The Dark Crown

by S C Gowland

  Two large, grey figures collapsed into seats further down the table.

  ‘Well,’ said Kaoldan with a smile. ‘I've got us a ship.’

  ‘WE, got a ship.’ corrected Zalen.

  ‘Some tough negotiation, but WE have a ship.’ he nodded to Zalen, who grinned back.

  ‘It will leave Celst tomorrow morning. They have agreed to take us and bring back. The ship is large enough for all of us and it should only take four or five days to reach Zuivosal. There is an old abandoned harbour near Zuivosal where we can disembark and the Captain has agreed to wait for us there until we return, but it will cost us.’ he said picking up a hunk of bread, inspected it, frowned, popped it into his mouth, chewed, pulled a face and swallowed.

  ‘I hope you’ve brought enough money with you.’ said Kaoldan to Nova. ‘This journey will not be cheap we are paying slightly over the odds. If I'm honest, I’m not very good at negotiating with traders and ship captains.’ He said with a weak smile.

  ‘It's not the only thing you're bad at.’ growled Romina. ‘There are a great many other things you are bad at too.’ she said, jabbing her finger in his direction.

  His face was a picture of puzzlement.

  ‘You know what I'm talking about.’ she spat jabbing the finger nearer towards him.

  She suddenly felt slightly sick, lightheaded, having decided that she'd had enough. Standing slightly unsteadily she turned and made for the exit of the tavern, legs heavy, but head light.

  She felt sweaty and desperate for some cool fresh air away from the smokiness of the tavern, she burst through the door, almost falling.

  The coldness hit her like a bucket of water. She staggered forward a few steps, leaning uncomfortably against a wooden post outside in the main street. Bent over, she sucked in air and stood, throwing her head back and opening her eyes to the sight of a million stars on a blue velvet sky.

  More cool air entered her body.

  She blinked, re-composed herself and decided that she needed to sleep, weariness tugged at every muscle. Their accommodation, and her bed within it, situated in a small building next door to the Tavern.

  ‘Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?’ came a voice out of the murk.

  She turned half startled, the owner of the voice was a tall, weaselly looking man, he held a small bottle in his hand.

  ‘Yes, yes, yes.’ he chattered to himself, taking several steps towards her, boots squelching.

  ‘You're very nice indeed.’ he said looking her up and down like a leg of lamb. ‘I would very much like to get better acquainted with you.’ he said and made a grab for her arm, trying to grasp her hand.

  She flinched, took a step backwards.

  ‘No, no, no.’ he said, slurring his words ‘That’s not how this work. No need to be scared, little lady. My my name is Alex.’ He half bowed, pulling his hat from his head, light stray hairs doing a very bad job of covering his baldpate.

  ‘I would very much like to make your acquaintance.’ he said, holding his hat in both hands in front of him respectfully.

  ‘No.’ said Romina instantly, shaking her head. She turned and continued in the direction of her accommodation.

  A rapid squelch of footsteps behind her.

  ‘No, no, no…’ Alex smirked, ‘I don't believe you understand.’ he said moving directly in front of her. ‘It was not a request.’ he said, his eyes glistened in the lamp light.

  He took a step towards her.

  She could smell his rancid breath.

  He smiled, lips curling up over his crooked brown teeth.

  He reached towards her.

  She took half a step back, her mind blank.

  She twisted, as he took a step, rolling her fingers into a fist.

  ‘Come on now girl.’ he said brown teeth bared, tongue poking snake-like between them.

  Her face hardened.

  He clicked his tongue between his teeth.

  With the heel of her palm she hit him squarely under the chin, there was a sound like a rusty cleaver biting into meat, he spluttered, staggered back, she hit him again this time up into his nose.

  There was a crack, a scream and dark, sticky blood covered her hand.

  He creased up, hands cradling his face, a squawk emerging from his lips, but still stood.

  This was unacceptable.

  She solidly and with a great deal of satisfaction kicked him squarely between the legs. He grunted and collapsed on the floor a groaning, rasping heap.

  She stood taller, the rush of adrenaline, clearing the mind.

  It felt good.

  So, she kicked him again, head clearing a little more, her body coming back to life. One more kick, this time to his head, snapping it back, and he was silent. A shapeless heap in the darkness.

  She nodded to herself; better.

  A vague memory of bed beckoned to her. She frowned looking to her left and right but couldn't quite decide which way.

  She paused and a door slammed shut behind her

  ‘What exactly do you mean it's not the only thing I'm bad at?’ said Kaoldan, a grey figure silhouetted against light leaking through the tavern windows. He stood tall; arms folded across his chest.

  Romina ignored him turned in the direction she thought her accommodation was and slowly set off down the street.

  ‘I demand an explanation.’ he half shouted voice echoing around the street.

  It flicked a switch in her head, anger; hot and wonderful rose up from her feet to her head.

  She stopped, turned and snarled.

  ‘You abandoned us!’ she shouted.

  ‘You left us.’ she pointed at him.

  ‘You. You did that.’ she said. ‘You sent us away.’ her eyes prickled anger fading into tears.

  ‘We needed you, but still you left, abandoned us and never came back.’ she said. ‘And I will never forgive you for that.’ she shook her head.

  He took a step forward arms falling to his side.

  ‘No.’ she barked at him.

  ‘Leave me alone. You're good at that.’ she spat, turned without another word and ran off into the night.

  Chapter 21 – The Next Day

  Movement.

  Pain.

  She jerked, twisting in her bed, a tangle of sheets, like a cotton octopus, trying their best to keep her captive. Her guts gurgled, a wave of pain flooded her head, followed closely by a wave of nausea that rolled her stomach.

  She let out a small groan: this really was not the best way to wake up. Turning away from the light she shrank herself back into a foetal position.

  There was a flick and rustle of cloth; and light spilled into the room; she cringed.

  ‘Good morning, sleepyhead.’ said a voice.

  Romina opened one eye and winced, light pricking her brain. She took a breath and opened her left eye again a fraction. In the corner of the room, sat crossed legged on the opposite bed sat Zahara a wicked grin on her face,

  ‘How are we, this morning?’ she enquired, tongue poking at her cheek. Trying, and very much failing, to suppress a grin of great satisfaction when asking the question.

  ‘Please don't.’ groaned Romina pulling the blanket over her head. But still the muffled voice of her sister continued.

  ‘Feeling slightly the worse for wear.’ she said, a small laugh, echoed around the room.

  In an act of defiance Romina whipped the blanket off her head and attempted to sit straight on the side of the bed. This was a huge mistake she realised as a wave of nausea sloshed around her body. She groaned, placing her head in her hands.

  More laughter echoed around the room.

  ‘Must you?’ groaned Romina through her fingers.

  ‘I could say a great many things.’ said Zahara voice deep with satisfaction. ‘But I won't. Although what I will say is that you should know better. You were always a bit of a lightweight, and beer never was really your friend. Now, gin on the other hand…’ her voice tinkled with mischief.

  Romina suppressed a gro
wing urge to be sick.

  More giggles.

  ‘I know, I know.’ groaned Romina looking up at her sister’s face through her fingers, her discomfort increasing.

  The door burst open and a very serious looking Dref marched into the room. He turned saw Zahara and sprang towards her growling and yelping in delight.

  Romina groaned.

  Dref turned and his smile grew.

  Romina’s eyes went wide with horror.

  ‘No..’ she warned slowly moving her hands in front of her.

  The dog blinked

  ‘No..’ she warned again, eyebrows raised.

  Whatever the dog word for no was, it certainly wasn’t no.

  He bounded over the room, thoroughly delighted to see her, she shrieked covering her head with her arms. The dog even more amused and excited to play a game of find the face.

  He licked and nuzzled.

  She squealed and kicked.

  ‘Alright.’ she said ‘Enough!’

  The dog stopped and looked at her eyebrows knitted together, what wasn’t there to enjoy?

  She sighed and surrendered.

  Dref smiled and laid his head on her lap, happy to receive a ruffle of his head.

  ‘What do you remember of last night?’ asked Zahara, her face wide with glee.

  Romina squinted - head still throbbing - half images flashed through her mind; food, sadness, outdoors, weaselly man, shouting and a feeling of fury. She looked at her hands, stains of dried brown blood smeared between her fingers.

  Dref snorted and raised his head.

  ‘Sorry.’ she said going back to massaging his ears.

  His head dropped again.

  ‘Well?’ said Zahara.

  ‘Not so much.’ she admitted. ‘Why, is the something that I should remember?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ said Zahara mysteriously, ‘Maybe an argument, maybe two or three. In the street very loudly.’ she pulled a face. ‘Other than that, not too much else.’ she shrugged.

  Romina buried her head in her hands. This truly was the worst start to a day.

  ‘Oh,’ added Zahara brightly ‘did I forget to mention that we’re about to go on a ship for five days?’

  Romina groaned.

  This really couldn't get any worse.

  ***

  She was wrong.

  The docks were like a level of hell.

  The sounds: clanking, shouts, bells and screeching birds.

  The smell: fish and salt played havoc with her stomach.

  She had drunk several pints of water and attempted to eat a meagre amount of bread, but it did very little to quell the nausea that ebbed and flowed through her body.

  She was sat on a crate, eyes closed, trying to control the urge not to be sick.

  Seagulls screeched above her piercing her ears.

  The crash of the waves, a tormenting drum.

  Her sister was right, drinking had never been a friend. Romina had tried it in small amounts at Vanguard, mainly with meals and at formal occasions, but this was the first time she had ever really drunk in any sort of quantity.

  She now wondered what the appeal of drink truly was if this was the end result.

  She swore to herself; she would never drink again. The worst thing was everybody else appeared to be coping so well. They moved around brightly with almost a spring in their step. Where they got this ability from. How they were able to do this, she wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was just practice. Or maybe they just hid it better. Either way it irritated her. She hadn't seen her father that morning, having had her sister recount some finer points of the argument in the street. It was a prospect she really wasn't looking forward to. She breathed out slowly and dared to open her eyes.

  The dock bustling with activity. Leather clad fishermen carrying boxes and crates, shouted orders echoed around, the sea sloshed by the side of her.

  She burped and winced.

  Creaking timbers.

  Rolling ships.

  Her stomach heaved.

  This all made the prospect of a sea voyage in her current state very unappealing, but not as unappealing as the prospect of having to speak to her father again.

  Being stuck on a ship with him for several days with no duties to attend to, no scouting to volunteer for, no food to hunt; meant that the chances of her not having to speak to him were non-existent. This filled her with a feeling far worse than her hangover.

  She wasn't exactly sure what she had said. What she did remember, rather vividly, were the emotions; white hotness of anger, deep resentment and hatred she had felt towards him last night.

  She burped again and swallowed down acrid spit that flooded her mouth.

  ‘I hope you're not thinking of throwing up all over my ship.’ said a voice.

  Romina removed her head from her hands and looked up to be met with the image of a woman, stood like a cat, hands held loosely behind her back, chin raised.

  ‘Inga, Inga Stone.’ the woman offered a hand to Romina who waved it away weakly.

  The woman shrugged her shoulders, her necklaces clinked as she did so.

  She looked like she had been taken from an oil painting of a sea captain.

  Inga tucked her hands back into a substantial belt around her midriff. A collection of small knives neatly tucked inside, with two short curved swords at either side.

  ‘Someone once told me, you can never have too many knives.’ said Inga with a sniff, as if reading Romina’s mind.

  She was dressed casually, a scrappy dress of dark blue flapped in the wind. She wore tall brown boots and her curtain of red wavy hair was only kept in place by a red bandana which covered the front of her head. She was, Romina decided right then, rather beautiful.

  ‘Nice day for it.’ she announced looking towards the horizon.

  ‘Why are you going to Zuivosal?’ she said, making an attempt at conversation, glancing at Romina, who was gradually winning the fight over the urge to be sick.

  ‘There's something there that we have to find out.’ said Romina, who stood with a wince but blinked and stretched out the muscles in her mouth. She was tired of feeling sick and decided that the best thing to do was just power through it.

  She offered her hand to Inga, who noticed and snatched it, shaking it vigorously.

  ‘Pleased to meet you.’ she said.

  ‘Likewise.’ replied Romina

  ‘Unusual to see Walkers this far north, and especially in this part of the world. Must be something rather important.’

  Romina shook her head, then regretted it.

  ‘Only something of historical value, nothing more.’ she said dismissively with a smile. ‘You know how obsessed some people get with pieces of paper. We need to find something to complete a collection, it is that simple.’ she shrugged, lying badly.

  Inga’s eyes narrowed, considering the story.

  ‘Either way. I’m making a nice little profit from this venture,’ said Inga rocking on her toes, smile growing. ‘So much easier to carry people than cargo sometimes and much more profitable too.’ she winked.

  Romina found herself smiling back, her first proper smile of the day followed by a wave of fizzing in her muscles, they no longer ached so badly.

  ‘And particularly when the negotiator is so eager to make progress.’ she said, nodding in the direction behind Romina.

  Romina turned to see a stone-faced Kaoldan looking towards her for what felt like a very long time.

  She swallowed, not moving a muscle.

  He turned head bowed slightly.

  ‘Looks like you’re not the only one feeling bad this morning.’ chirped Inga.

  Romina watched her father lifting a bag from Tren, heaving it onto his slouched shoulder before making his way up the gangplank to the ship.

  ‘He with you?’ she arched an eyebrow.

  Romina nodded slowly.

  Five days on a ship with nowhere to escape to and nothing to do, made Romina feel sicker than ever.

  Ch
apter 22 – Making Waves

  It was well known that Kaoldan hated travelling.

  The sheer monotony. Boredom was the thing he hated the most but truly travel by sea was the worst. Travelling on land there were differences, trees, grassland, hills, no hills, mountains, valleys, lakes, streams and wildlife.

  Travelling by sea was the complete opposite. Everything was the same.

  The same waves and same water, the same colours, green/blue with dull grey thrown in for good measure. Occasionally a bird to break up the monotony of waves and water, but that was it. The sea matched the colour of the sky, which only added to the combination of dull gloom.

  Winds whipped at him, he pulled his burgundy cloak closer around him rolling his shoulders, as he turned away from the front of the ship. He slowly walked along the wooden planks of the ship. Sails of dirty white billowed out high above him.

  With this sort of wind, they would make good progress. That was some consolation at least.

  Today was the second day of their journey. The first had been something of a novelty, the second it had lost its appeal very quickly.

  They settled into minor chores, conversations amongst the group had been bright if perfunctory. By the afternoon of the second day he came to the conclusion he was going to have to say something to attempt to clear the air between himself and Romina. But she had not left her cabin opting to remain there for the whole of the day. She had appeared briefly to eat and then disappeared as quickly, allowing Kaoldan no opportunity to approach, let alone speak of the things she had said in that desolate, dirty street in Celst

  Words that had cut into him, deeper and more painful than any blade. It wasn't so much the words that she had spoken, it was the way she had said them.

  From the heart. Hard and honest. Cold and raw, without any hesitation.

  The worst part was that she was right.

  She had been right in everything. It was the truth, and that was why it hurt so much. It was the truth, she and her sister had been abandoned, but it appeared that for some reason Romina was more affected by this than her sister. Maybe just a classic case of differences between siblings.

  In effect he had abandoned them.