Chapter 2–The Thirsty Dolphin (7162)
They next
morning they went down to the beach from the camp and discovered two more dead
bodies that they took over to where the corpse of Crab-pie was being kept. It
was then decided that some of them should go inland while the others checked
the beach again for survivors, bodies and anything useful that might wash up.
Ghene and
Meggelaine went inland a little, to scout out the terrain, whileRoztov, Floran
and the sailors scoured the beach and rocks.Roztov waded into the water and
disappeared into the mist. He was going to swim around the remains of the ship
to gather up what he could find of everyone's possessions. Meanwhile Floran,
Salveri and the others set to searching the shore.
Salveri was
a man of over forty years and had been at sea for twenty of them. The last five
of those had been on the ship that now lay in pieces somewhere out there in the
mist shrouded rocks. Up until now the captain had kept a fairly steady run
between the mainland ports of Tullis, Gijon and Port Angel, and the islands of
Elbonia and Borland, with the occasional runs out as far as Grenos and Pendoria.
When the druids had turned up though with their strange eastern gold coins, the
captain's avarice had won over his common sense and in the end killed him.
The ‘Red
Maiden’ had been a fine ocean going vessel and if it were not for his own
suffering he would have mourned her loss more. He cursed the captain, for his
stupidity and harboured ill-will towards the druids and their companions.
People like that always came out on top, with their magic and their gold, while
the regular man suffered.
He was here
looking for the body of his nephew now, though he would see it as a miracle if
the lad still lived. He had promised his sister that he would look after him
and he had, but what chance did he stand when the captain had decided to sail
off the charts? Only three survivors from the crew, four if you counted that
wretch Dreggen. Not one of the passengers had even been injured, it was a
disgrace.
The druid
had walked straight into the sea and had not been seen for the rest of the day.
Tankle had told him the night before that she had been pulled out of the water
by a dolphin and Salveri supposed that that had been Roztov. He knew that
druids of the old forests could shapeshift, but had never met one.
Meanwhile he
and the Fiarkian they called Tuppence, but whose name was Floran, marched up
and down the fog shrouded beach looking for bodies. Arrin and Dreggen had gone
in the opposite direction.Salveri didn’t have much time for Fiarkians. He
hadn’t met many, but the dark man’s outlandish appearance was off putting.
Floran’s skin was a deep dark brown in colour and he was bedecked in more gold
and jewellery than a Lunarian tart.
‘I see
another one,’ said Floran as they negotiated their way around some rocks.
It was
another dead body, the third they had found today. Salveri turned it over, both
hoping and dreading to find his nephew, but it was not. The body was badly
burnt, but it was obviously a much bigger and older man.
‘It’s
Gredeger, one of the midshipmen,’ he said.
‘He appears
to be dead. We should drag him back to the others.’
As the day
wore on Salveri’s stomach began to rumble. He had not eaten since the night
before. This early in the year and this far north it was not long before it
would be getting dark. They had gone about a mile further along the beach,
cautiously, staying under the cover of the trees, but in the end Salveri didn’t
see much point in going any further.
‘We should
head back, my lord.’
‘Yes. I
expect so.’
When they
returned to the rough area of the wreck, Salveri saw that there were several
more bodies that had been retrieved from the sea and hidden in the trees. He
went over to identify them. Almost straight away he recognised Caran, his
nephew, from his boots and as he began to sob he fell to his knees.
He stroked
the lad’s curly black hair saying, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’
His heart
broke for his sister as she had lost her only son. Salveri had never married
and had fathered no children, to his knowledge, so looking after Caran had
taken on a special meaning to him. He had been a sullen sort of lad, like
Salveri's sister who was a tough woman. Caran was not wicked in any way, but
Salveri had found him hard to talk to, they had never found something to
connect over. The lad had somewhat resented being sent to sea, but his father
could think of nothing better to do with him and Caran had been too
unimaginative to think of anything to do for himself. When he had first joined
the ship they had not had much time for each other. If Salveri had a son, he
would have wanted him more quick witted and ambitious. Initially his impression
of Caran had been of a sour, oafish ingrate, but it had mellowed over time.
Over the last few months they had warmed to each other, neither of them were
particularly unpleasant people and as Caran learned how to be a sailor he had
found something that he was good at and enjoyed. The last time they had conversed
was the first time that Caran had come to speak to Salveri about something
other than work. The conversation had started about their current journey and had
led Caran to ask about older voyages and the lad had sat patiently while
Salveri had trotted out some of his old stories. Salveri had gone to bed with a
smile on his face that night, thinking that he was finally befriending his
nephew. Now the poor boy was dead and Salveri would have to find words to say
to his sister, if he ever saw her again.
There were
twelve bodies recovered from the wreck of the Red Maiden.
‘Burning
them could draw the dragon back, so we’d better bury them,' said Roztov.
As the
others carried the corpses to the designated spot Roztov stood with his hands
clasped and his eyes closed. Once the bodies were all laid down together the
druid began to chant under his breath, his eyes still shut, but his eyelids
flickering.
Salveri watched
in utter amazement as the druidheld out his hands with the palms up, then moved
them out and to the side like a man swimming. As he did this the ground opened
up with a groaning sound. Roots and rocks all rolled to the side and in an
instant there was a pit fully ten foot deep and wide before them.
The earth
shifted beneath the bodies and they gently rolled into the hole, all the time
Roztov muttering, with his hands raised and his eyes shut. Roztov brought his
hands together once more, the earth shivered and the ground seemed to swallow
up the bodies as if it were a living thing. Salveri shuddered and stepped back.
Roztov
opened his eyes and rubbed his hands on his sides.
'Well,
that's that done then,' and walked off.
Salveri had
expected some sort of ceremony and looked around to see what the others were
doing.
Floran
turned to him and said, 'The druids of the Great Forest are not religious
people, my friend. Do not mistake them for priests of Etruna that come and
bless the crops in the summer.'
'I've heard
him invoke her name before now.'
'Truly, they
will invoke her name. Put it this way, you will invoke the name of Blimaron
before a sea voyage but this does not make you one of the blue priests does
it?'
'I see,'
said Salveri. 'Then forgive my ignorance, but what precisely are druids?'
Floran
smiled, 'I am perhaps not the best person to ask. I have known them all years,
so I know if you were to ask each of them you would get a different answer from
each. Ghene would say that they are the enchanters
and wise men of the Dynar, an ancient race of elves from a time before the
Marawan Empire. Meg is a fressle, it is said that they were created by Etruna
and the druids of her region know next to nothing of the Dynar. Those of the
fressle that become druids, well, they see themselves as those that Etruna
chooses to bless with magical powers for her own purpose. To them druids are
custodians of the wilds and guardians of nature as well as protectors of all
their peoples. Meanwhile, Roztov follows the human tradition of druidism which
is diplomacy, peacemaking and if need be, war-making. Like all men he is
perhaps less keen to acknowledge that his powers are a gift from the gods.'
'You are not
a man, my lord?' asked Salveri eying Floran warily.
'My people
are what men once were, before they wandered out of Fiarka. I am ugari. My
people think of themselves as more than mere men. If you were to say that we
have an overinflated opinion of ourselves I would agree.'
'I see,’
replied Salveri. ‘And are you a druid also?'
Floran smiled
and bowed his head, 'I am not. I am of the Vizards of Heshmatiye.’
Salveri was
beginning to sense that Floran was a shy sort of fellow. His accent was not thick,
it was that he spoke Enttish so carefully and precisely that clearly marked him
as a non-native speaker. He had noticed that Roztov and Meggelaine spoke in
Stykian when they were alone together, but otherwise everyone stuck to Enttish,
the common tongue of Nillamandor.
‘I’m sorry,
my lord. I do not mean to pry.’
‘Not at all,
my friend,’ replied Floran with genuine concern. ‘We of Heshmatiye are scholars
of magic. Magic in its purest form you could say. I greatly admire the druids,
they have immense power. If I was to compare them to the Vizards I would say we
attempt to be unfettered by outside influences, be they gods or devils. I’m
sorry, I am putting this too simply perhaps?’
‘No, no, my
lord. Simple is good.’
As they had
been talking they had walked back to the camp. Most of the survivors were also
there and enough supplies and equipment had been salvaged from the wreck to
cook up a decent dinner. Salveri and Floran joined the others and ate.
The rest of
the day was spent gathering up things that had washed up from the wreck. Just
as it was getting dark, by some miracle, another woman was pulled from the sea.
She had only one breath of life left in her when she was found. The druids ran
down to the beach where Salveri was dragging her out. He thought her dead.
‘It’s the
captain’s daughter poor thing,’ Salveri said. There was distaste in his voice.
She was horrifically burned and half naked. Most of her face was a mass of red
and black burns, there was barely anything left of her that looked human.
She made a
choking noise as she was dragged up the sand, enough to make Salveri drop her
in surprise. He then thought it was a death rattle and made to pick up her arm
again.
‘Wait,’ said
Roztov, kneeling down beside her.
He put his
hands on her bare chest and a murmured something Salveri didn’t understand.
‘She lives.’
Salveri bit
the knuckles of his right hand and said, ‘It would be kindness to put her out
of her misery would it not my lord? She must be suffering terribly and she is
so disfigured.’
‘You don’t
know much of druids then,’ said Meggelaine as she pushed him aside.
The three
druids knelt down and gently placed their hands on her body. Salveri watched in
amazement as faint blue light grew under their fingers and her skin began to
heal. Gradually the burns faded away completely and her eyes flickered open.
She coughed up sea water then tried to scream.
‘Be at
peace,’ said Meggelaine, stroking the girl’s bald head, the magic had not
recovered her hair.
She sat up
and tried to cover her breasts with the burnt rags of the remains of her dress.
Salveri, who had been standing there with his mouth hanging open, recovered his
senses and took off his coat. He then handed it down to Meggelaine who helped
the young lady cover herself with it.
‘Hello Ophess,
do you remember me?’ said Meggelaine, trying to gently get the girls attention.
Ophess sat
up and looked around. She put her hands to her face and neck, ‘It hurts. What
have you done to me?’
‘You were
hurt from the fire, dear.’
‘Where is my
father?’
Meggelaine
looked at the others, then back at Ophess. ‘We’ve not found him yet.’
Ophess
struggled to her feet, looked around in the mist. She took in the sand, the
rocks and the things from the ship that had been dragged up and hidden under
the trees.
Without any
warning at all she began to scream as loudly as she could and started running
along the beach. Meggelaine went after her, with Ghene not far behind.
Roztov and
Salveri, neither being inclined to join the chase, returned to the camp.
‘She’ll not
take the death of her father well my lord. She is highly strung.’
‘Does anyone
take the death of a parent well?’ said Roztov.
‘Well, it
was a blessing when my father died, he was a drunken old fool who spent every
penny my mother ever earned.’
‘Oh, I see.
Sorry. I never understood why she was on-board anyway.’
‘She wanted
to come and the captain could never deny her anything. He spoiled her.’
‘How old is
she?’
‘I think
twelve.’
They reached
the tree line and turned to see how things were going on the beach. From what
they could see through the mist, Meggelaine seemed to have calmed the girl
sufficiently enough to get her under cover, but they could still hear her
talking loudly in a shrill strangulated voice.
Roztov
scanned the sky and said, ‘I don’t see any dragons anyway.’
‘Her screams
would have been heard for miles around.’
‘I tell you
what, you go back to camp and get them ready for Ophess’s arrival. I’m going to
do a bit of scouting. This fog, it’s so thick, I’m interested to see how far up
it goes.’
Salveri was
about to ask how Roztov planned to do that, but then remembered he was talking
to a shape shifter. Just as that thought crossed his mind, Roztov clapped him
on the shoulder, nodded, then in the blink of an eye he was gone and there was
a seagull in his place. Then it too was gone, flying off into the mist. Salveri
stood in amazement for a moment or two, it had been a herring gull, just like
the ones you saw all along the west coast. He closed his mouth, licked his
dried lips, then turned and ducked into the forest, heading back to camp.
That
evening, it was agreed to move the camp further inland in the morning, staying
near the wreck of the ship any longer seemed folly. They had recovered enough
food, clothing and other supplies to last them for a few weeks at least. Long
enough, it was agreed, to set up a base, send out scouts and see if they could
find a way off the island. The next morning they packed everything up, buried
everything that they didn’t need right now or couldn’t carry and prepared to
set off.
Away from
the others the druids had a whispered conversation, Roztov and Ghene kneeling
so they could talk to Meggelaine at her level.
‘I’ll go at
the back of the line and watch our rear,’ said Roztov. ‘Keep going north for
about five miles I would say. The fog seems to clear after that. From what I
saw when I was flying about yesterday the island is ringed by it. It must be
magical in nature.’
‘Very well,’
nodded Ghene.
‘We will
reach some hills eventually, I didn’t see what was beyond them. Listen though,
there are no birds or very few anyway. Have you seen any nests or any other
signs?’
The other two
shook their heads, Meggelaine was tense and nervous.
‘I think the
dragons must kill anything else they see flying about. I felt really
conspicuous when I was up there all alone.’
‘Did you see
any dragons?’ said Meggelaine with a gulp.
Roztov
paused and rubbed his beard.
‘I won’t lie
to you Meg. I saw many dragons. All in the distance though. They seemed to be
hunting the forest.’
‘For us?’
whispered Meggelaine hoarsely.
‘I don’t
know. I don’t think so. I mean, the wreck can’t be that hard to find for a dragon,
even in the mist.’
‘Either way
we are safer inland,’ said Ghene, trying to comfort her.
‘Perhaps if
Ghene goes in front? And Meg, you can watch Ophess and the middle of the line.
I’ll go last and cover our tracks.’
There were
rarely leaders and followers amongst druids but Ghene and Meggelaine were happy
for Roztov to be gently taking control. He was the most travelled out of all of
them.
Ghene, then,
was first to leave the camp, followed by Broddor and Floran who were old
friends and used to travelling together. Next came the sailors, Salveri, Arrin
and Tankle. Then Meggelaine, keeping a watchful eye over Ophess who was still
skittish and finally Dreggen, keeping his own company.
Roztov
counted them off as they went, including himself there were ten survivors of
the wreck of the Red Maiden. He took up his place in the rear of the column and
used his druid magic and forest craft to conceal their passage in the choked
dark woods.
After five
miles of slow travel they did indeed find that the fog lifted. They walked on
another mile until the druids found a very good campsite next to a stream and
hidden in the shade of short overgrown cliff. The canopy of the forest was so
thick that virtually no sky was visible from the ground, but even so the druids
took no chances and used their magic to burrow a cave into the side of the rock
that went back about six yards and was wide enough to accommodate them all and
light a fire. The sailors watched on in awe as the druids worked their magic
and the rocks moved aside, flowing like water, to then form up in solid
formation again. They all felt compelled to run their hands across the smooth
stone surface. As they did so they whispered.
‘They are
mighty in magic,’ said Arrin quietly.
‘Yes, but
not mighty enough to save anyone else from the wreck than us three and Dreggen.
Notice that they all survived,’ grumbled Salveri.
‘What are
you saying?’ asked Tankle.
‘Just
that...’
Salveri
stopped talking as Roztov went past them, further into the recently formed cave
and started carving out a narrow passage at its rear. The sailors watched in
amazement once more as the rock flowed away from the druids hands like water
pushed back by the wind. He created the passage with a dog leg in it and a
small chamber at the end.
‘A dragon proof
chamber,’ he explained to them. ‘Where I hope their fire cannot penetrate.’
As it grew
dark they divided up the tasks and settled in for the night.
There were
rotroks in the stream and one was killed for dinner. It was made into turtle
soup, enough to feed everyone, boiled up in a pot on a fire in the cave. It was
cold outside, but warm around the camp, druids had a way of making places feel
comfortable, boughs had been cut to serve as couches and beds and Meg had found
myrtle and other plants that helped sweeten the air inside which would have
otherwise smelled of their unwashed bodies. There was plenty of other things to
eat in the forest besides rotroks if you knew where to look and the druids had
gathered in mushrooms, early blooming edible plants of various kinds, such as
sweet amaranth, snow asparagus, and crocus. The druids talked of other things
that would grow later in the year, such as pine nuts, lettuce, naraberries and
all manner of other things that they were sure would grow in the forest on this
island, but this was early spring and summer was still a long way off.
Still, the
camp was warm and there was enough food for everyone, so it was easy, then, to
forget the tribulations of the last two days and most were eager for sleep.
Roztov took
the first watch, and set himself up on a fallen log just outside the cave
entrance. There was not much to see from where he was sat, or indeed anywhere
around the cave, it was densely packed with undergrowth and besides, apart from
a few slivers of moonlight from above, it was pitch black. Roztov mainly used
his ears, listening to the nocturnal patterns of the forest, knowing
instinctually that all was well from what he heard. An owl, a fox, a vegetain
snoring somewhere in the distance, a badger or something similar, rooting about
for food, everything indicated a distinct lack of dragons.
Roztov
smiled and pulled his pipe from his pocket. It and most of his tobacco had been
recovered from the wreck, thank goodness. He had had the foresight to pack it in
a seal skin pouch. As he lit the pipe he glanced back into the cave.
Ghene was
asleep, Tuppence was curled up by the fire with his eyes open, and Meggelaine was
nodding off where she sat. The others were all arranged around the fire, he
assumed asleep.
He could
just make out Dreggen, as far back in the cave as he could get, wrapped up in
his robes. On the other side of the fire he could see Ophess, still awake,
breaking up twigs into small bits and tossing them into the flames one by one.
He turned
back to the darkness and puffed away on his pipe. Strawberry flavoured clouds
of smoke drifted from where he sat into the cave, drawn in by the fire.
His thoughts
wandered for a while, then drifted back to start of the journey, way back in
Tullis. Roztov always framed his thoughts in the form of fire side tales. He
imagined himself telling this story to his wife, his children, the locals back
in Ulrim and all his friends that came through to visit him in his house in
Angor.
This was far
from his first escapade of this nature. Back when he and Broddor, Ghene, Floran
and Meggelaine had been young, once the goblin situation had calmed down in his
homeland and not wanting to give up the life of adventure just yet, they had
set off north to Vegas and beyond. There were tribes of ice dwarves up there,
in the Lead Hills who were constantly at war with all manner of creatures.
Roztov had met his first necromancers in these lands, and had known real terror
for the first time. After that, they travelled south again when the Moon Marshes
were disputed lands and the king of Joppa was calling on everyone with a sword
or magic to help turn back the tide of undead. After the Moon Marshes it was
the Powder Plains, the Savage Lands and Ertia.
Eventually
though, their band which had numbered forty at its height was down to twenty.
Most were dead, some had taken their share of the treasure and retired. The
Battle at Bograt was the end, everyone went home after that. There was no fun
to be had in seeing your friends die, Ghene and Meg went to the great forest,
Floran returned to Hyadna and even Broddor went back to the Vale of Adders to
marry and do his duty to the king of Kardane.
Only Roztov
kept going, to a certain extent, and occasionally dragged Broddor out of
retirement. The wanderlust in him was too strong and even with a house, a wife
and a family he was always fighting the pull of the unknown.
So this was
not his first tight spot, or even his first encounter with dragons. In his head
he was telling his tale to his wife, at his fireside. Constructing it to suit
her ear, not too much danger (he’d add that back in when he told it to his
friends), a story tailored to the audience. The only thing that really made him
in any way tense about their situation was the presence of Ophess. If anything
happened to her, he and the others would feel terrible.
The sailors
too yes, but in a way he felt less responsibility for their welfare. He’d seen
plenty of death in his life, it was the way of the world, but he’d never had a
child die in his care. He was not sure how he would take it.
He put those
worries to one side and tried his best to form the retelling in his head of the
story so far. Like most tales of this
sort, it starts in a tavern. A tavern, named The Thirsty Dolphin, on the docks
of the port of Tullis.
It was early
in the year, the snow drops were blooming in the common and the city park. It
had been a mild winter and the flowers were early.
He had been
in the tavern a couple of days and had a room on the top floor, a decent room,
as he had so much gold and silver, from back in his days with the Kardane
Company.
He liked to
pay over the odds, when he was travelling, not to show off, or so he told
himself, but to distribute the wealth. Perhaps he felt guilty in some way, in
the blood that had been shed to gain the wealth he had, but mostly he liked the
fact that you got better service and food if you paid more. He enjoyed watching
the landlord eyeing him up, wondering how much he should try and fleece the
scruffy looking druid with the deep pockets. Whatever it was, Roztov always
paid, he had much more gold than he knew what to do with.
Though not
of the council, he was still a druid and all druids of Nillamandor respected
and honoured the elders of the Great Forest. When word had come tohis house in
Angor, he took his wife and two young daughters to his father’s estate in the
Vale of Adders to be looked after, then travelled to Tullis to see what all the
fuss was about.
On the
second day, as Roztov played dominos with one of the locals, a small figure he
recognised entered the tavern and shook the rain off her cloak.
‘Meg!’ he
declared and knelt down by the table to receive her hug.
Meggelaine
was a fressle and no more than three feet tall. She too was a powerful druid
and well regarded in the Great Forest.
‘Just you?’
he asked.
‘Ghene is
not here yet?’ she replied in her child-like voice.
‘Ah, he is
coming too?’
‘He’s
supposed to be. He had family things to arrange, he said. I thought I would be
the last one to arrive. What do you know about all this?’
Roztov
rubbed his beard, then said, ‘Only what you said in your letter. A trip across
the Diamond Sea, commissioned by the GFC.’
Meggelaine
thanked the landlord as he brought her a bowl of broth, bread and a tankard of
ale, then said,
‘Ale. My
word. I’ve not had that in a while.’
‘What do you
drink back at the Council?’
‘Elven wine.
I’m sick of the stuff.’
Meggelaine
took a long draught of the ale and then smacked her lips and rubbed her tummy.
‘That’s the ticket!’
‘The beer
here is good. Local. Not as good as Stykian stuff, but good.’
Meggelaine
put her hand on Roztov’s, ‘It’s so good to see you, sweetie.’
‘You too,’
he laid his other hand on hers. ‘It’s been too long.’
‘I’ve not
even met your daughters yet.’
Roztov laughed,
‘You always have an open invitation!’
‘I know, I
know, but you know - the Council.’
Meggelaine
shrugged off her cloak and hung it by the fireplace on the back of a chair. It
was mid day and the common room was not busy.
‘I can’t
believe it,’ Meggelaine wittered on. ‘Here we are again. When Lilly started
putting all this stuff together she thought of me. And when she thinks of me,
she thinks of you. And here we are. Off on some madcap adventure again. I can’t
believe it!’
‘How is
Lil?’ put in Roztov.
‘Still old
and grumpy. She doesn’t see why you have not joined the council. She feels a
little insulted I think.’
‘Well, not
insulted enough to not want my help.’
‘Oh, I’m
sure she’s much appreciative. I’m sure she, I mean, I’m sure she’ll appreciate
if you do help. You know how it is. She’s so old, she seems harsh to a lot of
people but she’s not really. If we knew a tenth of the things she knew. About
you know who, and all that sort of stuff. Well, no wonder her hair is white. I
don’t dare ask, I’ve enough on my plate without worrying about the undead in
the east. They sent out that maniac Festos a while ago. Oh well, that’s another
story, he sends his regards by the way...’
And so it
went on, they gossiped and compared notes well into the night, Meggelaine doing
most of the talking, drinking ale and getting cosy by the hearth. In the end
Meggelaine fell asleep and Roztov carried her upstairs and put her on the bed
in her room before retiring to his own.
The next day
Ghene arrived, by ship down the Dioti River. He was as sick as a dog and in no
mood for beer or food, but did manage to sit by the fire, wrapped in a blanket,
long enough to exchange greetings with his friends. He was a slight fellow, not
much taller than five feet with little in the way of meat on his bones. His
ears were pointed and his features delicate. He worse his black hair in a
ponytail and was clean shaven.
‘I got a
fever the second day on the boat. That combined with the sea sickness made the
entire journey miserable. Every time I venture into the lands of men I catch
something. You lot are a bunch of animals.’
Roztov
smiled and handed his friend a cup of fresh water. Ghene sniffed it.
‘I used
magic to break the fever. If I wasn’t a druid I’d probably be dead by now.’
‘But you
made it. You are here,’ stated Meggelaine.
‘I can’t
imagine what it’s going to be like when I get out into the actual sea. What a
nightmare this is going to be. Listen, we shall talk more on the subject of our
journey but first I must rest, I’ll be no use explaining things otherwise.’
Ghene went
upstairs to get some sleep and came down again for the evening meal. Roztov and
Meggelaine had not left the tavern all day.
Ghene joined
them, sitting down as close to the fire as he could get.
As they ate,
they talked.
‘So you two
are high up in the council now?’ asked Roztov.
‘Not really,’
shrugged Meggelaine.
‘High-ish,’
said Ghene.
Roztov
laughed.
‘Why the
drive west then? What’s out there that interests the GFC?’
‘Well, it’s
an old story, but Hanna.’
‘That old
saw. Surely the wise ones are not chasing old sailor stories?’
‘Well, new
evidence has come to light. It is thought to exist west of Pehque Island.’
‘You know
Pehque itself is a mythical island right?’
‘That’s why
we need you on this trip, insights like this are what we need,’ Ghene said with
sarcasm.
‘Well, thank
you, but from my point of view this sounds crazy. A voyage out into the
unknowns of the Diamond Sea, an area infamous for its many dangers, dreamed up
by the GFC, an organisation that meets in hall that is five hundred miles inland.
Do you see what I’m saying here?’
‘I see what
you are saying, but I have seen the evidence and it is compelling. Let’s not
say Pehque then. West of Grenos.’
‘Right, I
see. I can think of three other islands west of Grenos and none of them are
Hanna.’
Meggelaine
sat forward and chimed in, ‘I’ve not seen the evidence, but I trust Ghene on
this. Even if it is nothing - think of it! The mythical kingdom of Hanna. If we
could make contact with them it would change Nillamandor forever. Potentially even
bring back the Dynar.’
Roztov
sighed, it was politics like this that made him keep away from the council.
‘But where
would you put them? The kingdoms of man are spread all across the continent
now.’
‘The current
thinking is Lunaria,’ said Ghene into his ale.
‘I’m glad
you don’t have the nerve to do anything other than whisper that,’ snorted
Roztov.‘They may be war mongering savages, but they are still people. We saw
them in the Moon Marshes, they have women and children like everyone else.’
‘Well, why not
the Hook?’
Roztov
laughed, ‘Now I know your joking. I also like that you are happy to carve off a
portion of my homeland. Besides, it would be too small.’
Ghene,
trying to be as reasonable as possible, ‘But it used to be the centre of the
Dynar nation. It saddens me that the ruins of their cities are now nothing more
than warrens for tribes of goblins.’
‘Tribes of
goblins that have lived there for a thousand years. Tribes that it’s taken me,
personally, years to make peace with on behalf of Styke.’
‘Very well.
Gnarlwold then.’
Roztov put
down his drink and rubbed his eyes. ‘Have you been to Gnarlwold, do you know
what’s happening there?’
‘Surely you
are now not going to argue that the undead are “just people too”…?’
Meggelaine
cut off the rest of the conversation, ‘It doesn’t matter!’
‘Listen
Roztov,’ she went on. ‘Do it for the adventure only. Imagine being the ones
that find Hanna? The stuff of legends. If by some miracle it does exist and
that we do find it, we can leave what to do after that for a later discussion?’
‘Yes of
course. And if we do find them, then I should imagine that after a thousand
years they are probably fairly settled where they are. What else do you know of
how to get there?’
Ghene began
drawing a map on the table in spilled beer.
‘Apologies,
my charts are still in my baggage,’ said Ghene as he drew. ‘Well, from Grenos,
take a bearing from Port Shendy between the two rocks Mede and Boromad.
Continue straight from there until Pehque, then turn north and west.’
‘Hmm, that’s
into the area on most maps marked “Here Be Dragons”.’
‘Oh, you
know, they just put them on maps to decorate empty spaces.’
‘Says the
elf from a forest hundreds of miles inland. Those are dangerous seas in that
direction and there is a reason people don’t go there.’
Ghene put
his hands out, palm up. ‘But that is where we must go, if we are to find
Hanna.’
Once the
meal was finished, they went to their rooms upstairs and sat together by the guests’
communal fire.
‘So you will
come with us then Roztov?’ asked Meggelaine. ‘We have already chartered a
ship.’
‘Yes, I’ll
come. I’d better write a letter to my wife to not expect me home for a few
months. And on reflection I think I’ll send word to Broddor, I’d like him to
come along too.’
Meggelaine
seemed happy at this, but Ghene a little less so.
‘Why would
he want to come?’ he asked.
‘He wants
to. Said he was never satisfied that he’d gone far enough west in his life,
considering he had been as far as it is possible to go east, west and south.’
‘Nobody has
ever gone as far south as you can go!’ said Meggelaine with a laugh.
‘We did.’
‘When?’
‘Long after
you left the company, we took a ship to Al Hamdalla, and visited Tup’s home
town. We then sailed as far down the Ojumf as we could.’
‘Why?’
‘Why not?’
‘What did
you see?’
‘It was
pretty grim to be honest, the further down you go, the sandier it gets. There
are very impressive pyramids but they are full of undead. You know, there is
aRemomiancrusade going on down there, knights and soldiersfromFerron mainly,
hundreds of them, fighting for, well sort of, for Joppa.’
‘I’m
confused,’ said Meggelaine. ‘Joppa is that country nearVegas isn’t it?’
‘Oh right
yes. The Kingdom that wanted the Moon Marshes tamed, aye. There is also a place
called Joppa in Fiarka as well, though.’
‘I have heard
of it,’ put in Ghene. ‘It’s known as El-Joppa in the books I’ve read.’
‘Well, I
don’t know Roz,’ said Meggelaine, speaking more for Ghene than herself. ‘Maybe
it will feel a bit weird, back on another adventure with Broddor. He was our
leader. He never said anything bad to anyone when we disbanded, but you know,
it was a tense time. Also, he won’t be in charge, this is GFC funded, it’s
their voyage.’
‘I’m sure
he’ll understand that.’
‘I’m just
surprised that he would want to come with us, what with everything that’s
happened.’
‘I’ve not
thought about it too much, maybe he has his reasons. The reasons he gave me are
nonsense anyway, there is much more east of here we’ve not seen either, but
don’t tell him that. If he wants to come though, we should take him. He’s a
powerful warrior and he knows the region. He’s no sailor but he’s been there
before.’
‘He went
with you, when you went?’
‘Aye. Just
like this, it was some hare brained scheme to find a mythical island. It was
financed by a prince of Elbonia. He fancied himself as a great navigator, but
we mainly just sailed around in circles. The islands that we did see were
fascinating though, there were hundreds of species that I’d never seen before…’
From here
the conversation devolved into discussing the flora and fauna of the Diamond
Sea, something of great interest to Roztov and all other druids but which he
would leave out of his tale when he came to tell it to his wife.
In the
morning a letter arrived for Meggelaine and once she had read it she passed the
information on to the others.
‘Tuppence is
going to join us, but he’ll meet us in Elbonia.’
Roztov was
somewhat confused and said, ‘It will be great to have him, but why on earth
would he want to leave Hyadna?’
‘Women
trouble I think. You know what they are like down there.’
Roztov did
indeed know what they were like, his first wife had been Hyadnian and it had
not ended well.Meggelaine noticed his silence and with her small hand on his
arm said, ‘Oh! Sorry Roz! You know what I mean, I didn’t…’
Roztov patted
her hand, ‘Don’t worry about it. That was a long time ago. Good news though. It
will be nice to see him again if nothing else.’
The ship
that the Great Forest Council had hired was the Red Maiden, an ocean going full-rigged
pinnace built in Tomsk, not fast, but sturdy.
They set off
from Tullis, just as winter was turning to spring and arrived in the port of Oban
in Elbonia twenty days later. Roztov enjoyed the sea and while the weather was
rough at this time of year he found is bracing. Meggelaine and Ghene had less
experience of the sea and found the going easier up on the deck where they
could get fresh air.
For a change
of scene sometimes all three of them would turn into eagles, buttums or gannets
and fly above and around the ship. Broddor would look up at them with jealousy.
Dwarves were generally not good sea travellers and were prone to get sick. The
druids could turn into creatures large enough to carry him if he had wanted it,
but miserable as sea travel was to him, it was still preferable to the terror
associated with holding onto the feathers of a giant owl half a mile in the air.
The druids
could only change their shape for a few hours though and spent most of their
time on deck or in their cabins. Mostly they tried to keep out of the way of the
crew as they went about their jobs. In the evening they dined with the captain,
the first mate and the bosun. Occasionally the captain’s daughter would join
them for a while before being sent to bed.
As arranged
they picked up Floran in Oban. The largest port in Elbonia, like most of the
towns on the island was tastefully built in ornate stone, built with money
brought in when Elbonia had once been a great trading nation. They didn’t stay
long though, Floran had been waiting for a month, was bored and anxious to
leave.
He stashed
his bag in the cabin that the three druids and Broddor shared and joined them
on deck as the ship sailed out of the harbour.
‘I have this
feeling in my stomach,’ said Floran as he tugged on his beard, ‘Like the old
days.’
‘Just the
five of us, but imagine if we find Hanna,’ Meggelaine said as they all watched
the harbour walls slowly go past. ‘It’ll be pies and gravy for life.’
‘We will
never find Hanna. I think it is just a legend.’
‘How can you
say that, Tuppence?’ asked Ghene. ‘Why do you come with us if you believe
that?’
‘My family
would have me married. I found myself wanting to leave Hyadna. So I come for
the adventure only, and to be with my old friends.’
‘Me too!’
put in Broddor slapping the rail firmly.
Just as
Roztov was about to speak, a big lass, one of the crew, approached them with
something in her hands.
‘Beg pardon,
ah, my lord. You dropped these as you came onboard.’
She extended
her hand and held out a pair of reading glasses.
‘Oh!’
explained Floran. ‘Thank you ever so much. Here...’
Floran began
to hunt for his coin purse in his robes, but she held up her hand and smiled.
‘No need my
lord, my pleasure.’
She bowed
and went back to her work. She was a buxom raven haired woman in her early
twenties. Since she was so strong it appeared her main job was pulling on ropes.
Floran
watched her go, then realised Roztov, in turn was watching him. When he caught
his eye, Roztov gave him a wink. Floran blushed, he was timid of the opposite
sex, and turned to put away his glasses.
Meggelaine
rolled her eyes and Broddor snorted. ‘Bit on the big side for me.’
A good wind
blowing from the south east pushed them all the way to Grenos, it was a greater
distance than Tullis to Oban, but it took the same time due to the favourable weather.
Grenos was a small island and once had been used as a place to dump lepers and
convicts from all over Nillamandor. The main port was kept clear of the
diseased though, so that traders would come. Roztov had been here before and
new that Meggelaine’s heart would break when she saw the level of poverty and
suffering. So much so in fact that she might want to stay and help.
Roztov’s
realised his pipe was out, so his thoughts drifted back into the present, sat
as he was on a log in the dark alone on a dragon infested island. He was still
alert, but there is nothing more lighter of step than a fressle druid, so he
was caught by surprise by Meggelaine when she hopped up onto the fallen tree
beside him.
‘My turn on
watch!’ she whispered loudly.
‘Oh yes, of
course,’ said Roztov as he looked down at his cold pipe. ‘I was just thinking
about the voyage.’
‘It was all
going great wasn’t it? You know until… dragons!’
Roztov
laughed politely at her attempt to amuse him.
‘I could
perhaps smoke one more pipe…’
‘You don’t
have to keep me company you know. You can go sleep, if you like.’
Roztov looked
around at the near total darkness, feeling only half awake.
‘Yes perhaps
I should… What was that?’
They had
both heard something and at once they both stood up.
‘I hear… the
beat of leathery wings, high and to the north.’
‘Wake the
others, I’ll go take a look.’
Roztov
turned into an owl and swooped up into the trees.
