In Defence of the Crown
The Aielund Saga - Book Two
By
Stephen L. Nowland
Copyright 2012, 2016 Stephen Louis Nowland
2016 Revised Edition
The Author asserts the moral right to be
identified as the author of this work.
Cover art Copyright 2012 by Stephen Louis Nowland
Edited by Lesley Wheeler
Acknowledgements
Thanks once more go to Walter and Laurel for their editing.
I made it easier for them this time, I swear.
To Martin, Kryn and all those who gave me good feedback on the first novel;
keep it coming guys, that’s how I know I’m doing it right.
And of course to Walter, Edward, Israel, Lesley and Greg;
Our Friday night’s continue to inspire my work
Table of Contents
Map
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
About the Author
Prologue
The longboat ploughed through calm waters off the coast of Culdeny with a dozen stout sailors at the oars, propelling them towards the dark silhouette of the HMS Redoubtable. A thick fog surrounded the tiny boat and the stench of heavy smoke wafted through the air, a legacy of the fires the townsfolk still battled following the battle recently won.
Aiden Wainwright, self-styled scholar and adventurer, was looking forward to his first time at sea, though the swaying of the longboat wasn’t doing much for him. He sat near the front of the boat, just behind the Redoubtable’s executive officer, Lieutenant James Masterson, who wore the blue longcoat and plumed, wide-brim hat of a naval officer in the service of the King.
Princess Criosa Roebec sat just behind Aiden and carried herself with grace and poise, not allowing the unusual situation in which she found herself to diminish her dignity. Though it was conceivable that members of the royal family travelled by sea from time to time, judging by the way she gripped the wooden seat with white-knuckled tension, Aiden suspected this was her first voyage.
Towards the rear of the boat sat his old friend Pacian Savidge, exhausted from his efforts in their recent battle and looking a little paler than usual. His blond hair was lank and dirty, and for once Pace didn’t seem to care about his poor state of grooming.
Sayana Arai, the wild, red-haired sorceress, seemed to be in the same predicament as Pacian, having never even seen the sea before let alone travelled upon it. Although she was pale at the best of times, she had the same greenish tinge and Aiden suspected they faced a difficult voyage ahead.
Finally, Nellise Sannemann leaned against Pacian’s back, drained from her efforts of the past week, but also the only one amongst them to have been to sea before. Born and raised in Culdeny, she had also travelled to the capital of Aielund, Fairloch, in the past. With a few days of rest, she would hopefully be feeling like her old self again, though Aiden did wonder about the lingering effects of her recent trauma at the hands of the savages in Akora, far to their south.
Voices drifting through the mist from ahead caught Aiden’s attention, the sharp calls and shouts of men being ordered about on board the Redoubtable. The fog thinned and the full majesty of the ship was there to behold, with many of her crew rushing around on the deck as they prepared to receive a member of the royal family.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” Lieutenant Masterson declared in a tight voice, “there is your transportation to the capital - His Majesty’s Ship, Redoubtable.” The vessel loomed over the longboat closing in on the right side of the ship, or ‘starboard’, as Aiden understood it. Why the sea-going members of society had insisted on creating their own terminology for ‘left’ and ‘right’ was beyond him, though he had a feeling it was related to job security.
“It’s much bigger than I thought it’d be,” Aiden remarked, truly impressed with the immensity of the vessel before them. It wasn’t so much its length as her height – the front and rear, or ‘bow’ and ‘stern’ sections, towered over the longboat, and three masts disappeared into the fog above them. Aiden was concerned when he noticed the forward mast was broken in half, with only splintered and cracked wood remaining.
As they pulled closer, more signs of her recent actions in the west became evident on the hull. Scorch marks rippled across the wooden superstructure. Cracked and broken planks could be seen in various places, only a few of which showed signs of repair. Despite all of this damage, the executive officer still spoke of the ship with pride.
“She’s one of our new carracks, over two hundred tons, and counts eighty of His Majesty’s finest sailors as her crew,” Masterson explained for their benefit. “You’ll have to excuse her condition, Highness. We’ve just returned from action against the Tulsone fleet, and I regret to say Redoubtable isn’t in the finest shape she’s ever been.”
“Her appearance is of little concern to me provided she stays float, Lieutenant,” Criosa offered in blunt assessment.
“I appreciate your candour, Highness,” Masterson commented dryly, seeming to take mild offence at her comment. If he had anything further to say on the subject, he kept it to himself as their longboat pulled alongside.
Wooden steps with handholds were bolted to the side of the hull, allowing the crew and passengers of the longboat easy access to the ship. Criosa climbed aboard first, followed by the other two ladies, to whom the lieutenant showed the highest courtesy.
“After you, gentlemen,” Masterson said after the way was clear. Aiden allowed Pacian to climb up first and then followed until he emerged onto the main deck of the Redoubtable, where he saw the entire crew lined up before him.
In front of the ship’s company stood a man of middle age and proud bearing, wearing the gold bars of a naval captain on the lapels of his blue longcoat. His sharp eyes surveyed all before him from beneath the brim of his hat.
“Captain, may I present Her Highness Princess Criosa Roebec, and her entourage,” Masterson announced after he had boarded the ship. “Your Highness, this is Captain Sir Denholm Sherrard, commander of His Majesty’s Ship, Redoubtable.”
“Your Highness, it is a singular honour to have you aboard my vessel,” the captain said, addressing Criosa directly and bowing slightly as he spoke. “I daresay this is an improvident time for you to grace us with your presence, but my crew and I shall do our utmost to provide a smooth and rapid journey to the capital.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Criosa replied formally, “though I am certain that providence, in fact, brought you to the aid of Culdeny at its darkest hour. All who dwell within her walls owe you a debt of gratitude for your timely intervention.”
“One could say that arriving here, just as a monster from our darkest nightmares arose from the depths of hell is anything but ‘timely’, but your point is well taken,” the captain remarked smoothly. “I can see from your dishevelled state that you and your people have suffered through much these last few hours, so it behoves me to end this formal nonsense and permit you to rest. For the duration of this journey, I am willing to surrender my p
ersonal cabin to you and the ladies, should you wish it.”
“I wouldn’t hear of it, captain,” Criosa said, smiling at the offer. “Though you are gracious for offering, you and your crew have been at war for months and I wouldn’t dare impose upon you.”
“A gentleman could do no less,” Sherrard said, inclining his head. “I will however, insist upon assigning my personal steward to your service for the duration. Mister Masterson, please arrange suitable quarters for the princess and the other two ladies, and post a guard outside their door. No members of the crew are to be allowed access without my express permission, and none of the ladies are to leave the confines of their cabin without an escort.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Masterson replied, touching his hat brim in salute. “Your Highness, if you and the ladies would be so kind as to follow me?” Masterson led them away, heading through a nearby door to disappear into the ship. Sayana gave Aiden an uncertain look over her shoulder just before the door closed.
“Woulfe, these two gentlemen look like they’re about to topple onto my deck,” the captain said to a sailor nearby. “See them to appropriate accommodation before this occurs, if you please.”
“Very good, sir,” the sailor named Woulfe answered while touching his forehead with one hand. His long dark hair was held back by a bandana tied around his head and his skin was deeply tanned. He gestured towards the same door the others had ventured through, and the two young men slowly trudged after him. The captain caught Aiden’s attention as he went past.
“Mister Wainwright, is it? I am told that you were largely responsible for the safe conduct of Her Highness through a war zone, is this correct?”
“You make it sound more dangerous than it was,” Aiden remarked modestly.
“War is always dangerous, sir, and you would do well to remember that,” Sherrard bristled. “Nevertheless, the reports I hear speak of remarkable bravery on the part of you and your companions, and I wanted to thank you personally for your courage. I would speak with you further of these and other matters, after you have taken your rest.”
“As you wish,” Aiden agreed and with a simple nod of his head, the captain permitted him to continue into the ship.
“All hands, prepare to make sail,” Sir Denholm barked to his crew as the door closed, and the stampede of bare feet could be heard echoing through the wooden structure as the men scrambled to comply.
The interior of the ship was cramped, filled with narrow passageways and low-hanging beams, into which Aiden managed to smack his forehead more than once, until he learned to duck his nearly six feet of height to avoid the obstacles.
“This will be your berth for the trip,” the sailor named Woulfe said without ceremony, stepping aside to allow Aiden to peer into the room. “It used to belong to two midshipmen, but they won’t be using it anymore.” The room was barely big enough for two men, with a bunk bed on the left wall and a footlocker at the base of the tiny porthole.
“Have they been assigned better accommodation?” Aiden inquired, suspecting he already knew the answer.
“No, they were killed in our last action a week ago, along with seventeen others,” Woulfe explained sombrely. “So in a way, they’ve got the best room of all, if you believe in the afterlife. Of course, one of them was a right bastard, so I suspect he finds himself in a much hotter place. Make yourselves at home, lads.”
“Thanks,” Aiden replied dryly, following Pacian into the room while the sailor returned to his duties, less than thrilled at the prospect of sleeping in a room recently vacated by dead crew and wondering what price this war was exacting upon the men and women fighting it.
Pacian didn’t seem to care. He clambered onto the top bunk, collapsed upon the mattress with a sigh and was asleep within moments. Aiden dropped his armour to the floor and laid his sore, tired body down to rest, drifting off minutes later.
He tossed and turned for some time, his unfamiliarity with the sounds and movements of the ship conspiring to keep him from rest. Images of the recent battles he’d been involved with flashing through his mind, none of them pleasant.
Finally, he gave up and stood to stretch his legs and look through the porthole. Instead of the vast stretch of ocean he had expected to gaze upon, Aiden looked out at a purple mist covering a deeper darkness beyond, with the ship seeming to float in the cloud of fog.
Feeling something was amiss, he turned to ask Sayana what she thought, and was mildly astonished to see her casually sitting on his bed, naked as the day she was born. Tattoos snaked over her body, glowing with an eerie blue light that pulsed like blood through veins. Instead of the usual patterns, her tattoos appeared to be letters of the alphabet, arranged seemingly at random over her body.
“Who made me?” she asked Aiden, sounding genuinely frustrated. He didn’t have an answer for her and looked down at his hand, in which he held the small cubic device that he had recovered from the fallen city of Ferrumgaard, weeks ago. Each of its sides depicted a glowing letter of the alphabet, the same colour as Sayana’s tattoos.
The wild sorceress gasped, prompting Aiden to snap his attention back to her, and he saw blood oozing from wounds in her stomach. Looking closer, he saw the points of two daggers emerging from her skin, and Pacian peered at him from behind her, a mad look in his eyes.
“They have to die, Aiden, they all do,” he explained. Aiden looked at him, perplexed, as Sayana’s blood dripped onto the floor. She looked down and touched the growing red pool with something akin to morbid curiosity. The glow from her tattoos arced through the blood, causing it to shine.
“No, it’s not in here,” she sighed as the cabin of the ship rumbled. Looking down at the floor, Aiden saw cracks emerge in the wood and through them, he could see large, reptilian eyes, shrouded in flame, peering up at him. The wood splintered apart as a huge, red dragon’s claw extended toward him, reaching for the cube in his hand and just before it touched him, the cabin was blanketed in a blinding white light.
Chapter One
Aiden woke with the sun’s blinding light streaming in through the porthole near his head. He took a deep breath, realising it had been some kind of weird dream and recalled the nightmare that had plagued him for years. Aiden had recently discovered what had caused such vivid dreams and reaching down, he touched the shard of crystal that hung around his neck, unsurprised to feel its unnatural warmth.
The crystal sphere it had once been part of, the one he had broken years ago was, in fact, one of a set of arcane relics which allowed communication between individuals who possessed them. In this case, the other sphere was being held by a dragon in the Aether, a strange realm existing beyond that which could be seen or heard. The crystals linked them together, although since Aiden’s was broken, the communication seemed limited to dreams.
He pondered this for a moment, wondering if the dragon named Salinder was trying to send him a message. It had been such a distorted scene Aiden had trouble discerning its meaning. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Pacian groaning from the top bunk, combined with the creaking boards of the ship. The Redoubtable swayed back and forth as she ploughed through the waters of the Culdeny Straits, pushed onward by a strong westerly wind.
It was a new experience for them both, having been raised near the woods of Coldstream and the farmlands of Bracksfordshire. Aiden’s head swam, his sense of balance thrown off by the ship’s constant movement and Pacian moaned again just as Aiden was about to drop off into a light sleep. Aiden threw off his covers in exasperation and slowly rose to his feet, being careful to keep a steadying hold of the wooden bedpost.
“If you’re going to be seasick, can’t you at least do it quietly?” he complained to Pacian.
“Leave me alone, I’m dying,” his old friend croaked. A particularly large wave crashed into the side of the Redoubtable at that moment, causing the deck to lurch and sending Pacian careening onto the floor. As it turned out, this was a fortuitous turn of events, as it placed him within easy distance of t
he porthole which he set about making use of in the noisiest way possible.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Aiden offered in consolation to his suffering friend. Aiden grabbed his clothes and boots and then stepped outside, closing the door to the sounds of Pacian attempting to turn himself inside out.
Aiden dressed himself while thumping into the walls of the narrow corridor half a dozen times. He made his way down the hall in need of fresh air after the unsavoury aromas of his cabin, when he heard the sounds of sobbing coming from a door nearby.
His ears pricked up at the sound of a woman crying and he couldn’t help but take a closer look. The royal marine stationed outside the door was wearing a red longcoat with a white tunic and hose underneath, and armed with a cutlass. Although the man had been told not to permit the crew access, he recognised Aiden as one of the princess’s entourage and allowed him to pass.
Aiden turned the handle and pushed inwards, peering around the edge to see Criosa holding Nellise in a comforting embrace as the cleric was wracked with tears. Sayana was behind them, her head sticking out of the porthole making the now familiar – and unpleasant - sounds of illness.
“Is everything alright in here?” Aiden asked out of courtesy. Criosa snapped her gaze onto the door and glared at him in a manner which strongly hinted he shouldn’t be there. Aiden quickly retreated, closing the door softly behind him.
“I think the ladies are indisposed at this time,” Aiden informed the guard sheepishly. “I’ll return to check on them later.”
“Probably a wise move, sir,” the marine advised casually. “Woe betide any man who intrudes on a gathering of women uninvited.” Feeling slightly ashamed, Aiden unsteadily climbed the stairs that he thought led to the main deck, only to find himself at the door to the captain’s office.
In Defence of the Crown (The Aielund Saga Book 2) Page 1
