Dawn gasped and the men turned towards her. She stared at a wall, her face drained of all color. “Are you unwell, Captain?” Bezel asked.
“I have seen one of those things before. I think Tildan has, too. It was in Duke Malvornick’s ritual chamber, just before I became captain of this ship.”
Chapter 15: Well Laid Plans
“I had a plan once. Worst five minutes of my life!”
Wanderly
5854 - Thon – Talsā – Lasin
The town of Edgewater was in sad shape. When the tidal wave hit two days ago it washed away buildings and left broken ships littered along the shore. People only had a few minutes warning before the thirty-foot wall of water crashed into their dock district, killing dozens of people. Farmers who came into town afterwards told tales of flooding more than two kilometers inland. People huddled in taverns and pubs with pints of ale and wine, blaming the Talisman for the event.
It was the day before the holy day for Chanian and the Changing Wheel and the autumnal equinox. Cyril and Gruedo sat in the common room of a hotel near the city gates called the Red Door. When they returned to town this afternoon they had found that the Loose Goose had been wrecked when a sailboat sailed through the windows facing the quay. Rooms were not easy to come by either, because of the extra crowding since many places now sat in ruins. People had lost their homes, their places of business, and more in the disaster.
The Red Door had once been a lovely, homey place with well-polished wood and glass mugs to match the gingham cushions and round face proprietor. Now, the wood floors were soaked and smelled of fish. Extra chairs and tables were set haphazardly around the room to give the crowds a place to sit and eat. They had lost three of their serving maids, and the remaining staff ran around serving what food hadn’t been ruined by the water.
A tall, thin man rushed through the door and shouted, “They caught a dragon down at the docks!” and hurried back out again.
Gruedo smiled at the urge of certain people to be the first one to tell fresh news. She hit Cyril on the arm with the back of her hand, knocking lump of potato the priest had on his spoon back into his soup bowl. “Hey, wanna go see what they are hooting about?”
Cyril looked at her with an even stare. “I traveled three days in constant rain, fought a horde of undead, a werewolf, got burnt, injured my leg, rode back three days with said injuries, arrived today and have had to trade a small fortune for a dust filled attic to sleep in. And now you want me to go see some mythical beast that a drunk screamed about through the door?”
Gruedo nodded and beamed a wide grin. “Yeah, I wanna go too. Let’s go!”
She stood and pulled Cyril to his feet as the priest was trying once again to get the piece of potato into his mouth. The potato dropped to the floor and a bedraggled dog snatched it up and ran off before anyone could kick it. With a sigh Cyril dropped his spoon, picked up his cloak, and flung it across his shoulders. The two went out the door and made their way to the docks.
Cyril was amazed how at well the stone braziers had stood up to the tidal wave that had washed away so many other things. Cleanup had already begun. Odd things were clean now and other things had a dirty clutter to them. Alleys were swept clean by the water, but the streets were littered with odds pieces of furniture, clothes, and household goods. You couldn’t smell the reek of fish or the stench of human waste anymore either. Enterprising people shouted as they pushed their carts, selling fish for a brass sharp, scarves for a copper flek, or a coat for a silver pek.
A few pubs had already opened back up for business, and people crowded in their doors or stood in the street outside. Men didn’t seem to need chairs to drink and swap lies. Perhaps the owners liked it better since there was no furniture to break if a fight broke out. Men also brought their own mugs from which to drink, since many of the taverns lost all of their lighter weight items, like plates, cups and flatware. Cyril could hear the tales pouring out as freely as the wine. People talked about the ones they lost and how they don’t know how they will go on without them, or sometimes how they felt the other deserved such a horrid death.
One old woman was telling the tale of her young grandson. They had been homeless and begging on the docks when the water receded, leaving boats on dry land and of fish lying on the floor of the bay. The young boy had run out and started collecting fish. He waved one at his grandmother, she told the crowd with tears in her eyes and a break in her voice, and yelled how they would not go hungry tonight, when the wall of water appeared in the late afternoon sun. The woman tried to rush to the boy but someone had dragged her away. The last she saw of her only living grandchild was as the boy turned and saw the wave towering above him then turning back to her and screaming for her to save him as he ran towards her, only to be overtaken by the wave. The woman had broken down and stopped telling the tale and the crowd passed coins and food to her in sympathy.
Gruedo led the way, keeping her pace slow so that the limping priest could keep up. The crowd was thick on the stone docks. People crowded to the edge to catch a glimpse of what could only be described as an impossibility. Children were lifted up onto people’s shoulders. Inns, taverns and shops that had a second story balcony, windows, or even a porch roof had people crowding out onto them.
Gruedo pushed her way through the crowd. Cyril watched the girl’s hands to see if she was practicing her shadow skills of purse lifting. He had not caught her doing it yet, but Gruedo always had money and didn’t ever stop to pick up any extra coin. The crowd didn’t seem to notice Gruedo as she passed, but they did turn and look at Cyril almost before he brushed against them. He was used to this. He let his holy symbol show and had an air about him that people noticed. Most folks turned away almost as soon as they noticed him, but one figure followed the priest’s progress through the crowd with interest.
Gruedo led him to a building that already had new windows. It was painted a purplish color and the heavy red curtains blocked the view of the inside. Gruedo nodded at the large man standing outside the door as she approached. The man didn’t seem to notice either Cyril or his shorter companion as they entered the building. Inside was plush and incense covered the musty smell of the water that still soaked the carpets. An exotic slim woman in a sheer purple robe greeted them. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe bun, and when she smiled her teeth appeared very white next to her sultry red lips.
“Little sister, good to see you made it safely through the odd storm.” She hugged Gruedo and ran her painted nails across the girl’s cheek.
“Marisa,” Gruedo hugged her in return and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, “I need a room for a little while. I want to show my friend here something he has never seen before.”
Marisa grinned at the way she phrased her request. “I can show him many things he has never seen before.” She licked her lips and looked past Gruedo to the priest. Cyril gripped his own hands and he opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. With a laugh, Gruedo came to his rescue.
“No, sister, no need for that. He just wants to see the biggest lizard ever handled by man.”
The madam laughed, a practiced soft and tinkling noise. “Follow me then, I know the perfect room for such a revelation.”
She led the two past a sitting room that had a dozen women in various revealing outfits and poses and up the stairs. The hall was dim and smelled heavily of perfumes. It reminded Cyril of some of the quarters of higher-powered religious men he had visited. The more he looked around at the silver candlesticks and pieces of art, the more he saw similarity in the style and tastes of a whorehouse and an inner sanctum of a church. The biggest difference is the churches had less carpeting. Marisa opened a door at the end of the hall and stepped aside to allow them access.
“You know how to ring my bell if you need anything, little sister.” Marissa closed the door behind them.
“Little sister?” Cyril asked.
Gruedo laughed as she moved to the window and opened the curtains, the
carpeting making wet noises with each step. “She isn’t really my sister. We have a bond, but it is not blood. I helped her out of a tight place once a year or two ago. She kind of adopted me, lets me sleep here if I need, and helps me if I need information or stuff like that. The flirting is just a thing she does. She is not really my type.” Gruedo went silent as she stared out the window.
Cyril crossed the room to look. What he saw silenced him also.
Dawn stood on the deck of the Lady Luck with Tildan on her right and Cite and Rogen on her left. “This is why I don’t mess with the weather too much.”
Looking at the town they could see the damage that had been done by the wave they had witnessed the creation of. The waterfront was in tatters. Some businesses looked as if they were operating, but most looked deserted and looted. A crowd began to form on the stone quay as people realized what the Lady Luck was towing behind it.
They were looking for a place to dock in Edgewater, but most of the slips had been destroyed in the wave they had caused. Those that had not been destroyed were all full. The corpse of the sea monster trailed behind them like a small island and flocks of seagulls circled above it or landed on it, digging out bits of decomposing flesh. The crew had seen sharks feeding on the underbelly earlier that morning.
“Dawn,” Cite hesitated and they all turned and looked at him, “I dreamt of you. I have meditated on the dream and I believe it was you. I think we are to meet two others here. I am not sure for what purpose though, but I think you are meant to come with us.”
Dawn nodded and looked over her ship. The bowsprit would need replacing as well as the mainmast. The hull would need some work also. She turned to Tildan.
“Uncle, after speaking with you last night I thought about this. I think it is time you captained the Lady Luck. I need to stop running now. I have business to attend to on land, a debt to pay to one man.” She watched Tildan’s face as she spoke. He watched the shore, his large hands gripping the rail. “We both know it was Malvornick that sent the assassin.”
“Hush, niece, there is no need to say that name aloud,” Tildan said.
“I will not live in fear any longer, Uncle. I have something he wants, and I will no longer wait for him to come to me.”
“You plan to go hunt him then?”
“No, not yet,” she shook her head, “but Cite and Rogen are possibly the best chance I have of bringing the fight to him. Perhaps not right away, but one day. Until then, I will follow Cite’s visions. They seem to point the right way, like a compass in a fog.”
“I can come with you.”
“No. I need you here.” Dawn said. Tildan began to interrupt, but she stopped him with a light touch on his arm. “Uncle, you saved me once. You gave me my father’s ship. You kept the crew for me until I learned to do it myself. I cannot give the ship to anyone else. Father would want you to take the helm until I return. Bezel is not a leader, Warton is not a sailor, and Vonka is a fine pilot but he is no captain. I need you to watch my ship, in case I need to be saved again.” Tildan nodded and took her smaller hand in his and squeezed. “You have the coffers, repair the Lady Luck and get another crew. Sail the waters, find ships flying the flag we despise and continue to strike at our enemies.”
Tildan looked at her for a long time, and then nodded. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
“Drop the longboat. I am going ashore. I will be back, and to prove it, I will take Bezel with me. He is pretty good at bartering for supplies.”
“Warton should go with you also; you will need a strong back to carry supplies. I expect that prices here will be pretty high, considering what they just went through.” Tildan said and Dawn nodded.
“While I am gone, see who wants to stay and who wants out. I will have Bezel look for a few new crew members and good carpenter.”
Tildan looked behind them at the behemoth. “What should I do with that?”
“What do you think is going to pay for your repairs, Captain Redblood?” Dawn asked with a smile.
Nomed stood in the midst of the crowd, watching. He was not watching what everyone else was though. He was looking back and forth between the two in the window and the approaching longboat. He knew Rogen on sight. The boy with the bearded man must be the one who Dragonblood told him about. The woman, though, was a mystery. He felt he should know her, or at least about her. He looked past the longboat to the ship and read the name, though it was too far for most people to read without a looking glass. Lady Luck. He would find out what that meant to him.
Turning his gaze back to the second story window he saw the two in the whorehouse window were deep in discussion. He could almost hear the gist of their conversation. The short, dark-haired girl would be convincing the noble priest that they should meet these people, so that they could be agents in the selling of the prehistoric beast they had brought with them. The man would have no reason to disagree, but would feel they should stick to their mission of heading into the woods. Which saying was truer? Children will listen or children never listen? It didn’t matter.
Looking through the crowd, he spotted the other hulking cloaked figure also watching the window and smiled. He turned to go and swirled his short cape with flair. The old woman who had lost her grandson fell back with a small screech, throwing her hands up in front of her and staring at the man in terror. People passed by the two, not noticing the exchange.
“There, there, grandmother, allow me to help you up.” He held out a hand. She reached up and took it and he pulled her to her feet. He smiled at her and ran a hand across her dirty brow. “You should never have taken the boy from your daughter’s care. The fire you set did not kill her as you planned. She suffered from the burns for over a week before she finally died a horrible and painful death. Every movement making her feel the fire again and she rubbed her fleshless body against the coarse sheets. Never forget the day you saw me, grandmother. I don’t think you will; people rarely forget the last thing they ever see.” With a deep throaty laugh, he turned away.
Screams of panic followed him up the street as the old woman called out for help. She begged the crowd for help, pleaded for them to stop the evil man who just blinded her. Nomed loved what he did, and he was the best at it.
Dawn stepped onto the dock. She knew her longboat would be safe under the watchful eye of the crew of Tyler’s Revenge. She had worked with the captain of that ship a few times and they had an understanding. Crowds parted for her and the men behind her. She felt like she was finally coming out of a dark cloud. It had long been a secret that the captain of the Lady Luck was a woman. It was not being announced, but anyone who knew anything would know if they witnessed the scene.
She stopped where the dock met the quay. She turned to Bezel and Warton and quietly exchanged a few quiet words. They nodded and turned to go about their duties. She turned to Cite and Rogen and looked up at the first then down at the other. As she was about to speak, a young girl dressed in dark leathers interrupted her.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice your unique cargo,” the girl said. “I think I may be able to help you distribute it for a fair price.”
Dawn looked at the girl, who was her height, her hand on the hilt of her cutlass. The girl was shorter than most men, but may yet gain some height because she was at least ten years younger than Dawn and may have some time left to grow. Behind the newcomer stood a man with short-cropped brown hair and beard, he was military in style, but not in bearing. His clothing that was lighter shades of gray, almost silver, contrasted with the dark haired younger girl’s black clothes.
Rogen stood behind and to one side of Dawn. Dressed in his usual attire, pouches, and weapons he was imposing, though he was a foot shorter than anyone else. Cite stared at the crowd and the ruin of the buildings, not noticing the conversation in front of him as he gawked at the seaside town.
“I am sure you can, but perhaps I should first speak with my usual people,” Dawn said.
“I am better than your usual people,”
the curly hair girl responded. “I work from my own pouches, not an office, so I have no overhead. I am young and eager, so work harder. I am not established either, so I do not charge all those extra hidden fees.”
Dawn laughed. “I don’t think so, thank you though.”
“Let’s go,” Cyril growled, reaching forward to take Gruedo’s arm. Cite noticed the two for the first time and grabbed Dawn’s arm.
“Deal with them,” he whispered, “use them. I mean, take them up on their offer.”
Dawn looked back at him, and then looked down at his hand on her arm with a dangerous glare. Cite yanked his hand back. He turned his gaze upwards towards the building in front of them and his face went impassive. Cite’s voice came into Dawn’s head. ‘I know these two. Towers, silver and black. Do not let them leave us, we need them.’ Dawn stared at him for a moment longer and then turned back to Gruedo.
“I think we can do business. Why don’t we go somewhere we can talk a bit more privately?”
Gruedo led the group to a warehouse a few blocks from the docks. It was unused except for storage. She showed them into an office and pulled enough chairs from the walls that everyone could sit around the warped wooden table that rocked anytime anyone leaned on it. The conversation turned to business and an agreement was reached.
Harbinger: The Downfall - Book One Page 23
