by F M Andrews
The next morning broke with a light sea fog rolling in and when Hexrick finally found himself looking down into the cove that sheltered the tiny village of Safehaven there was very little to see. The road just disappeared into a blanket of white. The surrounding hills gave the appearance of islands floating in a sea of cloud. If Safehaven was anything like the other fishing villages he had passed through along the coast, it would be a small collection of houses clinging to the hillsides, a market square and inn on the only piece of flat land, with a stone wharf leading out into the bay like a young child poking out their tongue.
He knew that the fishing boats would have left at first light so the harbour would be empty and there was no need to rush down. He dismounted and waited and watched as more and more of the land began to appear as the fog slowly cleared. By mid-morning the sun had finally won the battle and the obscuring mist had disappeared completely revealing a small sleepy village that looked exactly as he expected it would, even down to the stone pier jutting out into the sheltered bay.
Hexrick, sitting in the long grass that was rippling in the wind almost as if it were a reflection of the waves in the bay below, finally began to seriously think about how he was going to convince Lutex’s parents to let their son undertake the dangerous task they were asking of him. The knight had to admit to himself that he had been putting this problem aside during his journey; however, the time had arrived and he was going to have to grapple with it now.
Hexrick was not married, never seen the need, and as far as he knew he did not have any children. He also did not get to meet many children in his line of work and, as a consequence, he was not entirely sure how to approach this problem. In all his life he had found that the best way to get people to help you was to let them know all the facts and then let them decide. If they wanted to help it was because they believed in doing what was right and if they didn’t, he was better off without them. This situation was a bit different, as the whole of Feld was depending on a ten-turn-old boy making the right decision yet, Hexrick thought, shrugging his shoulders as if to fend off any unforeseen problems, he could think of no better way to convince Lutex and his parents that they should trust him than to tell them the truth. Decision made, he lay back with his hat over his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
He awoke with a start and after a quick glance at the sky calculated that it was about mid-afternoon. Scanning the ocean for any sign of the fishing fleet, he saw a dark bank of clouds racing across the sea towards him, pushing a cold wind before it. It was the wind that woke him and he shivered as he reached for his cloak. Glancing down into the harbour he was surprised to see that the entire fishing fleet had returned and a jumble of masts now rocked quietly along the stone pier. People had miraculously appeared and the deserted little village was now bustling with activity. A chain of helpers had formed down the length of the wharf and baskets loaded with fish were being passed from hand to hand up to the market green directly behind the sea wall. Gulls circled and dove, squabbling over scraps thrown over the boat sides; dogs ran around under everyone's feet chased by very young children squealing in delight.
Hexrick studied the fleet wondering which boat Lutex’s family owned but quickly decided that it was impossible to guess. He whistled to Tilda who was just a small dot in the distance. “Time to make an impression, I think,” he said to himself as he fished his royal tabard out of his saddle bag. His helmet, always polished to a gleaming hue, was in its usual place on its hook on his saddle but he took the cloth that protected it from the weather off.
“How do I look, Tilda?” he asked, buckling on his sword. “Think they will believe the King sent me?” Tilda gently nuzzled his hand looking for any treat that he may have produced from rummaging in the saddle bags and, finding none, gave him a reproachful look, lowered her head and resumed grazing.
He rode slowly down to the bay, passing stone cottages that looked like they were growing out of the hillside, past nets strung out to dry or mend, scattering chickens and goats as he went. The wind was definitely picking up now, tugging at the hem of his cloak and the lowering clouds appeared even darker and closer. Thankfully he would have a warm bed at the inn tonight. It would not be good to be out on the exposed cliff tops in this coming storm.
Rounding the last bend he came into view of the bustling wharf and it wasn’t long before his presence was noticed. All activity stopped and everyone turned and stared. Hexrick dismounted and strode forward, trying to look confident without being imposing.
“Greetings,” he called. There was a few mumbled replies but on the whole, he was only met with open mouths. “Please, don’t let me hold you up,” he gestured at the approaching storm. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Still no one moved.
Hexrick could see that this was not going well, so he decided to take action and, spying a full basket of fish, he strode purposely towards it. The villagers kept a wary eye on him as he made his way up the pier, It was as if he was a mythical beast that, had suddenly appeared in their midst.
The boats were surging as the swells pushed up by the approaching storm ground them into the pie. Ropes creaked, timbers groaned and the gathering wind sang through the rigging. A small boy with eyes the size of coins gazed up at him, enthralled. Hexrick smiled at him which, unfortunately, rather than reassuring him, obviously only succeeded in scaring him even more. The small mop-haired child blinked, took a step backwards, tripped over a rope and fell down between a swinging boat and the unforgiving stone pier.
It all happened so quickly. Hexrick had no time to think. Already the next swell was swarming along the pier and when it reached the spot where the boy had fallen the boat would surely crush the child against the barnacle-encrusted stone.
Taking two large strides he crossed the distance, flung himself down and reached out towards the tiny body bobbing in the water below. But it was too far below, too far for Hexrick to reach no matter what he did. All he could do was watch. A small mercy was that the child appeared to be treading water, something they obviously learned to do from a very early age around here, but there was no way he would be able to swim away from the surging boat in time. The only option Hexrick had left was to try and hold the boat away from the pier for as long as possible.
Bracing his legs on a rail, he stretched out his arms just as the wave lifted the boat and pushed it inexorably towards the boy. Hexrick had never underestimated the power of nature and he was not sure if he would be strong enough to save the boy, but he had to try. At first, when he connected with the rough side of the vessel it was absurdly gentle but as the swell built the pressure became more and more intense. His legs began to shake and he felt his arms being pushed back into his shoulders. He locked his elbows and gritted his teeth. Peering down he could see the boy’s terrified face looking up as the sheer side of the boat loomed closer and closer. Hexrick could feel veins bulging in his neck and he was sure his face had turned a dark shade of red. The pressure was becoming unbearable but the worst thing was that he could feel his elbows and knees physically giving way and he had no control over that. Inevitably the pressure kept mounting. Surely the wave didn’t take this long to pass. His whole body was now shaking with the strain and the only thing stopping him from collapsing was sheer bloody mindedness. He was not going to give up now.
Suddenly the pressure ceased. The boat disappeared and he was left pushing against thin air. It was so instantaneous and unexpected that he overbalanced and tumbled into the water, where he immediately began to sink. With fumbling fingers he struggled to unbuckle his sword belt and letting it fall away to the sea bed, he kicked towards the light. He surfaced gasping, desperately trying to locate both the boat and the pier.
The first thing he noticed was that the boat was now being held away by several sturdy planks, possibly oars, and the second thing was that a very wet little boy was being deposited into his worried mother’s arms by a man who still had a rope tied to his leg. The villagers had not stood idly by as he attempte
d to save the child but had rallied into action immediately and had come to both their rescue. A rope snaked down towards him and once he had put his foot in the loop in the end several villagers hauled him, flopping and gasping like a landed fish onto the pier.
He sat up, glad that everyone was alright. He would have to retrieve his sword later even though he knew that it would take many nights of carful polishing to undo the damage that the salt water would inflict. It [CL15]was a small price to pay really, as he was now surrounded by people offering help and smiling, the incident obviously breaking down the invisible barrier of suspicion that had separated them.
That evening, sitting in the inn in dry clothes, a warm, hearty fish stew and a tall glass of beer in front of him, surrounded with smiling faces, he felt very welcome and content. Everyone had thanked him and several had come up to shake his hand with genuine gratitude painted across their faces. One young man had returned his sword, reverently handing it over then and leaving without saying a word.
The boats had been taken out into the bay and anchored and the catch stored in the big stone warehouse before the worst of the storm had hit and now everyone was relaxing, enjoying the news Hexrick told as the torrential rain sluiced down outside. There was a real feeling of camaraderie as he ate his supper. He was just mopping up the last of the delicious stew when a large man with a rugged, wind-burnt face sat down opposite him.
“Well, well, we don’t get many knights passing through our little village. What brings ye here?” he asked before taking a long drink from his tankard. It was the question Hexrick had been avoiding for as long as he possible. He eyed the man up and down and decided that he looked like someone who could be trusted. “I am here on royal business. I am seeking the parents of Lutex.”
“Are ye now? And why would ye want to speak to them for?” The man’s smile was still there but there was ice behind the eyes now.
“As I said, it is royal business and between his parents and myself.” Hexrick tried to sound as friendly as he could while being as blunt as was necessary.
“They are good people, a good family, and if any mischief was to happen to any of them, you will have to answer to me…” He let the threat hang before deliberately placing his tankard on the table, leaning forward and glaring into Hexrick’s eyes. “Just so ye know where we stand.” Hexrick returned the stare and nodded once. The man relaxed back into his chair, causing it to creak alarmingly.
“Good, glad we understand each other. Ye will find Rontex and Nesatex in the second cottage on the left as you head up the hill. Ye can’t miss it, it has a red door. But if you want to talk to them ye better go now as they will be away at first light. I don’t think this weather will hang around long. ‘Arrive in a hurry leave in a hurry’ is the old weather proverb around these parts,” he proclaimed, then leaning forward once more he offered. “I can take ye if you like.”
“No, no thanks. I think it will be better if I go alone. No offence intended,” Hexrick added hastily as the man's face fell.
Upending his beer — he had a rule never to waste good beer — Hexrick grabbed his cloak and made for the door.
The night outside was bitter, rain lanced painfully into his face and the icy wind froze his hands within moments. Clutching his cloak tightly around him he made his way up the road to the house with the red door.
It took a while for his knock to be heard as he had to compete with banging shutters and loud gusts swirling around the eaves, but eventually the door opened a crack and warm candle light streamed out, illuminating needles of driving rain. A small face peered out.
“Hello,” Hexrick arranged his own face into what he hoped was a warm smile, “can I please speak with your mother or father?”
The child nodded and promptly closed the door.
Hexrick was just wondering what to do next when the door was once again opened, revealing a tired-faced woman wiping her hands on a cloth.
“Sorry,” she sighed, “Nytex hasn’t seen many strangers before,” she said, absently ruffling the small child's hair affectionately. “You are the knight that saved Pitex today, aren't you? Please come in.”
The room was warm but crowded. A pot bubbled over the fire and a delicious smell of herbed fish stew permeated everything. Two older children were washing and drying pottery plates and cups over to one side of the room, a group of younger children sat up in a shared bed in an alcove off to the other side, whilst two young men seated by the fire paused in a game of pands.
The small child who answered the door clung to his mother's skirts and a baby was being rocked by an older girl in a beautifully carved rocking chair. Lutex’s father, Rantex, was sitting at the table carving what looked to be a wooden pulley wheel. All eyes were turned towards Hexrick expectantly and once again he found himself to be the centre of attention.
“Sorry to come unannounced,” he said, looking around at everyone. “But I would humbly ask if I could speak with you tonight about something that is of vital importance to Feld?”
“Where are my manners? Please sit.” The mother flustered around, clearing a chair at the table. “Can I get you anything to drink? Beer?” she asked with a shy smile.
“Yes. Thank you. That’ll do nicely,” Hexrick replied as he unbuckled his cloak that he noticed, embarrassingly, was making a puddle on the floor. A young girl of about twelve turns held out her arms for it. “Thank you,” Hexrick murmured as passed it to her and then sat down. Rantex placed the knife on the table in front of him and leaned back regarding Hexrick as if he were some strange sea creature he had just pulled up in his nets.
“Well, this will be something to tell the Grandchildren, won’t it, that we had a real live knight sitting at our table. But I’m guessing you haven’t come here for our fine food and charming company?” He delivered the question with a straight face but the twinkle in his eye took the sting out of the words. Hexrick relaxed, he was used to dealing with men who just wanted to get the job done. He much preferred to get to the point than dance a merry dance of words.
Reaching into his pocket he retrieved the letter Salassan had written to the parents, outlining the situation and a request that Lutex be placed in Hexrick’s care for the time it takes to achieve the mission. Carefully unfolding the parchment and smoothing out the creases he passed it across to Rantex.
Lutex’s mother Nesatex handed Hexrick a cup of foaming beer and sat down beside her husband.
Apart from the crackle of the fire and the buffeting of the storm, the room was absolutely silent as Rantex quietly read the words that would change his young son's life forever.
Trying to judge this man’s reactions by reading his expressions proved useless. His weathered face remained the same right to the end before, puffing out his cheeks with an explosive sigh, he passed the letter to his wife, all the time keeping eye contact with Hexrick.
“Not much to say to that really, is there?” he stated. Then slowly picking up his knife and running his thumb along its edge he added, “I suppose I can trust you, after all you did rescue Pitex, but if anything happens to my son, if he is hurt in any way, I will come looking for you!” he said in a quiet, very intimidating voice. There was no doubt in Hexrick’s mind that this was not an idle threat. The fact that he would threaten a Royal Knight if his son was hurt spoke of a courageous and loving father and Hexrick was once again humbled by the task he had been given.
Lutex’s mother’s hands began to shake as she read the letter and by the time she was finished, silent tears were tracking down her cheeks. Lowering the parchment she looked up at Hexrick with pleading eyes. “But he is only ten turns old. He has never even been to the next village and now you want to take him to the other side of Feld, and,” she paused to hold up the letter, “onto another place entirely. How could he possibly help?”
Hexrick’s throat constricted and his heart cried out in sympathy. He was trapped in an impossible situation. Feld needed Lutex but so did his family. Such a big responsibility for such a yo
ung child.
Hexrick had analysed all the children when he had entered yet he was still not sure which one was Lutex; to be honest, they all looked quite similar, with blue eyes, a thatch of straw-coloured hair and a smattering of freckles across the nose. It was clear that Lutex’s parents did not want to involve him at this stage. Maybe they thought it better if they talk to him themselves once they had all the facts.
“I will tell you everything but it is information that should go no further than this room,” Hexrick replied looking meaningfully around the room at the other children.
Lutex’s parents nodded. “We are a close family and if it is the best for Lutex that we keep silent, then nothing that is said here tonight will leave this house,” Rantex stated solemnly.
And so Hexrick explained about the trolls, how precious the boundary really is and how the situation is only going to become more dangerous if nothing is done. He explained about Errin and how she would never place anyone in danger if she had an alternative. How special Lutex is and how they all wished he would have been allowed to grow older before he was needed, they were just running out of time. When he finally came to an end, he could tell by their faces that although this still did not sit easy with them they could see that their son would be well looked after and that he did, indeed have a very important role to play in the safety of them all, and a look of resignation came into their eyes.
Nesatex had shed all her tears and now she sat huddled into herself, shoulders hunched and head down, looking at her clasped hands before her on the table top. But she was the first to speak.
“If you can promise to look after him as if he were your own and if you can promise me you will bring him back to us as soon as this is all over,” she whispered raising her eyes to his, piercing his heart, “I will give my consent, but only if he himself is willing to go.”
