The Jalakh Bow

by Jamie Edmundson

  He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but one moment the path ahead was clear, the next it wasn’t. A small group of Caladri riders had appeared ahead of them. Farred touched the hilt of his sword and looked around. Behind them, a few yards down the trail, a second group of Caladri had appeared.

  He looked from one group to the next, nervous of them, even though they appeared to have no weapons, either in their hands or at their belts. Hajna took the initiative and approached the group in front of them.

  ‘Well met. I am Queen Hajna of the Blood Caladri.’

  ‘Queen Hajna?’ responded one of the Caladri. ‘Then King Tibor has died?’

  ‘Last summer,’ Hajna confirmed. ‘In the fighting with the Shadow Ones.’

  ‘I had not heard,’ said the Caladri. ‘Please accept my condolences. I am Darda. I can take you to see our Council?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I have with me Farred, a nobleman from South Magnia. He comes with a message from his Prince. I vouch for him.’

  ‘Well met, Farred,’ said Darda. ‘Since Queen Hajna vouches for you, you are most welcome here. We will be taking you to our capital, Mizky. It is a long ride, we will need to stay one night on the way.’

  ‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ Farred replied.

  With no further ceremony, Darda turned her horse around and took the trail south. Hajna followed her, and so Farred did likewise, Marika and Vida just behind him. He looked about him as they rode. There was no physical sign that he had crossed into another realm. But nonetheless he felt acutely aware that he was possibly the sole human, in an alien land.

  Farred was sitting outside his tent, letting the morning sun warm him after breakfast. He was thinking, and that was never good these days, for his thoughts always turned to Burkhard Castle, and the horrors of the siege he had witnessed there. Bodies piled up at the bottom of the crag, countless Drobax forcing their way up the path, day after day. But he always ended up thinking of Ashere, lying in agony as the poison from an Isharite blade dealt him a lingering death.

  ‘It has to be you, Farred,’ Ashere had begged him. ‘I can’t ask anybody else. Please.’

  And what else can you do when someone you love begs you for help? Nothing else, but give them what they want.

  His memories were interrupted as two figures approached him—Vida and Marika, the two Blood Caladri.

  ‘We are going to visit the harbour,’ Marika said to him. ‘Would you like to come?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Farred, jumping to his feet. He had come to the conclusion that Marika and Vida were in a relationship, and in normal circumstances he would have avoided getting in their way. But with another empty day ahead of him in Mizky, he was bored.

  He wondered what Gyrmund would say, his great explorer of a friend, if he was to learn that Farred was in one of the few places in Dalriya that Gyrmund had never been, and couldn’t wait to leave. He smiled to himself. He wouldn’t be impressed.

  They left the field of tents which was their temporary home, heading downhill to the harbour area of the city, where most of the citizens worked. Vida and Marika walked either side of him, and linked their arms through his. Gyrmund had warned him back in Coldeberg of the over-familiarity of the Caladri, and Farred was glad he had, because it took some getting used to. It was in stark contrast to the Sea Caladri, many of whom openly stared at him as they walked down one of the main streets that led to the sea. They were not hostile, exactly, but he had certainly found them to be unwelcoming, and he was glad to have had the company of Vida and Marika over the last few days.

  He had only made one very brief appearance in front of the Caladri Council. Hajna had already met with them beforehand to explain why they had come. Farred’s role, therefore, was simply to formally offer the Sea Caladri safe harbour in the ports of South Magnia. From there, their fleet could help to re-open the sea lanes across the Lantinen Sea, which had been closed by the Kharovian navy. Hajna’s companion, Szabolcs, had told them that one of the magic weapons they were searching for, the Giant’s Spear, was somewhere in Halvia. Re-opening the Lantinen was a necessary first step to finding it.

  The Sea Caladri had been polite enough, thanking Edgar for his offer and all the usual pleasantries, but they were clearly not involving Farred in their decision making. So instead, while they deliberated, he was left to his own devices in Mizky.

  They reached the sea front. Here, a natural spit of rock that knifed into the sea had been extended by the Caladri to make a large, sheltered harbour, and whenever Farred came down to the sea front, the area was a hive of activity. The three of them sat on a wall to watch what was going on, the sea breeze tugging at their clothes, as passers-by stopped to stare at Farred, the stranger in their midst, before walking on.

  A shipyard took up the near side of the harbour. Here many Caladri men and women were working on a large vessel. The carcass was already complete: wooden planks overlapped to create an unusually deep and wide hull. Farred knew enough to identify it as a trading ship, the large hull constructed to carry goods long distances across the ocean. The shipwrights were working on the frame, the internal ribs of the vessel. It was an impressive sight. They worked hard, and each of them seemed to know exactly what their job was, with little direction needed from the master shipwright.

  The central part of the harbour was for fishing vessels, which regularly came and went, depositing barrels teaming with fish and crustaceans. The locals bought them freshly caught on the sea-front for their evening meal; the remainder were carted off to the nearby factory to be salted. On the far side of the harbour were Caladri warships, moored onto wooden piers. On his first visit there had been half a dozen; now, there were twice that number. It may have been coincidence, but it suggested that the Caladri Council were gathering a fleet, should a decision be made to sail for the west.

  A Caladri man approached them, brawnier than average, with the weather-beaten look of a sailor.

  ‘You’re Magnian?’ he asked Farred directly, apparently not as shocked by his presence as his compatriots.

  ‘That I am,’ Farred replied. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘I’ve been told to consult my charts on the routes to Magnia, so it seemed likely that is where you are from. You don’t look Magnian, though.’

  ‘My family is Middian in origin,’ Farred explained.

  ‘Aah. Not sailors then, I wager?’

  Farred chuckled. He had a funny way about him, this Caladri sailor.

  ‘No, I am afraid not. I can’t even swim.’

  ‘Well, I know plenty of sailors who can’t swim. They’re fine so long as they don’t fall off the ship. What do you know of this Kharovian fleet then, my lord? Do their ships sail as far south as Magnia now?’

  ‘Not that I know of, not South Magnia certainly. Our fishing boats still go out with no trouble. I doubt that their patrols regularly get farther south than the Guivergnais coast.’

  ‘That’s what I would have guessed.’

  ‘Are you the captain of one of those warships?’ Farred asked.

  ‘That I am. She’s the best of the lot, too. Red Serpent.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it. Have you been told to sail to Magnia?’

  ‘Not as such. I’ve been told I might be asked to sail there. So have a lot of other captains. Since few of us have sailed all that way ourselves, I have been consulting charts, drawn up by earlier sailors.’

  ‘How long does it take?’

  ‘It’s not an easy voyage, my lord. You have to sail all the way around the Avakaba Coast, a long way south, where the waters are treacherous, before sailing back up into the Lantinen Sea. The length of the voyage depends on the winds, but it has been done in four days in the past.’

  ‘The Avakaba Coast?’

  ‘You know them as the Lippers.’

  ‘Well, thank you for the information. I am Farred, by the way,’ he said offering a hand.

  The Caladri took it. ‘Captain Sebo,’ he said, then gave a twitch of a smile. ‘Maybe we will
make this voyage together.’

  ‘Maybe so,’ said Farred with a smile.

  ‘If so, I recommend my ship,’ said Sebo. ‘It would be an honour to have you as a guest with us.’

  ‘It would be an honour to sail with you,’ replied Farred, now feeling somewhat better about Caladri hospitality.

  It would be two more days before the final decision was taken; though as the harbour in Mizky continued to fill with warships, it was plain to see which way it was going. The Sea Caladri would sail a fleet to the Lantinen Sea. Their goals, Hajna explained to him, were somewhat limited: to open up transport across the Lantinen. If that meant conflict with Kharovia they were prepared for it, but they would not be seeking out Kharovian ships, declaring war, or anything of that sort.

  Once Hajna had passed on a summary of what was happening, she explained that she would be sailing back to her homeland that very day. She had been away for some time, and she was concerned that her husband, the new king, needed her support.

  Farred walked with the Blood Caladri down to the harbour, for Marika and Vida would of course be returning with their mistress. Theirs was a small, sleek ship, which could skim atop the waves and take them swiftly north along the Itainen coast. He said his farewells, receiving a hug from Marika and Vida, then left them to it.

  Now you really are alone, he told himself.

  On a whim, and with nothing better to do, he walked along the seafront to look at the warships. He wondered whether he could spot Captain Sebo’s ship, that he had named Red Serpent. It was busy here, as sailors readied the vessels for the voyage, bringing aboard supplies to keep the big oarsmen fed, weapons should they be needed, and goods for trade. The ships came in different sizes, but the largest were far longer than any he had seen elsewhere. They were also more high-sided than the typical construction in Magnia; altogether, they were an impressive sight. Farred walked along one pier then the next, until he saw a ship painted scarlet red, with the body and head of a great snake on the prow of the vessel.

  ‘So, destination Magnia!’ came a voice, and there was Captain Sebo, peering down at him from the deck of the ship.

  ‘She’s a beauty!’ said Farred. It wasn’t the biggest of the ships, but it certainly looked fine, and praising a captain’s ship is like praising a mother’s child: an obvious compliment, but one that always works nonetheless.

  ‘Come aboard!’ the captain shouted, indicating the gangplank that was resting on the wooden pier.

  Farred made his way up the plank carefully, wary of slipping. Once he reached the top he saw that it was a significant drop down to the deck.

  ‘There,’ said Sebo, indicating a raised platform that had been built along the side of the ship.

  Farred stepped from the plank onto the platform, then onto the deck. He looked at the platform.

  ‘For fighting?’

  ‘Yes, it gives us quite a height advantage over most other ships. Fill that platform with archers and you can win most encounters without risking life or limb. Come Farred, let me show you around.’

  Sebo showed Farred the deck, which had two masts, with sails that would be unfurled when the captain wanted to catch the wind. There were many other features of the ship he showed Farred, who only half followed what he was being told.

  Sebo then showed him below deck. This was where the oarsmen were located, in rows of seats with one oar each, which exited through a hole on either the port or starboard side. The conditions looked cramped even without the seats filled. At the fore of the ship Sebo had a small cabin and at the rear was storage, mainly for food and drink. This was a fighting ship and there was no room to carry large quantities of goods: that required a ship of a different design.

  They returned to the deck.

  ‘Will you be travelling with us, then?’ Sebo asked.

  It was the only offer Farred had, so he was pleased to accept it.

  ‘We are sailing first thing on the morrow, I believe?’ said Sebo.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Farred admitted. ‘I haven’t really been kept informed.’

  ‘Ah well,’ said Sebo, looking a little embarrassed. ‘You will have to forgive my countrymen. Most of them lead a secluded life here. They don’t come into contact with foreigners. Being a sailing man of course means my life is rather different. Anyhow, I will see you first thing tomorrow. We sail for the Avakaba Coast, against the wind, so we will need an early start.’

  ‘I look forward to it,’ said Farred, looking about the ship. ‘I think I will enjoy the voyage.’

  Farred hated it. The roll of the ship as it crested a wave and then dipped down, up and down, up and down, made him violently sick. His body seemed unable to adjust. He couldn’t stay on his feet, and any lurch of the ship made him ill. So he stood on the starboard fighting platform, hands gripping the side, head stuck over the edge in case he had anything left to throw up. He watched the south coast of Dalriya, the lands of the Sea Caladri and the Cordentines, gradually slide away as they got farther out to sea, and regretted ever having set foot on the Red Serpent. Once there was no land left to look at, he watched the other Caladri ships, bobbing in the waves alongside the Red Serpent, banks of oars pounding into the sea to keep them moving. Most were warships like Sebo’s, but they were also accompanied by the wider shaped trading vessels. Although their design made them less sleek, they sat much lower in the water, and they were able to hold their own with the warships in these conditions.

  Captain Sebo approached him, his face a mix of pity and humour.

  ‘Middians make poor sailors, I fear.’

  ‘Why didn’t you make that clear before we set sail?’

  ‘I just wanted it confirming.’

  ‘Turn your fucking ship around,’ said Farred, ‘and take me to the south coast of Magnia. I’ll get off there and you can carry on.’

  Sebo scrunched up his face. ‘Can’t do that, I’m afraid. It would take far too long, we’d lose contact with the rest of the fleet. Seriously, Farred, I do have a suggestion. Why don’t you try pulling an oar for a while?’

  Farred looked at him, wondering if it was a jest. But no, the captain was serious.

  ‘What if I puke up down there? That’s not going to make me very popular.’

  ‘I doubt you’ve got anything left. You might find it better down there. The motion of the ship isn’t so severe.’

  ‘Alright. I’ll give it a try.’

  Sebo led him down, then looked at his oarsmen, giving the matter a little thought, before picking one of them to give up a seat for Farred. Farred clambered clumsily into position, before grabbing hold of the oar in front of him, two handed.

  ‘Just follow the rhythm of the others,’ advised Sebo. ‘Concentrate on that and you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.’

  It took him a while. He copied the other oarsmen, whose range of movement was small, their hands always in front of their chests. Several times he got into a rhythm and then his timing went wrong, the blade of his oar dipping too early, or in the wrong position, slapping into the water rather than pulling it. But each time he started again, and began to eradicate the errors, until he found a settled rhythm. Sebo was right. Perhaps it was because the rowing gave him something to focus on, but he felt a lot better below deck. His shoulders and back muscles began to ache, but he wasn’t going to show himself up amongst the Caladri, and he was able to push through the pain, his body adjusting to the demands of the motion.

  It was hard to tell time below deck. Sometimes it felt like it dragged, each pull of the oar a burden. Then his mind would drift off, thinking of other things, until it was drawn back to the ship and the oar and he wondered how long he had been down there.

  Eventually a group of sailors came down to replace some of the oarsmen, including Farred, and he made his way back up to the deck. He stretched out his back, enjoying the sensation after sitting for so long. He looked out to sea. He could see the other Caladri ships; some ahead, some behind. It was comforting to know that they weren’t
alone in the ocean. But on the other hand, there was no land to be seen in any direction now. He didn’t like that feeling, of being surrounded by nothing but waves, not knowing where the nearest shore was.

  Sebo was right. He wasn’t a sailor.

  The captain approached him. ‘You did well, I hear?’

  ‘Well, I certainly feel better for it. How are we doing?’

  ‘Well enough. I expect us to make landfall in daylight. We are having to row hard against the wind on the way south. If we have any luck, and the wind stays, our journey will get much easier when we reach the Lantinen Sea.’

  Sure enough, it was early evening when they approached a Lipper settlement. Sebo identified it as Chobo. It was perfectly positioned in a wide bay. There was limited docking space, and so the warships waited out at sea while the traders went in first, turning their ships around, then securing their vessels and unloading the goods they had brought to offer to the Lippers. For the rest, there was a long shallow beach which had enough space for all the ships to find a berth.

  As they got into the shallows, Sebo ordered his men off, and Farred found himself jumping off the side and landing in the sea, his shoes plunging into the sandy seabed. Ropes were thrown overboard. Farred found a space on one rope, and when all the sailors had a grip, they pulled and heaved, dragging Red Serpent onto the sandy shore. Farred slipped over and fell onto his arse, hands grabbing at him to haul him back up. He wasn’t the only one to fall, though obviously the Caladri had experience on their side, not to mention their clawed feet that sank into the sand and found purchase better than his leather shoes.

  Once they were out of the shallows and the ship was on firmer ground, it suddenly became much easier, and Farred found himself running backwards, the rope taught, and Red Serpent slid smoothly along the wet sand until it was secure above the high tide mark. Farred found that he had a huge grin on his face despite his wet shoes and trousers, and decided that a life on the seas wasn’t quite as hellish as he had found it to be initially, though his favourite part was getting back onto dry land.