Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (37 page)

By chance Rema had encountered Scion ashore and they had ended up in ‘The Royal’, the largest tavern on
Lavas
. It stood at the southern end of the harbour with an elevated view of the port, which in truth could be said of almost all the buildings on the island. Serenna had gone to find Lava’s only small
carriave
 office, for she had a message to send about which she would share little with Rema, except to say that she had an idea which might help them in the future. With talk of the imminent departure of the
Ocean Rose
she felt brave enough to go alone, promising to meet him at The Royal no later than two span past the noon.

Scion and Rema shared an ale, and talked quietly of the clash between the two captains the day before. Rema was deeply angered by Jehru Abhor’s attempt to buy Serenna, and was dismayed that Scion seemed to be hinting that Tyne had considered the offer.

‘But what is true Rema,’ said Scion finally in seeming defence of his captain, ‘Abhor left with his tail tween his legs and slashed face for his temper, so the captain sent him off good and proper.’ Rema nodded, but he felt an almighty sense of unease.

‘The sooner we’re off this island the better,’ he muttered and drained his third ale. ‘I wonder what is taking Serenna so long; it must be well past noon now.’ Scion squinted hard and looked to the sky through the large tavern windows. He was a sailor and knowing the time came as naturally as making a bowline. 

He nodded, ‘three span after, near enough.’ This made Rema feel even more unsettled. At that moment Captain Lethyne Tyne walked in. He saw them immediately and seemed to nod imperceptibly in recognition, a mere reflex. He was in the company of a uniformed soldier. Rema had learnt that
Lavas
had a small permanent posting of soldiers to operate the island’s defences. There had been no trouble in many years, but
Lavas
was worth a great deal to the royal coffers of Revelyn, and the battlements needed constant maintenance and their operation required a level of skill not found anywhere else in the service of the country.

‘That’s the commander of the forces on
Lavas
,’ Scion whispered.  ‘Bjorkman; I think this is his name.  He has no sense of humour, and rumour has it that he feels no pain. Captain and he have been acquainted for years. Deserve each other I say, for you’ll not get much mirth from either despite two bellyfuls of ale.’ The two men took a table on the far side of the room and were quickly brought ales and food. Rema observed somewhat absently that the commander was obviously was well looked after by the people of
Lavas
.

‘Look!’ said Scion suddenly in a quiet whisper. Rema followed the big man’s gaze. Out in the harbour the
Ocean Rose
was suddenly swarming with men. Sailors in the rigging had started to loosen the many furled sails, and it looked like the anchor was being slowly wound in for the huge rope which held it was quivering and taught like a bowstring. ‘They’re leaving!’ Rema nodded.

‘I can’t say I’m sad...Look there is the last boat coming alongside now.’ He could clearly see one of the ship’s longboats swing neatly in amidships and the several pairs of oars simultaneously lift vertically from the water. Almost immediately men could be seen climbing a ladder to the deck whilst efforts to recover the boat commenced. At that moment the door to the tavern was flung open and sailor Smallbone entered in a hurry, breathing hard, and flustered to the point of distress.

‘Captain, sira, please, I’ve been looking all over for you... they’ve got the Lady!’ Rema froze. A cold hard pain cut through his body like a knife and lodged deep in his heart.

‘Serenna!’ he whispered...’No!’ He looked out the window and there in the distance on the ladder was a tiny figure being pulled and pushed up to the deck. He could not make out who it was, but a faint flash of red hair confirmed his worst fear. ‘There Scion, look it is her! No wonder they were in so much haste.’ Scion did not bother to look but was at his captain’s table in an instant.

‘Captain we must make chase, we cannot let her be taken, I’ll give the word.’ He turned to leave, Rema at his side. Lethyne Tyne however could not abide being given orders by an underling, and bristled angrily.

‘My ship sailor Scion. I will decide what must be done; there is little we can do for if she has been taken, the
Ocean Rose
is the fastest ship ever built. She has the break on us and will outrun us by a league in ten.’ He did not move. Rema could not believe what he was hearing. A white hot anger boiled within and was on the point of erupting when Scion, who sensed his imminent explosion put a vice like grip on his arm and commanded.

‘Not now Rema, leave this to me.’

Scion took two steps back to Tyne’s table and put his large black face within a hand span of his captain’s. When he spoke it was as though thunder had sounded for plates shook and patrons trembled.

‘You have a choice Captain, you are either with us or not. If not, you have let Jehru Ahbor take your soul. But for me, I will take your ship and make chase, and the men will follow for the Lady Serenna reminds them of all they have given up to serve you before the mast.’ And with that he grabbed the huge oak table at which Tyne sat and heaved it on its side with a crash that echoed long after Scion and Rema had left at the run towards the port, followed by a breathless Smallbone who had tears streaming down his face with emotion.

As Rema ran, a chilling truth played havoc in his mind.
I promised her...I promised her. Sylvion now Serenna, Sylvion now Serenna...
He ran like he had never run before and vowed an oath as he did that he would bring Serena back whatever it took, however far he needed to go, whatever it would take...He was all she had. ‘I’m coming Serenna,’ he cried at last; he would never whisper such a desperately fervent promise ever again.

Captain Lethyne Tyne was in shock. The words of Scion had left him temporarily paralysed. He realised that everyone in the tavern was looking at him. Suddenly he saw the error in his pride and the consequences which might come of it. In an instant he was at the tavern door, about to follow the other men when a sudden thought came to him and he halted. He went back to Commander Bjorkman who had not moved but was considering events in a measured manner which spoke much of not wanting to get involved.

‘How much for three firings of your machine?’ Tyne demanded standing aggressively before him.  Bjorkman rubbed his chin, understanding immediately what was being asked. Tyne pressed him. ‘Come now commander we have known each other for years. You are always telling me of what your machine will do. Now is the time, for a huge crime is being perpetrated under your very nose. What cost three firing at the
Ocean Rose?’

Commander Bjorkman was a cunning man and could see a chance for personal gain beyond anything his small income as a soldier might provide. He smiled, and shrugged.

‘What is it worth to you Captain Tyne?’ The two men stared at each other. Suddenly Tyne pulled out the bag of gold which Serenna had offered him for passage on his ship. It seemed under the circumstances, only fair. It was now half spent, but still its worth measured many years service for a soldier. He tossed it into Bjorkmans’s lap.

‘Half a bag of gold!’ he cried as he turned to leave at the run, calling over his shoulder as he left, ‘and I’ll be back for it if you let me down. Three shots commander!’

The shocked tavern patrons suddenly came alive, and as the sailors of the
Scoira
raced like the wind to their ship, word rapidly spread of the kidnapping and of the audacious rescue underway and of the Commander’s machine which had never been used in anger in living memory.

Rema reached the
Scoria
first, and went below to fetch his weapons. He left the talking to Scion, for it would rest on him to convince the crew to follow him. The taking of a ship from a Captain’s command was almost unheard of, and it took a determined crew to do so, for the penalties were dire. Scion arrived soon after, gasping for breath, for whilst enormously strong, he was not practised in the skills of running.

‘All crew to the mid deck,’ he called as loudly as he could manage between breaths. The men could see that something serious was afoot and responded quickly, passing the word below, until within minutes, everyone was assembled. Scion stood on the wheel deck, taking Captain Tyne’s position, something which was not lost on the crew. He hushed their confused questions and addressed them confidently.

‘Men, the Lady Serena had been kidnapped!’ Several of the crew gasped. ‘She has been taken aboard the
Ocean Rose.’
Everyone swung about and looked across the water at the large sinister ship. It had swung a little on its anchor but the seamen knew that she would be free of the seabed within minutes, for the rapid clanking of its capstan came clearly across the water to them. Several sails were flapping in the light breeze, just waiting for their sheets to be drawn tight, and she would be off. Scion continued. ‘We cannot let her be taken without some attempt at rescue. Are you with me?’ It was a desperate statement which threw the crew into an immediate panic.

 ‘Where’s the captain? What does he say? We’re not fighting men! Let’s get after them!... Scion let them speak for a moment then took command.

‘Silence men!’ They stopped and listened. ‘Captain Tyne has...’ and at that moment Lethyne Tyne sprang up the gangplank with a ferocity which belied his age. In a trice he was standing beside Scion.

‘This is my ship and my command. You will do as I tell you and do it now. We will chase that evil ship and all upon her and we will rescue the Lady Serenna. Now to your posts and listen for my commands. Scion to the mid-deck immediately, your usual role. Obey me now man and we will talk of this later. The Lady needs us.’ Scion nodded in relief.

‘Yes Captain. I’m glad you’re here.’

‘Go now,’ Tyne roared at Scion with a scowl, and so the
Scoira
came alive. As the
Ocean Rose
began to slowly gather speed with the wind almost over her stern, and with more sails being unfurled each moment, Tyne was faced with the incredibly difficult job of getting his ship off the jetty, a far tricky job than simply lifting the anchor, for there were vessels moored both ahead and astern of the
Scoira
; but he was committed now and knew that his men would look to him to lead.

Checking the wind, he ordered the port rear line held fast and all other lines brought aboard. He sent men to the rigging and out the booms; all sails were to be unfurled as soon as possible regardless of the ship’s position. As the wind pushed the bow away from the jetty he had the port rear line slackened so the ship moved sideways for two dozen cubits, enough to clear the ship moored astern, and then ordered it held fast. The ship pivoted on this single line bringing the wind astern as the sails dropped from their furlings and filled. As the
Scoira
swung to be perpendicular to the jetty, with its stern just clear of the ship moored behind it, Tyne gave the order for the stern line to be let go. The
Scoria
was free, and with wind in her sails surged off in pursuit of the
Ocean Rose,
already at speed and heading for the harbour mouth and the open ocean beyond. Tyne and Scion worked together, trying to get more speed from the Scoria, but it was clear that they would not catch the other boat within the harbour, and once out in the ocean there would be little chance of running her down and boarding her, for they both knew that the
Ocean Rose
was a larger and faster ship than the
Scoria
, however well sailed she might be.

Tyne knew immediately that it was hopeless, but was determined to show that he had done all he could, and prayed to the gods that Commander Bjorkman was as good as his boasting, for without his much vaunted machine, high up on the battlements, there was no hope.

Rema Bowman appeared without a sound beside Captain Tyne. He was carrying his bow and his quiver holding all his arrows was strapped to his back. Tyne almost made a cynical comment about the uselessness of such paltry weapons against such a ship as the
Ocean Rose
and a crew most likely armed to the teeth and spoiling for a fight, but he didn’t.

Whatever I say will make no difference. What will be will be,
he thought bitterly.

Although not a sailor, Rema was as good a judge of speed and distance as any man, and he too could see the impossibility of their task, for the
Ocean Rose
seemed to be drawing away from them, despite the best efforts of Tyne and Scion and the rest of the crew who were all focused upon the chase.

Rema fought his rising frustration which was tinged with panic for Serenna, for what might become of her did not bear thinking on. He spoke quietly to Tyne. ‘Just get me within a hundred cubits captain and I will see that Abhor pays for this. You think perhaps that this weapon is a mere toy. Do not dismiss it for we both have our skills you and I, and this is mine.’ The quiet conviction in his voice impressed the old captain.

‘I will do all I can, for I want to see her free from that evil man as much as you, but I hold grave fears for our success Rema Bowman, grave fears indeed.’ At that moment Scion cried out from where he stood on the top of mid-deck steps which led to the fore deck.

‘Captain they are slowing, they’ve let the main boom on the mizzen swing free, we are gaining!’ Tyne swore.

‘It’s true, but by the gods Abhor is playing with us, for he’s letting us catch him. What the devil for?’ As they watched, the
Scoira
slowly crept up astern of the larger ship until they could clearly see Abhor and his helmsman standing stark and proud on his wheel deck. ‘Damn him,’ Tyne swore loudly suddenly realising what was going on, ‘he wants to show us his prize, he’s going to put her on display... I’ve heard it done; what arrogance!’ And sure enough the pale figure of the red headed Serenna could be seen held firmly between two sailors being marched to the stern rail. As they watched and as the distance between the two vessels lessened gradually, the view became clearer. Those on the
Scoria
watched, appalled as the evil Jehru Abhor made a spectacle of his prey. Serenna’s hands were tied above her head and with a rope attached to her wrists was hauled upwards from a pulley high up on the rear mast. She was lifted up like a puppet until she was made to stand on the stern rail, balanced precariously above the water and supported only by the rope above, Abhor on one side holding her leg and another sailor on her other side doing the same.