Screams filled the air. The crew froze. A monster from Hel was upon them!
“It’s going to hit head on!” cried Boniface.
“Not if we can help it!” shouted the captain in reply. He grabbed at the steering oar and turned it with all his might.
“Capt’n, it’ll split!”
“What matter, mister? Look at that thing! We’ve got to turn about; otherwise we’ll be smashed to bits!”
Muscles aching, the two men strained with every ounce of energy. With a groan the wood came loose — split at the beam. Now there was nothing to be done as the monster crept forward, gathering strength and momentum with every passing second. It hovered against the sky and roared. The thought raced through Elias’s mind that it was laughing at them. The wave was looking down at this fragile pile of timber and humanity and bellowing at its audacity to face the wrath of the sea.
“Hold for your lives!” screamed Elias to all those within earshot. He looked to Stacy as the wave obliterated the sky and cursed himself for never having smothered her in his arms. His last look, he was certain.
The wave hit with tremendous impact. The mast groaned and split at the block; planks were ripped and twisted; rail shattered; the skiff was hurled from its moorings and crushed into bits of flying wood. Screams and cries were quickly muffled as salt water filled choking lungs. For a full minute the monster lumbered and rolled from stem to stern. The ship fell back on end beams; wood creaked along the hull amid flying debris and humanity.
But the Brora held her cut against the water and would not give. Painfully she eased with the blow and righted herself. She was shattered and taking on water, but her frame was still intact. With only her own will she fought for her life and the lives of those still aboard. Misshapen, savagely damaged, she stubbornly refused to die. And as if in awe of the gallant Rhonnda ship, the winds began to calm, the sea soothed her temper, the storm passed away. The Brora had survived.
Chapter Eighteen
How lovely shine the lights after the storm,
How sweet the breeze, how warm the sun;
I glow with the leaves that shimmer with witness,
And dream the faces of the girls of Rhonnda.
Bartok
Heather looked up at the worried faces around her. Still kneeling, she slid a pillow under Stacy’s head and put a cup of wine to the girl’s lips.
Stacy coughed, vomited seawater, then slumped back on the blanket. Warm sun bathed her face and body and made her painfully aware she was still alive. Then slowly, her head spinning, she managed to open her eyes. Blurry, tense faces stared back. Melinda, eyes thankful; Elias, his frown turning to a grin; Trevor, sullen and anxious, a small bandage covering a cut above his brow.
“You’ll be fine, Stacy,” said Heather softly, now helping her to drink the wine. “You were much luckier than some of the others —” She bit her lip and cut off her words.
Stacy lifted her head and looked around. The entire deck was a shambles; ripped planks and boards were scattered everywhere. She could see a number of bodies under blankets along the side of the bulwark. Some were sitting up, heads in their hands, others lying still, gasping. On the other side of the deck were more blankets and bodies. Only they weren’t moving at all. The blankets had been pulled taut above their faces. And under one such blanket she could make out the forms of wolves.
Aware now, her eyes widened in panic. “Where’s Casca?” she cried, desperately looking for the wolf.
“Casca’s fine,” assured Melinda, bending down and touching her brow soothingly. “So is Cicero. Most of the others, too. But a few of the wolves didn’t make it. They were drowned when the monster hit.”
Tears came to the girl’s eyes. None of the others realized that she was crying not because they were dead but because there would be no sage to sing the chant to bring them to Fara’s kingdom.
“How...how bad was it?”
Heather began to sob. She put her head in her hands and let her tears flow. Stacy looked at Melinda. The Ranger avoided her eyes. “Boniface was swept overboard,” she whispered. “He and Heather —”
“I know,” said Stacy, recalling what a fine couple they had made. “What about —”
Melinda forced a weary smile. “Ashcroft is fine. He’s too lucky a lout to have died.”
Stacy squeezed her hand thankfully. “I’m glad, Melinda. At least for that.”
“But many weren’t so fortunate,” continued the girl. “They say Beecham died trying to save Sandra from being swept over. Neither one of them had a chance. Heather saw them.”
Stacy cried at the thought of Captain Sandra, a bold, lovely girl who so loved life and had barely begun to live it.
“Is Robin safe?”
“She’s hurt, Stacy. The wave knocked her against the bulwark. The blow saved her life, I guess, but she’s in a coma. Alryc and one of the others who know about medicine are tending to her. Most of the other girls are all right, though. Thank the Fates for that.”
“Then we came through this fairly well.”
Melinda gave a short bitter laugh. “We’re mostly alive, if that’s what you mean. But look about you, Stacy. The ship’s a wreck. Our helm is broken, the mast is smashed. We can’t even row. The Brora’s drifting slowly with the current, taking us wherever it leads. For now we’ll survive. Some of the food’s spoiled, but there’s enough for a while. Anyway, we can probably catch some fish. But we’re desperately short of fresh water. Most of the barrels were hurled overboard. But that doesn’t matter, either. You see, if we hit more rough weather, we’ll sink. The ship can’t take any more. Fates above, she’s done more than enough, anyway! We’re adrift, Stacy. Helpless and at the ocean’s mercy.”
*
In the cool of the evening those who had perished were slipped into the sea. Alryc spoke, and his words instilled hope that all was not lost. The small Rhonnda banner of maroon and blue he held in his hand reminded them that no matter where they were, whatever course the sea had set, the Fates were still with them. The past was behind, he reminded them, the future ahead. Like the visions of Bartok. They must never look back.
And so the Brora sailed on, twenty-five of her one hundred companions left behind but never forgotten.
Days passed more slowly now; the breezes hinted at the early autumn that would soon come to these northern climes. The currents led them on a fair westerly course, and Alryc and Stacy saw that it was still close to the course they had planned. But after thirty-five days at sea, the gray horizon held nothing more than it had since the day they had left. There was no land to be seen.
Then, on the fortieth day, there was something curious upon the water that made Stacy cry with glee. Not land, which was still yet to be found, but the sight of a whale a multitude of wild flowers, just as Old One had described; the grass was deep and tall. Behind it all stood a breathtaking panorama of smoke-colored mountains, like a huge tapestry woven across the sky. Each lofty peak towered above the last in never-ending succession. It took long glances for her to begin to grasp the enormity of it all.
Soft tears welled in the corners of her eyes, and she bowed her head in silent prayer. They were safe. Fara had taken care of her own, of all her children.
Cold salt water splashed against her face. Stacy turned to see the great whale break the surface beside her with a mighty roar. The girl stared blankly as Salome rose high and dived. In that instant there was a spark of communication. An exchange of thought between two minds.
Rest well, my princess, Salome had said. I have brought you safely to land.
And in that same instant, Stacy replied. I knew you would. Thank you. But before she could transmit another thought, Salome arched away from the ship and began to turn back toward the sea. Stacy gasped. The whale was leaving them, she realized, going home again, to prance far away upon open waters. One more time the whale broke the surface. Stacy called but to no avail. Salome dived again, deeply, leaving a wash of foam and ripples in her wake. Then she
was gone.
The girl watched for a while, hoping she would come back, but her heart knew better. Salome was of her own world — and so she must return. Sadly, Stacy wondered if their paths would ever cross again.
All around, the haggard and weary crew began to stir. There were shouts of joy; everyone stared at the reefs and the sandy shores beyond. Elias leaned at the torn rail, Trevor and Alryc at his sides. Then there was a flurry of commands, as the mariner barked at his crew to prepare to lead the disabled ship into harbor. Harbor! What a wonderful word, thought Stacy.
Eyes closed, she stood with the breeze blowing through her hair and caressing her face. Her mind was on the smoky range of mountains so far in the distance, for it was there, she knew, that the real test was to come. It was there that the white wolves would be found. Elias had done his part; now it was time for her. The hardest part of all. For a moment she felt fear, then she calmed, knowing that whatever her destiny, it could not be altered.
It was Alryc who broke her mood. Standing before her, the navigator took her hand in his own and kissed it softly. She looked up at him awkwardly to find a soft smile written across his rugged face. He said no words, but his eyes told a tale. Again the visions of Bartok had proved true. Stacy, aware of this, smiled back, uneasy about the new role in which Alryc had cast her. She kept her gaze to the shore. The wind, tossing her hair in front of her eyes, could not make her lose sight of the mountains — and the alien land she had dreamed of for so long — now beckoning.
Chapter Nineteen
The ship was moored close to the reefs, beside a tiny inlet that provided good shelter from further ravages of the sea. Leaning on her side, the broken ship looked lost and forlorn. But at least she was safe, and within days Elias would set the crew to work at making her seaworthy again.
Beyond the inlet there was a soft slope leading up to a broad flat ridge. Upon the ridge, camp was set. Tools were brought from the ship, trees felled, canvas spread. By nightfall camp tents were up and habitable. A fire was lit and the company sat around it thankfully, gazing about at the new world they had reached, already dreaming of its fabled mysteries and dangers.
The wolves, restless and tense, listened to the sounds, familiarizing themselves with alien songs on Aleya’s breath and eerie rustlings from among the strange trees.
Elias, worn and tired, walked among the small groups of his company and gave instructions for the following day’s work. Then he singled out Alryc, Trevor, Ashcroft, Cicero and Stacy and led them to a small open patch in the tall grass, well away from the others.
“It’s going to take a lot of work to make some good winter shelters,” he said soberly. “If the Brora weren’t damaged, we could have stayed aboard her for the winter. But, as you all know...”
“There’s plenty of good timber about,” said Trevor. “We can have my men start cutting down trees immediately. If we explore some of those hills, I’m sure we can find ourselves some sort of valley to give us better protection.”
Alryc shook his head. “We can’t afford to move too far from the ship,” he said. “Better we build our camp here.”
“I don’t think I understand all of this,” admitted Stacy. “I thought our whole purpose here was to explore. We need to find the white wolves.”
Elias looked at her dryly. “I’m afraid that will have to wait, my lady. We’re in a hostile environment. The best we can do is keep ourselves warm and safe for the winter and then, in spring, set out for the mountains.”
“But that’ll be six months! You’re asking us to sit idle for half a year! We should be on the move right now.”
“And do what?” said Trevor. “Winter comes early in these climes. Where will we find shelter? What will we eat? No, Stacy, Elias is right. First we have to build some sort of settlement. Then we can begin to send scouting parties into the hills.”
“But don’t you see?” pleaded the girl. “We must get moving right away, before the early winter sets in. If we can make it into the mountains —”
“We’ll all probably die,” interrupted Elias. “If the weather doesn’t kill us, the wolves probably will.”
Cicero growled. “He may be right, Khalea. These cousins know us not. They’ll be suspect. Even Old One told you as much. White wolves are enemies of men. Better that Casca and I scout the hills alone. We can try to locate them and speak of your coming.”
“What about it, Stacy?” asked Elias. “Does that suit you?”
Sourly the girl agreed. “I guess I don’t have much choice. I can’t go on alone.”
“There’ll be plenty of work for you to do here,” promised Trevor. “We’ll be needing hunters to provide food. It might be a good idea if you and some of the Ranger girls began to scout around, starting tomorrow, and see what you can come up with.”
“Old One told of great herds of caribou,” recalled Stacy. “But I doubt we’ll find them near here. We should be looking closer to the mountains. It’s there they’ll come down for the winter.”
Trevor looked at her sternly. “You’re not to stray anywhere near there,” he ordered. “I mean it, Stacy. Aboard the ship Elias was commander, on land I am. And I’m warning you not to try and find the white wolves. We don’t need caribou. Rabbit will be fine, thank you. Catch whatever you can — and stay within the perimeter we’ll set down for you. Is that understood?”
There was no way she could disobey such an order, Stacy realized. Trevor was right. On land he was in command.
“All right, Commander. I give my word. I won’t do anything more than you want me to. When shall we start?”
Trevor looked to Elias, then back to Stacy. “Tomorrow,” he said. “Pick five or six of the best girls and take them out toward those thickets. I’ll wager they’ll find plenty of fresh game. Elias, in the meantime, will get everything off the ship that can be of use to us.”
The mariner nodded.
The wolf looked to the soldier. “And when shall we leave?” he asked.
Trevor thought for a while. “Tomorrow you’ll send your trackers up to the hills,” he said. “Not all at once. A few a day. And I want each one back in no later than three days. That way there’ll always be trackers out and others back to tell what they found.”
Trevor stood and stared down at the anxious faces. “If we all do our parts, we should have no difficulty,” he said. “Come spring we’ll all set out for the mountains. By then we’ll be ready and able to face whatever’s waiting up there.”
*
Dense broad leaves rustled inches above her face; a pale sun peeked between lumbering boughs. Stacy crouched beneath the tree, her eyes focused keenly on a large brown hare nibbling at a patch of peat moss. Then she stood erect, feet apart in a comfortable stance, and drew an arrow. Her arm bent slightly at the elbow, she swung the bow vertically and drew the string, one eye closed, the other gauging the distance to the hare.
Her fingers relaxed. The string rolled off them.
Twang!
The hare was thrown back off its haunches and went sprawling across the damp grass. Stacy drew her dagger and ran to the fallen prey. She swung the shoulder strap of her satchel over her shoulder, placed it at her side and threw the hare inside with the others.
“Good shooting, Stacy!” came a gleeful cry from behind.
The girl peered up to see the grinning face of Melinda. “Where did you come from?”
“Oh, I was on my way back to camp,” she said happily, proudly pointing to her own heavy bag on her shoulder. “I’ve caught five rabbits already. But nothing quite as big as what you got.”
“I’ve got four,” said Stacy, getting up and flexing cramped muscles. “I guess that’s enough for today. This bag feels as if it weighs as much as I do.” She began to trudge away.
Melinda, crossbow in hand, slung the weapon over her shoulder. Not speaking, they walked across the knoll and followed a small winding stream that led down the hillock on the way back to camp. After a few minutes Stacy stopped and knelt down
. Her eyes carefully scanned the fallen leaves and muddied bank of the stream.
“What is it?” asked Melinda.
“Deer tracks. A whitetail, I think. I saw them this morning.”
The Ranger’s eyes widened. “Deer! That’s the first in these thickets anyone’s seen. Think you can track her? A juicy buck will make us all a fine supper. Anyway, I’m sick of rabbit stew.”
Stacy laughed loudly. “It’s not all the cook’s fault, Melinda. How many different ways can you cook rabbit?” She glanced forlornly toward the gradually steepening hills to the north. “I bet we’d catch that whitetail real quick if we were allowed to leave the thicket.” Her eyes glinted with mischief.
“Promise me, Stacy,” admonished Melinda, “you won’t go trailing off out of the thickets on your own?”
Stacy looked surprised. “Why do you think I would?”
Melinda frowned. “I know you, Stacy. I know you watch with envy when our trackers leave for the hills. I know you want to be with them, exploring and searching for white wolves.”
Stacy scoffed. “I gave my word, Melinda,” she said, holding up a hand.
“I know. But I also know you’re tempted to run away every time we set out to hunt. Sometimes I get back to camp expecting to hear that you’re missing and nobody knows where you’ve gone.”
The Valley girl threw back her head and laughed. “I give you my promise, Melinda. I won’t leave on my own. And if I do, I won’t go without giving you the chance to come with me. All right?”
Melinda smiled and nodded sheepishly. Then, packs over their shoulders, the two of them walked back to the camp, whistling happily at their discovery.
*
Under a moonless night sky Casca and two trackers came racing back to the ridge and the sleeping camp. Elias, standing guard with several of Trevor’s soldiers, was the first to greet them. The forest wolf panted and looked about anxiously. “Where’s Trevor?” he growled. “And Khalea?”
Lady of the Haven (Empire Princess Book 1) Page 21
