Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) (22 page)

Standing pensively in the prow, Captain Brandt was watching for the passage. It was less than thirty yards away when he finally saw it through the driving rain and sea spray. He roared at the helmsman. As Nikolaj span the ship’s wheel, he called instructions to the crew. On cue, Jan and the hulking form of Sten heaved on various ropes to trim the sails accordingly. The rolling ship turned, hesitantly at first and then more sharply. Waves crashed into the
Havørn
’s broadside, and for a moment it felt as though they might capsize.

For several heartbeats it teetered on the brink of falling. Then, with almost glacial slowness, the wind caught the sails once more, righting the rotund fishing vessel and propelling it forward through the narrow passage in the sheer cliff face. It was tight, the rock passing less than ten feet from either side, but it was only several ships’ lengths long and soon they emerged into the calm waters of the bay beyond.

Caspian, now standing in the cabin’s doorway, gasped as he saw it. The cove was almost completely circular, bounded by tall cliffs all around. With the storm almost upon them, the sky above was near as dark as night. A hard rain pounded the wooden deck, yet the cove’s waters were almost still. It was small, though to Caspian’s untrained eye it looked capable of safely containing several ships larger than their own. On the far side of the bay was a beach, above which the cliffs loomed vertically. It seemed to Caspian like an apple that had had its core cut out. You could easily travel past this spot on either side by land or sea, and never know that it existed.

“Where are we?” he asked, to nobody in particular.

Captain Brandt was striding back towards the stern as the crew busied themselves taking down sails. “It doesn’t really have a name, lad, least none that I know of,” he said. “Those as know of it aren’t exactly the map-making type.”

Caspian’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “Pirates you mean?”

The captain shrugged. “Let’s just say that for those who would prefer to avoid imperial attention, secret places like this are more valuable than gold.”

Before Caspian could ask more, the captain was climbing up to the ship’s wheel, barking instructions at Nikolaj and the rest of the crew climbing around in the rigging.

When the sails had been furled and the anchor dropped, Dorric and Sten lowered a small rowboat into the water to take them all ashore. Close to, the water was not still, Caspian realised with a knot of nausea in his stomach. But the small waves that lapped at the rowboat were in stark contrast to the savage fury of the storm that raged in the sky above them.

The darkness was lit up every few moments as lightning crackled across the face of the mountainous clouds. Through the crack in the rock they had passed through mere minutes before, he caught a glimpse of waves as tall as houses dashing themselves against the cliffs. At the sight of the rolling swell his stomach lurched again.

Caspian glanced at the crew. Sten and Nikolaj were rowing steadily for the shore, their faces contorted with the strain of pulling the oars. Jan and Dorric were laughing at some private joke, and he felt his cheeks redden. The sailors had been careful not to mock him within earshot, but he knew he must have been the butt of many japes this past week. Captain Brandt, meanwhile, stared out towards the beach. All of them, Caspian included, were soaked through to the skin; even if he fell into the water he could not be more wringing wet than he already was. The rain hammered down in fat droplets that stung his skin, while a chill wind howled around them and pinched their faces.

Yet the mood of the crew was light; each man was keenly aware that any discomfort they were now feeling was as nothing against what it would be like to be at sea in this storm. Caspian shivered and gathered his wet cloak around himself, though any effort to shield himself from the rain was in vain. He had next to no experience of sailing in bad weather, but even he felt relief at their narrow escape.

“Will it be fine on its own?” he asked, referring to the ship.

“She,” Nikolaj corrected, with a grunt of effort as he tried to keep pace with Sten’s rowing. “Sailors call our ships
she
, bad luck to do aught else. And yes, she’ll be as safe as a babby asleep in its crib.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know.” Caspian glanced back at the
Havørn
, which indeed looked almost serene as tiny waves lapped at its –
her
, he corrected himself – sides. “Why refer to a ship as though it...
she’s
female?”

“Because a ship is like a wife and mother to us,” Captain Brandt called from the prow. “Caring for and protecting her crew... and as vengeful as a cut snake if you don’t treat her right,” he finished, to laughter from the other sailors. Even Sten smiled fleetingly.

When they were within a dozen yards from the shore, Jan and Dorric leapt out into the surf, and dragged the rowboat up onto the beach. Caspian tried to hide his relief as he stepped onto solid ground for the first time in over a week. He resisted the urge to kneel and kiss the wet sand.

Together, they dragged the rowboat away from the water, towards the base of the cliffs. With a cry, Jan pointed towards these, and Caspian saw what he had spotted. A dark shadow cut into the grey rock; a cave entrance. Even though none of them could possibly have become any wetter than they were already, at some unspoken command they jogged towards the cave and whatever refuge from the storm it offered.

Sten had managed to grab an armful of sticks and branches from somewhere, and piled them close to the mouth of the cave. Jan and Dorric joined him. The three of them hunched over the kindling, attempting to coax the damp wood to catch alight. Nikolaj, the first mate, had stripped down to his undergarments, and was hanging his wet clothes on rocks standing nearby. Captain Brandt stood apart from his men, one arm resting on the rock wall as he stared out into the rain.

“What do we do now?” Caspian asked, coming up to him.

“We wait,” the older man replied. “Not much more to be done, unless you wanted to go for a swim.”

“I’d probably be drier if I did.” Perhaps it was the weather, or homesickness, but a gloominess had settled over Caspian. Evidently, his mood had been given away by the tone of his words, as the captain laughed and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, lad,” he said. “The boys’ll have a fire going soon, and then we’ll eat. Once your belly is filled with roasted meat and rum and your clothes are dry, you’ll feel better. Just be glad we’re in here, and not out there.”

Caspian wasn’t sure whether he was referring to the cove they had found, outside of which the storm was even now raging, or the cave, which was more sheltered still, but he saw the sense in what the captain said. He sloped off towards the rear of the cave, and gamely tried to count his blessings as he sat shivering on a rock.

Truthfully, he was at a loss as to what to do with himself. Genuine free time had been a rarity on the Crag, where life had followed a familiar pattern of study, chores, meals and sleep. Now, for a brief time, he was left to his own devices, and it was as if he was hearing his own thoughts for the first time. There weren’t as many of them as he might have hoped.

Caspian smiled sadly. He was even a disappointment to himself.

He glanced around at the cave walls, his mind wandering. It would have been a good opportunity to delve into Elder Tobias’ correspondence, but he hadn’t dared to bring any of the books or letters he had taken from the Crag into the rowboat. It would have been just his luck to have fallen in and ruined them all.

The rock walls weren’t smooth, he saw. Instead, they were covered in pitted holes, most large enough for him to be able to put a fist inside, had he been so inclined. Caspian peered into the hole nearest him, but saw nothing except inky blackness. He thought about asking the captain or one of the crewmen about it, but decided against it. For all he knew, the insides of all caves were filled with such pockmarks, and he wasn’t in the mood for his ignorance to be the cause of further mockery.

Caaaaaasssssss

Caspian felt a breath of cold air on the back of his neck as he heard the voice, a barely audible whisper. Startled, he leapt up from the rock. His eyes searched the darkness at the back of the cave feverishly, heart pounding against his ribcage. The cave was not a deep one and, despite the lack of illumination, he was able to just about make out the wall at the back. There was nothing there. Nothing that he could see, at least.

“Who’s there?” he asked, his voice emerging in a tremulous squeak rather than the commanding tone he had intended.

Just then another waft of cold air touched his face. Chill fingers brushed lightly across his cheek, as his name once more came to him in a faint sigh at the very edge of his hearing.

With a choked gasp he staggered back towards the cave entrance, and stood panting behind the reassuringly solid figure of Sten. Jan glanced up briefly, before shaking his head and turning away. “I think His Holiness here has been getting acquainted with The Lady,” he said, with a chuckle.

“The Lady?” Caspian wiped droplets of sweat from his forehead. He felt his heartbeat begin to return to normal. “Who’s that?”

Before Jan could reply, Captain Brandt cut across him. “Just a legend, nothing more.” He scowled at the young sailor. “Pay it no heed.”

Eventually, Jan and Sten got a small blaze going. They cautiously added more wood, which was soon burning merrily. The five men and Caspian huddled gratefully around its warmth.

As darkness began to fall outside the cave, Dorric drew raw haunches of some miscellaneous creature from a leather knapsack, stuck them on metal spits he’d brought from the ship and leaned them up close to the flames. By dint of the fact he could be relied upon to serve a simple plate of food without poisoning the rest of the crew, he had seemed to have assumed the role of ship’s cook. From what Caspian had seen, the man was an honest soul and a stout sailor, but utterly devoid of imagination. As a result, the meals he prepared on board the
Havørn
was similarly honest but bland, and the cause of much grumbling. Caspian, accustomed to the near-indigestible fare served to novices on the Crag, had seen little wrong with it. At least, those meals he had been able to temporarily ingest.

Nobody was grumbling now. The aroma of roasting meat had them all salivating. Caspian breathed it in deeply. He didn’t ask what animal Dorric had found to butcher, however, as he was slightly afraid of what the answer might be.

As their dinner was cooking, Captain Brandt reached into his topcoat, and brought out a bottle of clear liquid. He popped the cork, raised the bottle to his lips, and took a long draught. “Ah,” he sighed happily, “a fire can warm a man’s boots and his hands, but it takes a drink to warm his insides.” He passed the bottle to Nikolaj, who took a slug from the bottle.

It was still half-full by the time it had made its way around the circle to Caspian. When he took the bottle, he caught a waft of alcohol that made his eyes sting. “Is this rum?” he asked, blinking away tears.

“Not rum, no,” Captain Brandt replied, vaguely. “Not exactly. It’s in that general vicinity, though.”

Caspian felt five pairs of eyes on him as he lifted the bottle to his mouth. At first the liquid was surprisingly tasteless. Then it hit the back of his tongue and set his throat on fire. He coughed violently, which sent the liquid fire into his nose. He felt himself retch, hearing laughter but too caught up in his own private misery to care. After much spluttering and gagging, he brought himself under control. His eyes watered and his mouth still stung, but there was a pleasant heat in the pit of his stomach.

A mischievous grin was plastered across Jan’s face. “Don’t fret, chum, Westcovian grog ain’t meant for young’uns anyway.”

Dorric and Nikolaj sniggered dutifully, but Captain Brandt was watching him thoughtfully. Holding Jan’s gaze, Caspian lifted the bottle once again and took a bigger draught. The heat was not as intense the second time, and with barely a cough he handed the bottle back to the captain. The young sailor said nothing, but after a long pause he gave a small nod of acknowledgement.

Caspian fought to keep the look of triumph from his face. “So,” he said finally, when he trusted himself to speak without retching, “are you going to tell me, then?”

Jan poked impatiently at the spitted haunch nearest him. “Tell you what?”

“About The Lady?”

“Oh, that.” Jan smiled broadly and drew back, settling down again slightly back from the fire. “Are you sure your belly can handle such a grisly tale?”

By now, darkness had fallen completely. The flames wreathed them all in a flickering orange glow, sending their huge shadows dancing on the cave walls all around them. Caspian shivered, and not only because of the way the cold air chilled the damp clothes on his back. But his curiosity was piqued. “I spent a day and a night alone in a castle with the slaughtered remains of dozens of my Brothers, after seeing and hearing them cut down as they feasted. I’m no sailor, I make no bones about that, but I’ve stomached more than most do in a lifetime.”

A couple of the crewmen shifted uncomfortably, but Jan’s eyes, as hard as flint, just regarded him levelly for several moments. “Do you know where we are, right now?” he asked. Caspian shook his head. “Have you heard of The Scorch, then?”

This time, Caspian nodded. “It’s where King Caderyn fell. He burned the land from the lowlands to the Granite Pass, but it wasn’t enough to stop the Legion.