'Still, there's little we can do about that now,' said Hirad. 'Tell me, Unknown, what do you think are the biggest problems after what we've been hearing from Ren and Erienne?'
The Unknown blew out his cheeks. 'Well, they aren't going to all run up the path from the landing point, are they? Never mind the wards we think may be in place, they can fly and carry swordsmen short distances so we're going to have to expect attack from anywhere. If we can't block some of the potential entry points to this house, we stand to get swamped. Mind you, if we can't shield the house against a mage barrage, none of that will matter.'
'You think they'll do that?' asked Hirad.
'I would,' said Darrick. 'It doesn't risk any of their men and it could get them what they want quickly.'
'Anything we can do to stop that happening?' asked Hirad.
'Well that depends on how many Protectors you're prepared to risk outside the house,' said Darrick. 'I suspect that the Dordovans will expect us to be in a tight defensive formation wherever we are. They know we only have one ship and that means there's a finite number that can be ranged against them.'
'Don't forget they have no idea what resistance to expect from the island itself,' said The Unknown.
'Agreed, but they'll realise soon enough that there is no meaningful force already there when they start to advance,' said Darrick. 'If we can hide Protectors outside of the house, they could attack mage groups while they're casting. The success of that will depend on the number of swordsmen they've brought and the risk they think we pose.'
'How many would you take from the house defence?' asked Hirad.
'Eight, no more. But it's so dependent on terrain. They must be invisible from above as well as at ground level. I just think it's something we should consider.' The General poured water into his goblet.
'Anything else?' Hirad was looking at The Unknown. 'I know we can't be certain of anything but we aren't going to have time to scratch our heads when we arrive.'
'We aren't blessed with many options,' said The Unknown. 'We shouldn't split our force unless we really have to but Darrick's idea could prove successful if we can guarantee surprise. So much depends on the health or otherwise of the Al-Drechar. We don't want The Raven's mages wasting their stamina on shielding the house but it could come to that. And if it does, we're going to have to think on our feet about how to keep the swordsmen out.'
The Unknown breathed heavily and stood up, wincing as he flexed his knee and hip.
'I've got to rest. I'm going for a stroll round the deck first to try and loosen this up. Anyone else?'
'Yes, why not?' said Hirad.
Darrick nodded and smiled. 'I'll leave you two to it. I fancy rolling off my bunk a few times while I try and sleep.'
'See you at dawn, then,' said Hirad. 'And try not to wake up too bruised, eh?' Hirad turned to The Unknown. 'Come on, old man, let's get those creaking bones up top.'
'See this fist? It still works, you know. I'm not so crocked I can't take you on, Coldheart,' said The Unknown.
'You'll have to catch me first.'
The two friends headed for the deck.
Dawn saw the Calaian Sun slowing. Wind howled around the islands of the Ornouth, sawing at the trees that covered the slopes, and forcing Jevin to reduce sail. Ahead of them, the Elm had done the same and no doubt when they encountered the vicious swirling gusts, the Dordovans would follow suit.
They were sailing down a wide channel between two of the larger islands in the inner group, the clouds lower than they'd ever seen them, obscuring the hills and mountain peaks, and sweeping into valleys, thick, fast-moving and heavy with yet more rain. The only respite was in the swell, which hadn't the power of the open sea and though waves crashed against exposed shores, spray flying in the wind, the narrowing channels were quieter.
Ren stood on the wheel deck as she had throughout the night, her eyes never far from the stern of the Ocean Elm, waiting for a sign that they should take to their boats. Every hour they could stay aboard would make their job that little bit more comfortable and she estimated they had a day's sailing ahead of them, travelling as slowly as they were. Though more tricky to handle in these conditions, the masted skiffs could probably travel more quickly.
Lining the decks were the off-duty crew, The Raven and the Protectors. No one was below decks apart from the cook and even he was required topside whenever he could leave his pots safely. Jevin was clearly nervous, wanting everyone ready to react should they run aground and beside the plumb-liners shouting out depths scant feet below their keel, teams of Protectors stood ready to lower boats, with elven crew standing by to direct.
Herendeneth was dead ahead. The beacon struck through the gloom of the grey morning, beautiful but disturbing, a demonstration of magical power that Ren knew was nothing to do with the Al-Drechar's will and everything to do with their diminishing ability to shield Lyanna. Ren feared what she would find when they reached land.
The ship shuddered suddenly, slowing dramatically. A grinding sound travelled all the way down the keel beneath their feet, agonisingly slow, its volume amplified as it reverberated through the ship's timbers. Eyes scanned the seas, the plumb liners shook their heads. The vibration went on.
'Hold her steady,' said Jevin, his voice taut, his hands gripping the rail in front of him, his knuckles whitening.
Beside him, Ren waited for the sound to become the ripping, splintering one she knew he would be dreading. For an age, they dragged across the sea bed, sometimes heavily, sometimes almost lifting away on the slight swell. But there was no splitting of timbers and no rushing of water into a breach and the grinding sound ultimately faded and stopped altogether.
Jevin turned to Ren'erei, his face pale, breathing hard.
'Sand,' he said, his voice low. 'But maybe not next time. How much further?'
'Not far,' said Ren, though she didn't know and could feel herself shaking. 'We'll be all right, they won't let us down.'
'Assuming the skipper's still alive,' said Jevin. 'I'm not putting my crew through this much longer. Nor my ship. What sort of sign are you looking for, exactly?'
Ren was about to shrug but glanced back at the Elm and a smile lifted her features.
'That one,' she said pointing. 'That's it.'
Selik stormed up to the wheel deck, two henchman right behind him.
'You had better have sound reason to change the direction of this ship,' he grated, pushing the skipper away from his helmsman.
'You've seen the channels and you've heard the depths being shouted out,' said the skipper smoothly. 'And dead ahead is not the route to the destination for this ship.'
'You're lying,' said Selik. 'I can see it in your slanted elven eyes. Get this ship back on course. Do you think I am blind?'
'No, but unless you have better information on the depth of the channel I've just turned from than I have, I suggest you leave me to do my job. After all, why would I lead you astray? I'm happy to be taking you to the island. I'm looking forward to burying you there.'
Selik leant away, considering. 'You must think me stupid,' he said quietly. 'How long before we turn again.'
'Half a day,' said the skipper. 'It depends on the wind. If you don't believe me, then kill me and take the ship yourself.'
Selik's eyes glinted coldly.
'That's a sign?' asked Jevin.
'Yes,' said Ren. 'Because the route is straight ahead. There's no turn to the landing point until we clear the next island.'
Jevin nodded. 'I bow to your knowledge. Now, what do you want me to do?'
'If you can, sail up to the point where they've turned. Then bring the ship around and we'll launch the boats we need and go. You can either follow the Elm and find calm water to hide in or go back. There's no other way out to the ocean that I know of. You'll have to decide for yourself.'
'And what is to port up ahead?'
'Island upon island. You can't reach Herendeneth that way but you can make safe harbour in a lagoon a day's sailing away. You'll know it when you see it. You'll be hidden and you can rest. But keep hard to the starboard shore. The land shelf is very steep right off the coast of the islands there. The port side is littered with reefs just under the surface.'
Another nod from Jevin. 'And what of the Elm?'
'I don't know,' said Ren, worry gnawing at her. 'I guess he'll try and lead the Black Wings as far away as he can. He's a very brave elf.'
'I'll do what I can.'
'Thank you.'
Sweat was mingling with the rain and salt spray by the time the Calaian Sun had crept along the channel to the point where the Elm had turned. The ship hove to and started to come about to port, ready to follow the other elven ship away from Herendeneth.
The deck was filled with men and elves, weapons, small sails and crates of foodstuffs. Protectors clustered round davits that were brought up from the hold and locked into place. They hefted the long boats up and on to the pulleys and lowered them away into the sheltered seas on the lee of the ship, scrambling quickly down the nets and taking up oars, their gear stowed forward and aft under sheeting.
There were two long boats Jevin had been prepared to let go and the Protectors shared themselves out between them. Darrick and Ren would also travel, one to a boat. Thraun too, though still kept asleep, was leaving the ship on a long boat. Hirad would hear no dissension.
'If we're all to die, it will be together and Thraun must be where the Al-Drechar can work on him,' he had said.
The Raven would sail in a masted skiff. These three craft were the most Jevin could allow them. He would not leave himself and his crew with no means of escape should they founder.
Elves swarmed down to the skiff and raised the mast, leaving the sail furled but ready, and helped down The Unknown, who was struggling to climb the scrambling nets, tears forced from his eyes by the pain of his hip. He refused to sit, determining to hang on to the mast for support while they sailed. Hirad exchanged an anxious glance with Ilkar as they watched him before climbing down themselves. The two of them sat forward, Ilkar's face pale at the very thought of a trip in a small boat, while Denser held the tiller, unable to keep a brief smile from his face. Erienne sat by him.
'That old familiar feeling,' he said.
'If you'll recall, the Triverne Inlet was like a pond compared to this,' said Ilkar. 'And your steering still made it feel like rough seas. I can't believe we're letting you helm again.'
'I didn't see any other volunteers,' said Denser. He looked across at Erienne. She was looking towards Herendeneth, her arms about her stomach, her shoulders tensed.
'We'll be there soon, love,' said Denser.
'I know,' said Erienne, half turning to look at him. 'I've missed her so much but . . .' She broke off and swallowed.
'There's always hope,' said Denser, though he felt none.
'No there isn't,' said Erienne. 'Just get us there safely. And quickly.'
Hirad pushed them from the side of the ship and, with a wave and shouts of thanks for the watching crew, they steered away, The Unknown hauling up the sail which filled and drove them after the Protectors.
The skipper of the Ocean Elm had seen them well before the shout went up. He walked aft across the wheel deck and leaned over to see a Dordovan mage peering into the gloom of late morning. Selik was hurrying along the walkway.
'Damn,' muttered the skipper. He walked back to the helmsman and stood by him. 'Leave the deck. If Selik's mage has seen them, he'll be up here to kill me. You know what to do.'
'Aye, Captain.'
'Remember, the One must survive and the Al-Drechar are important above all other feelings. We've done everything we can.'
The skipper hurried him to the ladder, took the wheel himself and looked determinedly forward. Below him, the helmsman scurried across the deck to talk to the bo'sun and first mate. The pair looked up at him, nodded slightly and set about their tasks.
The skipper heard the sound of running feet. His heart rate increased and he gripped the wheel. Hands slapped on the ladder and Selik's head appeared, the look on his face giving the skipper the answer to his question. Behind him, two mages and a henchman. Selik strode across and grabbed the skipper by the throat, marching him backwards, a dagger in his free hand, his ruined face contorted in rage.
'Tell me now,' he said. He looked over his shoulder. 'You, take the wheel, just keep it where it is. For now.' Selik brought his dagger up, its point scant inches from the skipper's right eye. 'Talk.'
'You didn't even bother to really question me, did you?' said the skipper. 'In your arrogance, you thought I'd simply roll over and let you plunder the most sacred things in my life. Well, my work is done now. You have lost Erienne and I have led those most able to stop you to the correct path, while we sail in an entirely different direction. And all the time, the world turns a little further and your hopes of murder recede.'
Selik looked at him, his mouth hanging open, a line of spittle dripping from the slack, nerveless left-hand side. He even stepped away a little, though the dagger point remained steady.
'But the forces of right must not be denied,' he whispered, a fervour creeping into his eyes. 'You have betrayed every living thing in Balaia.'
The skipper could see the hate beginning to grow, could feel the tightening of the hand at his throat and the wobble of the dagger in front of him, its unfocused point shimmering. He knew he didn't have long.
'You're too late, Selik. Erienne will be united with her child and together they will destroy you and everything you stand for. If that is what I am betraying, then I will die content. So push home your dagger, Black Wing, you cannot threaten or hurt me any more.'
Selik looked over his shoulder. Under full sail and in calm waters sheltered from the storms, the Elm drove on at exhilarating speed. To where, the skipper didn't know and cared less. Eventually, the sea bed would rise to meet the keel of the ship but the skipper knew he wouldn't live to see it.
The dagger point came closer still. The skipper didn't flinch.
'And of course, if I do kill you, your crew will refuse to sail. I am not such a fool as you believe,' said Selik.
The skipper laughed. 'Look behind you, Selik. They have refused already. You have lost and I have won.'
Selik swung the skipper around so that he could look along the line of the ship. The elven crew were still there in the rigging and near the lines and stays. Even mops and buckets still rested on the deck and plumb lines lay in coils. But the crew were motionless. All of them. Waiting.
'Turn this bastard ship around!' roared Selik. 'Or your beloved captain dies.' Not one of them moved.
'Your man has the wheel,' said the skipper smoothly.
Selik sneered. 'Yes. He does. Turn us into the centre of this channel.'
'But-'
'Do it now! How hard can it be. Turn the wheel.' The skipper watched as the Black Wing soldier turned the wheel. The Ocean Elm began to come about, jibing across the wind, sails snapping briefly into a run before starting to pick up the new tack. They needed trimming to make the most of the direction. He didn't have to turn to know what his crew were doing now. Every one of them was moving from his post to come to stand below the wheel deck, or as near as their captors would allow.
'Get back to your work!' shouted Selik.
'No one may turn this vessel without the permission of the captain,' said the skipper quietly. 'They will not lift a finger to your order.'
But Selik was looking at the sails filling as the ship turned further and the sneer returned. 'But it doesn't look like I need you anyway, does it, dear captain? And I'm sure your crew won't let themselves drown because of some obscure rule of the sea, will they? You, of course, will not get the chance to find out.'
And as the dagger punched upwards and his head roared with brief pain before the end, the skipper knew Selik would soon be joining him, embraced by the Gods of the Sea.
They would make their own judgement and exact their retribution.
Chapter 35.
The going was occasionally tricky but never particularly dangerous. While the Protectors drove on, oars biting into the choppy waters, a picture of precision synchronisation, The Raven, sail full, skimmed quickly down the channel, soon leaving the long boats in their wake.
With soaring cliffs to the left, lost in the low cloud, and a jagged series of smaller rock islands to the right, the wind whistled across the skiff, forcing The Raven to sit to starboard to balance the pull of the sail.
One hand on the main sheet, the other gripping the tiller, Denser sailed under the watchful but approving eye of The Unknown who still stood, hand on mast or mainstay.