Ravian's Quest

by Jerry Carpenter

  ‘Prince Ravian, I don’t know if you have ever made the acquaintance of my daughter, Princess Flamina?’

  Ravian realised that he must have seen Flamina from time to time – possibly even met her – but he wondered why he had never noticed her.

  Zecretes' daughter was petite, olive-skinned and strikingly beautiful. Dark tresses tumbled in glossy waves about her exquisite shoulders and laughter danced in the deep, intelligent pools of her eyes.

  ‘Why, Father,’ she laughed, ‘of course we have met before. How could I ever forget the visits of the handsome Prince Ravian?’

  Ravian felt himself colour slightly at the compliment and hoped that his sea-going tan would conceal it.

  ‘Princess Flamina,’ he said, bowing, ‘It would seem that the Goddess of Spring herself has a rival.’

  She threw back her head and laughed again, transfixing the prince with her long dark lashes and even white teeth.

  ‘Why, Prince Ravian – such flattery! You could turn a young girl’s head with your words.’

  Over her shoulder, Ravian saw Lectus pause in his conversation with a tall, handsome young man. His compatriot caught his eye and winked, clearly of the opinion that everything was going splendidly. Then, the rest of the reception, and everyone attending it, swiftly disappeared into the background as Ravian devoted his full attention to Flamina. As the wine flowed, and the level of noise inside the reception hall rose, the princess agreed to his suggestion that they move out onto a balcony overlooking the city and the harbour.

  Ravian felt that he had fallen into a perfect moment.

  The sunlight sparkled on the blue waters of the harbour, danced among the colourful flags, and gave an almost-surreal vibrancy to the greens of the fields and vineyards surrounding the city's walls. The Tarcun prince had just tasted his best food in three months, he had a goblet of excellent wine in his hand and he was in easy conversation with a most beautiful young woman who, if he so chose, could well become his wife. Not only was she beautiful, he told himself, but she also seemed witty, intelligent and charming. She had a wonderful sense of humour and her laugh, when it came, was true and musical.

  ‘It must be wonderful to have seen so much of the world,’ Flamina said. ‘Is it really so horrible up in the Grimspot Gris?’

  ‘It’s certainly a harsh place,’ Ravian replied, ‘but on its day it has its own special beauty. I wouldn’t choose to live there but I’m glad to have seen it.’

  ‘And what about the people there?’ she asked, humour dancing in her eyes. ‘Are they also harsh, but occasionally attractive?’

  Ravian smiled – he felt so comfortable talking to this girl.

  ‘That pretty much sums them up,’ he told her. ‘I wouldn’t want to be one of them but I have come to respect them for who they are.’

  He went on to entertain the princess with some tales of the behaviour that he and Lectus had witnessed at the Northerners' feasts, and soon had Veletia laughing out loud.

  Ravian decided that he liked making her laugh very much.

  ‘Well?’

  Ravian was slightly annoyed at Lectus’s intrusion as he had only just retired to the room provided for him by King Zecretes. It was mid-afternoon, he was weary, and he was looking forward to a nap before the banquet planned for that evening.

  ‘Well what?’ he replied shortly.

  Predictably, Lectus refused to be intimidated.

  ‘Please don’t pretend to be obtuse, Your Highness. How did it go with Princess Flamina?’

  Ravian relented and smiled.

  ‘I think that she is quite the most charming creature that I have ever met.’

  Lectus beamed.

  ‘Oh, Your Highness, that is wonderful,' he gushed. 'I shall look forward to collecting my gold coin. Now, I wonder what I’ll do with it…’

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Ravian, ‘from what little I saw of you with that elegant young man you were with today, I would say that the odds on your wager are still very much even, wouldn’t you?’

  Lectus smiled an ecstatic smile and clasped his hands together above his heart.

  ‘Balistides, the King Zecretes’ cultural advisor,’ he breathed. ‘That’s not love, Your Highness – that’s lust. But isn’t he just gorgeous?’

  ‘Attractive enough – if you like that sort of thing,’ agreed Ravian. ‘Now will you please go away, Lectus? I’m tired and I’ve taken some wine. That bed over there in the sun is looking like it needs me on it – sleeping.’

  ‘Oh yes, Your Highness,’ said Lectus. ‘It’s a big occasion tonight. I daresay we will both need our beauty sleeps.’

  Ravian could not help but smile as his rotund advisor almost skipped out of the room.

  The dinner was, indeed, the most sumptuous that Ravian could recall, exceeding even some of the occasions he had enjoyed at Ezreen. Zecretes’ banquet hall possessed a high, vaulted ceiling that gave the room an airy feeling, enhanced by a series of arches down its southern side that opened onto individual balconies overlooking the harbour. The tables, decorated with greenery to celebrate the arrival of spring, supported massive, blazing candle stands that filled the hall with a sparkling, magical light. Servants hurried back and forth, bringing the finest wines and dishes to the hundred or so diners while, at one end of the hall, a small group of musicians played beautifully but unobtrusively.

  Sitting between the King and Flamina, Ravian could not help feeling that all was very right with the world and that he had made a welcome return to civilisation. Further along the table to his right, Lectus had somehow contrived to sit next to Balistides and was giving the handsome Delenian his full and ardent attention.

  The evening flowed effortlessly and Flamina continued to dazzle. The speeches were witty and entertaining, the guests good humoured, intelligent and impeccably mannered. Eventually, and without any hint of contrivance, Ravian found himself alone on one of the balconies with the princess.

  ‘A wonderful evening in a beautiful city, Flamina,’ he said.

  He could see her face clearly by the full moon’s light. Behind her, the harbour lights twinkled, and the calm, silvery sea stretched away into the night.

  ‘Not so different to your own home, I believe,’ she replied. ‘I haven’t been to the White City but I hear that it is also a beautiful place.’

  ‘Indeed,' he agreed. 'It doesn’t quite have the softness of Zedezee but it is wonderful in its own way.’

  ‘I look forward to seeing it,’ Flamina said – and they both knew the meaning underlying her words.

  ‘I should enjoy showing it to you,’ he replied.

  It was the perfect time. Flamina stood very close to him and he could smell her perfume on the warm night air. Beneath her fine gown, the princess’s breasts began to rise and fall with her quickening breath as he slowly leaned forward to kiss her, and she swayed towards him in response. Then, an image of other moonlit nights on the balcony of the Admiral’s Residence came into his mind and Belice’s face floated between them. Instead of kissing Flamina as he had intended, Ravian turned his head aside, holding her awkwardly for a moment before they both retreated in confusion.

  ‘Flamina, you are a wonderful woman...’ he began.

  ‘But...?’ she asked gently.

  ‘I just want to take the time to get to know you better,’ he half-lied.

  She looked at him searchingly in the moonlight. Ravian saw softness and compassion in her face and, with relief, he realised that she was not going to demand any further explanation.

  ‘And I, you,’ she replied simply.

  Then she took his arm.

  ‘Come on then, Prince Ravian,' she said brightly. 'Let us rejoin the feast and enjoy the rest of the evening, shall we?’

  Re-entering the hall with Flamina on his arm, Ravian saw smug looks on the faces of both King Zecretes and Citizen Lectus. Both men were already making plans for a royal wedding, he knew – and who could blame them?

  He smiled at Flamina as he seated her back at their ta
ble and yet, deep inside, he was in turmoil.

  What was wrong with him, he wondered?

  Flamina was beautiful, intelligent and, politically, a perfect match. She clearly liked him and he was already very fond of her. Belice was gone from his life forever, so why did he hold back?

  Still, he thought to himself, there was no hurry. Zecretes had made it obvious that they were welcome to stay at Zedezee for as long as they chose.

  And so they lingered in the Delenes Islands, the increasingly warm days soon turning into weeks.

  Ravian saw Flamina every day and, with little else to claim time from either of them, they were free to enjoy the gentle, soothing beauty of her homeland at their leisure. Lectus, apparently having decided that things were proceeding satisfactorily without his guidance, was seldom seen and, on those occasions that Ravian did encounter the advisor, he was most often in the company of Balistides, an association that both men were clearly enjoying.

  However, to Ravian’s frustration, his doubts about Flamina continued to nag – particularly after he had finally kissed her for the first time.

  After the awkwardness of the first night, it had taken some time and some resolve on the prince's part to arrive at the moment of that kiss. Flamina’s patience, however, had been more than equal to the task and, a week after the prince’s arrival in Zedezee, she had led him on a stroll through one of its vineyards. It had been a very hot day, the air filled with the scent of flowers and humming with the industrious buzz of bees. They had stopped in the shade of an olive grove, finding there an old marble bench with a view that extended down over the fresh, green rows of grape vines and out over the calm, sparkling sea. As they sat, Ravian had looked at Flamina, still slightly flushed from the walk, and thought that he had never seen a lovelier picture. Barely thinking, he had taken her gently by the shoulders and kissed her.

  The princess had closed her eyes in maidenly surrender and, as her arms stole about his neck, the kiss that she returned had been every bit as soft and velvety as Ravian had known it would be. Everything about the moment should have been perfect, he knew, and yet, disturbingly, he had realised that he felt nothing more for Flamina than a deep fondness and an abiding respect. Sensing his confusion, the princess had sat back and regarded him with loving, compassionate eyes.

  ‘We have all the time in the world, Ravian,’ she had told him. ‘There is no need to rush anything.’

  So they had continued on, enjoying each other’s company, occasionally kissing like teenagers. Slowly though, Ravian had forced himself to face the truth.

  He liked Flamina – loved her even, in a companionable way. The princess represented everything that he would have wished for in a wife and he was certain that a life with her would be pleasant and comfortable. Try as he might however, he was unable to delude himself that he felt the same about her as he had felt about Belice, and he realised that his affection for Flamina lacked the essential fire that, he now believed, it was the right of every soul to know.

  The Delenian princess was certainly physically desirable and, on a number of occasions, Ravian had felt strongly tempted to seduce her for his own sexual gratification. However, apart from the political ramifications of such an act, he also respected and liked Flamina too much to do so, particularly as he wasn’t prepared to commit to a marriage with her.

  Thus it was that, after six wondrous weeks in Zedezee, he informed Lectus that they would be continuing their way west.

  ‘What?’ the courtier demanded. ‘You are making no commitment to the princess?’

  Ravian confirmed to the courtier that he would not be, not bothering to tell Lectus that he and Flamina had already discussed the situation.

  ‘Thank you for your honesty, Ravian,’ she had said when he had finally told her how he felt. ‘I don’t know who has done this to you but I envy her – and you should know that. Perhaps after your voyage west you will choose to return via Delenes and allow us to be your hosts again. Maybe some more time will make a difference.’

  He had almost recanted his decision there and then. Flamina was so full of goodness that she would be able to make any man happy. However, with an effort, he had managed to stand by his resolve.

  King Zecretes had been surprised and obviously disappointed but, seeing that there might still be hope of a marriage on Ravian’s return, he had put on a brave face and wished the young prince well.

  It was Lectus who made the biggest fuss.

  ‘You must be mad, Your Highness!’ he had stormed. ‘Princess Flamina is perfect for you in every way. If you turn down this match, you turn down the opportunity of a lifetime!’

  ‘I’m not turning down anything,’ Ravian had replied. ‘I just need a bit more time to think about things – and continuing west will give me the chance to do that.’

  ‘Forget the Ezrenian woman, Your Highness!’ Lectus had hissed, correctly surmising where the source of Ravian's doubts lay. ‘You had your time together, but it is over. You must move on!’

  ‘We are moving on, Citizen Lectus!’ Ravian had snapped. ‘First to Survene, and then on to Bolstenia and Grenwain. I suggest that you let the King Zecretes' cultural advisor know that tonight will be our last in this harbour for a while.’

  They had left the following morning – Lectus sulking silently on one side of the quarterdeck as Godart piloted Sea Eagle out of the harbour. Indeed, the mood on board had been generally wistful, the swordship's crew clearly having enjoyed their stay in Zedezee very much.

  Chapter Six

  Despite the fact that Decrastes, King of Survene, had also offered up one of his daughters to a political marriage, the Tarcuns’ arrival at the harbour capital of Vestes, four days later, was considerably lower-key than they had experienced in Delenes. Ravian also discovered that Princess Nesetia was as pale of personality as she was of complexion and they were on their way again after only two days.

  Survene occupied a vast peninsula that formed the northwestern boundary of the Sapphire Sea and, after leaving Vestes, it took the swordship a full week to sail down its coast to the Western Portal – the narrow strait between the Sapphire Sea and the Western Sea. Of all their ship’s company, only Lectus had ever passed through the almost-mythical passage, and there was a marked air of tension onboard as they sailed beneath the dark, forbidding cliffs that marked the southernmost point of Survene. Although the shores of Saravene were clearly visible to the South, all eyes on the Tarcun vessel were drawn to horizon ahead, the infinite vastness of the Western Sea opening out, ever wider, before them.

  ‘Once we are clear of the Portal, we head north up the outside coast of Survene,’ said Godart, clutching a precious chart of the region like a talisman. ‘We have about seven days’ sail before we reach the Grenwain Channel where we’ll need to decide whether we head east into the Bay of Bolstenia or continue north to Grenwain.’

  ‘Oh Delikas, please let it be Bolstenia,’ groaned Lectus. ‘Even that backwater of olive-pressers is a warm, cultured haven compared to Grenwain.’

  ‘You weren’t impressed with the Grenwainians?’ Ravian enquired.

  ‘Put it this way, Your Highness. They are like the Dekanians – but poorer by half again in culture, intellect and cuisine. There is no outright king of the island – just a plethora of petty warlords who constantly decimate each other’s populations. I don’t know why we are going there at all. There is no bride on offer nor, if there was one, would her father have anything worth negotiating as a bride price.’

  ‘Well, the rest of us have not had your advantage in actually visiting the place,’ said Ravian. ‘Since we have to go to Bolstenia anyway, and as Grenwain is just across the channel, it would be a shame to miss it.’

  ‘We’ll see, Your Highness,’ Lectus replied. ‘Personally, I was all for leaving Bolstenia off the list as well. We know very little about the Princess Karrala and I daresay that her father hasn’t much that he can offer. Still, as I said, anything is better than Grenwain.’

  However,
and to Lectus’s dismay, as they approached the straits between the two countries, the wind began to blow with increasing strength from the north. Godart, reluctant to approach the unfamiliar lee shore of the Bay of Bolstenia in such conditions, recommended that they continue to beat their way northwest towards the sheltered south coast of Grenwain and Ravian could only agree with his captain.

  As the dark shape of the vast island began to emerge on the horizon ahead of them, the lookout announced a set of sails ahead and, the vessel’s lateen rig indicating a Tarcun merchantman, Ravian asked Godart to set a course to overhaul her. Both ships were tacking hard on the nose into the ever-strengthening northerly but, as the merchantman had shortened sail in the increasing wind, it wasn’t long before Sea Eagle was able to take up a position on her leeward beam.

  ‘Where are you bound?’ Godart hailed her captain across the foam-flecked waves.

  ‘Grisby!’ came the reply.

  ‘Do you know the passage well?’ Godart asked.

  ‘Well enough,’ the merchant skipper yelled back. ‘Been in there a dozen times or so. It’s a good anchorage in a northerly storm.’

  ‘We’ll follow you in then,’ Godart called, and fell back to a position off the merchant vessel’s quarter.