by Alex Paul
He removed the long sword from its scabbard and, despite his fatigue and sore head, he carefully cleaned the blood from it with his bathing water. He always cleaned his swords after battle.
The boy returned and deposited a blue clay plate on the rough, wooden table. Yolanta tore at the bread and white cheese as his hunger had gone from a need to pain. He gulped the wine to help soften the bread and cheese so he could swallow faster. As his eating slowed, he wondered if the priests of Tol had foreseen their defeat today. Impossible, but why wait so long to send their necklace, priests, and princess to safety? Either the necklace didn’t work, or they had no one to read it.
He hoped one of his ships that he had ordered to pursue the Tolarian fleet had caught up with them and that they had captured the ship carrying the princess and her high priests as well as the necklace. That would be wonderful good luck! Their hunt would be over.
If his men returned with the necklace, then he would believe his spies who had told him that Princess Sharmane’s mother, the Tolarian queen, was no longer reading the necklace because she had been kidnapped. If one of the Tolarians could read the necklace, one would assume they could see the necklace falling into the wrong hands and prevent its loss. The Amarrat spies were not as sure the queen had been captured. Or they knew and would not tell him.
His logic simply told him that if he captured the necklace, it would prove that Princess Sharmane could not read it and that she was not ready to assume her mother’s duties.
A knock on the cabin door interrupted his thoughts.
“No treasure chest on the Tolarian ship, sir,” Brumbal said in a low voice after closing the door behind him. The look of disappointment was obvious on his face.
“Blast!” Yolanta pounded one fist into another. Then he remembered that Brumbal had yet to eat. “Are you hungry?” Yolanta gestured at the food.
Brumbal pulled off his helmet, revealing the sweat soaked hair clinging to his skull. He joined Yolanta at the table, sitting sideways due to his long sword in the back scabbard. He cut a large chunk of cheese from the round wheel with his knife, and then tore off a huge piece of bread, the muscles in his arm bulging with the effort.
“Mmmm... I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” Brumbal mumbled between bites. He drained a boda of water and burped. “No chest. No necklace.”
Yolanta trusted only Brumbal with the knowledge that they sought the necklace, for he knew none of his men would believe the Amarrat king would pay such a ransom. Yolanta accepted this news with a grunt as he walked to his sword belt, lifted it over his head, and tightened the straps around his shoulders. The weight of the two swords made him feel invincible.
“How many did we lose in our battle to take the Tolarian ship?”
“Two wounded with light cuts and Dunbar dead,” Brumbal said between huge bites.
“Umm, we have lost a good warrior in Dunbar. We’ll mourn him, and then give him to the sea at dawn.”
“Sir,” Brumbal responded through a mouthful of cheese and bread.
Yolanta finished dressing as Brumbal ate, and then the two of them returned to the Tolarian ship when they had eaten their fill. He was glad to see his men eating and drinking. No protest issued from below decks as Brumbal had fed and watered the Tolarians prior to his own men. Well-fed, defeated men would sleep and not rebel if they believed they weren’t going to die.
He crossed to the Tolarian ship and made his way to the captain’s quarters. The captain and a younger officer sat bound to chairs in the center of the room. The captain was a handsome man, dark-haired, with thick brows. He was heavily muscled, with intelligence in his gaze and a sense of calm Yolanta seldom saw in a captive.
The younger officer had red hair and green eyes that darted anxiously around the room, making him look frantic. As Yolanta stepped toward the Tolarians, the captain whispered something to the young man, which seemed to calm him down. They were both clean-shaven in the Tolarians’ odd custom.
Yolanta dismissed the guard so he and Brumbal could speak freely.
“Why do you feed and water my men but not us?” The captain demanded. “You treat us worse than I would have treated you!”
“Tell me what I need to know, and you’ll sup with your men,” Yolanta promised. “Where is your fleet bound?”
“I’ll tell you nothing.” The man spat at Yolanta’s feet then nodded his head toward the young officer next to him. “Neither will he.” His face twisted in anger and hatred. “How dare you treat us this way, you Tookan cur. Your people have ravaged our shipping for too long. After we win this war with the Amarrats, we’ll root you out of your coastal homes, kill every last one of you, and salt your fields so no man can live there ever again.”
“Ahh, but you won’t. You can’t defeat the Amarrats. They are too powerful. That’s why we have allied with them,” Yolanta boasted. “With our ships and their army, we’ll scatter you to the wind and be safe from your reprisals.”
“Ha!” The captain laughed. “We’ll see.”
“You dare laugh at me?” Yolanta leaned forward and mocked him. “And you say, we’ll see? I promise you won’t live to see another dawn, much less the winner of this war, if you don’t tell me the final destination of your fleet.”
“Those pyramid builders will turn on you in the end.” The captain glared at him, his neck veins bulging with seething anger at Yolanta. “The Amarrats keep you as their pets for their convenience. And you forget we are allies of Lanth. They have a mighty fleet of ships, and they will deal with you and the Amarrats.”
“You think I jest?” Yolanta pulled his short sword. The ring of sword against scabbard pierced the cabin’s quiet. He rested the sword point on the captain’s neck. “Surely you have loved ones? Perhaps a farm in the hills with grapes and plowed fields? Why die and leave all that?”
The captain looked off into the distance, as if recalling happy times. “All gone now, with Baltak’s fall. I’m sure they’re all dead. They didn’t reach my ship in time. They cried out from the docks, and I could not return.” He clenched his jaw, showing his anger at a world that had taken his family, and then his gaze locked with Yolanta’s. “You threaten a man without dreams or hope. My only possession is honor, which death shall grant me.”
“I mourn your loss and salute your courage.” Yolanta bowed his head. “Do you have last words before I grant you death?”
“Spare him.” The captain nodded at the officer next to him. “He wasn’t part of our planning and knows nothing.”
“I cannot promise you that, but now you will join your family.”
The captain glared at Yolanta. “Tol grant us victory. Tol curse the Tookans.”
Yolanta plunged his sword down the left side of the man’s neck and impaled the heart. One swift thrust, the way he’d learned as a youth, and the captain slumped forward, a look of pain replaced by a look of peace before his eyes closed. Yolanta felt satisfied; it was a proper death, quick and clean.
“And now you.” Yolanta dragged his chair away from the growing pool of the captain’s blood and placed it before the young officer. His terrified green eyes followed the bloody sword.
“Don’t kill me! I know where the fleet is going. Another officer told me. Will you spare me if I tell you?”
“Speak.” Yolanta eased back into the chair.
The young officer turned from the sight of his dead captain lying face down on the floor. The heavy sweat of mortal dread had matted the long red curls of his hair to his forehead, and he blinked at the salt in his eyes as he tried to meet Yolanta’s gaze.
“What will you do with me if I tell you?”
“You may serve freely as a common sailor on my ship.”
“A commoner? Not as an officer?”
“Perhaps in time you can serve as an officer—after you prove I can trust you,” Yolanta said. “Now, decide quickly.” He stood and placed the sword point on the man’s neck.
“I will tell you!” The man pleaded. “I don’t wan
t to die.”
“Then I will spare you.” Yolanta lowered his sword and sat.
“Our fleet carries Princess Sharmane and the temple treasure to Lanth, where she will marry Prince Dahl, heir to the Lantish throne. She replaces her mother as the new Keeper of the Necklace.”
“The queen died then?”
“Kidnapped by the Amarrats,” the prisoner answered in a choked whisper.
The Amarrat spies lied to me, thought Yolanta. Why not tell me she was kidnapped?
“And the necklace is on board one of your ships?”
“Oh, yes, I saw it myself, in a small chest placed within the temple treasure chest. The chest contains more than the temple treasure; it carries the princess’s dowry as well. Rumor has it much of our country’s wealth is in that chest.”
“And the fleet sails straight for Lanth? No stops at other cities?”
The young officer hesitated before speaking, but continued when Yolanta reached for his sword.
“No stops! Though they plan landfall at the river Zash after crossing the Circle Sea.”
“Your captain just said you were not privy to his planning. How do I know you aren’t lying?”
“I told you! A friend, an officer, told me to assure me that we could escape if we just kept our distance from you until dark. He saw that I was afraid we’d be captured.”
“You’re smart to fear us catching you. I’ll give you that.” Yolanta set his sword on a table behind him. “So they are planning landfall at the River Zash, a two-week sail to the north of Lanth. Why there?” Yolanta wondered aloud.
“We are only recent allies with Lanth. Our priests fear Lanth will betray Tolaria and sue for peace with the Amarrats when they learn of Baltak’s fate. Our plan was to send a single ship to discover the Lantish mood from our ambassador while the rest of the fleet hides in the river mouth.”
“And if the Lantish turn on you?”
“They’ll continue south down the coast and seek refuge with the Mines.”
“Never a welcoming people, but you might be lucky.” Yolanta commented. The world knew little of the race far to the south of Lanth. Stories of refused trade and vanishing emissaries had left them isolated and feared.
“Brumbal, if we sail tomorrow, we could beat the Tolarians to the river Zash,” Yolanta said, turning to his second-in-command. “We can surprise them and capture the princess and her necklace. I could use another wife. Especially a princess of the Tolarian empire!”
“Your wives will revolt against you someday.” Brumbal laughed and pointed at Yolanta as if scolding him.
Yolanta’s laugh rumbled through his cabin. “You’ve more wives than I do and I’m the king!”
“But I’ve pledged to add no more.” Brumbal winked. “That has calmed my wives down.”
“How can you sail across the Circle Sea without a compass?” the young Tolarian officer interrupted with alarm.
“Simple...” Yolanta raised his eyebrows but only one lifted, the brow over his left eye had been gashed in combat years earlier and it never moved. “Sadly for you, the Amarrat king gave us several.”
The young Tolarian slumped in the chair, agony on his face. “I had no idea. I thought it would do no harm to tell you our destination because you’d have to sail along the coast and never get there before our fleet. I’ve doomed my princess!” His face had turned white, drained of blood.
“I tricked you.”
The young man gave Yolanta a bitter look.
“Will you still oath with us, or must we kill you?” Yolanta asked.
“I’ll oath.” The man’s face drooped. “What do I have left now but to live with you? I can never return to my own people after such a betrayal.” He bent forward, head in his hands and began to weep.
Yolanta felt sorry for the youth. This treachery would eat at his heart the rest of his miserable life.
“Some say surviving is all that matters,” Brumbal added, trying to console the young man.
“No, honor. Honor is everything,” the young man asserted.
“Which ship holds the treasure chest with the necklace?” Yolanta asked.
The officer eyed him. “Which ship holds the necklace?” He repeated the question. “What difference does it make if I tell you? I’m a member of your crew now, and I must serve you with honor until my death.”
Yolanta didn’t speak. He just stared until the young man lowered his eyes.
“The Golden Willow carries the necklace. She’s a merchant ship. She’s fast and light and able to sail against the wind like your ships—only faster, with a long, slim hull. You’ll never catch her.”
“Do your ships carry Mork’s fire?” Brumbal asked.
“No. We would have used it against you if we had.”
“I suppose so,” Yolanta said. He turned to Brumbal. “Have our guards escort him to our ship. Give him a clean uniform and Dunbar’s empty hammock.” He didn’t worry about trusting the man he had oathed to them. He would be loyal now in order to survive. “Toss the captain’s body overboard without ceremony and have this room cleaned up.”
“Sir.” Brumbal saluted, his short sword clattering against the back of his wooden chair as he stood.
“Thank you for sparing my life.” The Tolarian officer nodded as he rose while Brumbal fetched a guard.
“You spared your own life by helping me,” Yolanta said. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine addition to our crew.”
The young man’s color was still gone from his face, and he stumbled as he followed the guard. Yolanta felt a sense of regret in tricking the young man and taking away his honor. But this is war, he reminded himself, and all is fair in war.
“Walk with me,” Yolanta said to Brumbal after the guard left. His burly second-in-command lumbered along beside Yolanta. The man’s sheer size and vibrant energy helped Yolanta regain his feeling of being a victor. After all, they had stopped the Tolarian ship and knew where the fleet was bound. It was just that he’d almost died in the battle and that had shaken Yolanta.
“Sir.” They climbed to the fresh air of the deck, the steps creaking under the mass of both men. The mist felt cooler now on Yolanta’s face, telling him rinfall would soon begin.
“Place men with lanterns in the bird’s nests of both ships so our fleet can find us in the dark. We’ll return to Baltak with the dawn if they haven’t returned.”
“Sir,” Brumbal said.
“Perhaps the Amarrat king will buy this pig of a Tolarian ship and all their slave rowers as well. He needs a royal barge.” Yolanta laughed at his own joke.
“It will serve these Tolarians right to spend their last days rowing as slaves on their own ship,” Brumbal observed. “They’ll soon have beards and look like us.”
“A fair fate.” Yolanta clapped Brumbal’s shoulder armor. “Tell the watch to wake me if our ships return. At dawn, set sail to Baltak where the Amarrat king will give us a supply of Mork’s fire for our catapults.”
“A most useful weapon.” Brumbal grimaced. “If we’d had it today, we’d have no need to go chasing the Tolarians across the sea.”
“I begged the Amarrat king for it, Brumbal. I knew it could help you and all my fleet, but he said he couldn’t spare any until the siege ended. Then Baltak fell so quickly that we had no chance to transfer a supply to our ships before we entered the city.”
“Well, what’s done is done.” Brumbal shrugged his massive shoulders, and the leather straps holding the plates squeaked in protest. “And perhaps one of our fleet was able to catch the Tolarians and will return soon with the necklace!”
“I pray that is the case,” Yolanta said.
“At least we’re on our way to fortune and adventure!” Brumbal jumped up and clicked his heels together to show his delight in the prospects ahead. His leg muscles bulged as his gray tunic lifted above his knees, revealing his thighs.
“I don’t know how you can do that.” Yolanta laughed. “I’ve never mastered it, and I’m lighter on my feet tha
n you.”
“I must love life more than you do,” Brumbal joked.
“Perhaps,” Yolanta said. “I don’t think I’m going to love crossing the Circle Sea, even though we have the compass to guide us true.”
Brumbal raised his eyebrows. “Do you really trust this invention, this compass, with all our lives?” Brumbal looked worried, and Yolanta realized he’d never seen fear on this massive warrior’s face.
“I know it’s scary to trust so small a device, but we have to adopt modern ways or perish as a seafaring race. I know the direction we must follow using the compass. If we stay true to that course, we will reach the western shore of the Circle Sea. Then we can sail along the coast using landmarks that will guide us to the River Zash.”
Yolanta grabbed a rope for a handhold and stepped across the gap between the ship’s decks, leaving Brumbal to carry out his orders. Brumbal was a good ship’s captain, always eager to follow Yolanta’s orders and hold the respect of his men.
Back in his cabin, Yolanta cleaned blood from his sword once again, this time that of the Tolarian captain. The rinfall had begun, and it dripped on his cabin’s roof, offering a soothing, familiar sound while bringing the relief of cool air to his cabin. The faint drone of men snoring penetrated the walls. His cozy surroundings contrasted with the red blood on the cloth and made him brood on the fate of the dead Tolarian captain. Yolanta wondered if one day he would face death as calmly.
CHAPTER 6
BIRTHDAY PARTY
Soon rinfall will begin and end this dismal day. I am haunted by death.
—Diary of Princess Sharmane of Tolaria
I probably know more about the war than my parents, Arken speculated.
The Alda had held them long after the school’s normal dismissal time to lecture them about the Amarrat invasion of Tolaria. The latest news, now a moonth old, indicated the Amarrats’ easy conquests had stalled when they reached Baltak with its fortress walls. Now the city lay under siege, and the battle could rage for years. After all, Baltak had an underground water supply and ample gardens inside the walls to grow crops and raise ban for meat.
