Once upon a Spring morn ou-2 Read online

  Her heart hammering in dread, Celeste replied, “Nay, Ensign, I’ll not cower while others fight.” Roel turned to her. “If we do not survive, Celeste, know this: I love you.”

  Before she could reply the ship rose up as the leading edge of the billow reached them. “Hold fast!” shouted Chevell.

  With her bow and its nocked arrow in her left hand, Celeste grabbed on to the side rail with her right, as up rode the ship and up, heeling over to the larboard side, rigging creaking under the strain. And the boiling wave passed alongside, part of it flowing under the Sea Eagle, and Celeste espied in the waters aflank an enormous creature hurtling past, its eyes like two huge round lamps, its body massive and long and dark emerald with spots of pale jade down its length, and running the full of its back stood a raised, translucent yellow-green fin held up by sharp spines. On sped the immense sea serpent, fully twice or thrice the length of the ship; on it hurtled and on, driving the water before it. And then it was beyond the Sea Eagle, the vessel left bobbing in its wake.

  Her heart yet pounding with residual fright, Celeste resheathed her arrow and slung her bow across her back. Then she turned to Roel and slipped past his shield and sword and embraced him and in a delayed reply said, “I know, Roel, I know. Just as I do love you.” And she took his face in her hands and kissed him, even as tears of relief slid down her cheeks.

  Laval wiped a shaky hand across his sweating brow and said, “I thought we were deaders for certain.”

  “Nevertheless you stood fast and ready, Ensign,” said Roel. He looked past Celeste and in the direction of the racing heave, and said, “Hmm. .”

  Celeste disengaged herself and turned to see what had caught Roel’s attention. The wake of the serpent boiled toward the corsair.

  Aboard that ship, pirates pointed and shouted, and then some began haling the sails about to catch the wind abeam and add haste to the vessel.

  But then, without losing speed, the serpent lunged up and hurtled across the deck of the corsair, the creature’s massive weight plunging the ship down. Across the craft and down and under and then back up and ’round the serpent coiled, the vessel now in its grasp. Wood splintered, the hull burst, masts shattered, and sails and rigging fell to ruin. Pirates leapt into the sea, and the water about them roiled and turned red, and fins sped to and fro as men screamed and screamed, their cries cut short in a froth of scarlet.

  And then the ship was gone, masts and sails and rigging and hull dragged down into the depths below, the sea serpent vanishing as well. And all that was left behind was a frenzy of shark fins racing through a crimson swirl of water, and then that was gone, too.

  “Well,” said Chevell, taking a sip of wine, “if the map was somehow hidden beyond our search of that vessel, it’s now lost.”

  Lieutenant Florien-a tall, long-faced man-

  shrugged and said, “My Lord Captain, well did we search, and no map was found.”

  Armond nodded his agreement. “Sir, the men did a thorough job. I truly believe the map was not there.” Celeste broke off a piece of fresh-baked biscuit and dipped it in among the beans on her plate. She peered at it a moment and sighed and looked across the table at Roel. “We can only hope it is on the last of the corsairs.” Roel nodded and cut another bite from his slice of smoke-cured ham and said, “Yet if it is hidden on the first ship captured, then we are sailing in the wrong direction.”

  “And if on the second ship, it’s gone,” said Officer Burcet, ship’s chirurgeon-short and rather foxlike of feature, with reddish hair and pale brown eyes.

  They sat ’round a table in the captain’s quarters: Chevell, Armond, Laval, Roel, and Celeste, along with Florien and Burcet.

  “Me,” said Armond, “I believe the rover captain was telling the truth, and the map is on the last of the three raiders.”

  “Who can trust the word of a corsair?” said Chevell.

  Celeste looked at the captain and smiled. “Did I not hear you mention you were once a freebooter?” Chevell laughed. “That was long past, Princess. I’ve since become a king’s man, and now my word is my bond. Your sire, Valeray, helped me to understand that.”

  “My sire?”

  “Oui.”

  “When was this?”

  Chevell glanced ’round the table and raised his left eyebrow and said, “This goes no further.” All the men nodded, including Roel, and Princess Celeste canted her head in assent.

  Chevell lifted his glass of wine and held it up and looked at the ruby liquid, glowing with lantern light shining through. Then he took a deep breath and said,

  “Many, many summers now long gone, Valeray and I were partners. We were on a, um, a bit of a task, one requiring lock-picking skills. We had just managed to liberate what we had come for, when we were discovered.

  It was as we were escaping over the rooftops that I fell and broke my leg. The watch was hard on our heels, and I could not go on. Valeray, who had the. . hmm. . the items, dragged me into hiding and said if they found me, he would make certain to set me free. Then he fled on.

  “Well, they found me, and threw me in gaol. A chirurgeon came to set my leg so that I would be fit when hanged. To my surprise, the ‘chirurgeon’ was Valeray.

  He did set my leg, and then, with a cosh, he stunned the jailor and managed to get me free. He had a horse-drawn wagon waiting, grunting pigs in the stake-sided wain. He slipped me under the floorboards, where I lay in a slurry of pig sewage, and drove right through the warded gate.” Chevell burst into laughter. “The guards, you see, only glanced at the wain and backed away holding their noses and waved the pig farmer on. And even though I was retching as we went out the portal, my heaves were lost among the grunts of the swine.” Celeste broke into giggles, and the men at the table roared in laughter.

  When it subsided, Chevell said, “We got quit of that city, and I asked Valeray why he had risked all to come back for nought but me. ‘My word is my bond,’ he replied.” Chevell took a sip of his wine. “Later, we parted our ways, and soon I became a freebooter-rose to captain my own vessel. But always Valeray’s words echoed in my mind: ‘My word is my bond.’

  “Up until then I had not had much experience with honorable men. Yet that set me on my course. I gave up freebooting and took my ship and a good-hearted crew-one I had been culling from among the corsairs-and joined the king’s fleet. It was only long afterward I discovered Valeray himself had been a king’s thief, working for a distant realm.

  “Some time after that, there was that dreadful business with Orbane, and I hear that Valeray was key to that wizard’s defeat.” Chevell looked at Celeste. “Sometime, Princess, you will have to tell me how ’twas done.” There came a tap on the door. “Come!” called Chevell.

  The door opened and a skinny, towheaded cabin boy said, “Beggin’ your pardon, My Lord Captain, but the sailmaker says all is ready.”

  “Thank you, Hewitt. Tell the watch commander I’ll be out at the mark of eight bells. Have the crew assemble then.”

  Roel looked at Chevell. “The funerals of those lost in the battle?”

  “Aye,” replied Chevell.

  They ate in silence a moment, and then Officer Burcet said, “Damn the corsairs. I spent a goodly time sewing up gashes and bandaging heads. Two died under my care. Would that I could have done something to keep them alive.”

  “The duties of a chirurgeon must be dreadful,” said Celeste, “dealing with the aftermath of violence as you do.”

  “Oui. Even so, there are rewards as well.”

  “That’s what Gilles says, too.”

  “Gilles?”

  “One of the healers at Springwood Manor.” Suddenly Celeste’s face fell. “Oh, I hope he is all right.” When the officers at the table looked at Celeste, questions in their eyes, Roel said, “Gilles was one of those with us when the Goblins and Ogres and Trolls attacked.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Chevell. “We can only hope if the men in your band did cross the twilight border, they did so at a place other
than where you crossed.” A pall fell upon the table, and from the deck a bell rang six times, the sound muted by the cabin walls.

  Finally, Roel said, “How does one cross an unknown border?”

  “Very carefully,” said Chevell.

  Celeste looked up from her plate. “In the Springwood, in fact in all of the Forests of the Seasons-even the Winterwood-we ask the Sprites to help us. They fly across and back, and report what is on the other side.”

  “Why did you single out the Winterwood, cherie?” asked Roel.

  Celeste smiled and said, “Sprites do not like cold weather, for they wear no clothing. And in Borel’s realm it is always winter. Even so, we don special garments, with places within where the Sprites can stay warm.

  Then we bear Sprites ’round the bound and they help us note what is on the far sides. In the other three realms, no special garb is needed.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Roel. “But doesn’t that take a long while to map out a bound?”

  Celeste nodded and said, “It is a long and tedious process, and we place markers signifying the safe routes, or note natural landmarks to do so.” Roel nodded. “I see, and there was no marker where we crossed.”

  Celeste frowned a moment and then brightened. “Ah, Roel, that works to the good. If men of the warband survived the attack-and they are most likely to have done so, since the Goblins and such followed us-they will be cautious when crossing over. Can they find one, they will fetch a Sprite to help, or rope a scout to cross over. And if we left tracks, they will most likely think we have drowned, for the Sea Eagle has borne us away.” She grinned ruefully. “And here I was fearful for them, when instead they are almost certainly mourning us.” Ensign Laval said, “But won’t that mean your brothers and sister and your parents will be in mourning, too?”

  “Oh,” said Celeste, her voice falling.

  “Fear not, my lady,” said Chevell. “As soon as we return to Mizon, we will send word of your survival.”

  “Ah,” said Celeste, her voice rising.

  With her spirits lifted, Celeste set to her meal with gusto. Roel grinned and said to Chevell, “You can report that, thanks to the Three Sisters, the Sea Eagle was at the right place at the right time, and the word of our demise premature.”

  “Hear, hear,” said Second Officer Florien, his long face breaking into a smile. He raised his glass in salute.

  “Aye,” said Chevell. “I ween we can also thank the Three Sisters for sending the second corsair to the bottom, yet if the map was hidden thereon-” Celeste shook her head. “Non, Captain. Although I do believe the Fates sent that serpent-for those corsairs broke an oath taken in the Sisters’ names-I do not believe the Fates would have done so if the map were aboard.”

  Chevell cocked an eyebrow. “Why is that, Princess?”

  “Because, Captain, somehow the Fates are tied up in this quest of ours, and Lady Skuld has given me a rede.”

  “Lady Skuld!” blurted Ensign Laval. “You spoke to Lady Skuld?”

  “Oui.”

  Wide-eyed, Chevell looked at Celeste and said,

  “Princess, you will have to tell us of this quest you and Chevalier Roel follow.”

  Celeste looked at Roel and said, “ ’Tis your tale to begin, cheri.”

  Roel nodded and said, “Some summers back my parents arranged a marriage for my sister, Avelaine, one she did not welcome. . ”

  “. . and that was when the Goblins and such attacked, the crow flying above and calling for revenge,” concluded Celeste.

  “Where is this crow now?” asked the ensign.

  “Skewered,” said Roel. “I believe Captain Anton slew it with a crossbow bolt.”

  “Then if it was the witch shapeshifted, she’s dead.

  Right?”

  Roel looked at Celeste, revelation in his eyes, and said,

  “Perhaps, Laval. Perhaps. We can only hope it is true.” Again the bell sounded, this time ringing eight. Another tap came on the door, and Cabin Boy Hewitt said,

  “The men are assembled adeck, My Lord Captain, and the slain await.”

  “Very well, Hewitt.” Chevell stood, the other officers following suit, as did Princess Celeste and Chevalier Roel.

  “Captain,” said Celeste as they moved through the door, “if you will allow, I will sing their souls into the sky.”

  “Nothing would please me more, my lady,” replied Chevell.

  Celeste and Roel were quartered in the first officer’s cabin, and Lieutenant Armond displaced Second Officer Florien, and he in turn displaced Ensign Laval, who then moved to share quarters with the chirurgeon, Burcet.

  As Celeste and Roel lay in the narrow bunk, Roel, his voice heavy with fatigue, said, “Thank you for the sweet song, my love. It was well received.”

  “The men wept,” said Celeste.

  “As did I,” murmured Roel. “It is difficult to see brave men go to their grave.”

  “Oui,” said Celeste, but Roel did not hear even that single word, for, exhausted, he had fallen asleep.

  Moments later, Celeste followed him into slumber.

  Even so, in the wee hours after mid of night, Celeste awakened to find Roel propped on one elbow and looking at her by the starlight seeping in through the porthole.

  Celeste reached up and pulled him to her and whispered, “Forever, my darling, forever,” and they made love by the dark of the moon.

  Yet for stolen Avelaine, but one dark of the moon remained.

  13

  Hazard

  In the early-morning light, Captain Chevell stood on the bow of the Sea Eagle and stared at the horizon and brooded. He glanced down at the map in his hands and then called up to the lookout, “Anything, Thome?”

  “Non, My Lord Captain,” called down the man in the crow’s nest. “But for Low Island, the sea is empty to the rim.”

  Chevell again glanced at the chart, and then strode to the stern and said, “Gervaise, bring her to a course three points sunwise of sunup. Destin, set the sails two points counter.”

  As the helmsman spun the wheel rightward, the bosun piped calls to the crew, and men haled the yardarms about. The Sea Eagle heeled over in response to the brisk breeze. As soon as she came ’round, Gervaise straightened the wheel, and the ship now cut a new course through the waves.

  Lieutenant Armond stepped up from the main deck and said, “My Lord Captain, what have you in mind?” Chevell sighed. “The pirate Barlou has a long lead on us, and his ship is swift, and even though we are swifter, still he will make port ere we can o’erhaul him. Yet he sails a course to take his ship ’round the Iles de Chanson. ” Chevell tapped the map. “We have just passed Ile Basse, and so the Iles de Chanson lie along the course we now sail. If we fare through them, then we might intercept the corsair before it sails into Brados.”

  “But, my lord, isn’t that a perilous course to take?”

  “Oui, but it seems the only chance to seize the corsair before it reaches safe haven.”

  “But, my lord, what of the legends?”

  “Legends?” asked Celeste, as she and Roel stepped onto the fantail.

  “Good morning, my lady,” said Chevell. He acknowledged Roel with a nod.

  Roel nodded in return, and Celeste said, “Good morning, Captain, Lieutenant. And what’s this about legends?”

  “Princess,” said Chevell, “in hopes of intercepting the raider, I have changed our course, and it will take us through the Islands of Song.”

  “Ah,” said Celeste. “I see.”

  “I don’t,” said Roel. “What are these Islands of Song?”

  Celeste said, “Lore has it that Sirenes at times dwell therein.”

  “Mermaids?” asked Roel.

  “Oui.”

  Roel turned up a hand in puzzlement.

  “It’s their singing, Chevalier; they enchant men with their songs,” said Chevell.

  Roel looked at Celeste, and she nodded in agreement and said, “So the stories go.”

  Armond said,
“It is told that the Sirenes sit on rocks and comb their long golden hair and sing, and men go mad with desire. Sailors leap overboard to be with them; ships founder; entire crews are lost to the sea, drowned in their own desire, drowned in the brine as well.”

  “Why not simply plug up the ears?” asked Roel.

  Armond shook his head. “Contrary to an old legend, that does no good whatsoever. It seems the spell of the singing depends not on hearing at all, for even deaf men are enchanted.”

  Roel frowned and turned to Chevell. “Then, Captain, is this a wise course to take: sailing among these islands?” Chevell smiled. “Some of what Armond has said is true: the Sirenes do sing, and men, deaf or no, are entranced by their songs. Yet heed: when I was a freebooter, I spoke to a raider whose craft sailed those perilous waters to evade one of the king’s ships. He said the crew was indeed spellbound, but they did not leap overboard. Before they entered the isles, they lashed their tiller, and the course they had set carried them on through much of the perilous waters. When they could no longer hear the songs, they came to their senses just in time to avoid disaster and sailed on. The king’s ship, though, did not think to do this, and so with her tiller unlashed and unmanned she foundered on the rocks and sank. The freebooter who told me this does not know what happened to the king’s crew.”

  “Ah, and you plan on lashing our tiller?” asked Roel.

  “Non, Roel. I plan on the princess guiding us through.”

  “Me?” asked Celeste, surprise in her eyes.

  “Oui, my lady, for the songs of Sirenes do not affect the fairer sex.”

  “But Captain,” protested Celeste, “I know nought of piloting a ship.”

  “Princess, ’tis likely that no Sirenes will be at the isles, but if they are, then we’ll need you to steer. Helmsman Gervaise will teach you what you must know to maintain a course, for there is a rather straight run through the Iles de Chanson with but a single turn; it is shown on my charts and supports what the freebooter said.”

  “And you trust this man?”

  “Oui, for he was my mentor as I worked my way up through the ranks.”