Ring of the Or'tux, page 38
“This is no joke Captain Hopewell,” Father Thomas asserted with all sincerity, drawing the captain’s attention. “Amidst the smoldering ashes of the once peaceful town of Billin, I prayed to the Lady for aid.” His voice took on a reverent tone, “A Qyaendri appeared before me and delivered Hunter into my care. ‘There is a task which this man must complete,’ the Qyaendri said to me. ‘You, Father Thomas, must aid him in whatever way you are able.’”
“We have learned that his task is to stand upon the walls of Xith,” he stated. “If he should not stand upon the walls at the appointed hour, then everything we hold dear will come to ruin.”
The words were doubtful to his ears, but the intensity with which Father Thomas uttered them gave them credence. “What difference can he possibly make?” asked Captain Hopewell.
“We do not know,” admitted Larus. “But we are certain that should Hunter not reach the walls of Xith, Xith…will…fall!” Next to him Father Thomas nodded agreement. Throughout the entire conversation, the one they called Hunter had remained silent, as if he was oblivious to what they were saying.
Father Thomas noted his curious stare toward Hunter. “He does not speak our language,” he explained.
The captain’s eyes narrowed. “A foreigner?” he asked suspiciously.
Larus nodded and gave him a humorless grin. “From farther away than you might think,” he replied.
“Nevertheless,” interrupted Father Thomas, “he is on our side and committed to the defense of our people.”
What was a couple more sheathes of arrows? pondered the captain. He was doubtful as to the usefulness of a man who could not even speak the language, but there was something very convincing about the priest. His words were hard to dismiss, far harder than one would expect. “Very well,” he said, giving in. “But the point may be moot in any event.”
“Why is that?” Father Thomas asked.
“The boats are late in returning,” he explained. “If they fail to return in the next hour, we will be forced to wait until tomorrow.”
“Why so long?” asked Larus.
“The lake between where the river empties into it and Xith is being patrolled by a rather large ship,” replied the captain. “We have few enough boats remaining to us and dare not risk crossing the lake during daylight. The last time our boats were caught out in the open, many were lost.”
“Then there is only one thing which we can do,” declared Father Thomas. “We must pray for their speedy return.”
Chapter 29
In the common room of another inn, not far from the one taken over by Captain Hopewell, Larus gazed out the window as the last rays of the evening sun disappeared below the horizon.
“So that’s it,” commented Hunter. Seated at a table still cluttered with the remnants of their evening meal, he waited for Larus’ reply. “We’ll never make it in time.”
Larus ignored his remarks. The weight of time lay heavily upon him. Ftheril had said five days, four days ago. And with the setting of the sun, Captain Hopewell would not take the risk of exposing his few remaining boats to daytime travel across the lake.
“No,” stated Larus as he turned to meet Hunter’s stare. “We will not wait and sit idly by while these good people come to ruin.”
“But what is there to do?” asked Hunter. “The boats are too late in returning and none others will be sent before tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. If they return at all that is. And according to the serving girl, the boats have never been this late before. She and everyone else doubts whether they will be back at all.”
Larus’ face grew grave as he turned and resumed staring out the window toward the docks. From where he stood, he had a good view of the pier where they would be loading the boats for their next run. A dozen guards stood watch, all casting worried gazes downriver. If only there was another boat!
As if he was thinking the same thing, Father Thomas asked, “Perhaps there is another boat that has not been appropriated for the relief effort?”
“I doubt it,” replied Larus, then paused. Turning about, he directed his gaze toward Father Thomas. “Is there?”
Father Thomas didn’t answer right away. When he did, he kept his voice low so as not to be overheard. “Thus far, we have been given everything we need to continue upon the road the Lady has set for us. First, our escape from the Ullentites. Then Father Biern just happened to break his leg so he could aid us in learning the whereabouts of the Or’tux temple. Hunter’s finding of the crystal spider, not to mention the way he discovered the entrance to the temple. Every step of the way, we have had guidance and aid from above.”
Nodding, Larus began to understand. “So you think a boat may have been ‘overlooked’ when the relief convoy was created?”
“The Lady provides,” replied Father Thomas matter-of-factly.
And so She does as he more than anyone on this world would know. But the sheer amount of help they have thus far received in so short a time was far above anything anyone else has ever been given that he can recall. Could they hope for a little bit more? Leaving the window, Larus crossed to the table and sat. “Where would it be?” he asked.
Father Thomas shrugged. “That I do not know,” he replied. “But I am certain that one is out there. We simply have to find it.”
“How?” Larus asked. “Pray?”
“How do you think I know for certain that there is a boat available for our use?” he replied. “I know there is one, just not where.”
Larus sighed. “It could be anywhere.” He believed him. Priests were much more in tune to directions from above, especially this one.
“Perhaps we should take a walk around town,” Father Thomas suggested. “I doubt if the boat will be found within the confines of this inn.”
“Good idea,” agreed Larus. Then to Hunter, “Come on, we’re going to see what is going on out there.”
“We are?” he asked.
Larus nodded then said, “We aren’t going to wait for the boats to return.”
Hunter’s expression grew grim. “What are you planning to do?”
“Find a way down the river,” he explained. “One way or another, we are going to reach the walls of Xith before time runs out.”
Hunter grabbed his pack that rested against the legs of his chair before coming to his feet. As he followed Larus and Father Thomas from the inn, his left hand caressed the ring found in the tomb beneath the Or’tux temple. What properties it held that will enable him to throw back the Ullentite onslaught continued to remain a mystery. During their ride to Pickwood, he had slipped the ring on his finger and made several attempts to activate the latent magic they were sure it held. All to no avail.
Father Thomas had been loath to touch it as it belonged to a people that history stated practiced the most evil and vile rituals imaginable. However, when Hunter failed to get a reaction from the ring, Larus convinced him to see what he could do with it. But after several minutes of concentration and prayer, he too failed.
All this gave him cause to worry about what was going to happen when it came time for him to stand upon the walls of Xith. Would the ring react and thwart the Ullentite attack? Or would it remain inert as it had thus far? He and the others were certain the ring was special, held some property which would save the people of this land. If only he knew what it was and how to bring it forth.
Following along behind, Hunter continued rubbing the ring in his pocket until they reached the dock and the relief staging area. Crates, sheathes, and a dozen other items were stacked and ready to load for when the boats returned. He idly gazed at the various waiting cargo while Larus and Father Thomas spoke to the soldier in charge.
Aside from the pier and a couple small warehouses adjacent to the docking area, there wasn’t much to grab Hunter’s attention. It took but a few moments for him to grow bored. A glance to where Larus appeared to be arguing with two soldiers seemed to indicate that whatever they were discussing, wasn’t going in their favor.
Should have stayed at the inn, he thought to himself. He was tired and all he wanted to do was sit down and rest. He couldn’t remember a time since coming to this world that he had been able to simply sit and do nothing for any length of time, the two days recuperating after leaving the Or’tux temple didn’t count as he was unable to enjoy it. Weary was an understatement of how he felt.
Not far from where the argument was growing more heated, he spied three crates nestled against the side of a warehouse. They looked to have been there for some time and he figured no one would mind if he took his ease upon them. Crossing over, he sat down on one and rested back against the wooden planks comprising the warehouse’s side.
The evening was still warm with the hint of a breeze wafting coolly from up the river. Occasional gusts of air felt good and Hunter soon grew quite relaxed. He noticed Father Thomas glancing around, his eyes finally coming to rest on where he sat and Hunter gave him a brief wave letting him know he was okay. Father Thomas returned the wave then turned back to the argument Larus was having with the soldiers.
A minute went by, then two. Hunter grew more and more relaxed as he waited for Larus to finish and perhaps they could return to the inn. Inns had beds and he desperately wanted to avail himself of that particular accommodation as soon as possible.
Whack…whack…whack
As he drifted closer to the realm of sleep, muffled sounds of repeated bangs intruded upon his repose. At first he wasn’t sure what he was hearing, but when after a brief pause they began once more, he recognized the sound. It was hammering and seemed to be coming from the other side of the warehouse wall. Intrigued, he turned his head and placed his ear against the wall.
Whack…whack…whack…whack
Bored and with nothing better to do, his curiosity got the better of him. Putting his eye to a gap between two planks, he peered through to the other side. All he could see from this vantage point was a solitary candle burning on a table. Next to it he could barely see someone’s backside and the rise and fall of a hammer. What the person was hammering was too far to the side for him to be able to make out. So moving further to his right, Hunter found another gap and put his eye to it just as the hammering stopped.
It was a young man, couldn’t have been more than eighteen, maybe twenty at the most. He was moving to where several narrow planks leaned against the table with the candle. There, he picked up one and sighted along its length. Scowling, he put it back then selected another. This time the young man gave a brief nod and mumbled something to himself before returning to a large, somewhat rounded wooden construction.
Hunter watched as the young man set the wooden plank against a gap in the construction, measured it, then took a saw and proceeded to cut off the unwanted section. Once the plank was shortened, he spread a black looking goo along one edge then set the plank flush into the gap with the goo covered edge pressing into a plank already in place.
Whack…whack…whack
The hammer fell several times before the young man returned to the spare planks leaning against the table and proceeded to select another. Hunter could see he was about to start the process over again.
From the pier area came Larus’ voice as he continued arguing. About what, Hunter didn’t know, most likely boats and such. All he wanted was to reach Xith, get this over with, and be sent home. In his pocket his hand worried over the ring, his thumb continuously turning the ring as it lay in his palm.
Not far down the wall from his position stood the warehouse’s door. With nothing better to do, he hopped down from the crate and walked over to it. The door wasn’t locked so he opened it and strode in.
Immediately, the hammering stopped and the young man turned toward him. Directing a nervous look toward Hunter, the young man stood still, hammer poised to strike the head of a nail.
Now that he could see the construction in its entirety, he grinned. It was a boat. Damaged to be sure, with most of its surface showing scorched marks and another good sized hole in the bottom aside from the one the young man was working to patch, but this may just be what they were looking for.
“Hi,” Hunter greeted. Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him and took three steps before coming to a stop.
Words came from the young man. Though unable to understand the meaning, the inflection of his voice indicated a question was being asked. Most likely ‘Who are you?’ or ‘What are you doing here?’
“Can I help?” Hunter asked in a calm and reassuring tone. Using gestures pantomiming hammering, he slowly drew closer. But when the young man’s face grew grim and his hand edged closer to a sword resting against the side of the boat, Hunter stopped.
Another odd thing that caught his eye was the hammer. The head was covered in cloth which seemed odd. But that would account for why the sound of hammering had been muffled. It couldn’t have made the job any easier.
A word issued forth from the young man in a commanding tone. Accompanied by the gesture of him pointing toward the door gave little doubt as to its meaning.
Hunter gestured to himself and then the door through which he just entered.
The young man nodded. When Hunter failed to immediately turn and leave, the young man’s hand closed on the pommel of the sword.
That was enough for Hunter. Backing up, he quickly left the warehouse. Just as he was closing the door, he heard Larus call his name. He turned to find Larus and Father Thomas coming toward him, Larus looking mad while Father Thomas was more relieved.
“We thought something happened to you,” admonished Larus.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “But…”
“You shouldn’t go off on your own like that,” continued Larus, cutting him off in mid sentence. “We can’t afford anything happening to you. Not that we’re this close.”
“I know, but…” he began before Larus cut him off yet again.
“There are two boats available but are being reserved for the next relief convoy. If they send one that is. From what that soldier said, should the boats due back fail to return, they won’t send them at all.” Scowling back toward the soldier with whom he had so recently been arguing he added, “Father Thomas and I plan to talk with Captain Hopewell and convince him to release one to us. If we get him to agree soon, we’ll still be able to make Xith with time to spare.”
“Do you think he will?” asked Hunter.
“Between the good Father and myself,” stated Larus, “we’ll wear him down. Why don’t you wait for us at the inn?” And with that, he grabbed Father Thomas by the elbow and together they speedily headed toward the inn wherein Captain Hopewell directed the relief effort.
They were gone before he could get another word out. As he watched them walk away, the whack…whack…whack…of the young man’s hammering beat a quiet staccato in the background.
When his two companions finally arrived at the inn from their meeting with the captain, Hunter was nursing a mug of ale in the common room. He had positioned himself so he could observe the front door and saw the way Larus stormed into the inn. The grim set of his face and clenched hands indicated the meeting with the captain hadn’t gone off as he had hoped.
“No luck?” he asked as Larus and Father Thomas approached the table.
“He says it would be suicide for us to go by ourselves,” spat Larus. “That in all good conscious he cannot accede to our request.” Plopping in a chair, he exclaimed in English, “Idiot!”
“So what do you plan to do?” Hunter asked.
“He’s left us with little choice,” replied Larus. “We’ll have to take one by force.”
Father Thomas was looking grim. Hunter was sure Larus had already discussed his plans with him and the priest didn’t appear to approve. “Maybe there is another way?”
“What are you talking about?” asked Larus.
“Perhaps we could find another boat,” he explained.
“We’ve talked with a dozen different people,” argued Larus. “They all say the two boats held by the soldiers are the only ones left in Pickwood.”
“Could be they’re wrong,” Hunter stated, and then grinned.
“I tell you there is…,” he began, then something about the way Hunter was grinning caused him to trail off. “What?” he asked.
“There is another boat,” he said, with a slight emphasis on ‘is’. Then he explained about discovering the young man working to restore the broken boat in the warehouse.
“Why didn’t you tell us before?” demanded Larus.
“I tried,” Hunter replied. “But you kept cutting me off. And then you grabbed Father Thomas and were gone before I could get two words out.”
Larus gave Father Thomas a quick rundown of what Hunter just told him. The priest’s expression turned to one of relief when he realized there may be a way other than storming the soldiers guarding the two boats. In the ensuing battle, lives assuredly would have been lost.
Once finished filling in Father Thomas, Larus scooted his chair back and came to his feet. “Let’s go see this young man and his boat,” he said.
“He was a bit nervous,” explained Hunter. “Almost attacked me when I didn’t leave the warehouse quickly enough.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Larus said patting his sword. “I’m sure we’ll be able to handle it. Besides, Father Thomas and I will be able to communicate with him.”
“I hope you are right,” wished Hunter. Downing the rest of his ale, he came to his feet and followed the other two from the inn. Once they returned to the dock area, he directed Larus toward the warehouse containing the young man and the boat.
As they drew closer, he listened for the whack…whack…whack of the hammer but no sound came from within the warehouse. Upon reaching the door, Hunter urged caution as the former Qyaendri took the handle, turned, and entered.
The candle was burnt down to a nub but still alive. The boat was in the same position as it had been before, upside down on a stand. The holes were repaired, black tar lining the cracks between the new boards giving the underside of the boat a rather ugly appearance. Of the young man there was no sign.
