Knight's Haven (Legend of the White Sword Book 4)

by P. D. Kalnay

  “Why not?”

  “There’s no tree on the island tall and straight enough for the mast, and it may not end up being a sailboat, anyway.”

  “No one can row across the ocean.” Ivy held up her vine tattooed wrist. “This makes it pointless.”

  “The boat won’t be for escape,” I said. Up till then it had only been an idea. Ivy’s nay saying irritated me, and I decided I was definitely building a boat.

  “For what then?”

  “We can use it for fishing,” I said. “It’d be nice to add meat to our diet.” A new thought occurred. “You can’t grow animals can you? Maybe a cow or a chicken?”

  Ivy shook her head.

  “I can’t create animals, Jack. I don’t create the plants. Growing them requires seeds at the very least. I can heal animals, and I can strengthen them. I could alter them—though I wouldn’t do so—but I can’t make them. I’m sure others will bring livestock when resettlement begins. You can just wait, or you can fish from the shoreline. That will be safer. Our people aren’t known for swimming.”

  “Fishing will only be a bonus,” I said. “The main purpose of building a boat is that it solves our problem.”

  “Which one?”

  “How to talk to people on ships outside the gate. If someone shows up, you could open the gates just enough to let a small boat through and then close them again. I can go out to the ship, see who it is, and determine if we should let them in.”

  “That would be risky.”

  “Do you have another idea?”

  “No.”

  “I can’t help you in the fields, except for harvesting and hauling, so this will give me something useful to do.”

  “Shouldn’t you be trying to figure out how to return Mr. Ryan?”

  “Marielain Blackhammer who knew a million more things than me, and had everything here available to him, couldn’t do it,” I said. “I don’t even know how to properly use my magic or how most of the things in the workshop work. All of which make it unlikely that returning Mr. Ryan is something I’ll be able to accomplish on my own. I’m not saying I won’t try, but I have nothing to go on. There aren’t even books or manuals lying around.”

  “That is strange,” Ivy said.

  “You said there were fewer books here.”

  “On the whole, yes, but the learned have private libraries. A skilled enchanter like Marielain Blackhammer must have owned a vast collection. Perhaps he hid them?”

  “Maybe, I’ll keep an eye out. Do you need help with anything?”

  “No, thank you. I’m still restoring the fields.”

  “I guess I’ll see you at dinner then.”

  ***

  The afternoon found me hauling the magic pump down the stairs and through the city. I needed to test it if my mad plan was to succeed. The harbour was deep, right up to the shoreline, and I was afraid of dropping the pump by accident, so I went to the nearest irrigation trough instead. Water flowed sluggishly along a narrow channel of tightly fitted stone. It was a warm day, and I soaked my feet in the cool water. I rested the tube between them, pointing the top end away at about forty-five degrees. Then I triggered the enchantment. All that took was activating some the symbols cut into both ends of the tube, which was as easy as mentally flipping a light switch. Seven sets of symbols circled each end of the tube and they could be activated one at a time or all together.

  A single pair of symbols drew water from the trough and spat it from the top of the tube in a lazy arc, landing a few feet away. One pair at a time, I activated more of the symbols. They sustained themselves and continued operating. By the time I had five sets active, the jet of water was shooting a hundred feet away and the tube became hard to hold onto. I couldn’t go higher because the pump emptied the water from the channel faster than it refilled. Loud hissing and spitting followed, and I deactivated the pump. There was no way to know why Marielain had originally built the thing, but it was a seriously kick-ass water pump. Now that I knew it worked, I had bigger plans for it.

  I didn’t need to touch the pump to activate it. While the irrigation trough refilled with water, I lay the pumping tube on its side at the upper end. When it was covered in water, I activated the first pair of symbols. The tube crawled forward along the bottom of the trough. It moved faster and faster as I added more pumping power. Activating the fourth set of symbols overcame the water’s resistance and the pump shot forward like a torpedo, fishtailing and smashing off the sides of the trough. Then it flew from the edge, tumbling end over end, to land halfway across the next terrace below. It did nothing out of the water, and I deactivated the symbols.

  The short fall and soft landing hadn’t damaged the pump. My tests were a complete success. Probably, the original purpose had been moving drinking water, or draining seawater from some deep pit. Both were useful tasks, but I had something way cooler in mind.

  ***

  I set the pump aside on a shelf in the warehouse that contained the cut lumber. Then I spent an hour with Three, doing a rough inventory of what was available. There was far more wood than I needed to build my boat. Halfway through, when I was sure I had enough, I stopped counting. The warehouse faced the road that ran along the harbour at the bottom edge of the city. I decided to build my shipyard out front on the street. It would’ve been convenient to build the boat up in the workshop, where the tools were, but it would be infinitely easier carrying tools to the warehouse, rather than moving the finished boat. I didn’t know how Marielain had gotten a lot of the really big items up to the workshop. Doing so was more than Ivy and I were capable of.

  Moving a collection of saws, hammers, and other assorted tools to my satellite workshop in the warehouse took the rest of the day. By the end of it, I missed cars and elevators.

  I was so excited to start boatbuilding that I was up and out before Ivy the next morning. The plans were wonderfully detailed and showed every aspect of the job. They were laid out exactly how I’d have tackled the project. I began by building the framework to support the hull. The boat would initially be constructed upside down. Later, I’d flip it over to complete the inside parts. I worked right next to water to minimise how far I’d have to haul the finished boat.

  Work went slower than I’d have liked because my hands hurt and forced me to take many breaks that I otherwise wouldn’t have. Marielain’s tools partly offset that inefficiency. Every tool, right down to the handsaws and planes, had minor enchantments worked into their construction. Those enchantments did things like keeping edges sharp and reducing friction on the sides of the saw blades. All minor things, but they added up.

  Three arrived at noon with a large bowl of fruits and vegetables. I’d instructed him to assist Ivy with whatever she needed. Until I saw the food, I hadn’t realised I was hungry.

  “Thank Ivy for the lunch,” I told him as he trundled off. It occurred to me afterwards that he probably couldn’t. I’d fix him when I finished the boat.

  I worked that first day until the sun set, and I arrived home well after dark. Ivy had left out a dinner for me. She was fast asleep when I peeked into her room, and I didn’t want to disturb her. She’d been working hard on her own projects.

  Chapter 8 – Closed Circle

  It took me the next two weeks to construct the frame upon which I’d build the boat. I didn’t rush, and, thanks to my hands, I couldn’t. Some of that time was spent up in the workshop making metal parts that weren’t lying around. I ran out of nails after the third day, and I forged two buckets’ worth at the little smithy in the workshop. It was nothing compared to the massive one deep under Knight’s Haven, but making nails at the forge that had birthed the White Sword—and who knew what else—seemed wrong. It was also a long climb down and up to reach that smithy. The existence of a second forge in the shop confirmed that my former self had felt the same way.

  Ivy and I were busy working on our separate tasks; we saw little of one other over those first weeks. During the times we were together in the
apartment, our tiredness kept the conversation to a minimum. I was almost ready to begin boat construction in earnest, but I’d run into a snag.

  “Is something wrong with your dinner?” Ivy asked.

  She’d been making all our food. I looked up from my bowl of vegetable soup.

  “No, I was just thinking? I need to laminate boards together to form the keel.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t have any glue. It’ll need to be strong waterproof glue too.”

  Marielain had drawn a keel cut from one big timber. I had nothing like that available. There were plenty of boards to laminate, but I was short the adhesive. Proper glue joints are stronger than the wood they hold together, so I wasn’t worried about the substitution being strong enough.

  “If you’d bothered to come and look, you’d have seen that there’s a whole field of latch bushes flourishing on the edge of the city.” Ivy sounded irritated.

  “How would that help?” I had no idea what latch bushes were.

  “The reason an entire field is planted with a crop you can’t eat is because of what is made from the sap…” Ivy frowned at me and waited.

  “Glue?”

  “Glue, and the coating our people paint on their ships to keep them watertight. It’s the same mixture, only thinner. The bushes are grown here so that ships can be repaired mid-voyage.”

  “Do you know how to make the glue?”

  “Yes. I suppose if I was asked nicely, I could make some.”

  “Ivy will you make me a bucket of nasty boat glue? Pretty please.”

  “How do you know it’s nasty?” Ivy asked through her giggle.

  “If it can survive salt water and sea voyages, it’s bound to be nasty. How nasty is it?”

  “As stinky as it is strong. The glue is only workable when it’s hot. After it cools, it is impossible to remove from anything, but the smell goes away. Make sure you don’t get any in the wrong place by accident.”

  “Does it break down again with heat?”

  “Yes. However, the boat would be on fire by the time that happened. I’ll need a large kettle or pot to boil the sap and mix the other ingredients.”

  “There are a few out in the workshop. Do you have time to help?”

  “I have time.”

  Ivy gave me a warm smile. It was like she was looking forward to making stinky glue. Weird.

  ***

  The following morning we went to the field Ivy had spoken of, and I noticed how much she’d accomplished. Dozens of fields were bourgeoning with new growth. I helped Ivy harvest a hundred or so of the droopy, heavy bushes from which the glue was made. Then we jammed them into the tops of empty barrels to catch the dripping sap.

  The next day Ivy was at my boatyard stirring a spectacularly stinky cauldron of glue over an open fire, as I added barrels of sap to the rapidly thickening mixture. I did a test fitting of the wood for the keel and then glued and clamped the boards together. The workshop had no shortage of clamps. I’d need to refine the keel when the glue dried, but the basic shape was there. I still had three quarters of a cauldron of glue left, which I planned to thin later and use to paint the hull. The glue was a nasty yellowish colour. It reminded me of pus.

  “Is there any way to dye this?” I asked.

  I carefully lifted the pot from the flames with a thick stick and set it aside to cool.

  “There are a few plants here we might use,” Ivy said. “Why do you want to dye the glue?”

  “For later, when I paint the hull. This yellow is ugly.”

  “What colour do you want?”

  “Anything less ugly will do. You can decide if there’s a choice.”

  “Very well, I shall surprise you.”

  “There’s no rush. I won’t need it for a while… Ivy?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve got that feeling again, like someone is watching me,” I said it softly. “It’s really strong now.”

  “Something has been watching us,” Ivy said. “I’ve been aware of it since we began this morning. It’s agitated, and has grown bolder, but its aura remains beyond my ability to sense.”

  “You have any idea what it might be?”

  “I have an idea,” Ivy said, and then she spoke in a louder voice, “No water, no sunlight, no soil I need. Seven my fruit, none shall bear seed. Tallest I’ve grown, without root or leaf. Last shall I fall, ending in grief. What am I?”

  That seemed like a bizarre thing to say. I wasn’t much for riddles, and was going to asked her about it, but I didn’t get the chance. Another voice spoke, and it came from the roof of the warehouse across from my boatyard.

  “Little witch,” a low, creepy voice said. Somehow it included a growl with its words. “The Tree! The answer is the Tree!”

  I searched for the source of the voice, but all I saw was a slight blurring of the air at the edge of the roofline like a heat shimmer. Then even that shimmer vanished.

  “It has run off, but will return,” Ivy said.

  “Do you know what it was? I couldn’t see anything except a blurry patch.”

  “Normally, you wouldn’t even see that,” Ivy said, “but that sphinx is sorely compromised.”

  I pictured the sphinx out front of the Great Pyramids of Giza. Neither Ivy nor my grandmother’s books had mentioned sphinxes. The voice was pretty scary.

  “A sphinx?”

  “Unquestionably. A sphinx cannot leave a riddle unanswered. We are all slaves to our natures. They are also among the few races that can hide from my lifesense, but that one is…”

  “Compromised? What does that mean?”

  Ivy looked me in the eye and sported her deadly serious expression, which, although irrelevant, was also super cute.

  “I sensed the stain of wyspire long before the presence of the sphinx itself. That creature dances on the border between sanity and madness. Desperation makes it dangerous and guarantees its return.”

  “Should we go after it?”

  “How? It has already eluded my senses. Even in the sphinx’s unhinged state, it only partially revealed itself. We must be vigilant from now on.”

  “I don’t know anything about sphinxes.”

  “They are few in number and hail from the treetops of the Narr jungle. It’s a dark and dangerous land, where only the cunning survive. Sphinxes live high in the dense, unbroken canopy. They have no organised governments and spend their lives pursuing philosophy.”

  “Philosophy?”

  “Yes, they are deep thinkers.”

  “What was with the riddle?”

  “As I said, a sphinx is compelled to answer a riddle if it knows the answer. I chose an old, well-known riddle to force it to reveal itself.”

  “What should we do now?”

  “We’ll have to wait until it returns. The Narr jungle is filled with deadly predators. The sphinxes survive through extraordinary stealth, using it to hunt without becoming prey themselves.”

  “What do they hunt?”

  “Birds and small animals that live in treetops. I’ve never heard tell of a sphinx attacking a person. They fight no wars and keep to themselves.”

  ***

  It was distressing to discover that we weren’t alone, and I was grateful for the magical security with which Marielain Blackhammer had surrounded his home. Otherwise, it would have been hard just sleeping at night. Ivy assured me that while I might be able to pass the many barriers unhindered, nobody else could manage it without my permission. Whenever I went outside after that, I found myself constantly searching for the shimmering blur. After a week of living on edge, I let my guard down.

  Nothing warned me the sphinx had returned to my boatyard until I felt its claws.

  ***

  I’d grown tired of having a scabbard banging against my legs while I worked. After wearing a sword from Marielain’s collection at my side for several days of boat construction, I eventually leaned the blade against the framework to keep it handy, but out of the way. That proved a mis
take.

  The sphinx’s attack came without warning. One second I was carrying an armload of boards through the open doors of the warehouse and the next I was knocked flat on my face. My nose hit the street hard enough to break. I tasted the metallic tang of the blood running freely down my chin. Sharp claws dug into my neck and others had firm grip on my hips, pinning me to the ground. Then I felt its warm breath as it spoke in my ear.

  “I want the rest,” it said. “All of it. I want it now!”

  “What?” my voice had a new, nasally quality.

  The sphinx smashed my face into the stone a second time, and the pain was exquisite. It was a half second before my brain registered that pain. I couldn’t have held in my scream had I tried.

  The claws dug in deeper as the sphinx also screamed, “I want it now!”

  I tried to formulate a plan of action. The sphinx wasn’t that heavy. I’d done a lot of ground fighting with Mr. Ryan and the sphinx didn’t weigh more than a hundred and fifty pounds, tops. It wasn’t the weight that held me still, it was the claws. A single inch of movement and two jugulars would spill my life onto the street.

  Before I managed to come up with any plan of action, the claws released, and I was pressed forcefully onto the street as my attacker used me like a springboard. It leapt to one side with an angry hiss, and I caught a glimpse of dark blue fur from the corner of my eye before it vanished again. An arrow flew past, shattering against the wall of the warehouse.

  “Jack! Are you hurt?” Ivy ran to my side while I pushed myself up onto my butt.

  “I think my nose is broken,” I said.

  Ivy set down her bow and took my bloody face in her hands. She hummed a short tune and the pain diminished, but it didn’t disappear.

  “Where is your sword?” Ivy asked.

  I pointed across the road to the skeleton of my boat.

  “I told you to be cautious. Under normal circumstances a sphinx would pose no danger. They are a peaceful folk.”

  “He didn’t seem that peaceful,” I said, climbing to my feet and rubbing the pinpricks along my neck. “It was lucky you came by.”

  “That is the effect of the wyspire, or rather its absence. I felt no eyes upon me, so instead I watched over you, and waited.”