The Hag of Calix

by Rod Fisher

  Chapter Twelve

  AS THEIR THIRD day at sea wore on, Felic's searching looks to the northwest became more frequent. Chessa, rarely out of his sight since her wrestle with Bargonast, watched the little furrows of worry grow deeper on his brow. She came to stand beside him at the steering oar.

  "Do you look for the smoke, Felic"

  "Yes."

  "Does it matter so much that you don't see it?"

  "Very much. We have had good wind through last night and today. It should be there. I can't understand it."

  "Perhaps the mountain does not smoke every day."

  Felic looked at her as though the thought had not occurred to him. "Always before it has smoked," he said. "Perhaps you are right. Maybe its fires have gone out."

  Queen Gwenay, brushing her hair by the stern lantern, interrupted. "It always smokes. It is an active volcano." Her tone closed the subject. "And Felic, I suppose you will tell us we are lost," she continued. When Felic didn't answer immediately, she pressed the question. "Well...tell us. If we are lost, tell us!"

  "We are not lost," he replied quietly. "We are...well, we are not where we should be."

  "Wonderful. I feel much better." Her tone was sarcastic.

  "I mean we are probably farther south than I reckoned. I think we are far enough west to see the smoke, but it may be necessary to go further north. I will keep the yacht on this tack until tonight, and then, if there is still no sign and no wind shift, we shall take the opposite tack and head northeast during the night. That way we will not pass the islands in the dark."

  Chessa looked worried. "What if we do miss the islands, Felic?"

  "Yes, captain," Gwenay added, "tell her where we will be if your navigation is faulty."

  Felic's jaws tightened at the mockery in the queen's voice, but his voice was calm. "Beyond the Maijads...no one knows. It is the unknown. No ship has ever returned."

  His statement seemed to frighten Chessa, but Gwenay turned away with a contemptuous snort. She gave Chessa orders concerning the evening meal and went below. Bargonast was waiting in her cabin; he sat at the table paring dirty fingernails with a dagger. His rank odor filled the room. She paused at the foot of the steps. "Why are you in my royal quarters without permission? Get out!"

  He looked up, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Come in queen."

  Gwenay's face reddened. "Get out of here at once!"

  "Don't waste your royal anger on me. I'm not impressed."

  "I refuse to be addressed in this manner."

  "Sit down and forget your act," his tone was threatening, "I want to have a friendly talk."

  "I am not interested in talking with you--friendly or otherwise!"

  "Well now ...perhaps you are forgetting who saved you from the fat priest. It was only three nights ago."

  Gwenay sat opposite him, still stiffly formal. "All right. What is it? Get to the point."

  Bargonast reached across the table with surprising quickness and locked her wrist in a cruel grip. She tried to pull away, but he wrenched her toward him and thrust his face close to hers.

  "Now, queen, this is no pleasure trip for you is it? You go to the islands because of the Qalandor, am I right?" Gwenay stared at him in haughty contempt. She refused to answer.

  "Want to play dumb? All right. I don't need your answer. How else could an old crone like you stay young? How else but with the Qalandor stolen from the temple?"

  "You are stupid, Bargonast. The Dag-Arnaks still have their almighty Qalandor. They brag about it constantly."

  "Aha, Yes...they brag about it. If the people of Dagra thought it was gone they would overthrow the cursed Arnak family and massacre them all. They don't dare admit that it was stolen. But I have reasoned it out." Bargonast released her wrist and sat back smugly. "I watch the priests growing old. I see you; you defy time. And I remember another journey to the islands--the last journey for King Jult. It was during that time that all the trouble started. Why, Queen?"

  Gwenay's expression of disdain covered any reaction she felt to his words. She rubbed her bruised wrist and met Bargonast's eyes with a level gaze.

  "I can tell you why." Bargonast continued. "Because you had stolen the Qalandor, and the power struggle started. When Jult saw Dagra slipping into the hands of the priesthood's puppet, Prince Cot, he sent you to the safety of Calix. But after he was imprisoned and I rigged his escape...saving him, as you must remember from more of the torture chamber... then why did he go to the Maijad Islands instead of joining you? And while he was in the dungeons, why did the Dags torture him like a heretic peasant...until he was a bony shadow of a man?"

  Gwenay winced and hid her face in her hands. Bargonast ignored the impact of his words.

  "Why would they torture a king for so many days and nights?" he continued. "Even the Dag-Arnak would not keep it up for pleasure...not to those lengths. But they wanted something. And it was the Qalandor. They knew he had stolen it and hidden it."

  Gwenay dropped her hands and looked at Bargonast through a blur of tears. "Stop it," she pleaded, her voice hoarse and shaking, "I cannot stand to think of my poor Jult being treated like that. He was so gentle...noble...he was the only one who..." Her voice broke and she bowed her head and wept quietly.

  Bargonast rose and started for the companionway. With a second thought, he turned and, grabbing Gwenay under the chin, pulled her wet face up to his. "Just remember, you don't fool Bargonast. I know why you go to the islands. Ha, ha...so I am stupid, eh? Ha, ha." His laugh was sardonic. He went on deck and strolled about, very pleased with his triumph.

  The rest of the day on Sun-Eagle was a paradox of personalities. Felic, tense and worried by his navigational problem, was in bad humor and gave short answers. Bargonast, usually surly, capered and bantered in his heavy way. And Chessa found herself laughing with him at Felic's expense, which provoked a long period of silence from Felic. She tried to force him into conversation, but he answered in monosyllables and ignored her. The mood changed when Chessa sighted the volcano. She was admiring the sunset when she saw what looked like a tiny white stick connecting the horizon with a rosy cloud.

  "Felic! I see the smoke ...I think."

  Felic looked where she was pointing. It was the volcano. "It is the smoke," he answered, "and dead ahead. I was expecting it to be northwest or even north of us." He threw Chessa a kiss. "You are good luck, Pigeon. I was thinking of using you for shark bait, but perhaps I'll keep you around. Go tell the queen the good news."

  Gwenay responded by joining them on the quarterdeck. Her eyes were puffy but she was smiling. She placed her hand on Felic's arm. "I shall learn to place more confidence in your sea lore, my captain," she said. "You do seem to know what you are about and where you are sailing." She squeezed his arm with gentle pressure.

  Felic blushed like an adolescent at her compliment.

  The Sun-Eagle romped ahead. The good beam wind held steady through the night. Felic traded watches with Bargonast, and by morning they were only a few miles from the volcanic island. The second island in the string looked like the prow of a giant ship emerging from the haze to the northwest. As the curling mists of morning dissipated, the islands became more substantial and a third appeared as a violet smudge on the horizon to the north.

  The sun climbed higher in a cloudless sky and the heat, after a chill night, induced indolence in the yacht's crew. As they closed the distance to the island, they were awed by the majesty of its smoking cone and the verdant beauty of the rugged spurs that twisted into the ocean or broke

  abruptly in sheer cliffs of fractured rock.

  "Does anyone live here, Felic?" Chessa asked.

  "No, Pigeon. There are natives living on the other islands--a fierce fair-skinned and black-haired people." He eased off the helm to correct the luffing foresail. "This island is sacred to them; they avoid it when possible. They believe in the smoke god, Garan'l, who dwells in the volcano."

  "Do they fear the
volcano?"

  "Yes. They know that someday it will throw up the fires of the inner earth."

  "When will that happen?"

  "Maybe today."

  "Felic, you are making fun of me again," Chessa giggled. "It's a beautiful place and you know it."

  "No...it could happen anytime." Felic's expression was somber.

  "You are mean," she pouted, "It's not very pretty when you think about that happening."

  "Many things are pretty to look at, but are mean underneath."

  "You mean like you."

  "Oh, you think I'm pretty," Felic grinned.

  "No, mean. You just spoiled my beautiful island. What will you give me in return?" She gave him a playful pinch.

  "Ah, am I obligated to give you something in return?"

  "Yes, and I want it to be a surprise."

  Gwenay interrupted their banter. "We shall put Bargonast ashore in the bay ahead."

  Felic looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Is that his wish?"

  "No, it is mine. I wish to be rid of the lout. Our agreement was to take him to the islands. This is an island."

  Felic shrugged and altered course for the bay. As the Sun-Eagle slid into the shadow of the monumental cliffs guarding the entrance, the screeching of hundreds of gulls greeted them. The birds wheeled into the air in a white cloud and circled the yacht, squawking at the intruders. Bargonast, dozing in the waist, was awakened by the cacophony. He sat up and looked about. "Why do we put in here?" he called to the three figures on the quarterdeck.

  "This is where you get off!" Gwenay answered harshly.

  Bargonast gave her a dark look. He went below and came back with his few belongings and a sword from the armorer's chest. From the Isle of Cedars, the pinnace in which Bargonast and Gwenay escaped had been towed astern, tethered to the Sun Eagle. Now, as Felic went forward to drop anchor, he ordered Bargonast to pull the pinnace alongside and load his gear into it. Felic watched while the anchor spun the chain into the water, waiting to be sure it would grip the bottom. When the chain went taut and the yacht started to swing into the breeze, Felic returned aft. He was about to join Bargonast in the pinnace, and had one leg over the rail when his descent was arrested by the point of Bargonast's sword, inches from his face.

  "I won't be needing you to take me ashore," the bearded man growled. "The queen would like to see me marooned here. Too bad she won't get her royal way." He sliced the bow line and pushed the two boats apart with the point of his sword.

  Gwenay, coming to the rail to indulge in some farewell derision, was surprised and angered to see Bargonast rowing away in the pinnace. "Felic, stop him! You can't let him steal that boat."

  Felic hesitated for a moment, a whimsical smile on his lips. "Why not?" he asked finally, "He stole it before."

  "Go after him. I want that boat back!"

  Felic ignored her command. She beat her clenched fists on the rail and released a low moan of frustration. "All right then. Get the anchor up and take us away from this place." She faced Felic, her beautiful features distorted with anger. "That man will cause trouble for us ...I know it with a certainty."

  "What makes you think so?"

  "He knows too much. He guessed why I was here."

  "He knows about the gem we seek?"

  "He thinks the entire Qalandor is hidden somewhere in the islands."

  "And he knows of its power," Felic stated quietly. "He is an ambitious scoundrel. You may be right to suspect him."

  "Of course I am right," Gwenay snapped, "I haven't lived more than a century without being able to read the thoughts of treacherous scum like him."

  They weighed anchor and tacked out of the bay. It was late afternoon when they rounded the last rampart of the island and set course to the northwest. Leaving the lee of the island they picked up a fresh breeze and the yacht frolicked ahead through the short waves.