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

by P. D. Kalnay

  “How long have you been watching me?”

  “Since the first day we discovered the sphinx.”

  I hadn’t noticed her, but florathen were masters of stealth.

  “Now what?”

  “We must set a trap. It would be foolish to wait until the sphinx grows more desperate.”

  ***

  Ivy and I went back up to the apartment together. The main doors were covered in congealed blood and claw marks. The claw marks hadn’t scratched the iron of the door, but they cut random crosshatches in the bloody coating. It looked like the sphinx had made an ineffectual and desperate attempt to get inside. Ivy took a single grain of the wyspire from the box in the workshop while I washed my face. Then we met back in the hallway, and went out to set a trap.

  I can’t tell you what that trap looked like, because I couldn’t see it. Ivy walked a circle on one of the nearest fields, while humming to herself. By the time she was done, her feet had packed down a visible ring of earth. I couldn’t see her trap, but instinct warned me of it when I came close to the edge. I’d never have been fooled, even if her footprints weren’t there to mark the boundaries. I told Ivy that.

  “Few thinking creatures would be trapped in so obvious a circle,” Ivy said as she stooped to set the leaf-wrapped grain of wyspire in the middle. “The sphinx will also see it for a trap. That won’t stop him from claiming this.”

  “Really?”

  “Folk have done terrible things to get their next taste.” Ivy shook her head sadly. “I expect this trap will be filled when we return tomorrow. Let’s go home.”

  ***

  Ivy was right. The next morning we found a prisoner pacing the edges of her circle of dirt. A creature that looked half monkey and half cat prowled the inner circle. The sphinx was about the size of a male lion, but leaner to the point of looking gaunt. His dark blue fur was matted and folds of skin hung as if he’d had recently lost weight. A long prehensile tail dragged in the dirt behind. That tail began twitching continuously when the sphinx finally noticed us. Two pale orange eyes looked up at us from a catlike face, and long tufted ears flattened back along his skull.

  “More, I beg you. Please, give me more.”

  I’d never looked into eyes so desperate or so devoid of hope. The sphinx’s face was animated and expressive making it look less catlike when he spoke, but the voice had more than a hint of animal in its tone.

  “There will be no more,” Ivy said.

  “Please, I’ll tell you anything… do anything.” He sounded like it meant it.

  “Before any other considerations, you will answer my questions,” Ivy said.

  I was surprised by the ice in her voice.

  “Anything.” The sphinx bowed his head.

  “Why are you here? What is your purpose on Knight’s Haven.”

  “I was crewing aboard the Ivory Slive in exchange for passage to Proudspire. Having found my Answer at long last, it was time to return home. Our captain learned that the Fae had abandoned the island early and joined with others, hoping to make his fortune from the unprecedented opportunity.

  I was beyond the city, off hunting for my dinner, when all the ships left and the gate closed. When I saw the silver dragon take flight—I hid, and remained hidden until I was certain she had gone. Then I came back down to the city and discovered you. I had decided to introduce myself, but then I saw that terrible thing.” The twitching and shaking increased dramatically. “After feeling the blade’s dark power, I decided to wait a while longer.”

  Ivy nodded, “Why did you partake of the wyspire?”

  “An accident, mistress. I simply wished to know what had distressed you so, and returned to search the warehouse. In my carelessness, I pulled down an open box and it spilled on top of me. A grain fell into my mouth and…”

  “And?”

  “I snatched up a bag and carried it high above the western edge of the island. I was lost in the joy of that time until… until discovering that the bag had grown empty. Then I returned for more, but found it all gone and the warehouse burned. I know you have it up there!”

  The sphinx towered above us when he stood on his hind legs and pointed towards the workshop. His front paw was hand-like and looked dexterous. It was also tipped in long claws, most of which were broken and blood encrusted. Sharp teeth were revealed as a wide muzzle pulled back in a twisted grimace.

  “Give it to me!” the sphinx snarled, and leaped at Ivy, smashing against the invisible barrier she’d erected. That barrier only allowed travel in a single direction. After a few wild minutes he gave up and curled into a ball near the middle. “Please, mistress, I beg you.”

  “I will bring you food and water,” Ivy said. “That is all. Let’s go, Jack”

  Ivy led me away towards the city. I was amazed by how unmoved she was by the pathetic creature. Even if he was a pirate, it seemed too cruel a fate. Once the sphinx was out of sight, she turned and stumbled into me. Her tears soaked my chest as she sobbed.

  “Is there nothing we can do?” I asked.

  She shook her head against me without loosening her grip. After she was finished we walked home in silence. Ivy spent the rest of her day in bed, with the covers pulled up.

  ***

  True to her word, Ivy brought the sphinx food and water every day, but he never ate or drank any of it. The withdrawal from the wyspire followed three stages that I noted. The beginning involved begging and pleading intermixed with violent demands. Then horrific self-mutilation followed as the sphinx tore at himself with his claws and took an eye in the process. Finally, he lay for days without moving; staring at something I couldn’t see.

  Two weeks after his capture, he was little more than skin and bones. A dead eye stared up at me from a sunken socket, and large patches of his fur had fallen out. The sphinx hadn’t bothered to beg for the last few visits. I’d taken over the task of bringing food to give Ivy’s heart a break. Our prisoner was the most pitiable thing I’d ever seen, but after one earlier attempt at grabbing Ivy’s arm, as she pushed food through the barrier—I took no chances.

  When I found the sphinx dead, I suspected it might be a final ruse, but Ivy confirmed that no spark of life remained. Spoiled food surrounded the corpse; the hunger strike had reached its inevitable conclusion.

  I buried the poor fellow, not knowing whether that was an appropriate funeral or not.

  We stared down at the mound of freshly turned soil.

  “Are you OK?” I asked Ivy.

  “Merely saddened. Knowing and seeing the effects of wyspire are different things.”

  I thought of the one coherent conversation we’d had with the sphinx.

  “What do you think he meant when he said that he’d found his answer?”

  “It’s a rite of passage,” Ivy said. “Every sphinx is given a riddle to solve when they come of age. They must find the answer to be allowed to return to their people and be accepted as an adult. It’s a test of intellect and dedication, and expands the knowledge of their kind. Each must contribute to the greater good to earn their place. In rare cases, travel is needed to find the answer.”

  “It sucks that he came so close.”

  “Yes.”

  That was the last we spoke of the sphinx.

  Chapter 9 – Anchors Away

  Ivy and I fell into routine for the next months. Every day, as I walked through the city to my boat, I saw more of the surrounding island come to life. Terrace after terrace turned from black to green in a slow, but steady climb up and away from the city. When I took the time to notice, I was amazed by the transformation Ivy worked on our new homeland. If I blocked out the surrounding city with my hands, Knight’s Haven looked like a lush paradise.

  Building my boat during those warm summer days would have been pleasant, minus the pain in my hands.

  I followed Marielain’s plans to the letter with a single exception. The hull grew downward from the keel, as life climbed the slopes around me, one level at a time. Each pla
nk of wood met the next with a complex, interlocking joint. Thankfully, Marielain had left the specially shaped planes required for making those joints sitting out by the same workbench that the plans sat on. Each plank was also carved with symbols, the whole of which added simple, but important enchantments. Those enchantments encouraged the planks to stay tightly together and to flex instead of breaking.

  Every part of the process was made more difficult by the wood I was using. Ivy said that no ship or boat would be made from stahlwood because of the cost. I was sure another reason was its toughness. That wood was incredibly dense, and my testing confirmed that it barely floated, but steel didn’t float, and still made for good ships, so that wouldn’t be a problem. The problem was how hard it was to cut and shape the wood. Part of me cursed the wooden planks with each pitifully tiny curl the planes cut away, and part of me was excited by how indestructible my boat was sure to be. There’d probably be no icebergs in the harbour to bump into, but…

  ***

  When the hull was finished, I used a series of levers and empty crates wedged under one side to lift it up and tip it over. The partially finished boat was weighty, and it landed on the keel with a thunderous boom. There wasn’t even a tiny scratch. Next, I used parts of the framework to make a cradle and slowly stood the boat upright on its keel. I had no heavy equipment to assist me, and though the shop contained things like block and tackle, there was nowhere to tie anything to. Moving inch-by-inch with only levers and a basic understanding of physics, I managed the boat-flipping in two long, and sometimes nerve-wracking, days. I was ready to begin work on the inside of my boat.

  Another two months passed before the inside parts of the boat were finished. It wasn’t fancy and there was no cabin, but it looked identical to the plans, so I considered it a success. The only differences from Marielain’s design were a missing rudder which I’d built, but hadn’t attached, the empty bracket near the middle where a mast should have been, and a notch in the keel that his boat hadn’t included.

  The rudder would go on when the boat was in the water. No big deal. The mast, the notch, and a paint job were all that remained. Ivy came to help make the rock-hard pot of glue into paint and to assist me in painting the hull. I’d been so focused on my boat that it was the first day we’d spent together in months. We’d both been busy. I had a boat to show for my work, and Ivy had a semitropical paradise. She’d decided on royal blue for the boat’s colour, making the paint by adding crushed petals to the mix. I’d have been fine with anything except pink. Ivy had also made us wide paintbrushes from woven bundles of tough grass. They worked surprisingly well.

  It occurred to me as I painted that Ivy hadn’t blossomed into a non-green colour since the first time she’d gone red. After years of wishing to be any colour other than green it was a little strange that she never made use of the enchanted butterflies in her hair. I assumed Ivy was just tired from the work.

  When the boat was painted, we climbed up the makeshift ladder, sat together inside on the benches, and took a well-deserved break from our labours.

  “Jack?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How will this boat move without a sail?”

  “It’s a surprise,” I said. “If I can find the right tree, I’ll add a mast later, but I don’t really need it.”

  “Won’t this boat be slow, even with the two of us rowing?”

  “Super slow. It’ll probably take me another week to finish and float. Then, I’ll show you the surprise!”

  “I’ve been growing you a tree for the mast,” Ivy said.

  “Really, when will it be big enough?”

  I could have made a mast by laminating more boards and trimming them into a long cylinder. That seemed like way too much extra work.

  “Not for some months,” Ivy said. “Trees can be forced to grow faster, but the wood will be of poor quality.”

  “That’s awesome, thanks. I’ll add it later when it’s ready.”

  All I had left to do on land was attaching the motor. If you hadn’t already guessed, that was the purpose to which I planned to put the water pump. I lowered the boat onto one side, away from the shoreline, and spent the next day bracketing the iron tube into the notch in the keel. The notch stole a small amount of the pumping volume, but it made it impossible for the pump to free itself under water, leaving the boat stranded. I set my boat onto smooth planks, with a line of them running to the water. The harbour’s edge was a rock wall where ships had once moored. Huge iron cleats still ran along it, and I used pulleys from the shop and part of our vast supply of fancy rope to drag the boat across the planks. After a little prying at the edge, it was in the water. I felt a moment of fear as the boat splashed in. When it righted itself, I gave a little cheer. Then I tied it to the cleats and called it a day.

  ***

  “Ivy, are you interested in a lunchtime cruise on the harbour tomorrow?”

  “Is your boat finished?”

  “I have to attach the rudder in the morning, but that should be easy. Then it will be ready to go. Assuming that it all works the way I think it will.”

  “A lunch cruise would be lovely. Am I bringing the lunch?”

  I shrugged. I hadn’t given that any thought.

  “Do you mind?”

  “No. Will I be expected to paddle?”

  I shook my head.

  “I shall look forward to it then.”

  “Cool, I’ll bring the boat!”

  ***

  The rudder bolted into place without a problem, and I had a lazy morning spent floating on the boat. Ivy showed up at noon with a basket of food and climbed aboard. I hopped out to untie, and then hopped back in.

  “Ivy, can you use that oar to push us off at the front?”

  She did as I asked and the bow eased away from the wall. Ivy held up the oar in both hands.

  “You said I wouldn’t have to paddle,” she accused.

  “Those are for emergencies only,” I said. “Take a seat, and, if this works, enjoy the ride.”

  I grabbed hold of the tiller and activated one set of symbols on the pump. The boat didn’t move. At least, not so I could tell. I added a second set. Maybe we were easing forward, but it could have been the wind. Number three pushed us gently through the water. I steered the boat away from the wall and toward the centre of the harbour. The fourth set created a small wake at the front of the boat. We couldn’t have towed water-skiers, but we were definitely moving. Number five took us up to a proper cruising speed, and Ivy looked a little impressed. By the time I had all seven going she was screaming my name. I knocked it back down to five and the bow returned to the water with a splash. Ivy replied to my laughter with an angry scowl. It had probably been bumpier up front.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t think it’d go that fast.”

  “You’re an idiot, Jack” She was silent for a moment. “That was amazing. How does it work?”

  I explained about the pump and how I’d repurposed it. We were already halfway across the harbour.

  “Do you want to try driving it?”

  Ivy was hesitant until she had her hand on the tiller. Then it became clear that I wouldn’t get my new toy back for a while. A tentative loop of the harbour was followed by a request that I make it go faster. Ivy’s laughter, as she sped us back and forth, lifted a weight from my heart I hadn’t realised was there. It also made me realise how long it had been since I’d heard her laugh. When Ivy had enough, we stopped in the centre of the harbour and ate a floating picnic lunch.

  “Your boat is amazing,” Ivy said around a mouthful. “This must be the fastest boat in the world!”

  “Maybe.” I had no idea. “I guess the good thing about that is if visitors at the gate turn out to be unfriendly, I’ll be able to get away and back inside, no problem.”

  Ivy nodded. Then she gave me a serious look that I couldn’t read.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “I’ve missed you. Now that your boat is finish
ed, perhaps we can spend more time together?”

  Helping Mr. Ryan aside, spending time with Ivy was the main reason I’d come to Knight’s Haven.

  “Definitely,” I said. “Starting now.”

  Chapter 10 – New Neighbours

  We had a wonderful time out on the water, enjoying the sunshine and each other’s company. I saw Three dancing around at my makeshift boatyard well before we’d made it back. I docked us with only a little bumping, and we tied up again. Three was extremely agitated about something, but figuring out what was beyond me. Luckily, Ivy had been spending her days with him, and she was a lot more perceptive to begin with.

  “He wants us to follow him,” she said.

  “You can tell that from that?”

  “Yes, it must be important.”

  Three led us back up to our home. When he cut into the workshop, my suspicions grew. Two shouted out when she saw us coming.

  “Master, a ship!”

  I shared a glance with Ivy, and we hurried across the workshop.

  “There’s a ship outside?” I asked.

  “Yes, Master, it arrived several hours ago.”

  There’d been no way to inform us out in the middle of the harbour, and a slow response time wasn’t something I’d considered when coming up with the system. I set Two on the ground, moved the box she’d spent the last months standing on, and spoke into the tube. It had been weeks since I’d spoken to One.

  “One, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “What’s going on over there?”

  “A ship arrived at midday, Master. They lowered a smaller boat, which came to examine the gates, before returning to the ship. Since then they have sailed in a slow circle and sounded a horn every few minutes.”

  We’d heard nothing in the harbour.

  “Can you tell what kind of ship it is or who it might be?” I asked.

  “It’s a Valaneese merchant ship, Master, but it’s flying the Order’s banner.”