Chapter Forty Thera #2
In response, something rose to the fore of the Great Wolf, something of many limbs and a long body that gleamed red in the sunlight.
It was at least twice the length and breadth of the ship, scattering a high fountain of spume as it flailed and coiled its many legs.
Before it sank from view, Thera was sure she caught the gleam of a single eye, bright and filled with ageless knowledge.
Then it was gone and Lynnea collapsed into Thera’s arms, a cold, frail bundle that refused to open her eyes despite the increasingly loud pleas of her queen.
Once clear of the Fire Islands, the fleet adopted a battle formation, sailing three ships abreast with the smallest and fastest vessels spreading out to guard their flanks.
For four days they sailed without sight of land or enemy vessel while Thera barely moved from Lynnea’s side.
She slept for long, fitful hours, whimpering at whatever nightmares clouded her mind.
Thera would rouse her to eat and drink, forcing sips of water and morsels of food into her mouth.
Colour slowly returned to the Tielwald’s complexion, smooth skin erasing lines of age, but not completely.
She also sported a flash of white in her hair that Thera suspected might never fade.
Her communion with the Old Mother, a creature that may never have been glimpsed by human eye before, had left its mark.
Touching her mind was so… strange, Lynnea related in one of her waking spells.
So inhuman that merely brushing the surface of her thoughts brought pain.
Maintaining contact drained me, for her spirit was ancient, even more so than her body.
To commune with her I had to surrender my mind to a vast pool of memory, never knowing if I would surface.
I found violence in those memories, for she dwells in harsh realms rich in threats.
But still there was wisdom there, too. Even compassion.
She worried that we would stray close to her spawning grounds so faced the choice of destroying or guiding us.
Her lips formed a faint curve. I told her that we possessed many dread powers, though I’m not sure she believed me…
“Land to the north-east!” The cry came from the lookout atop the Great Wolf’s mast, Thera hearing it quickly echoed by the nearby ships. Though she was loath to leave Lynnea’s side, Thera knew duty compelled her to forsake all other concerns.
“Achier!” she called out upon emerging from the shelter. “Attend to me.”
The former slave joined her on the foredeck as she trained her spyglass on the distant shore. It resembled the coastline typical to the northern gelds of Ascarlia, though with a curious red colouration to its beaches. “Any notion of where we are?” Thera asked, handing him the glass.
“The Red Sands, my queen,” Achier reported after a moment spent peering through the tube. “The cliffs close to the shore are rich in iron which stains the beaches. There are many mines here, and slaves to work them.”
“And the Vortigurn’s capital, how far are we from it?”
“To reach that we must head south, my queen, to the Deep Fjord. We follow that and we’ll soon find the Citadel off our starboard rail.”
Thera took the glass from him and scanned the shore again. “Many slaves, you say?”
“Yes, my queen. All, I’m sure, hungering for liberation, and retribution.” Achier hesitated. “As do many of us who chose to join you in this campaign.”
“Of that, I need no reminder, thank you.” Start the war here or press on to kill the snake in its pit, Thera mused inwardly.
Achier’s point was well made. Breaking the chains of the enslaved was never a bad thing, especially since it inevitably swelled her ranks with willing and vengeful fighters.
However, landing now risked embroilment in a campaign of uncertain duration when the route to the Citadel stood open.
She tracked the glass along the shore, finding nothing of interest until it alighted on a walled settlement a few miles to the south.
The distance was too great to make out much detail, but it seemed to be emitting far more smoke than normal for a town of its size.
Or perhaps, she surmised, this war has contrived to start without me.
“Ragnalt,” she said, lowering the glass and pointing landward. “Signal the fleet to make for that port and prepare for battle.”
The shield wall arrayed along the beach was a ragged thing, composed of no more than three hundred souls. Scanning these potential foes with her glass, Thera found a parade of soot-stained figures and, as she adjusted focus, the sight of iron collars on many necks.
“Slaves,” she told Achier. “Take a boat to shore and assure them of our friendly intent. Signal when you’re certain they pose no threat.”
Achier’s party included several non-Morvek former slaves who, Thera noticed, did most of the talking when they reached the red-stained beach.
She had passed word to the nearby ships to have their archers ready to shower the shield wall in arrows should the parley go poorly.
Fortunately, after some initial suspicious brandishing of weapons, a party from the bedraggled defensive line came forward to negotiate.
After only a few moments discussion, Achier began waving the banner indicating the fleet was free to land.
“There has been a major rebellion in the north, my queen,” he reported once Thera made her way ashore. They spoke atop a rise affording a clear view of the nearby port. The fires that had ravaged it were mostly extinguished now, quelled by the very people that had set them.
“In response, the free folk here began killing their slaves lest they also rise up,” Achier continued.
“A custom instituted after a revolt in this very region some years ago. As you can see—” he gestured to the partially razed town “—the slaves were unwilling to simply sit and await their own slaughter. The free folk are mostly fled, those who survived the chaos that is.”
“Is this happening elsewhere?” Thera asked.
“There’s no way of knowing, my queen. But it seems likely.” Achier’s face took on a sombre aspect. “Not all slaves will be as fortunate as these people. There are major settlements to the north with larger garrisons.”
Thera frowned at the obvious suggestion in his voice.
“The Citadel lies south,” she pointed out.
“And that is our object.” As he began to protest, Thera held up a hand.
“I shall leave Veilwald Torlund here with the Bronze Eagle and thirty ships. They will head north to prevent further slaughter. You shall remain at his side as advisor and emissary to those he frees from bondage.”
Achier lowered his head in gratitude before asking a question that had begun to trouble Thera with ever greater urgency over recent days. “And the free folk, my queen. What of them?”
Burn it all down. They deserve no less… “I leave the treatment of captives to Veilwald Torlund’s judgement. However, those who have done murder will answer for it with their lives. This realm is now under Ascarlian law, and any who stand against it I shall not suffer to live.”