Fire And Ice (Book 1) (37 page)

             
“Now I am the fool,” she berated herself.  He had that effect on her and it made her angry.  There was something about him that was different than other men.  She wondered if he was the one She’al’s teachings had foreseen.  It was troubling.

             
Karands were very close-mouthed about anything connected to She’al, and that included speaking of talents, and the power wielded by some.  That was why she had not told him of her own abilities to heal others.  For some reason that didn’t feel right anymore, like she was lying by omission.

             
She froze, and her mouth went dry at the sound of approaching feet.  A shade of a man that became Miko crept down to the dock and slipped into the boat smoothly.  She was angry with herself for reacting in such a way.  Someone could have put a knife into her while she sat there frozen in terror.

             
Miko glanced around in the dark.  “He is not here yet?”

             
“No,” she told him. 

             
“We will give him a few more minutes.”

             
“We cannot leave without him,” she said quickly and was surprised by her own declaration. 

             
The trader from Arencia looked at her with a serious expression on his once chubby face.  He had slimmed down in the more than two months of traveling and hiding.  “He is right that the fleet must be destroyed.  If it sails, then Summerhall falls, and the rest of us will fall soon after.  That much I believe to be true.”              

She didn’t like it, risking her life like this, but
she had no argument against Miko’s statement.  She instead watched the darkness intently, hoping he would come.

             
They waited longer than the few minutes Miko had allotted.  When a distant shout was heard from the city they knew that their time had run out.  Miko used an oar to push off from the pier, then set himself to begin rowing out into the harbor.  Shirri sat at a second set of oars and matched his pace.  She would pull her own weight. 

             
“His father is going to kill me,” Miko said quietly, shaking his head sadly.

              Coran avoided any more direct encounters as he raced for the docks ahead of his pursuers.  The two who had spotted him couldn’t keep up and once away from them he stuck more to the shadows along the sides of buildings. 

             
He heard confused shouting from somewhere behind him as he neared the docks.  He stopped to look for guards, but no one was in sight.  They were all around the piers currently in use by the fleet.  The one he came to ended about fifty feet out and swayed slightly in the water.  It was also the furthest out from the town. 

             
He ran low out onto the unstable planking, searching the water along each side.  The boat was gone which meant that Miko had been successful, and Coran was late.  Straining his eyes he barely made out the form of a boat out on the water, moving away from him.  Even if it wasn’t them he had no alternatives.  He took off the long, brown robe and threw it into the water.  It was followed by the curved sword.  It would only drag on him while he swam.  He took a few running steps and dove head first into the harbor.   He pulled himself through the water as fast as he could, but the boat was too far ahead.  He knew if it was them they would stick to the plan and be stopping once they reached the middle of the harbor, so he didn’t risk a shout.                

The boat did stop finally and he started to close the distance.  As he came along side he heard a muffled oath from Miko.  The trader saw who it was and helped him into the rocking boat.  Shirri looked pleased to see him from where she sat holding a lantern.

              “It took you long enough,” Miko grumped, but he smiled as he said it.  “I take it you were successful in letting them see you.”

             
Coran grinned sheepishly.  “More than once.”  He suddenly remembered the map and yanked it out from beneath his shirt.  He unrolled it carefully.  The ink was a little smeared in a couple of places from the water, but it was still legible. 

             
“Is that what we came all this way for?” Miko asked as he looked at the paper.

             
“Yes.” 

             
“Good.  Now let’s finish this and get out of here,” Miko suggested.

             
“About time,” Shirri added irritably.  Her scowl was hiding the grin she first wore when he had climbed into the boat.

             
Coran took the bow and one of the arrows.  The arrows had a cloth dipped in oil wrapped around each tip.  The cloth ignited once it touched the flame from the lantern.  He raised the burning arrow and aimed it at one of the group of ships.  It made a flaming arc in the night sky as it descended onto the deck.  The ship was immediately engulfed in flames that quickly spread to the next ship beside it.  By the time it neared the third, two more arrows were already on their way. Thirty two arrows, and thirty bonfires later he put down the bow in the bottom of the boat.

             
Miko took up his oars and began moving them away from the town.  “Nice fire,” he commented.

             
Coran grabbed the second set of oars and added his strength to the effort.  Shirri sat in the rear of the boat.  All three of them watched the destruction they had wrought.  The destruction he had caused, since it was all his idea.  The once mighty fleet was now a massive conflagration.  Red, yellow and orange light reflected across the surface of the water.  The whole harbor appeared to be on fire.  Flames leapt up dozens of feet into the air.  A burning mast toppled, and crashed across the decks of two more ships. 

             
Terk said the stuff spread over the decks was volatile, but he had no idea it would work so well.  “What was in those barrels again?” he asked.

             
“Fire oil,” Miko answered.  “The Ithanians came up with it I think.  Very rare stuff.  It is dangerous just to handle.  That is why few will risk using it.”

             
“I can see that,” Coran nodded.  The inferno behind them was evidence of that. 

             
They rowed past a finger of land that separated the harbor from the Sea of Karand.  Out of sight of the ships, the light made the sky appear to burn.  After what they had seen there was a feeling among the three that precluded speech.

             
Coran turned his head around and saw the ship that was their destination.  This might be just as difficult a situation as Lornth was.  As they rowed nearer, heads began to appear along the railing.  Big, hairy heads by the outlines he could make out.  The ship itself was long and narrow, it was built for speed.  Some of the men looking down at them pointed and shouted to one another, others were shouting about the light coming from Lornth.  It was difficult to discern one from another, so many were talking at once.  Another man approached the railing and shouted for quiet in a commanding voice.  At least no one had begun shooting arrows at them.

             
“What’s your business here, and be quick about it!” the man who seemed to be in charge called to them.

             
Coran stopped rowing and raised the lantern enough so they could see his face.  He gestured with his thumb back over his shoulder.  “I wore out my welcome.”              

The comment elicited some scattered chuckling from among the crew.  “Haul them up.  Let’s hear what they have to say,” the man ordered in a slightly less hostile tone.

              It was only a few minutes later that they found themselves on the deck facing a dangerous looking crew.  All of them were large, around his height and a few who were taller.  They all wore shaggy beards of every color.  A variety of axes and swords hung from their belts.  One stood out from the others.  He had shoulders like an ox and his hair and beard were yellow.  He was older and then some, yet untouched by gray. 

             
“I am Dwynnel, the Captain of the North Wind,” he introduced himself while surveying the three he had taken aboard.  “Who are you?”

             
“I am Coran,” he told the captain.  He gestured to Miko.  “This is Miko, a trader from Arencia and my friend.  And she is Shirri, from Crecy.”

             
The captain nodded thoughtfully.  “Now tell me why I shouldn’t have all of you thrown over the side right now.”  There were some more chuckles from among his men.

             
“Overboard!”  Miko was shocked at the suggestion. 

             
Coran waved a hand at him to be silent.  He knew that only the truth would work with Northmen.  This captain was a lot smarter than he looked.  “Like I said, my name is Coran, Coran Tyelin.  I was sent here by Stemis, High king of Summerhall to spy on our enemy.”

             
“And the fire?  Was that your work?”

             
“With some help, yes.  What you see burning is about two hundred ships that were intended to carry an army to Summerhall.”

             
The chuckles turned to concerned whispers.  Some of the crew eyed him more seriously and fingered their weapons.  The captain ignored them.  “Why should I believe a Midian.  And even if you are telling me the truth, there is no reason to let you stay on my ship.”              

             
Coran was afraid of this.  Northman courtesy at its finest.  He took a step towards the captain and several men drew weapons, but the captain dismissed them with a wave.  Coran stopped close enough, and spoke low enough, so it would be difficult for others to hear.  “I have the blood of the North,” he said and the captain frowned with doubt.  “Tirese of Leanesse.”  The effect was what he had hoped for.  He was lucky to have found a well informed captain.  Most would not recognize the name, or understand its meaning.

             
“Watch these two.” he indicated Miko and Shirri.  “Don’t hurt them.  I need to speak with this one alone.”  The captain led him to the prow of the ship and ordered everyone to back off.  While he waited for his crew to move away he eyed Coran with a renewed interest.  “That is something not well known.  It would be embarrassing to King Edric if it ever became common knowledge.  I must ask you to elaborate, just to be sure.”

             
Coran nodded.  He expected as much.  “My father is Lord Oran of Tyelin.  My mother was Anya, daughter of Tirese of Coleson, the same Tirese who was the daughter of the King of Leanesse.”

             
The captain appeared to be satisfied with his lineage.  “Now that I look closely I can see a slight resemblance to Edric’s family.  Why are you here, on my ship?”

             
“We needed a way out of Lornth.  Since we were in the harbor anyway, setting fire to the ships, this seemed a logical escape route.  I also hoped that you might be able to give us passage to Summerhall.”

             
“I can’t take you that far.  Not right now anyway.  The narrows around Crecy are in the hands of the Easterners.”              

“Can you take me as far as that?”  He might be able to find passage from there.  Then he remembered his promise to Ruan.  Maybe he could find someone to carry a message the rest of the way.

              “I can do that,” the captain agreed, not sounding totally convinced.  That he agreed was the important part.  Northmen did what they said they would do.  Dwynnel shouted to his crew for them to show the two Karands to their quarters, and for them to be ready to set sail, before turning back to Coran.  “You said you were sent here to spy?”

             
“I was.”

             
“Did you find out anything useful?”

             
“A few things,” Coran replied carefully.  His assessment of the Captain’s intelligence seemed to have been accurate. 

             
“Perhaps you would be willing to share some of it?” Dwynnel suggested.  It was more than a suggestion, not a threat, but he expected something in return for the passage.

             
“I believe that can be arranged.”

Chapter 22

The Return to Crecy

              The wind blew his dark hair off his forehead as he weaved his way past members of the crew, busy at their various tasks.  He was not very familiar with ships and could only guess at what they were doing.  He could hear some of the talk as he neared the prow and the Karandi woman who sat there with her legs crossed and her hands on her knees.

             
“Karands.  Strange lot,” one of the sailors said.

             
“Don’t know why the Cap’n said to leave them alone.”

             
“....don’t go against his orders or....”

             
Coran took a spot along the railing beside her as the talk faded behind him.  Her eyes were closed and her chin held high.  He watched the dark mass of land on the horizon slide by on the right side of the ship.  The smell of the sea was intoxicating.  It filled him with a sense that he was getting somewhere, a sense of freedom.  It was the same way he felt when he rode a horse to a hilltop to see what was on the other side. 

             
After a few minutes, he couldn’t ignore her any longer and his curiosity got the better of him.  “What are you doing?” he finally asked.  He waited until he thought that maybe she hadn’t heard him.  He opened his mouth to ask again when her eyes opened and she turned her head up to peer at him with those spirited brown eyes.

             
“It is none of your business,” she answered rudely.  Her legs uncrossed and she moved to stand.  She stumbled slightly on the rolling deck and gave him a look that dared him to make a comment.  The thought hadn’t crossed his mind, since he had stumbled a few times himself at the unfamiliar movement.

             
“I didn’t mean to pry.”  He tried to sound reasonable, but feared that the exasperation he felt at her attitude was noticeable.              

She hesitated, and her face softened.  “You are different from anyone I have ever known before.”  She sounded troubled, but offered no more explanation.  “I was seeking myself.”  She indicated where she had been sitting.  “It is from the teachings of She’al.  We shut out everything around us and concentrate inward.  It helps us to be calm when needed.  Sometimes it can give us answers to things that...trouble us.”

              “And which were you doing?” he asked.  “If you don’t mind telling me.”

             
“Seeking answers.  Much has changed in my life since I last saw Crecy, or Ruan.”

             
He didn’t want to push too much so tried another question.  “These teachings, I take it they are only for Karands?”

             
A little of the fire returned to her voice.  “Of course.  It is only for those Karands who follow She’al.  Do you not have your own teachings?”

             
“What do you mean?”

             
“Do you not seek guidance from Dios?  Is he not the god of the Midians?” she said, obviously confused. 

             
“Well, yes.  But we do not seek guidance from him.”

             
“Why not?”

             
He had to remember that she was not Midian, and had her own beliefs.  “We are taught that the Creator first made the world, and then the stars.  He created Naturus, the power that drives all life.  After that he brought forth the gods to watch over the world and men.  To do that the gods each chose a people to care for.”

             
“That is what we are taught as well, but you sound as if you do not believe it?”

             
“I believe in the Creator, but if there are gods to watch over us, I have never seen one.”  The existence of Dios was a point of disagreement for more than a few Midians.  That meant that the existence of any of the lesser gods was in question.  That was also the reason that some Midians chose to ignore the current threat for what it was.  If there was no Dios, how could there be a Destroyer?  Coran realized that he might have just answered the question.  He was starting to believe in the threat, which meant he had to accept the possibility of Dios being real.  Most Midians did but Coran had always had a difficult time truly believing it himself.  He preferred to keep his focus on men and armies instead of intangible deities.

             
“She’al is real and she guides our people.”  Shirri stated it as fact, and he must have said something to offend her, because he could tell that she was getting angry.  “Perhaps your Dios no longer finds your people worthy of guidance.  Perhaps that is why he has hidden himself from your kind for so long.”  She stomped across the deck in anger, leaving him shaking his head.

             
He needed some answers and Miko had them.  If anyone could put reality before belief he could.  At least he hoped he could.  Those answers could have something to do with the coming conflict. 

             
Just the person he wanted to find came out on deck.  Shirri brushed by the man without a word.  Miko stared at her disappearing back.  He turned back, and seeing Coran, came toward the prow.  He was careful not to get in any of the sailors’ way.  They made no secret of their dislike for Karands.  Whatever the Captain said about leaving them alone, Miko wasn’t going to take any chances. 

             
“What did you say to her this time?” the trader asked him casually.  If he knew why she was so irritable all the time he never explained it.  Coran went over the conversation he had with Shirri.  When he finished Miko stood there, frowning.  “This time I have to agree with her.  You are a fool.”  He checked to make sure none of the crew was too close.  “We take our beliefs very seriously.  They are not discussed with outsiders.  If you were to ask one of these Northmen about Nortia they would not be too friendly.  Many of my people do not understand Midians.  Some of those that think they do, see you as immoral for your lack of belief.  I, on the other hand, have some knowledge of it from talking with your father.  Your people have been deprived of guidance for so long you forget it ever was there.  That is not your fault.  For some reason Dios has decided to let you guide yourselves, or perhaps it is the Creator’s plan.  For my people, it is not our place to question the gods.”

             
“So you are saying that there is really a Dios and a She’al, and the others too?”

             
“Yes.  It is true.  I have not met her myself, but know those who have gone to her.  Among our people if someone shows a talent, or a special feeling of the nature around them they go to her to be judged.  If they are found worthy they are taught.  If not, then they are sent away.  Most who go come back as healers.”

             
“Wait, you said Nortia. Is that the goddess of the North?”

             
“Shhh,” Miko hushed him, looking towards the crew.  “The Northmen are even more protective when it comes to religion than we are.  Well, maybe not more, but they tend to deal with such situations more violently.”

             
Coran couldn’t disagree with that.  “So you know about the other gods?”

             
“Some.  We know of Nortia, Dios, She’al, and Sha’elt.”  Miko cringed at the last name.  “Then of course there is the Destroyer.”

             
Coran tried to readjust his whole philosophical thinking.  Miko was a practical man.  He was a Karand, true, but Coran had learned to rely on his judgment over the course of their journey.  And there was the fact that so many others he knew seemed to believe, people he had grown up with.                

He tried to think of another question when they were interrupted by a call from one of the crew.  “Ship Ahead!”  Everyone turned to see the ship appearing over the horizon directly in their path.  As it came closer the shape of the sails could be made out more clearly. 

              “Karandi” Miko identified the vessel.  “Eastern I think.  That means a fight.”

             
Coran had to agree.  He never met a Northerner who would willingly turn down a fight.  “You should go below.  And make sure Shirri stays there as well.”

             
The trader nodded.  “Are you not coming too?”

             
“Not yet.”  He didn’t really think he would be of much use, not in fighting on a rolling deck.  The thing was, he was curious.  He had heard stories of Northern ships in battle but had never seen one.  That and the thought of hiding below decks was not a part of him.  Miko scurried away, trying not to bump into anyone.

             
The enemy vessel grew in his vision as they came nearer.  The crew watched with a growing anticipation.  “They’re turning!” the lookout announced from where he stood watch high up on the mast.

             
“They are trying to get away,” one of the crew commented, it was followed by coarse laughter.

             
Coran would have laughed, himself, under different circumstances.  The sleek Northern ship cut through the waves like a knife.  The lumbering Karandi ship didn’t have a chance.  Captain Dwynnel turned the ship to match the other’s course.  They were only a few hundred yards away. 

             
“Man the starboard rail!” the Captain bellowed.  Men ran to the rail hefting large, round wooden shields in one hand and iron hooks attached to ropes in the other.  The distance was now two hundred yards and they were almost perpendicular to the enemy, and pulling up fast. 

             
“Water down the deck!”  More men ran to the opposite rail.  Buckets were lowered to the sea and brought back up.  The contents were poured out to cover the deck as an added protection against fire.  Now the distance was down to a hundred and fifty, and they matched the other ship for speed as the two vessels angled towards each other.  A few hasty bow shots arced towards them from the Karandi, only one made it to the ship, impacting on a hastily raised shield.                “Archers ready!”  Men with bows moved forward to stand behind the protective shields.  Arrows were notched and held up to be lighted by a passing torch.  They turned towards the Karandi and aimed high.  At a hundred yards the Captain called again.  “Loose!”  The flaming shafts found their targets and the other ship began to smoke and burn in several places.  Figures could be seen on the opposing ship running, trying desperately to put out the flames.  A return volley of fire hit the raised shields, a few got past only to be dampened by the water soaked deck. 

             
The ships closed to a distance of a dozen feet and the men along the rails spun the hooks in an arc, then sent them over the other ship’s railing.  They pulled hard, the hooks dug in and the ships were pulled even closer together.                “Ready to board!” Dwynnel called, and the crew shouted avidly with weapons in their hands.  Broad-headed axes and heavy swords were readied for the next phase of the battle.

             
Coran crouched low in the prow as he watched.  By the faces of the crew he could tell they were eager at the prospect of a fight.  The two ships lurched as they collided, Coran held tightly to the rail to keep him from being tossed to the deck.  This wasn’t his fight.

             
The Northmen swarmed over the other ship like locusts.  Shields now rendered useless by the number of arrows stuck in them, were thrown on top of the defenders and followed by rising and falling axes.  The Karands were helpless against the shear ferocity of their attackers.                 Coran could feel his blood rushing, and the desire to join in the conflict was unbearable.  He realized that it had to be his Northern blood at work. 

             
If the fight had lasted any longer he didn’t think he could have contained himself, but the fight proved a short one.  The fires started on the other deck had been mostly put out before the boarding and Northmen swept through the ship looking for booty, and any survivors.  The wounded Northerners were carried back to their ship.  They were tended to by their comrades and by a sick looking Shirri.  Coran had missed seeing her come up on deck.  He watched her place her hands over a man’s leg where he had taken a deep slash.  When she removed them the wound was only a thin red line. 

             
Coran’s eyebrows rose.  So she was a healer, and one of some talent to make such a wound almost whole again.  Some of the crew gave her more respectful looks than they had before.  Healers were held in a higher esteem than others. 

             
Several barrels were found on the other vessel and hauled aboard along with any food and valuables.  Even the dead were searched  thoroughly for coins.  When everyone was back aboard they removed their grappling hooks and set fire to the Karandi ship.  It was left to drift away as a fiery tomb.  No one was left alive among the Karands.  None had been spared.  Northmen didn’t take prisoners.

             
Shirri helped as many of the wounded as she could, stumbling from one patient to the next.  He knew that healing took a lot of effort, but had had few chances to see so much done at one time.  Finally, unable to stand any longer, she collapsed.  Someone caught her before she hit the deck and carried her to the Captain, who ordered her taken to his cabin.  It was the measure of respect he felt for a person who tried to help his crew that he would give up his own quarters.               Coran felt exhausted himself and he had just watched.  The sailors were in good spirits as they passed bottles between them.  Wine or something similar he assumed.  They seemed happy to have it over, that they had won.  After the eagerness he saw in the beginning of the battle, and the almost savage way they fought during, they acted like anyone else after.  Maybe there was more to the warriors of the North than he had first thought.  Maybe they were more complex than the belligerent savages he had heard them called.