Once upon a Spring morn

11

Pursuit

In but a heartbeat and before she could scream, Celeste crashed down onto a canted surface that rang like hardwood, and- “Uff!” — she fell forward to her hands and knees. Her long-knife was lost to her grip and went skittering away in the blackness. Floundering to her feet, “Roel, Roel,” she called, but then she was grabbed from behind, and a rough hand was clapped over her mouth.

Celeste wrenched to and fro, and tried to stomp her heel onto the foot of whoever or whatever had her in its grasp, but she could not break free.

“Quiet, or I’ll snap your neck,” came a hissed command, and whoever had her twisted her head to one side.

Celeste stopped her struggle.

“My Lord Captain,” the being said, keeping his voice low, “I have one here. A female, by the feel of her.”

“There’s another over here, my lord,” someone else said, also in a hushed voice. “I think he’s dead.” Roel dead?

Celeste moaned, but then fell silent as the grip on her mouth tightened in threat.

“Oi, now, wait a moment. He’s breathing. I think he’s just unconscious.”

Thank Mithras, Roel’s alive.

Footsteps neared on wood, but stopped, and the surface Celeste stood on slowly rose and fell. She smelled a salt tang in the air, and she heard the rush of water. A ship. I’m on a ship.

Her eyes now beginning to adjust to the darkness, Celeste could make out a dim shape standing before her.

“Madam, if my lieutenant takes his hand from your mouth, will you keep your voice down?” Celeste managed a restricted nod.

“She agrees, My Lord Captain,” said the one who held her.

“Then do so, Lieutenant.”

The person took his hand from her mouth, yet held her tight, and in that very same moment and in the near distance there sounded terrified screams and roars and splashes.

“What th-?” breathed the one who held her.

“Goblins and Ogres and Trolls, Captain,” said Celeste. “They were in pursuit of us. Now release me so that I might tend my consort.”

“Consort? Who are you?”

Momentarily, Celeste hesitated, for she did not wish to be held for ransom. But then from nearby there came a groan. Roel. She took a deep breath and said,

“Celeste, Princesse de la Foret de Printemps.”

“Princess of the Springwood?”

“Oui. Now again I say, release me so that I might tend my consort.”

“Tell me something few know of your pere,” said the captain.

Does this man know my sire? “Thief,” said Celeste.

“Release her, Lieutenant.”

Set free, Celeste turned in the direction of the groan, and in the darkness she could just make out the shape of something or someone-presumably Roel-lying on the deck, with someone kneeling at hand.

As she made her way toward the supine figure, the lieutenant said, “My Lord Captain, with those screams, surely we move not in secret any longer.”

“Mayhap not,” replied the captain. “Nevertheless we will hew to our course.”

“But, Captain, the men grow ever more fearful, for should we cross over the bound-”

“I know, Lieutenant. We could crash the ship into a mountainside, or burn in a fiery flow, or plummet over an escarpment, or any number of other terrible disasters. Yet heed, if we are to overtake the corsairs, spring upon them unawares, then this is the best course. ’Tis a trick I learned from my freebooter days. Helmsman, just make certain the very ebon wall remains immediately on our port beam. That blackness is the midpoint we dare not cross.”

“Aye, aye, my lord,” replied another voice, the helmsman, no doubt.

Even as Celeste dropped to her knees beside Roel, for surely it was him, he groaned awake. “Wha- Oh, my jaw.”

“Keep your voice low, beloved,” said Celeste.

“Celeste?”

“Oui.” She removed Coeur d’Acier from his grip and took his hand in hers and squeezed.

“I think my chin slammed into the edge of my very own shield,” said Roel. “Where are we?” Celeste looked about, her eyes now fully adjusted to the dimness. She could just make out the dark-on-dark silhouettes of railings and the helm and men and masts and sails and rigging. To the immediate port side there loomed a pitch-black wall. “On the stern of a ship, cheri.”

“A ship?” Roel struggled to a sitting position. He freed his shield arm. “What ship?”

The man-or was he a lad? — kneeling at Roel’s side said, “The Sea Eagle, my lord, my lady. Three-masted and full rigged, she’s the fastest in the king’s fleet.” From the tenor of his voice, Celeste decided he was a youth.

“What are we doing on a king’s ship?” asked Roel.

“At the moment, chasing corsairs,” said Celeste.

“Corsairs?”

“Pirates.”

“I know what corsairs are, my love,” said Roel.

“Rather, I was wondering how we got here. Have I missed an episode in my life?”

Celeste smiled. “Non, Roel. When we ran through the border, we fell onto this ship.”

“Oi, now, I’d say Lady Fortune must have been smiling on you two,” said the lad. “I mean, what are the chances that we’d even be here, faring through this perilous dark, and the chances that you’d come running through the black bound just as we sailed underneath?

Aye, Lady Fortune indeed.”

“More likely ’twas the Fates instead,” said Celeste.

“Otherwise we would have been swimming, as are the Goblins and Ogres and Trolls who were after us, assuming they can swim.”

“What of the warband?” asked Roel. “Did they plunge into the sea as well?”

Shock slammed into the pit of Celeste’s stomach, tears following. “Oh, Roel, you don’t suppose-?” Roel embraced her. “We can only hope they did not.” And as he held her, the ship sped on through darkness, with a stygian wall immediately abeam, and the only sounds were that of the hull racing through water, the wind in canvas, and rigging creaking under the strain.

But then from somewhere in the distance to the forequarter starboard, there came the call of someone shouting orders.

A shadowy figure stepped nigh and knelt and said,

“My lady, I ween you should go to the safety below, for we are about to o’erhaul the corsairs, and battle will soon be upon us.”

“Captain,” said Celeste, recognizing his voice, “have you any spare arrows? I am quite good with a bow.” She stood and slipped the weapon from her back, then added, “And where is my long-knife? I will need it should battle become hand-to-hand.”

Roel clambered to his feet and took up his sword and shield from the deck. “I can help.”

The captain rose and said, “Well, now, I am not certain I should allow Valeray’s daughter to be put in jeopardy.”

Celeste started to protest, but Roel said, “Captain, you cannot win this argument. Believe me, I have tried.

Besides, she is indeed quite good with the bow.”

“All right, but this I say, Princess: we will board the corsair, but you need stay on my ship, for from here your arrows will reach the foe, but their swords will not reach you.”

“Agreed,” said Celeste.

Within moments, Celeste had resheathed her long-knife and had buckled over her shoulder a baldric holding a sheaf of arrows. The shafts were a bit lengthy for her draw, but there wasn’t time to trim them. “Better long than short,” she said, upon testing one in her bow.

As they sailed on through the shadow, Celeste said,

“Captain, might I have your name?”

“Oui, my lady. I am Vicomte Chevell of Mizon.”

“Mizon? Why, that’s where we were bound when we were beset by the Goblins and Ogres and Trolls.”

“Ah, I see,” said Chevell. “You had business there?”

“Oui,” said Celeste. “We wanted to look at the map that purports to show the way to the Changeling realm.”

“Sacre Mithras!” blurted Chevell. “It is that very map we pursue.”

“What? The map is on the corsairs’ ship?”

“Perhaps; perhaps not. In the mid of night, the crews of three corsairs raided Port Mizon. Of the things they took, the chart was among them. We have already captured one of the ships, and our sister craft, the Swift Mallard, now bears the treasure from that vessel and escorts it and the raiders back to port to face the king’s justice. Me, I would just have soon hanged them all and been done with it. Regardless, we did not find the map on that craft; if it is there, it is well hidden. There are yet two of the raiders’ ships to overtake, one of which we believe has the chart.”

“Oh, no,” groaned Celeste. “We need that map to get to the Changeling realm.”

“My lady, you cannot be seriously thinking of going to-”

Beyond the shadow and directly starboard, someone shouted another command.

“Lieutenant Armond,” said Chevell, “ready the men.

As before, you will lead the boarding party.”

“Aye, my lord,” replied the lieutenant, and he moved toward the bow.

“Cherie,” said Roel, “I will go with them. As for you, ply your bow well, and stay safe aboard the Eagle. ” Celeste’s own heart was racing in fear for Roel, but she said nought as she fiercely embraced him and kissed him deeply.

They stepped apart, and Roel followed Armond.

Chevell said, “Bosun, ’tis into battle we go; pipe the sails two points to the starboard. Helmsman, follow suit.” Aye, aye, they both said, and as the bosun blew the command, the helmsman turned the wheel, and the ship began swinging rightward even as the crew haled the halyards about, yardarms swinging, sails turning to catch the best of the wind.

And out from the shadowlight came the Sea Eagle running in full, and less than a furlong to the starboard sailed a three-masted dhow, shock and alarm on the faces of the corsair crew.

“Ready grapnels,” cried Lieutenant Armond, a tall, black-haired man.

The corsairs scrambled: some to take up weapons, others to swing booms and tiller to head their ship away, and still others to jitter about to no purpose whatsoever in spite of their captain’s shouts.

Yet the Sea Eagle swooped down upon its prey, for it had the advantage of speed and surprise, as well as a ready crew.

Arrows flew from corsair to king’s ship, and arrows flew in return. But Celeste waited, for she would be certain of her casts. She glanced at Roel; he stood at the starboard wale, now and again catching an arrow upon his shield.

Even as shafts flew back and forth, “Ship ahoy,” came a cry from the crow’s nest.

Celeste frowned. Of course there’s a ship. But then the lookout cried, “A point to the port, Captain,” and Celeste looked where Captain Chevell gazed. On the horizon the lateen sails of another vessel were just then passing out of sight o’er the rim of the world.

“ ’Tis the other corsair,” said Chevell, a stocky redheaded man, some five foot nine or so. “Let us hope the map is aboard this one and not the other.”

“I pray to Mithras you are right,” said Celeste.

Now the Sea Eagle drew nigh, and at last Celeste began loosing shafts, each one aimed at a corsair archer; and one by one she took them out of the fight, her own aim deadly. Soon the pirates, especially the bowmen, were crouching down below the rails, for someone aboard the king’s ship was lethal.

“My lady,” said Chevell, “try not to slay the captain of the corsair, for I would have him lead us to the map, should he have it.”

“Aye, aye,” said Celeste, grinning, even as she loosed another arrow. “By the bye, Captain Chevell, which is the pirate captain?”

“I believe that’s him cowering by the tiller,” said Chevell.

“Ah, him,” said Celeste, drawing another arrow from the quiver and nocking it. “Well, I wouldn’t have shot him anyway, unless, that is, he threatens Roel, in which case I’ll stick him like the cowardly pig he is.” Chevell barked a laugh and said, “Agreed. But the helmsman, now, he is fair game.”

Celeste’s next shaft slew that man, and the pirate craft fell off the wind and slowed.

Now the Sea Eagle began to overlap the corsair, and moments later they were beam to beam, starboard to larboard. Grapnels flew and bit into the boards, and pirates hacked at the lines, but more grapnels bit into wood, and the men of the Eagle haled ropes and drew the ships hull to hull.

Shouting, “King Avelar!” Lieutenant Armond led his men over the wales and onto the other ship, Roel among them, Coeur d’Acier slaying left and right, the blade cleaving straight through the corsairs’ weapons of bronze to strike deadly blows. Some of the pirates leapt aboard the Sea Eagle, desperate to escape this purveyor of death, and there they fought gamely, for bronze met bronze and not steel.

One of the corsairs rushed at Celeste, but Chevell stepped in front of her and skewered the man. As Chevell jerked his sword free, Celeste said, “Merci, Captain, but I would have felled him myself.” Chevell turned to Celeste to see that she had an arrow nocked, and he grinned and said, “Oui, but sometimes a woman must let a man perform a chivalrous act.” Celeste whipped up her bow and aimed at Chevell’s throat and then shifted a bit to the right and let fly.

Thock! The shaft took an onrushing corsair in the eye, and he fell dead, his cutlass clanging to the deck at Chevell’s feet.

“Tit for tat,” said Celeste, grinning at the captain’s surprised gape even as she nocked another arrow.

The battle raged but moments longer; then aboard both ships, corsairs threw down their weapons and surrendered.

As the prisoners were rounded up, Armond dragged the corsair captain out from a hold, and marched him before Vicomte Chevell.

Celeste, an arrow yet nocked in her bow, stood at hand.

Chevell ignored the pirate for a moment and called out to the corsair vessel, “Ensign Laval, see that our wounded and dead are removed from that ship. And have some of the rovers come over and take their own wounded and dead back.”

“Aye, aye, My Lord Captain,” replied the young man.

“Lieutenant Florien,” called Chevell. “Organize a search for that which was taken from the king.”

“Aye, aye, my lord,” replied the second officer.

Then Chevell canted his head toward the pirate and said, “Your name, Captain.”

The small, swarthy man drew himself up to his full height and said, “I am Captain Zdnek, and just who are you to attack an innocent-”

“I would have the map you stole,” said Chevell, his words harsh, his gaze icy.

“Map, map? What map? I have no-”

“From Port Mizon, pirate!”

“I have not in my life been to Port Mizon, and-”

“My Lord Captain Chevell,” called Florien from the raiders’ dhow.

Chevell turned toward the man.

“In the captain’s cabin, we found the King’s Bell and many of the other treasures taken, but the map was not among them.”

“Keep searching, Florien.”

“Aye, aye, my lord.”

Grim-eyed, Chevell turned toward the pirate captain and said, “Hang him.”

Even as Lieutenant Armond reached for the corsair, Zdnek fell to his knees. “No, no, My Lord Captain,” he wailed. “Barlou has it! Barlou!” Zdnek pointed in the direction along the horizon where the other ship had disappeared.

“I think you’re lying,” snapped Chevell.

“I swear by Holy Sybil, I do not have it,” cried Zdnek, sobbing.

“Sybil is the goddess of many tongues,” said Chevell.

“Then I swear by Holy Shaitan.”

“God of liars.”

Celeste said, “Swear by the Three Sisters: Skuld, Ver shy;

dandi, and Urd. But hear me, the Fates will hold you to your word, and if it is false, then you will suffer torments beyond compare.”

Zdnek paled and trembled. “I swear on the names of Skuld and Verdandi and Urd, I do not have the map.

Barlou took it. It was the main prize, and he has the fastest ship.”

“The main prize?”

Zdnek clamped his lips shut.

“So you came after the map; I suppose the treasure you took was merely an afterthought.” Still Zdnek did not speak.

“Hang him,” said Chevell.

“No, no!” blurted Zdnek. “Oui, it was the main prize.”

“Who sent you for it?”

“I don’t know. We were merely to get the map and deliver it to Caralos.” Chevell groaned, and Celeste raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

As men began transferring treasure from the corsair to the king’s ship, Chevell said, “Is he still on Brados?”

“Oui,” said Zdnek.

Chevell sighed. Then he glanced at Celeste and turned to Armond and said, “Pledge the pirates in the name of Skuld and Verdandi and Urd. Warn them as did the princess that to break any pledge made in the name of the Three Sisters is to court disaster beyond belief.

Then set them free to sail on their own back to Port Mizon to face the king’s justice.”

“What of Captain Zdnek, my lord?” asked Armond.

Chevell looked down at the cowering man. “Hang him from the corsair’s main boom as an example to those who would break the king’s peace.” Snarling, Zdnek snatched a kris from one of his voluminous sleeves and lunged up and toward Chevell, but he did not live to strike a blow, for Celeste’s arrow took the pirate through the throat.

No matter that Zdnek was dead, they hanged his corpse regardless.