Overland Quest

by D C Ware

  “It was Oxley, who when I was sore pressed by Tartoga’s toughest marines, came to my side with Bosun Rodrigo and many other good men who fell to relieve me. And then it was Oxley, who while Rodrigo and I put sword to the thickest of The Crimson Oars’ boarders, ran to the side of our beloved quartermaster, Lucretia and single handedly rescued her from Tartoga’s fiercest fighter ‘The Black M’fume’!” Captain Milan slapped Oxley across the back and the crew broke out into chants again “Haymaker, Haymaker, Haymaker!”

  “And not only did he rescue our dear Lucretia and protect our prized compass, he broke that black bastard’s arm in the process!” Captain Milan threw Oxley’s right arm up into the air and this time the crew went crazy with chanting “Haymaker” and “Oxley” and waving bandannas and swords! Captain Milan let them go on for a good while and then finally he waved for Lucretia to step forward.

  “Men, men! My sweet men of The Adamante!” Her civilized accent rang out over the roar of the crowd and the men quickly silenced.

  “What Captain Milan says is true! And I am so very proud of all of you! You fought well. Now as your quartermaster I would put the matter of a vote of advancing Haymaker from swabby to ‘mate’ to learn under our gunner, Bernard! What do you say my men!”

  “Aye, aye, aye, aye!!!!” The crew yelled their approval!

  Quartermaster Lucretia turned to Oxley pulled him to the front of the fore castle for all the men to see and then kissed him on the cheek. The entire crew burst into laughter and started clapping. Finally, Captain Milan stepped forward and raised his hand for silence. He shook Oxley’s hands and said congratulation and gestured for him and Lucretia to step down and join the entire crew on the spar deck.

  “As proud as I am of all of you, my brothers; I cannot downplay our loses this day. Eighteen of our brothers lay dead in port. Ten wounded to such an extent that they cannot sail and may not recover, among them my dear friend and my mother’s sister’s son, our bosun Rodrigo.” Milan paused and stood stern. A look of fierce anger covering his face. No one spoke.

  Oxley looked around. With all the commotion over his actions he had only now noticed that the large bosun was no where to be seen. And neither was Arnold. Oxley had almost forgotten watching Arnold die at the hands of the one the Captain called ‘The Black M’fume’. Suddenly the reality of all of this was starting to catch up to Oxley again.

  “And when we do, they will taste true Zaftonian steel!!” Captain Milan’s words snapped Oxley back to life. Oxley had missed the first part of his speech but that last sentence had brought a roar from the crew that got his attention.

  “Now all hands to deck, baton down the hatches and make ready to sail. The Crimson Oar will be our prize or the sea will be our grave. But our brothers will be avenged!!”

  It was clear to even Oxley now. Captain Milan meant to chase down and try and take The Crimson Oar. They were setting sail on what would no doubt be a long and arduous voyage. And a dangerous one. And he had had a chance to escape thought Oxley. Even now, surely, with all the commotion he could slip away and not be noticed. Just then he looked up to the fore deck and caught eyes with Lucretia. She smiled at him. She had rejoined the Captain on the fore deck and was egging the men on. She looked down at Oxley and blew him a kiss.

  Oxley smiled. What did he have to escape from? What would he even go back to? Lifting bales of hay in Old Lady Marlow’s warehouse? Or to Maverick calling him an Ox? No. He finally realized he was already home. He was a member of the crew of The Adamante and he also wanted.. revenge!

  Midas put down the litter and rested. He had made poor time since getting Sir Ebros on the litter. The cloth and rags he had used to construct it were constantly loosening and he kept having to stop and re tighten them. Sir Ebros had even woke up once and rolled off of the litter in a panic thinking that Orcs were dragging him away.

  After replacing him in the litter and calming him enough to rest again Midas guessed he had only come another half mile before having to rest. What was worse was that the longer he pulled the knight and the litter the less strength he had to keep pulling it so he got even more tired and made even less progress.

  At last he had sat the litter down, covered the knight as best he could and stopped. He could see the last crossing of the river ahead about three quarters of a mile. If he pressed on at the rate he was traveling he would not reach it before dark. That would only make his problems worse. As it was he had still not worked out the best way to pull the litter across the ford. Pulling it from behind like he was doing only raised it about two and half feet off the ground. That was not high enough to pull it across the ford without dragging Sir Ebros’ head through the water and drowning him. Nor was he confident he could hold it up much higher and get across the entire length of the river at the ford which was some five hundred feet across. Presently his hope was that Sir Ebros would have enough strength by that time to at least hold his head up so that Midas did not have to over exert himself trying to hold the litter at waist or chest level. The idea of trying it at night was simply out of the question. So he had stopped.

  Boris had run off with all their provisions and the flint they had been using to start fires so he was going to have to try and remember how they showed him to do it at the monastery. But unlike their training in the Wooddam forest there was little or no suitable kindling on the grassy fields of the Overland Plains. He had stopped and gathered what little twigs and broken branches he passed but it was barely enough to fuel a fire for half an hour assuming he could get one started.

  As for food, he would have to hunt for it. To hope to find a rabbit caused him to suspect himself of vanity so he had settled on hoping to snare a possum or squirrel.

  Midas was untying the litter from the broken spear pieces when he heard a rustle of grass to his right. It was dusk and the grass extending in that direction rose up some three to four feet high. He had avoided it and the knobby hills that rose up in the midst of it when coming from the second river crossing with Sir Ebros. The path he took was the beaten path where continuous foot traffic had more or less carved out a pass through the thick grass. Oh it was in no way uniform or consistent and often you had to wade to the east or west through high grass just to pick it up again but it had definitely kept a hard task from being impossible.

  If someone was in the high grass to his east they were there because they did not want to be seen. Though they could undoubtedly see Midas and Sir Ebros from there. Fortunately for Midas the grass was not high enough for them to walk up on him and Sir Ebros unseen. The only way to move and remain unseen would be to crouch or crawl.

  Midas pulled one of the broken spear shafts out and held it at the guard. He had broken off as much of the sharp edges as he could when he made the litter so as not to cut himself but there was still enough of an edge to inflict a pretty good gouge on an opponent. And if all else failed he could use it as a club.

  Midas waited.

  “Calm yourself friend I mean you no harm.” The man stood up. He was clothed in full plate segmented armor. He had a longsword and looked to obviously know how to use it.

  “Why do you skulk through the weeds like a bandit, if you mean me no harm?” Midas asked still crouched with the spear shaft in his hand.

  “I would simply know who I am approaching before I reveal myself…monk!” The warrior pointed at Midas’ habit. The warrior was well built and clean shaven. His hair was cut low military style and he sported a goatee on his chin with no mustache. He was young but at least thirty.

  “Fair enough.” Midas said no longer willing to play the battle ready adventurer. “I could use your help with my friend, if you are willing. He is a knight of the land. He is wounded and I had hoped to cross the river before night fall.” Midas pointed to where Sir Ebros lay on his litter.

  “I saw that much before I revealed myself friend. I am Roland Tyran. What is your name friend?” The warrior approached Midas with his hand out.

  Midas shook it. “I am Midas. For
merly of the monastery. Presently I make for Kings Castle for news of the events of late.”

  “You mean news of the king being dead?”

  “Even so. Have you information on that?”

  “No. Other than just that. A rumor is about that he is dead.

  Midas looked at the warrior. Then thought.

  “Roland ‘Tyran’? You are the one they call the Taskmaster?” Midas’ eyes lit up and he stepped back to take the warrior in.

  “Even so monk. You have heard of me then?”

  “Indeed. It is said you will aid any on a quest provided they agree to return with you to where you met them when the quest is done. Is that not so?”

  Roland laughed.

  “That is the rumor monk…I mean Midas. The truth is I choose who I will aid whether they are on a quest or not. I only make them return me to where we met when I am unfamiliar with where they are taking me so I can continue on the way I was heading when we met.”

  “Very logical actually.” Midas said genuinely impressed. “Well, will you help me Taskmaster?”

  “Call me Roland and yes I will help you monk. Come let’s check on your friend. I have a few clean bandages and stringent to clean his wounds before we make for the river.”

  “Bandages and stringent. Truly you were sent by The One. The two of those may just keep him alive until we reach the chirurgeons at the castle.”

  “I would not say I was sent by The One monk, but I serve Him in my own way. Agreed.”

  “Agreed.”

  Midas led the legendary warrior to Sir Ebros. “Tell me Roland? How is that you came to be the Taskmaster? Oh, I do not mean how is that you came to be called the Taksmaster that is fairly apparent. But how is that you took up this endeavor to aid others?”

  “That is a long story my friend. And if we have time after we tend to your knight, I will tell it to you.”

  “Of course. Of course.”

  “And remember young lady, just ask for The Maker if you are ever in Futuretown!” Levi waved and was gone, melting into the crowd thronging the harbor.

  “Good bye Levi!” Lyla waved back, picked up her sack and looked around for Maverick. Her and Levi were two of the last to disembark from The Bread Cake and she was sure Maverick was one of the first.

  At last she spotted him at the end of the pier consuming what was probably his third ale from a vendor perfectly situated on the dock. She clumsily gathered her things, including some things she had purchased from The Maker of Many of Things during the voyage that she thought would sell well back in Milestill.

  As she trundled toward Maverick she tried to get his attention so that she could wave him over to give her a hand. Instead she was forced to get into a line in order to exit the pier. This meant she had to constantly sit her load down, gather it together, pick it back up and move ahead. Then do it all over again. After having repeated this process more or less five times (more or less because of the two times everything fell out of her arms) she presented herself to the constables at the end of the pier.

  “What is your business her today miss?”

  “I am looking for a friend?”

  “Have you ever visited Kings Harbor before?”

  “Not recently, no. Not since I was a child?”

  “How long do you plan on staying?”

  “Until I find my friend.”

  “What is your friend’s name?”

  “His name is Oxley. But sometimes we just call him Ox.”

  “Does your friend live in Kings Harbor?”

  “No. At least not that I know of that is. Of course he may live here now I mean. That is if he escaped from that ship he was forced onto.”

  “Ship? What’s the name of the ship?”

  “The Adamante.”

  No sooner had Lyla spoken the name of The Admante than two other constables nearby joined the one questioning her. They waved to one other constable who immediately released the passengers he was interviewing and came over as well.

  “Did you hear that Sergeant? The Admante. That’s the name of one of the ships that caused all that ruckus yesterday.”

  “I heard Arn. And did she say she was friends with one of the crew?”

  “Yes sir Sergeant, some bloke named Ox.”

  “That’s Oxley!” Lyla said, confused as to why the mention of the name of The Adamante and Oxley had brought the other constables over.

  “Well we better take her to the Harbor Master. He said to bring him anyone that had any news of either of those ships. And this is the first news we’ve had all day.”

  “Bring me?” Lyla said alarmed. She was just now starting to realize that this might be something serious. She looked for Maverick. He was no longer at the beer stall. Knowing him he had already made his way to a tavern to either get a bed or more to drink. She was alone.

  “Hey what’s going on?” It was Maverick. He had saw the constables converge on Lyla and made his way back to the end of the pier.

  “This is official business scallywag, now be on your way.” The sergeant said pointing Maverick away from the pier.

  “And this is my friend and I’m not leaving without her.” Maverick stood his ground.

  “Your friend, you say? So am I to take it you know of The Admante as well and the her friend Ox?”

  “First of all, it’s The Adamante not The Admante. And I know a lot more than her seeing I was aboard the ship and had business with it’s captain and she was not. And yes I know Ox as well. Though I don’t think he would consider me a friend.”

  “The Captain? Now exactly who would that be? A name?” The Sergeant gave a look to the other two constables who immediately put their hands on their swords and moved closer to Maverick.

  “You will get a name when you let her go. Otherwise you are going to get more than you bargained for if you draw those swords on me without cause.” Maverick took a step back and put himself between Lyla and the Constables.

  “There’s four of us Sergeant. Just give the word and we’ll run this scum through.” The shortest of the constables said.

  “Hold onto yer battle axe Ragnar,” the Sergeant said clearly mocking the diminutive constable whose name was not Ragnar. “If we ‘run him through’ as you say, how we will learn the name of the captain of the ship?”

  Ragnar had no reply.

  “I thought not.” The Sergeant turned back to Maverick. “Look son if we had orders to kill or arrest you I would have no problem drawing my sword on you and ordering my men to draw theirs as well. And what would be would be. But those aren’t my orders. I’m ordered to bring anyone with news of one of the two ships or their captains to the Harbor Master. And seeing you have both I have to bring you both to him.”

  “And if we refuse.” Maverick said.

  “Then I have orders to arrest you.”

  “Maverick! It’s OK. We came here to find out what happened to Oxley and obviously something has transpired here involving the ship he was on. So the way I see it we can gain as much information from this Harbor Master as he can gain from us.”

  Maverick looked at the Sergeant. He was old probably in his early fifties. Not strong or well built but solid nonetheless. He was obviously the veteran of many campaigns and had earned his rank in the Constables no doubt by dealing with fugitives equally, if not more, dangerous than Maverick.

  The Sergeant looked at Maverick. He was a well built kid. Not bulging with muscles but muscular. Judging by his stance and how he carried himself he had been trained to use the four feet of sword that hung at his side. If he wanted to fight his way out the Sergeant had no doubt the kid would cut down at least two, if not all three, of his men before the Sergeant got the best of him.

  “Ok.” Maverick said at last breaking the nervous silence. The Sergeant and the other constables took their hands off their swords.

  “But we keep our weapons.” Maverick looked back at Lyla. Her arms full. “And our…stuff.” He said at last.

  The Sergeant frowned and looked ha
rd at Maverick and said at last.

  “Fair enough. I never got any orders to confiscate your weapons…or stuff. Arn re-open the pier and tell the men we’re heading back to the station.”

  “Thank The One for that.” Said Arn waving to the fourth constable still holding up the other three lines. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Endings

  Friar Damian’s donkey cantered slowly behind the two donkeys ridden by the two Sons of Cain he brought with him. So far this excursion out of The Dark, as they called the Darkmens Domain, had been a lot less stimulating than he had expected. Other than a few arguments his men had not seen the battle or combat he had promised them that they would find in the greater Overland, as these parts were called by those in The Dark.

  To be fair, The Lady had never promised any battle or combat, indeed all she said when she requested his escort was that ‘there were things she needed to see for herself in the greater Overland’. That was enough of course because she was The Lady, the Keeper of The Oracle of the One and Guardian Avatar of The Five Weapons of Power. Him and his mens’ devotion to her was absolute. It was not for him to question her comings and goings. If she needed to see something then they would take her to see it, be it in the greater Overland or in the heart of the cursed continent of Boll-Gar the domain of The Dark Harbinger himself.

  But Friar Damian did not trust the minions of the Wizard Morcai though he knew little about the wizard. When Damian left the greater Overland the one they call Morcai was called Matthew and he was little more than a gifted monk with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Now people in the greater Overland whispered his name like he was one of The Fallen. Sir Dubois was different. That was apparent to Friar Damian. He worked for Morcai but he did not ‘serve’ him, Damian could sense that much. Heymann, The Oathbreaker, on the other hand would flay his own mother if the wizard told him to. Damian was glad he had been sent away. He took liberties with The Lady that Damian would have seen any other man ‘purged by fire and water’ for taking. But The Lady had made it clear that confrontations with the men of the wizard were to be avoided in all cases. In all cases save her life was what he had agreed to.