“How can you be on all three ships at the same time to use them?” one of the officers asked.
“Anyone can use them,” Grange replied quickly. “I haven’t set them up with any limitations; they’re like my wand so far, without personal control.”
“So we could use one paddle for each ship, and we would just start moving, without wind?” the first lieutenant summed up skeptically.
“That’s all it is,” Grange confirmed. “I’ll go get the paddles for you.” He returned to his room, grabbed the paddles, and when he returned to the deck, he found the ship’s captain, and Persole, in the group awaiting him. He explained again what he had created with the paddles, and was assigned to accompany an officer as he was rowed by a crew of sailors in a small boat, to visit the other two cargo ships and deliver the paddles.
The first ship’s officer corps looked askance at the proposal to use a magical paddle to propel the vessel out of the doldrums, and Grange explained the concept as calmly as he could, while starting to feel irritated by the officers’ deliberate attempts to misunderstand.
The second ship was a different situation though. It was the vessel carrying the mules and fodder, and the captain was anxious to keep his ship moving. He listened with interest to Grange’s story about how to use the paddle. Grange’s escort from the flagship of the small armada of trading vessels, promised that a signal would be sent to begin the use of the artifact after the messengers returned to their starting point.
The animal-transport’s captain’s desperate desire to feel movement using the magical paddle became evident moments after Grange’s boat left its side to return to the flagship.
As the men working the oars on Grange’s dinghy stroked towards the flagship, the animal transport began to suddenly move steadily forward, its sails still limp, but the energized paddle dangling in the water behind it, while the other two large ships remained stationary. The small boat of rowers hastily changed course to avoid being struck by the moving ship. Grange and the others in the small boat watched as the ship maneuvered past them, then took the lead among the fleet, and began to disappear in the distance, while the paddle was visible, suspended by a rope so that it hung in the water behind the bow of the ship.
The ship with the doubting officers suddenly moved forward as well, convinced to act by the unexpected success of their companion. That ship too began to move forward suddenly, and also passed the still stationary flagship.
“We better hurry, or they’ll use their own paddle and leave us behind,” the officer in Grange’s boat warned, and he ordered the rowers to speed up their pace to return to the flagship, driving the small boat forward urgently.
As they approached the flagship, they saw a rope being lowered from the deck, hanging along the side of the ship they expected to reach, while they also saw a rope with a paddle being lowered behind the bow of the ship.
“Grab the rope!” someone on the deck called as they reached the side. One of the rowers reached up and grabbed the line; as soon as he did, there was a shout above, and the towering flagship began to move. The small boat was pulled along the side, and two other rowers hastily grabbed onto its life line as well, to secure the smaller boat to the larger. The growing velocity of the ship created a wake that flung liberal amounts of sea water up and onto those in the small ship, adding to their uncomfortable chill from riding in the small boat.
A rope ladder was soon unfurled along the side of the flagship while the rowers worked to tie the life line to their boat. The passengers in the small delivery boat climbed up the deck, where Grange and the lieutenant were immediately ordered to report to the captain in his cabin.
“Why did those other fools start so quickly? Did you tell them to use the paddles immediately?” he asked as soon as the others entered. “We would have used our paddle immediately if we thought it would actually work,” he said, as he avoided making eye contact with Grange.
“They must have just wanted to test it,” the officer answered. “We didn’t tell them to depart immediately, sir.”
“How long will this power of yours make the ship move? All day? Half a day?” the captain asked Grange, turning to him.
“I don’t know,” Grange answered honestly. “These ships are so large that I can’t tell you. It may only last an hour,” he replied. “Or it could go on.”
“I’m going to order all ships to reduce the speed then,” the captain decided aloud. “I’d rather that we just keep moving, even if slowly, than move fast for a while but become becalmed again.”
He called in a midshipman, and sent him up to the deck with instructions to reduce the speed of the ship, after signaling to the others to cut their speeds.
“And if we stop moving, can you make these paddles work again, to get us going?” the captain asked Grange after he sent his message.
“It would take me a while to recharge the paddles, but I could do it,” Grange promised confidently.
The captain was satisfied with Grange’s answer. He smiled warmly, then dismissed the visitors from his cabin.
The paddles provided enough energy to move the massive ships until nearly midnight. When Grange awoke the following morning, he was respectfully asked to re-energize the paddles, which had been collected and returned to the flagship. But only a few minutes after he began the task, breezes returned to the ships’ area in the ocean, and they resumed sailing through the chilly waters under their own power.
Chapter 20
The flotilla arrived at the port of Asloe’s mining business, Trade Harbor, just four days later. Grange had his wand full of energy, and felt confident that he could use it as needed, despite Grace’s earlier insistence that he not place any power in the amulet.
Trade Harbor was a sloppy, rowdy small settlement. There were no women in the village, only the men who Asloe hired to handle the shipping of goods into and mostly out of the wilderness that existed in the inland cold. Grange stayed on the deck of the flagship and watched the activity in the village streets, where taverns, warehouses, and boardinghouses were the predominant structures.
The mules and fodder were unloaded from their ship, a source of curiosity and satisfaction to the men in Trade Harbor. Little had taken place in the settlement during the weeks that shipments from the inland mine had been disrupted, so the appearance of the three ships and their animals provided a welcome diversion from boredom that had set in during the stretch of inactivity in the harbor.
“This village was created by Asloe,” one of the friendly officers on the flagship told Grange. After he had faced the demon in Warm Port, Grange had been shunned by the others on the ship. But when his empowered paddles had helped the ships escape the doldrums, the crew’s attitude towards Grange had flipped around, and he’s become popular and respected.
“Asloe mostly uses the village to ship out the ore from his mine, but there are also some trappers who bring in furs from the wilderness and ship them on Asloe’s ships. Since the troubles at the mine though, nothing’s being shipped out, and the men in the village are bored, and they’re angry because they aren’t getting paid without work here,” the lieutenant on the deck told Grange. “And nobody from Kilau comes here except for the money Asloe pays – it’s too cold!”
It was cold, Grange agreed.
“What are we supposed to do, exactly?” Grange asked.
“The ships’ crew and officers are going to stay here, while you and the bearers, and the mules and their handlers, will go inland to the mine. It’ll take three days if the weather’s good,” the lieutenant told Grange.
“And the gods only know what you’ll find there,” he added in a lower voice.
“Asloe said that there were reports of things gone wrong. What exactly is wrong there?” Grange asked.
Lieutenant Myers looked over his shoulder to confirm that no one was listening in on the conversation. “The rumor is that there are monsters and ghosts. There have been men killed mysteriously, and their work mules were slaughtered,
and drained of blood. They couldn’t ship any ore out because every animal down here was killed.
“If you can’t fix things and bring the shipment back, this whole place could be shut down – the mine and the port,” Myers told Grange.
And that could lead to Asloe reneging on support for the trade treaty with Palmland, Grange knew. The Kilau trader had only agreed to the treaty because he believed Grange would be able to use his powers and fighting ability – as Grange had displayed at the Royal Tournament – to achieve victory at the mine, fighting whatever enemy might exist there.
Grange returned to his cabin to confirm that he had all his belongings packed, then hauled them up to the deck, and let a member of the crew relieve him of part of his load. He said his farewells to the officers, and promised to be back within a few days with a mule trained load with ore, and a funny story to tell about some improbable, misunderstood reason for the stories of mayhem. Then, the good byes finished, he left the ship and went to join the mule train herders.
Grange went to the tavern where the leaders of the expedition were gathered, while the restless mules stood outside.
“Grange, this is Glendon,” Persole introduced the two when there were a half dozen men gathered around a table. “He will be running the expedition to lead us to the mine.
“This is Jarrel, who does all the work Glendon doesn’t want to do,” Persole smiled to show the humor that was intended, although Grange immediately sensed that there was some honest appraisal in the statement.
“We’re awfully glad to have you with us,” Glendon spoke up. “Without you, I think a fair number of the mule drivers would have refused to make the journey. The stories about you have them all convinced that we’ll be able to beat whatever we find at the mine.”
“I’ll try my best,” Grange promised.
The mules were being pulled into lines, and Jarrel excused himself to go oversee the exercise.
Minutes later, Grange was led to a saddled mule near the front of the line. “This is Monton,” Jarrel introduced Grange to the handler who stood at the head of the animal, holding its bridle. “He’ll be watching over these mules, including yours.”
Grange looked at the animal, and looked at Monton. The man was short and stout, or he at least appeared to be stout, beneath all the thick layers of clothes and coats that he wore. Grange was using his own command of the powers to keep himself warm – as he had perfected the practice onboard the ship, so that he wore only a blanket wrapped over his clothing in contrast to the thick wool that the other members of the expedition wore.
I’ll walk,” Grange volunteered.
“You’re sure?” Monton asked. “The mule won’t like you any less for riding him.”
Grange grinned. “I enjoy walking. It’ll keep the blood flowing and keep me warm.”
“You better do something to stay warm,” Monton muttered. He patted Grange’s mule on the head, then moved along to check the straps on the next mule.
“He’s more social with the mules than he is with people, but he’s reliable and good,” Jarrel walked up and informed Grange with a grin. “If you’re ready, we’ll start trekking.”
Grange nodded his agreement, and Jarrel made a motion with his hand high over his head. Someone at the front of the line gave a shrill whistle, and the group started shuffling towards the east, leaving the relative comfort that the Spartan settlement of Trade Harbor provided, and began walking over the wind-swept track that crossed the wilderness towards the mine.
The next three days and nights were spent walking along the rough path that previous mule trains had worn into the rocky frozen soil of the southern lands. Mountains came into view on the southern horizon, snow-covered mountains that appeared empty and bleak, without trees to cover or soften their appearance. The lands they passed through had only scrubby, stunted trees at best, scattered in low lying valleys and swales.
“Why would anyone have ever come here in the first place?” Grange asked Persole at camp the first night, as they sat near a meager fire.
“There are always loners in the world, I guess,” Persole answered. “And some of them go places where no one else is around. Someone was out here, in the middle of nowhere, and somehow found that there were stones with tin ore.
“So father sent men here to find the exact place, and then to build the harbor port, and then to dig the mine. He’s got most of his fortune tied up in this,” Persole confided in Grange. “So he needs to have success here, and to deliver more of the ore. There isn’t enough wood here to create a fire that will melt the ore.”
He gestured to several of the mules that were carrying stacks of wood. “There isn’t enough wood here to even have a good fire for heating or cooking, so we ship the firewood in. We’ll use all that in a matter of days going to and from the mining camp.
“What do you suppose we’ll find when we get there?” he asked Grange speculatively.
“Probably nothing,” Grange replied. He was unwilling to be truthful, to admit that he feared the possibility of finding a demon, or multiple demons, waiting at the mine, lying in ambush. Soon after the conversation, they each returned to their individual tents, where Grange filled his small home with a blast of temporary warmth to help him relax.
Grange did not have to serve on the guard duty that night, but he got little sleep as he tossed and turned in the quickly cooling interior of the tent, until he decided to renew the use of the energy to envelop himself in warmth once again.
The next day was a long journey across the tundra of the south. The mountains rose from the horizon as the caravan progressed, and the path angled to the right, coming around to bear into the mouth of a valley between two prominent peaks. They spent the second night still on the frozen land, within sight of the mountains, and with a guard once again posted around the camp, even though the landscape seemed empty of any possible threat.
On the third day their path entered the foothills of the mountain, and their journey grew more tiring as it climbed up and down and then began to climb continually upward. Grange continued to walk alongside his mule rather than ride on the animal, and he spent almost equal times focusing on pressing energy into his wand and then alternatively withdrawing a trickle of the energy from the stick and using it to produce warmth around his body.
Their caravan set up camp before sunset.
“We can see the mine up there,” Persole pointed up into the valley they had entered. “That white streak is the spoils from the mine that are thrown down the mountainside.
“We’ll make a larger fire tonight for a while, so that anyone who’s at the mine will know we’re coming,” he explained.
“Are there people there?” Grange asked.
“We left about a dozen men at the mine when the last group of men withdrew. We hope – we truly, really hope – that they’ll all be there alive and grumbling about how boring life has been,” the son of the trader said.
“And if they’re not?” Grange asked quietly.
“Then it’s going to be a long, disturbing day,” Persole answered, and then left Grange alone.
The wind whistled down through the valley all night long. It made the sentries cold and uncomfortable, Grange included, as he was assigned a shift in the increased watch kept near the mining camp. And even for those not on sentry duty, the whistling noises and the flapping of the tent cloth made sleep an uneasy activity all through the night.
“They say this is really bad in the winter time,” a replacement said to Grange when he finished his shift as part of the watch. “Good thing we’re here in the summer.”
Grange mused over the relative meanings of good luck and summer as he returned to his small tent. He renewed the use of the energy to heat his body, then lay down for a few hours of uneasy sleep before the morning activities began.
“My lord Grange, you and Monton and a pair of others will go up to the mine ahead of the rest to explore it and make sure everything is in order. The rest of the caravan will fo
llow along after we have the camp here packed up,” Glendon informed Grange shortly after he emerged from his tent around sunrise.
Grange nodded agreement, aware that the idea of him leading an advance party into the unknown dangers of the mine camp made sense. He looked and saw Monton and two guards standing together, watching him. He ducked back into his tent and picked up his wand, in addition to his knife and sword, and he also felt compelled to grab the bola ropes that were sitting in the top of his pack, unused though the weapons had been in all the time he had carried them.
He tucked everything into place on his belt as he left the tent and walked over to his small team of companions.
“Is everyone ready?” Grange asked. “Does anyone have an idea of the best direction to go?”
“I’d say north to the warmth would be best,” Monton jested, unusually for the taciturn mule driver. “But young Knox here has been on this trip before and knows the path to the mine.”
The indicated guard nodded his head. “I was here two trips ago, when times weren’t so bad,” he indicated. “The usual path is along the western side of the valley,” he swept his arm to indicate one of the rocky sides of the valley. “We might as well get started and walk up in the sunlight,” he suggested, then began to lead the way at a nod of agreement from Grange.
The path turned out to be a trail that dodged between boulders and in and out of gullies as it climbed up the side of the valley at a steep angle. Grange was second in the line behind Knox, and kept his eyes constantly moving around the valley, always sweeping over the site of the mine, looking for any warning that might be given of dangerous things lurking in preparation for an ambush.
The path did have the redeeming features of rising above the chilly breezes that swept along the floor of the valley, while also bathing in the slight warmth of the rising sun. When they were level with the mine entrance and the path began to widen out in the approach to the small plateau of spoil created in front of the dark portal into the mountain’s interior, Knox stepped aside.
Perilous Travels (The Southern Continent Series Book 2) Page 25
