by Chris Ward
‘It’s hard to enjoy any place whilst Sylvion is a prisoner and the future so uncertain,’ Rema spoke quietly as they gazed out across the harbour, for he bore an inner anxiety for her which never left him.
‘And everywhere we go we have to deal with people like Lethyne Tyne or Jehru Abhor;’ Serenna shuddered as she recalled his recent presence. ‘I hope we are on our way soon for he and his ship have greatly disturbed me.’ Rema turned and looked at her.
‘Serenna,’ he said in a quiet and even manner. ‘I will not let any harm come to you. You must trust me on this.’ She smiled and held his gaze and remembered his youthfulness, now become a man. She squeezed his hands.
‘I do trust you Rema. But that man...’ she shook her head, and left her sentence unfinished.
It took very little time to fill the earthenware amphora which were used to carry the Lavas water. It took far longer to stow them safely in the ship’s hold. Tyne liked to arrange them vertically in rows using a heavy damp ballast sand to cover them at least to half their height, which kept them from moving, and breaking. Finally he had the necks of the containers tied to each other in a complicated pattern which further secured them. It was hard on the crew, but it was the only safe way, for if they were caught in a storm, they might all be lost and Lavas water did not come cheap. Tyne spent half the bag of gold Serenna had given him on the water, and knew he could make twice as much in return by the time he had sold it all. There were many welcome ports to visit on the eastern coast of Revelyn, or perhaps he would do a longer voyage across the ocean to the Norzelands which lay far to the east. The Norze were always wanting the legendary Lavas water of Revelyn. He had spent the morning supervising his crew loading the precious cargo, and was now planning the next leg of the journey in his cabin. Scion was in charge on deck. A sudden knock at the door made him jump, which was uncharacteristic.
‘Yes?’ He replied coldly for he liked not to be disturbed when in his cabin.
‘Wormwood Captain. Sorry to disturb you but you have a visitor.’ There was silence for a moment as Tyne thought about a response, but he knew he would have to deal with it. Probably the harbour master wanting to know when I’ll be ready to sail, he thought, for there were several other vessels eager to take his place.
‘You may enter.’ He gave the command with little enthusiasm. The door opened. Wormwood had disappeared. Filling the doorway, and with an evil gleam in his stony dead eyes was the last person he ever wanted to have words with; Jehru Abhor, captain of the Ocean Rose.
‘Ah Captain Tyne it has been too long!’ The evil man entered the cabin as if he owned it. He stood to his full considerable height which meant his head touched the roof timbers, and then cracked his knuckles loudly by way of a crude statement that he had arrived.
‘Not near long enough for me Abhor. What are you doing on my ship?’ Tyne growled his response, angered that the man had so easily assumed entry to his vessel.
‘Come Tyne, surely whatever ills exist between us do not need to prevent the pursuit of commerce. I have a business proposition for you. Let us deal with the matter direct like, for you will not be disappointed in what I have to say.’ Abhor seemed supremely confident, but his cheerful demeanour did not fool Lethyne Tyne for a moment, for his stone dead eyes could not hide an evil intent, and so he stood and said nothing, forcing Abhor to judge the right manner in which to proceed.
‘Hmm, I see that you are not easily moved by the idea of making some easy money.’ Tyne said nothing. Abhor continued.
‘We are traders you and I; perhaps we approach things a little differently, I will grant you that, but in the end we want to turn a good profit. In the end we are the same.’
Tyne remained impassive. Abhor stroked his chin and thought with a furrowed brow.
‘I have recently being trading with the Scuts, you know those strange folk down south and east. A week’s sail from here if the weather is fair. The men wear kelts you know, no different to woman’s clothes if you ask me but there you go.’ Tyne stared unmoving at his unwanted visitor. Abhor pressed on.
‘I have been dealing with a Lord of theirs. Rich man, very rich. Big too, and hairy, red hair all over, and unmarried. Can’t get a woman for he drinks too much and has the vilest temper. Prepared to pay a small fortune for a woman.’ Abhor looked intently at Tyne to see if was listening at all, which he was...biding his time.
‘Anyhow this Lord, of the Scuts, lives in a huge fortress castle overlooking the sea... gave me a bag of gold as a down payment and promised another if I can procure a woman to fit his desires. Of course he has his wants...she needs to have red hair, well built with hips for the children, that sort of thing,’ He paused, but still Tyne remained silent.
‘Look Tyne you know who I’m talking about. That woman as come off your ship this morning. A perfect match or my name’s not Jehru Abhor. I’d be doing you a favour; women on ships is bad luck, I know it, we both know it. I’m prepared to take her off your hands... for a fair return of course. What do you say? Just business, no more, no less.’ Lethyne Tyne had become increasingly angry as the odious Abhor had been speaking.
‘You fool Abhor, you cannot just offer to buy someone as if they were a barrel of rum...’ he spoke at last but was immediately cut off by Abhor who wandered around the cabin inspecting various items as he spoke.
‘I thought this might be a little tricky for you but bless me if I didn’t get to speaking with your man Wormwood; now he tells me that your good self put in an offer on this very same woman in recent times.’ He smiled broadly knowing that he had made a significant point. Tyne’s anger just intensified to a deep fury. Wormwood would feel more than his boot before the day was done. He took a deep breath and spoke quietly.
‘And how much would it be worth to me to, this business arrangement you have so eloquently put before me?’ Jehru Abhor sensed victory.
’Well I think half the bag of gold.’ He took out a small bag and threw it theatrically onto the cabin table. It landed with a sold clunk. ‘More value in that bag than half a year of trading these seas. And all for a wench.’ Abhor stood with his hands on hips and watched Tyne carefully, eager for his acceptance of the offer. Tyne picked up the bag and weighed it carefully in the palm of one hand. It felt good; it was heavy and madly tempting, for he had a great love of gold. He looked at Abhor and smiled. At that moment they were interrupted by Scion who appeared at the cabin door.
‘Sorry to intrude Captain Tyne,’ he spoke with not a glance at Abhor, ‘but I heard you had a visitor and wondered if you required anything?’ Tyne responded immediately.
‘Thank you no. I will be able to manage.’ The look he gave Scion suggested that he leave forthwith, but he knew that the big black sailor had heard much of the conversation. He waited until the sounds of Scion’s departure had faded, and then angrily tossed the bag back at Abhor, forcing him to catch it right before his face.
‘There will be no deal on this Abhor, now get your evil presence off my ship and do not ever return.’ The rebuke cut like a knife and the change to Abhor’s demeanour was as if he was suddenly another man. His evil eyes narrowed and his voice was like the hiss of a Gnabi viper.
‘You fool Tyne. No one crosses me like this. You have played with me. Led me on. I come with a fair proposition...’ This time it was Tyne who cut Abhor off for suddenly there was a sword in his hand and without hesitation he jumped at Abhor thrusting it expertly at the large barrel chest. Abhor stepped hurriedly back and collided with the cabin door, cursed and went to pull out a hidden weapon but Tyne was on him, and with a deft flick of his wrist inflicted a shallow cut on Abhor’s ugly face from the chin to almost his ear. The blood flowed quickly but it was not a serious wound, nor had Tyne intended it to be. But his sword was at Abhor’s throat and so ended all further action.
‘Get off my ship!’ Captain Lethyne Tyne’s roar let his nemesis know that the meeting was over. Abhor held a bloody hand to his check, cursed Tyne foully and left with a threat.
‘You wi
ll regret you did that. I will have revenge; you mark my words Lethyne Tyne, for no man cuts Jehru Abhor and lives long to tell of it.’ And then he was gone. Scion and several of the crew witnessed Abhor leave the Scoria holding a hand to his cheek which failed to stem the flow of bright red blood that had already soaked his tunic at the neck.
‘I didn’t expect to see his blood was red, more like black I would’ve wagered,’ said one sailor in a hoarse whisper, somewhat in awe of the spectacle. ‘Good on the captain I say.’
Scion frowned. ‘A brave act no doubt sailor, but foolishness itself, for that man will make us pay, that’s what I’d be wagering.’ It was a sombre thought. At that moment Captain Lethyne Tyne appeared on the mid deck; he was still holding his sword and wore the face of a storm.
‘Wormwood!’ He roared, ‘Wormwood wherever you are, I’ll see you below this instant.’
By the second day, the Scoria was as full of Lavas water as could safely be stowed below. The crew were preparing the ship for sea at a leisurely pace for Tyne had decided to leave the following morning on the tide. The Ocean Rose showed some signs of activity, and looked to be leaving that afternoon, but there was no contact by either of the ship’s company, although word had spread aboard the Scoria of the bloody outcome to Abhor’s fateful visit the previous day, and a certain apprehension hung heavily in the air.
By chance Rema had encountered Scion ashore and they had ended up in ‘The Royal’, the largest tavern on Lavas. It stood at the southern end of the harbour with an elevated view of the port, which in truth could be said of almost all the buildings on the island. Serenna had gone to find Lava’s only small carriave office, for she had a message to send about which she would share little with Rema, except to say that she had an idea which might help them in the future. With talk of the imminent departure of the Ocean Rose she felt brave enough to go alone, promising to meet him at The Royal no later than two span past the noon.
Scion and Rema shared an ale, and talked quietly of the clash between the two captains the day before. Rema was deeply angered by Jehru Abhor’s attempt to buy Serenna, and was dismayed that Scion seemed to be hinting that Tyne had considered the offer.
‘But what is true Rema,’ said Scion finally in seeming defence of his captain, ‘Abhor left with his tail tween his legs and slashed face for his temper, so the captain sent him off good and proper.’ Rema nodded, but he felt an almighty sense of unease.
‘The sooner we’re off this island the better,’ he muttered and drained his third ale. ‘I wonder what is taking Serenna so long; it must be well past noon now.’ Scion squinted hard and looked to the sky through the large tavern windows. He was a sailor and knowing the time came as naturally as making a bowline.
He nodded, ‘three span after, near enough.’ This made Rema feel even more unsettled. At that moment Captain Lethyne Tyne walked in. He saw them immediately and seemed to nod imperceptibly in recognition, a mere reflex. He was in the company of a uniformed soldier. Rema had learnt that Lavas had a small permanent posting of soldiers to operate the island’s defences. There had been no trouble in many years, but Lavas was worth a great deal to the royal coffers of Revelyn, and the battlements needed constant maintenance and their operation required a level of skill not found anywhere else in the service of the country.
‘That’s the commander of the forces on Lavas,’ Scion whispered. ‘Bjorkman; I think this is his name. He has no sense of humour, and rumour has it that he feels no pain. Captain and he have been acquainted for years. Deserve each other I say, for you’ll not get much mirth from either despite two bellyfuls of ale.’ The two men took a table on the far side of the room and were quickly brought ales and food. Rema observed somewhat absently that the commander was obviously was well looked after by the people of Lavas.
‘Look!’ said Scion suddenly in a quiet whisper. Rema followed the big man’s gaze. Out in the harbour the Ocean Rose was suddenly swarming with men. Sailors in the rigging had started to loosen the many furled sails, and it looked like the anchor was being slowly wound in for the huge rope which held it was quivering and taught like a bowstring. ‘They’re leaving!’ Rema nodded.
‘I can’t say I’m sad...Look there is the last boat coming alongside now.’ He could clearly see one of the ship’s longboats swing neatly in amidships and the several pairs of oars simultaneously lift vertically from the water. Almost immediately men could be seen climbing a ladder to the deck whilst efforts to recover the boat commenced. At that moment the door to the tavern was flung open and sailor Smallbone entered in a hurry, breathing hard, and flustered to the point of distress.
‘Captain, sira, please, I’ve been looking all over for you... they’ve got the Lady!’ Rema froze. A cold hard pain cut through his body like a knife and lodged deep in his heart.
‘Serenna!’ he whispered...’No!’ He looked out the window and there in the distance on the ladder was a tiny figure being pulled and pushed up to the deck. He could not make out who it was, but a faint flash of red hair confirmed his worst fear. ‘There Scion, look it is her! No wonder they were in so much haste.’ Scion did not bother to look but was at his captain’s table in an instant.
‘Captain we must make chase, we cannot let her be taken, I’ll give the word.’ He turned to leave, Rema at his side. Lethyne Tyne however could not abide being given orders by an underling, and bristled angrily.
‘My ship sailor Scion. I will decide what must be done; there is little we can do for if she has been taken, the Ocean Rose is the fastest ship ever built. She has the break on us and will outrun us by a league in ten.’ He did not move. Rema could not believe what he was hearing. A white hot anger boiled within and was on the point of erupting when Scion, who sensed his imminent explosion put a vice like grip on his arm and commanded.
‘Not now Rema, leave this to me.’
Scion took two steps back to Tyne’s table and put his large black face within a hand span of his captain’s. When he spoke it was as though thunder had sounded for plates shook and patrons trembled.
‘You have a choice Captain, you are either with us or not. If not, you have let Jehru Ahbor take your soul. But for me, I will take your ship and make chase, and the men will follow for the Lady Serenna reminds them of all they have given up to serve you before the mast.’ And with that he grabbed the huge oak table at which Tyne sat and heaved it on its side with a crash that echoed long after Scion and Rema had left at the run towards the port, followed by a breathless Smallbone who had tears streaming down his face with emotion.
As Rema ran, a chilling truth played havoc in his mind. I promised her...I promised her. Sylvion now Serenna, Sylvion now Serenna... He ran like he had never run before and vowed an oath as he did that he would bring Serena back whatever it took, however far he needed to go, whatever it would take...He was all she had. ‘I’m coming Serenna,’ he cried at last; he would never whisper such a desperately fervent promise ever again.
Captain Lethyne Tyne was in shock. The words of Scion had left him temporarily paralysed. He realised that everyone in the tavern was looking at him. Suddenly he saw the error in his pride and the consequences which might come of it. In an instant he was at the tavern door, about to follow the other men when a sudden thought came to him and he halted. He went back to Commander Bjorkman who had not moved but was considering events in a measured manner which spoke much of not wanting to get involved.
‘How much for three firings of your machine?’ Tyne demanded standing aggressively before him. Bjorkman rubbed his chin, understanding immediately what was being asked. Tyne pressed him. ‘Come now commander we have known each other for years. You are always telling me of what your machine will do. Now is the time, for a huge crime is being perpetrated under your very nose. What cost three firing at the Ocean Rose?’
Commander Bjorkman was a cunning man and could see a chance for personal gain beyond anything his small income as a soldier might provide. He smiled, and shrugged.
‘What is
it worth to you Captain Tyne?’ The two men stared at each other. Suddenly Tyne pulled out the bag of gold which Serenna had offered him for passage on his ship. It seemed under the circumstances, only fair. It was now half spent, but still its worth measured many years service for a soldier. He tossed it into Bjorkmans’s lap.
‘Half a bag of gold!’ he cried as he turned to leave at the run, calling over his shoulder as he left, ‘and I’ll be back for it if you let me down. Three shots commander!’
The shocked tavern patrons suddenly came alive, and as the sailors of the Scoira raced like the wind to their ship, word rapidly spread of the kidnapping and of the audacious rescue underway and of the Commander’s machine which had never been used in anger in living memory.
Rema reached the Scoria first, and went below to fetch his weapons. He left the talking to Scion, for it would rest on him to convince the crew to follow him. The taking of a ship from a Captain’s command was almost unheard of, and it took a determined crew to do so, for the penalties were dire. Scion arrived soon after, gasping for breath, for whilst enormously strong, he was not practised in the skills of running.
‘All crew to the mid deck,’ he called as loudly as he could manage between breaths. The men could see that something serious was afoot and responded quickly, passing the word below, until within minutes, everyone was assembled. Scion stood on the wheel deck, taking Captain Tyne’s position, something which was not lost on the crew. He hushed their confused questions and addressed them confidently.
‘Men, the Lady Serena had been kidnapped!’ Several of the crew gasped. ‘She has been taken aboard the Ocean Rose.’ Everyone swung about and looked across the water at the large sinister ship. It had swung a little on its anchor but the seamen knew that she would be free of the seabed within minutes, for the rapid clanking of its capstan came clearly across the water to them. Several sails were flapping in the light breeze, just waiting for their sheets to be drawn tight, and she would be off. Scion continued. ‘We cannot let her be taken without some attempt at rescue. Are you with me?’ It was a desperate statement which threw the crew into an immediate panic.
