The Great Darkening (Epic of Haven Trilogy) (38 page)

“And just what is this assignment, Cal?” Michael asked. “To tend to the horses of the colony? It can’t be something as plain as that.”

“No, Michael,” Engelmann answered. “It is not that at all.” Engelmann stared the golden-haired groomsman in the eyes and spoke what he had already known to be true. “His task is to seek the light.”

“Is that true?” Michael asked him, looking back and forth from Engelmann to Cal and then down to Deryn.

“It is indeed true,” Deryn replied. Cal nodded in agreement, rather awestruck at the perception of the old Arborist.

“Well then … how did
you
know?” Michael asked Engelmann.

“Is it not obvious?” Engelmann answered in his typical fashion. “Just how do you suppose I might have come to this unsurprised revelation? Huh?”

“Enough with the riddles, Engelmann, we haven’t the time for them. Besides, my thoughts are …” Michael looked down at the otherworldly creature that stood surreally on the lap of his friend, “a bit preoccupied at the moment.”

Deryn bowed to him in mocking acknowledgement.

“Nothing about this is obvious to me!” Michael continued. “Cal talks of Sprites and Oweles, and suddenly a Sprite appears! Next I suppose an Owele will come flying out of the sky.”

Engelmann could hardly contain his mischievous grin. “Well, that would be an interesting turn of events now, wouldn’t it? Oweles certainly do seem to appear at the most opportune times …”

Michael narrowed his eyes at Engelmann. “You aren’t saying … wait. Are you telling me you found this out from—”

“The Oweles,” Engelmann said matter-of-factly.

“You have seen the Oweles too?” Cal asked excitedly. “Did they warn you? Did they tell you what lies in the shadows beyond the wall?”

“Not exactly, young Bright Fame,” the Arborist said with that knowing look to his eyes.

“Then what did they tell you?” Michael demanded.

“That you and I have a part to play in this story.” Engelmann turned to look his young pupil in the face. “We must
endure
, Michael. I fear that Haven as we know it will not last much longer in this world, and if we hope at all to see this light that your friend here has committed his life to seek … well then, we must endure.”

The horns of the Capital guard cut brightly through the heavy air of conversation, signaling with their brass notes that the company had arrived at Bright Harbor.

“We must go now,” Cal said with longing and worry in his eyes. “I have to find this light, brother. If Iolanthe is right, then it is our only true hope.” Cal opened his cloak wide and Deryn darted inside to shelter himself from the curious eyes that would soon surround them. With the Sprite safely concealed, Cal hopped down from the timber cart and onto the cobblestone streets of the harbor town. He reached up and grabbed his pack, and with a grunt of exertion he retrieved his sword out from under the very bench his two friends had been sitting on.

Engelmann’s eyes were caught by a curious gravity as they beheld the ancient, white scabbard of Cal’s blade. “It would seem to me that there is yet an even deeper magic at work here in you, Bright Fame,” Engelmann said, nodding to the sword.

“Yes, Arborist,” Cal replied humbly. “Though I never did ask for it.”

“That is certainly no blade of Haven,” Engelmann pondered aloud. “The hilt is all wrong to have been fashioned here in the city.” He scratched his mossy beard and thought on it for a moment. “No, I suspect this blade was forged long before there was even a walled city to fashion steel like this. This blade is special, that I can see plainly. However, just exactly what
kind
of special is not quite so obvious.”

Cal reached down and wrapped his hand around the bronzed wood grip, whose cross brace resembled high-reaching branches that curled up around the leaf-shaped blade. He looked up to the Arborist, searching his face for his true thoughts, and when he could not perceive what they were, he lowered his eyes and began to explain.

“It came to me when—”

“All blades are special, young groomsman, but very few carry with them the weight of calling and the deep hum of magic,” Engelmann interrupted. “It is better that your steel there stay anonymous, lest greedy hands get greedier.”

Cal nodded to the old Arborist, acknowledging his words without betraying the sword’s true identity, and an understanding passed between the two of them. “I must go now, brother,” Cal addressed his long-time friend. “When you pray, and I hope that you do often, remember me. For I fear that my charming, good looks and my small, blue-winged friend here will not be nearly enough to fully protect me from whatever perils lie unknown in the shadows of the Wreath.” His attempt at flippancy betrayed the worry that he had so carefully tried to keep hidden.

Michael jumped down from the cart and gave his friend a strong embrace. “I will, brother. I will.” Cal turned to leave and began walking in the direction of the rest of his company, when Michael shouted out to him. “What about the rest of us? What are we supposed to do?”

Cal yelled back in reply. “Endure, brother! And tell your Captain Armas what I told you, if he still has a heart that will listen!” And with those words, Cal walked to the wharf to join the men of the first colony of Haven.

Chapter Forty-One

T
he
wharf was alive and buzzing with movement as porters loaded crates of cargo and supplies into the two sister ships. The vessels were even more stunning in person than were their replicas in the small square of Abondale. They gloriously rested at port, their amber and silver sails still bound and fastened to the yards of their masts, revealing hidden works of artistry only visible when the sails were not unfurled.

The two great masts of the
Resolve
were carved and fashioned to resemble enormous flames licking and climbing greedily up the whole of their lengths. The ship was made to look utterly ablaze as her deck railing and masts were consumed in resolute hues of subtle amber and glittering gold. The
Determination
’s mizzen, main, and foremasts were carved in the likeness of the great tree. Her yards and sprays resembled lesser branches born from her great, grey trunks. The shimmering silver of her sails and the grey tones of the timber gave the ship a ghostly magnificence as she sat upon the waters of the Dark Sea.

Cal was mesmerized by the enormity of their beauty and couldn’t help himself from staring, his jaw gaping at the craftsmanship of Carina, the shipwright.

“Have you ever?” Yasen murmured, walking up alongside him.

“No, I’ve never,” Cal laughed his reply.

“To think of the cost, the expense and sacrifice paid for such a pair of vessels … it makes my mind spin in wonder,” Yasen said.

“I’ll wager that the timber from just one of these ships could fuel a whole borough for a month!” Cal speculated. “Though perhaps the fruit of these extravagances might fuel the whole walled city for years.”

“It very well could have been my axe that felled the timber to birth these ships, so let’s just hope I cut down the kind of timber that likes to float, huh?” Yasen said with a wink.

“They look sea-worthy enough to me,” Cal admired.

“Aye, but none of us knows what we may encounter out there upon the sea,” Yasen said, suddenly growing serious. “No one has ventured this far from the tree in a great many years, and the tree’s power has diminished since then.” The North Wolf turned around to take in the sad view of the tree, whose waning strength did not inspire much confidence in the hearts of the soon-to-be mariners.

“Some say it’s the tree, you know?” A touch of fear colored the brave chieftain’s voice. “That perhaps its failing is what has caused the North to grow so cold.”

“So what does that mean for us as we sail west ... even farther from the reaches of its rule?” asked Cal.

Yasen turned to meet the eyes of his friend, and the lines of dread could not help but be seen there on his face, even amidst the scars that he bore. “That is what I am afraid of, groomsman. I do not know what we
can
expect. The North has always been cold, but not cold like this ... not like it has been these last few years.”

Cal nodded. The realization of what Yasen was alluding to brought with it a heaviness that he would have gladly exchanged for naiveté in a heartbeat. “And the sea ... it has always been unpredictable, hasn’t it?”

“Aye, brother, indeed it has,” Yasen replied. “Still though, whatever uncertainties or
inhospitalities
we encounter, we will show them what we
men of the North
are made of! Huh?
”
He spoke with exaggerated sarcasm, hoping to buoy the spirits of his comrade.

Cal smiled, grateful to know that Yasen would be along with him on this journey to the furthest reaches of Aiénor. “Agreed.”

“Well come on then, let’s go seek this light of yours, huh?” Yasen clasped Cal’s shoulder. “I need you to see that the horses are settled down in the holds of both the ships. The last thing we need is for one of those beasts to let loose in a panic and throw herself or one of my men overboard,” Yasen instructed him.

“Very well,” Cal answered. “Should I plan to bunk with the horses for the length of the voyage? Do you think that would help?”

“No lad, that won’t really make much difference, as we will have to divide the herd between both the ships,” Yasen told him. “Just see to it that they have hay-grass enough, and are securely hitched to their posts; I will have you join me on the grey ship for the whole of the voyage.”

Cal agreed and then turned to make his way down the docks towards the anchored ships. The long, stone docks were wide enough to fit two timber carts side by side, and on this momentous day, they were filled to bursting with a steady stream of busy traffic. Cal weaved his way in and out of the paths of mule-drawn cargo carts and columns of men carrying sacks of grain and casks of ale and fresh water. At the end of the port, seated at a heavy, red-stone desk, were the port master and the colony’s newly commissioned governor.

The guardsmen, once they had reported their belongings and their mounts in the ship’s manifest, began the arduous task of leading the leery horses up the gangway and onto the deck of whichever ship they were assigned to. One particularly cruel knight could not seem to make his dapple-grey courser traverse the narrow gangplank, so he had resorted to whipping and yelling foul obscenities at the frightened and unwilling horse.

“I’ll turn that grey coat of yours into a vibrant crimson if you do not move that stubborn ass of yours on to this ship!” the angry knight yelled as he whipped at the horse’s hindquarters.

The courser reared up, eyes wild and legs pumping, causing a great commotion near the port master’s position. The knight continued to scream as he yanked violently on the horse’s lead, doing his worst to force the steed into submission. Lines of red began to appear on the grey’s flank, and a heavy sweat fell from the brow of the exasperated and embarrassed knight.

“Pyrrhus!” Seig shouted to the knight who could not gain control of his horse. “Quiet that damned horse or I will send you both to the North to dig up the stumps of the dead forest!”

“I am trying my best, Governor!” Pyrrhus growled in red-faced humiliation as the courser bucked and snorted in protest, pulling his lead free from the knight.

A few of the guardsmen had been carrying barrels of fresh water near the unfolding drama, when suddenly the maddened horse kicked two of the men, sending them sprawling into a dozen or so others. Four of them fell from the high, stone docks into the cold, black waters of the Dark Sea, and most of the barrels that they had been carrying cracked upon impact, spilling out their contents upon the stone.

Pyrrhus had endured long enough and did not intend to depart on such a holy quest under a banner of a shame like this. He threw the whip violently to the ground and reached for the blade that hung by his side. The angry knight was bound and determined to feed this bastard of a horse to the crabs below.

Cal saw what was about to happen and screamed out in protest. “No! Wait! Stop him!” The young groomsman ran as fast as his legs could carry him, leaping over spilled debris and bruised men in an effort to save this magnificent horse from the rage of a small-minded man. Cal drew the sword Gwarwyn and raised it just in time to catch the bright steel of Pyrrhus’ angry blade before it could sink into the flesh of the panicked animal.

“Out of my way, boy!” Pyrrhus growled angrily. “This horse is a disgrace and is not even fit to be served on the table for the company of this first colony!”

“It is not this horse that is the unfit one,” Cal retorted with an indignant calm, his rusted sword in hand and a fierce and deadly stare on his face. “You cannot force a panicked horse to do anything, any more than you can expect an impotent, sword-wielding knight to think of anything other than his wounded pride.”

“You bite your tongue, groomsman, before I cut it free from that foolish head of yours,” Pyrrhus shot back. The two men stared in defiance of each other, both with blades drawn, determined not to surrender their positions or their pride. Then, unlooked for, a third voice was heard shouting at them from nearby.

“That’s enough!” Seig commanded. “We have plenty of unknown enemies out there in the wild spaces beyond the safety of the great tree’s light. Do you really think that we need to start this voyage by making new enemies from within our own ranks?” the governor scolded them both. “Pyrrhus, put your sword away! Go see to the men that are nearly drowning now because of your foolishness, before I send you off the docks to join them,” Seig ordered the knight. “And you, groomsman! You put down whatever rusted relic that is that you are trying to pass off as a blade. And if you don’t want that horse to become tomorrow’s supper, you better see to it that it makes it onto the
Resolve
without any more incidents.”

The crowd of onlookers had stopped their work to gawk briefly at the scolded men, but hurriedly went back about the business of loading the ships before they too became victims of the governor’s fury. Pyrrhus stomped away, mumbling loud enough for Cal to hear. “Let’s just see you come at me with that ruined steel again, and I’ll show you what real swordsmanship looks like.”

When Pyrrhus left and the crowd busied themselves again with loading the cargo aboard the two ships, Cal turned the whole of his attention towards the frightened and wounded dapple-grey courser. “It’s alright boy, easy now … easy there.” Cal spoke in a soothing tone of voice as he reached for the horse’s lead. “I have neither a whip nor rocks for brains, and I promise that I won’t hurt you.”

The horse shook his head in protest, but Cal was able to gently and calmly take hold of the lead with his left hand. The horse’s eyes were wide with anxiety, but his breathing seemed to be less angry than it was just moments before. Cal raised his right hand towards the grey’s muzzle, letting him catch his scent. When he was confident that the horse had quieted enough, Cal reached up and began to gently and tenderly stroke his neck.

Within mere moments, the wildness faded from the horse’s eyes as his panic and fear calmed to saddened confusion. “That’s a good boy there, you’re alright now … you’re alright.” The horse lowered his large, grey head and rested it upon Cal’s shoulder. It was then the groomsman knew that he could help this horse; he also knew in this intimate moment that he deeply missed Moa.

Cal placed his hand just above the horse’s shoulder, on the largest part of his neck, closing his eyes as he felt his own heart beating in his chest. Underneath his hand he could feel the pulsing veins of the large courser. The two of them stood there, man and beast, both pulsing at two different rhythms. After what must have been just a moment of listening and breathing, the two rhythms synced together and began to beat in union. Cal did not utter a word with his lips, though he did speak to a deeper place within the horse. When just a few moments had passed between them, and Cal could sense that the horse’s trust had been won, he removed his hand from the grey’s neck and began to smooth out the rough parts of his coat where the whip had caught him.

“I think I shall call you Farran, for you are as strong and as stubborn as iron,” Cal spoke aloud to the horse. “Would that suit you? Farran?” Cal asked him.

The horse snorted in agreement as Cal led him down the stone dock and onto the gangway that provided passage onto the great, fiery ship,
Resolve
.

Yasen had watched the whole drama unfold right before his very eyes. He had been helping his men make their marks upon the ship’s manifest when the whole commotion began. Standing here now, next to the port-master and Governor Seig, Yasen beamed with pride as he watched his friend charm the violent and wild courser. He was all the more proud knowing that Seig had witnessed it alongside him.

“That groomsman there never ceases to amaze me, Governor,” Yasen said to him. “Sure, I have seen men calm down rouge horses before, and I have even known men to train their horses to come at a single spoken word, but this? I have never witnessed such a bewitching before.”

“I guess we should count ourselves favored indeed that we chose to bring with us the groomsman that we did,” Seig admitted. “We will need men of his …” Seig searched for the right word, “
gifting
, I suppose, if we are to thrive in the dark wilderness. For I fear there are nastier things than Pyrrhus there on the shores of the Western Wreath that will spook even the bravest of steeds.”

“I doubt it, Governor … Pyrrhus is rather offensive,” Yasen laughed.

Seig looked up from his ledgers and scanned the docks of the harbor as if he had not heard a word of what Yasen had just said.

“Yasen, it is time. See to it that your men are safely aboard the ships, and that their axes are stowed below. I will send out a patrol to make sure that the last of the supplies and the last of my men are in the holds and on the decks.” Seig rose from the red-stone port master’s desk, fixed his sigils, and straightened his tunic. “I will inform his Brightness the Priest King of our departure, and we will set sail westward.”

“Aye, Governor,” Yasen agreed.

Seig walked back up the stone dock and through the entrance to the port where the Priest King and his small council had positioned themselves as an audience to watch the ships set sail.