy could tell that he was well educated. But his being a noble certainly did not mesh with either his dress or manner. Without meaning to, she asked, “Who are you?”
The man threw back his head and laughed. “They call me Alryc,” he said. “Alryc of the Blue Fires. Perchance you have heard of me?”
Stacy shook her head.
Alryc shrugged. “It’s not that I mean to brag, you see. But in Rhonnda I’m well known.”
“I’m from the Valley,” offered the girl. “My name is —”
“Your name is Anastasia, but you only answer to Stacy. Am I right?”
With an impish grin, Stacy said, “I’ll call you Alryc if you call me Stacy. All right?”
The big man smiled warmly. “Agreed, Stacy. But tell me, why are you out on deck so late at night? You should be below with your friends.”
Stacy tossed the hair away from her eyes. “I like it up here at night. I like the sea. But I’ll ask you the same question. Why are you here? Surely you’re not on duty?”
Alryc leaned against the bulwark and rested his arms at his sides. He pointed to the sky. “Do you see that star up there? The one that glitters more than any other?”
Stacy nodded breathlessly, staring at the black velvet sky and the thousand flickering lights.
“That’s the North Star, little wolf princess. From its fixed position in the heavens we plot our course. And do you see that cluster of stars below it? That we call the Big Dipper. It, too, helps guide us.”
Stacy smiled. “I see. You’re a navigator.”
Grinning, he said, “Now you know my secret, Stacy. I read the stars.”
“Wolves read them, too,” said the girl.
He chuckled. “So I’ve been told. But only men can guide a ship. Only men can discern winter constellations from those of summer. A woman can learn these mysteries, too, little wolf princess. Even a young girl like you — that is if she has the desire.”
“I’d love to learn, Alryc,” she replied breathlessly. “Will you teach me?”
The
navigator laughed, bushy brows furrowing as he peered down at her. “You would be my pupil? You would spend long hours of your nights studying and observing?”
Stacy nodded eagerly. “I promise. Teach me everything!”
Hands on hips, Alryc bellowed. “Everything would take a lifetime, Stacy. But a quick mind can take in much. Look there, little wolf princess! Can you see the two bright stars low against the horizon?”
The girl stared hard to portside. And sure enough, above the black horizon, two dots shimmered and twinkled.
“Those are the shoulders of Orion,” said Alryc. “And there, Stacy — low away from the North Star, see how the Little Dipper points to it?”
“I do see it!” she exclaimed excitedly. “And that cluster nearby — that’s the Big Dipper you spoke of!”
The navigator grinned. “Very good, little wolf princess. Tomorrow I’ll begin to teach you other constellations. There are many. And we’ll watch Jupiter and Venus at twilight. And the yellow star, Capella. The orange glow of Arcturus will enchant you, and Mars will flicker above and take your breath away.”
“You know them all?” asked the entranced girl. “Where did you learn so much? Certainly not on the river.”
The navigator grinned. “I am not truly a sailor, although I did go with the Swordfish many years ago when we sailed the sea to chart the Rhonnda coasts and the Western Isles. But by profession I am an astronomer. One of the few in the Empire.” He sighed wistfully.
“The time passes too swiftly,” he added. “And my night’s work is hardly begun. I still have my charts to plot. Forgive me, Stacy, but I must draw our first lesson to a close. Elias will be needing my charts by morning.”
Stacy got up slowly beside the sleeping Casca, now comfortably stretched out on the deck. Fondly she clasped Alryc’s hand. “I think I’ll go back to my cabin after all,” she said. “But perhaps I’ll see you at morning.”
Alryc smiled and bowed gracefully, as lithe as a man half his size. “Good night, my lady.” Then once again he turned and lifted his long face to the sky.
Lady of the Haven (Empire Princess Book 1) Page 18
