Once Upon a Winter's Night

33

Tears welled in Camille’s eyes. “Cannot reach…?” Kolor shook his head. “Not in a moon.” He looked into his mug of ale, peering at the foam.

Big Jack reached out his enormous hand and enveloped Camille’s, and he said, “Captain-”

But Kolor thrust out a palm to stop Big Jack’s words; the Dwarf’s brow furrowed in concentration as he peered into his mug as if trying to capture an elusive thought. And then his eyes widened in remembrance, and he grimaced and murmured, “Unless…”

Camille and Big Jack waited, but Kolor said no more.

“Unless what, Captain?” said Camille.

Kolor took a deep breath and dipped a finger into the froth and raised it up and stared at the pale lather. Then he licked his finger clean and looked over at her. “Unless we sail across the Sea of Mist.”

Camille frowned. “The Sea of Mist?”

Kolor let out a lengthy sigh. “ ’Tis said it is a short lay of water, Camille, though I’ve never been there. Too, they say therein a terrible monster dwells-a breaker of ships, a killer of all who attempt to cross. No vessel has ever won through, but if we could sail those waters and out, then mayhap we could reach the island in just under a moon.”

“If no ship has ever won through,” said Big Jack, “then how do you know it’s but a short stretch across?”

Kolor glanced at Scruff sleeping in Camille’s pocket. “ ’Tis said a message bird was loosed at dawn to fly from side to side, and from the time it took, the lay was judged. Even so, ships are not birds, and those waters are deadly.”

“What kind of monster is it?” asked Camille.

Kolor turned up his hands. “I know not, lady, for none has ever survived to say.”

“Then how do you know it is a ‘breaker of ships’?”

“Wreckage drifts out, Camille. And before you ask, reefs and shoals could account for such wrack, but there are no signs of grounding on the remnants.”

“Monster, reefs, shoals, or no, if it’ll get us to the isle in a moon, then that’s what we should do,” declared Big Jack, “sail the Misty Sea.”

Camille held up a cautioning hand. “Oh, Jack, I don’t know whether-”

“Camille,” said Kolor, “a commission was I given by the Fates, and I would not go against Them.”

Camille looked at the Dwarf. “Is there no other way?”

Kolor glanced at Big Jack and said, “Not any that will get us there in a moon.”

Big Jack looked to Camille for affirmation, and she sighed and then silently nodded.

“Done and done!” Big Jack declared.

“May the Three Sisters truly be with us,” said Kolor.

“When do we leave?” asked Big Jack.

Kolor looked out through the window at the rising dawnlight. “It will take the full of this day to reprovision, but we can set sail as soon as that is done.”

“What about the tide?” asked Big Jack.

“No need to wait for the outflow, not with the Nordavind, ” said Kolor, standing. “Now I must recall my crew and tell them of the task the Fates have cast our way.”

As Camille rose to her feet, Kolor added, “Rest this day, lady, and bid your farewells.”

Big Jack said to Kolor, “I will fetch th’ lady when all is ready.”

Kolor nodded, then turned toward the door, Camille and Big Jack following. And as they stepped from the Bald Pelican, with a new day on the air, Scruff awakened and scrambled to Camille’s shoulder and demanded to be fed.

As she broke fast with Scruff and Big Jack in the common room of the Blue Marlin, Camille said, “Jack, will you tell Madam Maquereau at the Red Lantern that we will be leaving on a voyage, and that I will not be singing there again?”

“Uh-huh,” said Big Jack, shovelling eggs into his mouth.

“Also, if you can find Jordain, tell him as well what it is we do.”

“Mmm-hmm,” said Big Jack, bobbing his head. Then, speaking around the mouthful of eggs, he added, “Though with th’ Nordavind in port replenishing her stores, I suppose Harbormaster Jordain already knows.”

They finished the meal in silence, Scruff pecking away at the barley seeds. Then, after Big Jack was gone, Camille settled her bill with the desk clerk, paying for that day as well, and she asked that Aicelina prepare a bath for her, the last she would have for many days to come.

When Aicelina knocked on Camille’s door, Camille gave the girl a silver for herself, saying, “You have served me well, Aicelina. Scruff, too, bringing his grain as you have.” Then Camille gave her another silver and said, “We are going on a long journey, a moon there and back, and I will need more grain for him, and since we will be going by water, the grain will need protection from spray.”

“Oui, mademoiselle,” said Aicelina. “I shall have them put it in a double sack, the outer one tarred. And what grain would you have?”

“A mix of oats, barley, rye, wheat, and millet.”

“And how much?”

Camille shrugged, then said, “Enough to last the full journey, and a bit more, should something go awry. Three moons in all should do it.”

“I shall purchase ten pounds,” said Aicelina, then looked at the silver in hand. “Oh, mademoiselle, it will not take a silver or even a bronze for such a small amount.”

“Keep whatever is left over, Aicelina.”

Aicelina’s eyes widened and she bobbed a curtsey. “Thank you, mademoiselle. I shall fetch it now.” The girl started to turn away, but then turned back. “Oh, and your bath is ready.” Then she was gone.

Night had fallen when came a tap on the door. Camille opened the panel, and in the lanternlight stood Big Jack, an enormous bronze battle-axe over his shoulder. “Th’ North Wind is ready, Lady Camille. Captain Kolor says t’ come.”

Camille fastened her cloak ’round her shoulders and took up her bedroll and waterskin and rucksack, the stave affixed in the loops. Then she fetched sleeping Scruff from his perch on the back of a chair, and, blowing out the lantern, said, “Let’s go.”

At the dock Jordain stood waiting. “Camille, I know you feel you must do this thing, yet to sail the Sea of Mist is tantamount to throwing yourself from a cliff.”

“We have no choice,” said Camille.

“Besides,” said Big Jack, hefting his battle-axe, its keen edge glinting in the light of the dockside lanterns, “it’s not like we’re going in unprepared; I’ve got Lady Bronze here, and th’ Dwarves… well… you know Dwarves.”

“Fear not, Harbormaster,” said Kolor, just then stepping forward, “the Fates are on our side, or so I do believe.”

Jordain shook his head. “Nevertheless-”

“Harbormaster,” said Kolor, “there is no other way.”

Jordain sighed and said, “Then I can but wish all of you well, especially you, my lady.” And he took Camille’s hands in his and kissed them, then released her and stepped back.

Moments later: “Ares rede!” called Kolor, and Dwarves took up spruce oars from the trestles.

Then Kolor called to the docksmen, “Cast off fore! Cast off aft!” and the mooring hawsers were uncinched and dropped into the water.

As Dwarves hauled in the lines, “Skubbe av!” Kolor called.

And fore and aft, oars were used to shove away from the dock.

“Roers, ares til vann!”

Dwarves fitted the oars through holes in the upper starboard and larboard strakes and slid them out into the water. Kolor said, “Brekki,” and a brown-haired Dwarf stepped forward and began rhythmically chanting “Strok!.. Strok!.. Strok!..” And as the Nordavind backed away from the pier, Camille in the prow raised a hand in au revoir to Jordain, and the harbormaster sighed and waved in return.

Soon Kolor commanded Brekki to turn the craft, and the oar-chief called for the rowers on the starboard to back water, while those on the larboard stroked ahead. And when she was turned about, the oars were shipped aboard and square sails were raised on all four masts and the beitass poles angled to catch the wind. Swiftly the craft surged forward and toward the harbor mouth. Past lanternlit ships moored at anchor glided the Nordavind, sailor’s songs and sea chanteys drifting o’er the water from some. Camille looked back at the town of Leport, brightly lit in the night, her eye finding the Red Lantern, and she wondered if anyone therein did sing. Onward sailed the ship, most of the eighty Dwarves looking aft as well, for their shore leave had been quite brief-but from mid of night to dawn. Yet they knew the Fates could not be denied, and so they groaned and watched Leport recede-they, too, singling out the Red Lantern-until they sailed past the harbor mouth and out into open water, the North Wind asea at last, its ultimate goal a point in the ocean marked on a chart by a dying, delirious man, a place where might or might not lie an island of Goblins and Trolls.

Camille sighed and turned to face forward, looking across the starlit deeps, wondering what peril or joy or grief lay in the waters ahead.

“There,” said Kolor, pointing. To the fore and standing across their course reared a great wall of twilight, a border of Faery there in the sea.

For nearly a fortnight in all they had sailed across the deeps, the pale arc on the dark disk on Lady Sorciere’s staff growing every day, keeping pace with the moon, turning from crescent to half and beyond, and now it was nearly full, a thin bow of darkness yet remaining along the left perimeter. And in that fortnight the Nordavind had sailed through stormy and fair weather alike, in seas smooth and choppy and raging, the wind brisk and agale and nonexistent, and there Dwarves did row. Camille had fared quite well, no matter the seas or the weather or wind, but Big Jack had, as he said, spewed his guts more than once. And in these days Camille had discovered that the amenities aboard a Dragonship were nonexistent, for she had not even the meager privacy that a burlap curtain in her pere’s crowded cottage had given. She had learned to relieve herself over the side just as did everyone else, and to take care of her courses as best she could, though for the most part, Big Jack and the Dwarves looked the other way. Scruff, however, seemed disgruntled out upon the sea, for it held no beetles or grubs to scratch up, no trees to perch in, and no flopping dust whatsoever. And still every day Camille had treated his injured wing with the salve, working the joint tenderly, Scruff’s small peeps quite unsettling to her as she did so.

But now in the dawntime, with the moon having set a candlemark past, they had come to a looming wall of twilight there in the middle of the deeps. Faces had turned grim, and weapons were placed at hand, for beyond the shadowy marge lay the Sea of Mist.

“Guide her true, Belkor,” said Kolor to the redheaded Dwarf at the steerboard tiller.

“Bestandig, Skipskaptein,” replied Belkor, his jaw set at a jut.

And driven by a brisk wind, toward that dim ambit they did run.

Big Jack took up Lady Bronze and stood ready, the great battle-axe agleam in the first rays of the sun rising off the port beam.

And just as the golden orb broke free of the rim of the sea, through the Faery border the Nordavind slid to come into a cold, clammy mist, a damp, grey fog shrouding all. And the sea-blue sails fell slack, for therein was no wind.

“Ares rede, tie,” whispered Kolor, the order passed on down the line.

Quietly, Dwarves took up oars from the trestles.

“Roers, ares til vann, tie.”

As quietly as they could, the Dwarves fitted the oars through the strake holes and slipped them into the water; ’round the shafts where they fitted through the openings, they muffled the oars with cloth wrap. Then, facing aft, they sat, their sea chests acting as seats.

Now Kolor signed to his oar-chief Brekki, who stood just ahead of the tiller, where all the rowers could see him. Brekki put his finger to his lips, and, with measured strokes of his hand down through the air, the Dwarves began to row to his mute cadence, the dip and plash of blades nearly silent.

When Camille looked questioningly at Kolor, he whispered, “ ’Tis a tactic we use in perilous waters. At times, though, when edging up on a foe, the rowers stand and face forward as they stroke, axes and shields at hand. But for long pulls, much of the stroke comes from the legs, and so we sit.”

On they went through the grey fog, the mist swirling in coils with their passage, a chill dampness seeping through all. Scruff ruffled his feathers, fluffing them outward to stay warm. Camille held open her high vest pocket, inviting him to take shelter within, but he did not accept.

On went the Nordavind, oars quietly dipping in concert, ripples of the craft’s passage spreading wide to vanish in the gloom.

And though they could not directly see the sun, a vaguely brighter glow in the chill, cloaking mist showed where it was. A candlemark passed, and the nebulous shine angled upward as the hidden sun crept into the unseen sky above.

Of a sudden, Scruff chirped and grabbed a golden tress and leapt into the pocket.

“Captain,” hissed Camille, urgency in her whisper. “Peril is nigh.”

“Peril?”

Camille pointed at the sparrow, frantically tugging on her hair.

Kolor stepped forward and whispered to Brekki, and Brekki silently signalled the rowers, Ares oppe!

Oars were raised from the water, and the Nordavind glided and slowed.

Big Jack held Lady Bronze at the ready.

Camille gripped her split and splintered stave.

All eyes stared into the grey fog, but its chill grasp thwarted vision beyond three or four boat lengths in all.

Moments later, from the larboard, a swell washed through the water, the Nordavind bobbing up and down with the passage of something huge and unseen.

In silence they waited, Camille hardly daring to breathe.

Finally, the undulations quelled, and Scruff regained his perch upon Camille’s shoulder.

“We can go on,” whispered Camille, pointing to the sparrow.

Kolor looked at the wee bird in wonder, and then hissed to Brekki to proceed.

Once again oars quietly dipped in synchronization, and the Nordavind glided on.

And still the dim glow of the sun edged up through the shrouding mist.

A candlemark passed, and then another, fog aswirl in their slow wake.

Time edged forward.

Another candlemark slid by, and then once again Scruff snatched a tress and dove into the pocket, and again Camille hissed a warning to Kolor. Oars were raised, and all fell silent, but for plip s of water dripping from the blades. Left and right did eyes stare through the grey shroud, and once more to the larboard did a surge in the water come, this time close enough to see the point of the heave as something enormous just under the surface passed by. Yet what leviathan thing or creature caused the bulge, none could say, for only the surge did they see.

Once more they waited in silence, until finally Scruff took to Camille’s shoulder again. And once more did they quietly row.

And still the glow of the sun crept across the fog, yet it did not burn away the cloaking mist, as if the shroud itself defied all. Even so, the sun, or rather its diffuse glimmer, provided a guidepost to steer by, else they could have been rowing in circles, for all Camille knew.

Becloaked in mist, across the chill, glassy sea they went, Brekki mutely marking the beat, oars dipping in concert, the Nordavind gliding in near silence, though ripples of passage spread wide.

The glow of the sun passed through the zenith and started a slow slide down the sky, and still the ship went on, none knowing how far they had come nor how far was yet to go.

And somewhere in the deeps, an unknown thing did glide.

“Captain, ahead,” sissed Big Jack. “I think I see…”

The day had fallen toward midafternoon, the glow now angled in the shroud off the starboard beam, and all hands wondered if they would ever come to the end of this dismal murk, with its chill dampness reaching unto the very bones. Yet the fog seemed to have thinned a bit, and Camille and Kolor strained to see what Big Jack “There!” sissed Camille.

A distance ahead and dimly seen through the clammy mist a wall of twilight reared up into the sky.

“ ’Tis the border,” grunted Kolor, grinning. “We’ve come to the far side.”

Forward they glided, Brekki meting out the slow and silent beat.

Yet as they neared, Scruff again grabbed a golden tress and dove into the pocket.

Ares oppe! Brekki silently signalled.

Slowly the ship glided to a stop. plip!.. plip!.. plip!.. dripped the lifted blades.

No heave in the water came.

No leviathan moved past. plip…

They waited…

… eighty-three souls afloat on the glassy surface of a windless, becloaked sea.

A full candlemark slipped away, the diffuse glow of the unseen sun eking downward through the mist.

And still Scruff remained in the pocket.

“Skipskaptein Kolor,” whispered Brekki, then he glanced at Camille and switched to the new speech, “if we do not move soon, we’ll be caught on this sea in the night.”

Kolor nodded, but did not reply.

And still they waited… silent on a waveless sea…

The glow sank…

Kolor glanced at Camille and turned up a hand.

Camille glanced down at Scruff. The wee bird yet trembled in the high vest pocket, tugging now and again on her hair. She looked back at Kolor and shook her head.

Finally, Kolor took a deep breath and whispered to Brekki, “Ahead a stroke at a time, long pauses in between. If something lies in wait, mayhap we can slip by.”

Brekki signalled, and oars dipped and pulled a single stroke.

Ripples eased across the water…

The ship glided forward then slowly came to a stop.

Another single stroke…

More ripples…

Another glide and stop…

Another str From below the Dragonship itself, monstrous suckered tentacles came looping up out of the water to lash through the fog and grasp at the sides of the ship. Recoiling Dwarves cried out and snatched up axes at hand, to hack and chop at the boneless limbs, but their blades did not cut. A huge, slimy arm wrapped about Belkor at the tiller and he was wrenched overboard, his screams lost as he was lashed under the chill sea. A tentacle whipped ’round one of the sternward Dwarves, and Kolor snatched his axe from his belt and leapt forward to hack at the slimy thing, to little effect, the tough hide resisting his furious blows, and the shrieking Dwarf was yanked into the water and down. Another ropy arm came coiling at shrilling Camille, but Big Jack, shouting a wordless howl, with a great overhand stroke slammed Lady Bronze down onto the grisly member, shearing through, black blood flying wide. As the shorn-off tentacle lashed and writhed, the gushing stump was whipped back into the water, and the creature below went mad. The water foamed in its fury, and a great stench filled the air. And then another tentacle came hurtling out of the water to whip around Big Jack and savagely contract in a crushing embrace. Without conscious thought, screaming, Camille leapt forward and slammed Lady Sorciere’s staff down on the ropy arm, and lo! a splinter stabbed in, and the tentacle fell limp to the deck, to be slowly dragged back overboard. Released, Big Jack staggered and fell, Lady Bronze clanging to the deck, even as another tentacle whipped forth. Shrieking, once more Camille struck with the staff, and that arm too fell slack. And again she struck and again, and two more tentacles fell away. And shrilling, Camille raced down the ship, striking left and right, left and right, left and Of a sudden the monster was gone, leaving stunned Dwarves behind.

Camille stumbled forward another step or two, then fell to her knees, weeping hysterically.

“Quick,” shouted Kolor, even as he leapt to the steerboard. “To the strokes! Let us leave this bedamned sea behind.”

Dwarves leapt to obey the command-some oars broken, some gone, some yet in the strakes-and in moments the craft was under way, Kolor calling the cadence, for Brekki was among the missing.

Wincing a bit from bruised ribs, Big Jack lifted Camille up in his massive arms and carried her to the bow. And he sat with her in his lap and stroked her hair as she clung to him and sobbed uncontrollably.

And even as Scruff scrambled free of the vest pocket, they came to the twilight border and through and into the slanting sunlight beyond. And a strong wind blew off the starboard stern, filling the four square sails, and across the waters fled the Nordavind, leaving the Sea of Mist behind.

Steadily the Nordavind hove across the deeps, days passing one by one, the disk on Lady Sorciere’s staff waning from full, to gibbous, to half, and then crescent, time rapidly running out. And when there were but four days left ere the whole of the moon would be gone, in late afternoon, a broad, mountainous island came into view. Camille stood in the bow of the Dragonship, her heart thudding in her breast. Delirium or no, the dying man had been right, for not only was an island where he said it would be, but Camille could see a great citadel sitting on a high hill, the mighty fortress looking down upon a small, seashore town. As to the rest, much was covered with trees, though a great spread of cultivated fields surrounded the citadel itself. It had to be Troll Island.

“This ain’t right,” said Big Jack behind her. “You going alone onto th’ isle just ain’t right.”

Camille shook her head. “We’ve argued this out for a whole week, Jack, and my mind is firm: Lady Sorciere said I must go alone, and alone I will go.”

At Camille’s side, Kolor said, “It’s no use, Big Jack. Besides, she’s right. If Lady Sorciere said to go alone, then you, me, my crew, we’ll just have to let be.”

“Still, it just ain’t-”

“Jack, I am the only one who can easily pass for a Human slave, not the Dwarves, and certainly not-”

“But I’m Human,” protested Big Jack.

“Oh, Jack, you’d stick out like a sore thumb, big as you are, towering over everyone else. No, you’ll need to stay. Besides, I’d rather not have combat if there is a way to set my love free without blood being shed.”

“My lady,” growled Kolor, “I caution you: Trolls and Goblins or no, this may not be the place where your Alain doth be.” Kolor gestured at the lowering sun. “There sinks the sun, and the horns of the moon punctured the sea nearly three candlemarks past. Hence, this is not a place lying east of the sun and west of the moon. As I’ve said before, Faery or no, such a place cannot be.”

Tears brimming, Camille glanced at her stave then took a deep breath and said, “Nevertheless, I am going.”

“And you should take me with you,” said Big Jack.

Angrily, Camille brushed her tears aside and snapped, “No!”

Big Jack’s face crumpled, and Camille reached out a hand, but then let it fall to her side. “Jack, hear me: I will go alone and discover for myself whether or no this is the place where Alain is kept prisoner. Then and only then might I need you and the Dwarves to aid, but only if there is no other way.” Camille glanced at the Dwarven crew-sixty-seven in all counting Kolor, thirteen lost to the monster of the sea. “I have seen all the death I can stand, and I would have no more.”

“Wishes or no, my lady,” gritted Kolor, “if it becomes necessary, then death there will be.”

Camille glumly nodded, yet added, “But only if unavoidable.” She turned and looked at Big Jack and then Kolor, and was satisfied by a reluctant nod from each.

“All right, then,” said Kolor, “as we have discussed, just after darkness, we will set you ashore a bit away from the town. Then to avoid accidental discovery, we’ll shove off and stand out to sea. With our masts unstepped and our blue sails draped over the wales, from a distance we’ll look just like the waters; only someone seeking such should be able to sight us. There we’ll await your signal: lantern or fire. Have you the oil?”

Camille nodded and pointed to her rucksack. “The three flasks you gave.”

“But list, Camille,” said Kolor, now glancing at Big Jack. “Should we not hear from you in a timely manner, we’ll not stay hidden long.”

Big Jack clenched a fist and nodded.

Camille sighed and said, “Agreed.”

Kolor then glanced at Scruff on her shoulder and said, “Keep an eye on that wee bird, for he is a wonder to have. Nought else I know of can tell when hidden peril is nigh.”

“Indeed, Captain, a better sentry I could not have.” Except at night, she silently added, wee little sleepy bird.

Twilight fell upon the ocean, and the Nordavind glided silently toward the isle. Soon they lowered sail, and rowed the last sea-league or so, to finally slip into a cove. Big Jack jumped over the side and waited.

Attired in a threadbare dress-the only thing of hers that she yet owned that had come from her pere’s poor cottage-and with Scruff asleep in the high pocket above her left breast she had sewn thereon, Camille shouldered her rucksack and bedroll and waterskin and took up her stave and turned to Kolor and said, “Lady Sorciere said unlooked-for help would come along the way, and it most certainly has, but none more so than you, Captain.” She kissed Kolor on the cheek, then waved au revoir to the Dwarves at the oars, then turned to waiting Big Jack. With tears in his eyes he reached up and lifted her across the top wale and sloshed to the beach and set her to dry land. Camille gently placed a hand to his wet cheek and, with a bravado she did not feel, she said, “Fear not, Jack. I’ll be all right. After all, what could possibly go wrong?” And she gripped his collar and pulled him down and kissed him where tears ran.

Then she turned and started up a low dune and inland.

When Camille reached the crest she looked hindward. The Dragonship was backing water, pulling away, and in spite of Lady Sorciere’s admonition, she almost cried out, “Wait! I would have you come along!” But she did not, for well did she know, but for one of the gifts-Scruff-she must go alone.

And so she went over the dune and down, then turned leftward and headed for the ramshackle town, where ’twas said Human slaves did dwell.

Her face smeared with dirt, her golden hair tied in a worn scarf, a small bundle of branch-wood on her shoulder as would a slave bear, Camille entered the streets of the town only to find them vacant. By starlight alone she made her way along the cobblestones. Of a sudden a voice hissed, “Here now, do you want to get yourself killed, out after curfew as you are?” Startled nearly out of her wits, Camille jerked about to see a dark figure in a doorway. Frantically, the figure motioned, “Quick, in here you stupid girl, before the patrol comes.”

Now Camille could hear a tramp of feet nearing, and before she could react, the figure-a man, she thought-jumped out and clutched her by the arm and jerked her toward the opening, her bundle of sticks flying from her shoulder to clatter to the cobbles. “Har!” came a cry, and the sound of running, even as the man, wrenching her about, darted back and snatched up the bound branch-wood. He then yanked her ’round opposite and dragged her through the doorway and shut it behind, darkness plunging down, alleviated only by a faint ruddy glow of a few coals on the hearth. As Camille and her rescuer stood holding their breath in the dimness, the clatter of arms and armor and the slap of running feet hammered past.

Soon all fell quiet…

… But for the pounding of my heart.

After a moment, by the dull glow of the dying coals Camille saw the dark shape of the man move across the room, and she heard the scratch of a match, and in the wavering light he lit a tallow candle and turned and held it high, the better to see just who this fool was who had been out after curfew.

And Camille leapt forward and embraced him, crying, “Lanval! Oh, Lanval! It’s you!”