The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) (11 page)

‘What are these?’ Leopold asked, sitting tightly between them, rapping his knuckles on one of the timber casks. It sounded solid.

‘Aid for our battle,’ the magician responded. ‘Casks of black powder that Captain Orrell’s men have been readying for such an occasion.’

‘Are they dangerous?’

‘Only if you are near them when they explode,’ was the response.

Leopold eyed the containers apprehensively and settled into his seat, waiting for whatever delayed their departure. After a long silence, Lord Samuel slowly pointed a finger, indicating that Leopold should take the oars.

‘This is ridiculous!’ Leopold declared, his annoyance sparking a smile on the magician’s face.

‘Being an emperor is not all pleasure, Leopold. Take the oars. I wouldn’t want you growing fat with all this fine food they’re giving you.’

‘I’d not call it fine,’ Leopold grumbled. ‘And I’ve lost more skin in the bathtub than I’ve gained in fat.’

‘Good. That’s what I instructed.’

Leopold picked up the oars and shoved them into their brackets, tensed against them, heaved, and set their boat away.

‘I had thought being an emperor meant I could avoid such work,’ he complained, grunting as he dragged the oars through the water.

‘Not while you are with me,’ Samuel responded. ‘Emperors get special treatment.’

They coursed into the ocean, heading for the heart of the flotilla, with Toby jumping about and whooping at the ships in the distance, shaking his fists with glee and upsetting the boat despite Leopold’s protests.

‘What is that?’ Leopold asked, taking a pause from his work to look directly at the huge vessel that dwarfed the rest of the fleet.

‘A Koian galleon,’ Lord Samuel responded.

‘Where did it come from?’ the youth asked in awe.

‘Koia.’

Leopold briefly considered scolding the man for being so evasive, yet he knew it would be a waste of time.

‘Why is it here?’ he asked, returning to his oars with a groan of effort.

‘Some people from Koia came here in it long ago—just after you were born. Their ship was a wreck. It seems someone has been busy repairing it. I have not seen it since that time and I admit I had forgotten about it altogether. They have done an admirable job restoring it.’

‘It’s enormous,’ Leopold noted aloud.

They were now reaching the outermost craft, each an enormous ship in its own right—two and three masted galleons, brigs and schooners of various design, each covered with men and readying for battle. The fleet was a rabble, an assortment of every decent-sized vessel that floated: the Koian craft by far the most impressive.

They sat silently, drawing closer to the ship’s side, a great wall rising from the ocean. Salu mumbled and jittered in the back of the boat, ignorant of the mammoth vessel in front. Toby was on his feet, looking at it and giggling, pumping one arm up and down in excitement.

Leopold forgot about rowing as he gaped over his shoulder. Luckily they had enough momentum to move ahead until they nearly crashed into the side of the ship. At the last instant, Leopold jumped from his seat, cautiously treading over the black and red casks and stuck out his foot to stop the collision. Their movement was slow and the impact would be minimal, yet with the threat of the black powder still in his mind Leopold took no chances.

Lord Samuel sat idly, leaving Leopold to hold onto the netting that hung down the outside of the ship. The dark steaming hull heaved dangerously atop the waves and, as it leaned towards them, the wooden rampart hovered menacingly above their heads.

‘What do we do?’ Leopold asked.

A gantry swung out above them, as a team of sailors adjusted ropes and pulleys into position.

‘Climb,’ the magician said, standing and putting his hands to the rope netting. He raised one boot and commenced climbing, with Leopold following after him.

The netting was a simple ascent for Leopold; he pondered how Salu and Toby would follow. Looking down, he saw them sitting in the boat, Toby watching with wonder.

‘They’ll be fine,’ Samuel assured Leopold as he reached the top and waited for him.

They climbed onto the deck together, where a cluster of sailors reeled back from the magician. Terror flashed between them. Samuel held out his palms and bowed his head to show he meant no harm.

‘Go about your work, gentlemen,’ he told them, stepping aside to give them room. ‘Superstitious fools,’ he muttered to Leopold as the men reluctantly returned to their work.

The sailors were readying a device consisting of beams, ropes and counterbalances. When they were ready, ropes descended, with two men standing on hooks at the end. It was meant to raise the boat below and indeed, many other similar vessels were already locked into place at the side of the ship, riding high above the waves.

‘Why didn’t we just sit and wait for them to pull us up?’ Leopold asked.

‘Because people make mistakes,’ was Lord Samuel’s reply. ‘I would rather climb and be safe than be dropped. Especially with those barrels aboard.’

A voice called and a caped man leapt down from stairs that led to a huge rearward structure.

‘Samuel!’ the fellow declared in greeting. ‘Welcome aboard!’ He had long black hair tied in a ponytail, a triangular beard, extravagant moustache and a black eyepatch covering one eye. He was delighted to see the magician, the first man Leopold saw as being so, certainly outdoing Captain Orrell’s subtle reception by far.

‘Daneel,’ the magician responded, with no effort to match the other’s enthusiasm.

‘You have returned again, alive and well, my fine Magician. I am past thinking someone may one day get the better of you. Pray tell, did you find whatever you were looking for?’ He had an accent like none Leopold had heard before and enjoyed pronouncing each individual word, passing them over his lips in delectation.

‘I did,’ Samuel replied.

‘Wonderful!’ the man said and slapped the magician firmly on the back. ‘Ah! How could I expect any less from you?’ He was impervious to Samuel’s lifeless gaze and continued as if brothers or best of friends. Just then, the barrel laden boat was raised into view, carried on squeaking ropes, and Daneel eyed it unhappily. ‘I am only nervous about all this black powder on the Farstride. One mistake and our sortie will meet with a sudden, fiery end.’

‘Then let there be no mistakes,’ Samuel stated.

A lever was slammed into place and the sailors moved aside as the boat was swung onto the deck, allowing Toby to leap out and Salu to dangle one skinny leg over the side until it met the decking. The other leg followed and he struggled down, immediately roaming about, tapping the flooring with his stick loudly and turning one ear down, listening to the various sounds that issued with each tap.

With the boat safely in place, the sailors unloaded its explosive cargo, carrying barrels one at a time and heading down stairs that vanished below a hatchway.

Another fellow and a finely dressed woman made their way through the busied sailors towards them. The man was obviously a high-ranking officer judging from his splendid uniform, a neat suit of navy blue with gold trim and a matching cap. A narrow rapier swung at his side. He was in his greying years, standing firm and tall, lean and strong, his gaze direct and challenging; he had seen his share of difficult years.

The woman was unlike anything Leopold had ever beheld. She was much shorter than the man, slim, yet equivalent in age. She moved with poise and grace, possessing striking features. Her olive skin and narrowed eyes marked her as a foreigner to these lands—a race from the far side of the world that Leopold’s father had mentioned occasionally in his many stories.

Samuel waited for both to approach. ‘Commander Riggadardian. Lady Wind,’ he said in greeting as he nodded to each.

‘Lord Samuel, it is a pleasure to have you aboard the Farstride,’ the officer returned. ‘I bid you welcome to my mighty warship.’ He did not look entirely earnest in his welcome.

The woman bowed her head deeply as she spoke, and closed her eyes for that initial moment. ‘Likewise, Lord Magician, I am glad to see you once again.’ Her accent confirmed she was not indigenous to Amandia. Unlike the commander, as the Turian language came hesitantly from her mouth, her words and motions conveyed sincerity.

Leopold almost expected a similar gesture of greeting from the magician, but he was without formalities. ‘I will retire to my room,’ he said. ‘We should be underway as soon as everything is ready,’ and he stepped past them, leaving Leopold amongst the strangers, devoid of what to say.

‘Welcome to you also,’ Commander Riggadardian said. ‘You come in the company of the magician. Are you … of his kind?’ the man asked hesitantly.

The fellow called Daneel laughed. ‘What’s wrong with you, you blind old stoat? Can you not see who stands before you?’

Riggadardian’s confusion only intensified, and he waited for Leopold’s response to clarify the matter.

‘I am not a magician,’ Leopold defended, insulted by the insinuation. ‘I am Leopold.’

The commander was overwhelmed and dropped to one knee abruptly. ‘Your Highness!’ he declared with awe.

Leopold was taken aback.

‘Come now, man,’ the one called Daneel said with mirth. ‘Get a hold of yourself! Don’t embarrass the lad! Can’t you see him squirming? Give him time to settle in.’

Riggadardian regained his feet, breathless with excitement. ‘I am sorry, Your Majesty,’ he declared. ‘Forgive me. I have looked forward to this moment for many years. But ... why are you dressed like a commoner? What is Captain Orrell doing? Doesn’t he have any decency?’

‘It matters not, Commander,’ Leopold stated dismissively. ‘I feel fine the way I am.’ Once more, he looked himself over. ‘Is my choice of clothing not adequate?’

‘They are not suitable at all. Perhaps acceptable for a lowly duke or earl, but for the Emperor, these are rags! Who let you out like this?’

‘I think what Emperor Leopold means,’ Daneel said, intervening, ‘is that he is playing down his appearance for the sake of his security.’

A wave of realisation washed the dismay from the aging commander’s visage. ‘Of course! I should have known. When safe at sea we can have your wardrobe sorted out properly.’ Another thought then drained his face of colour. ‘Blast Captain Orrell! Apologies, Your Majesty, we have no cabin reserved for you. I am unsure what we can do,’ he stuttered. ‘My my. How deplorable!’

‘Calm yourself, my dear,’ the woman beside him urged. ‘Don’t become so agitated. That can be sorted in time.’

Riggadardian was placated by her words. ‘Yes, yes. I’m sure it can. I am sure you do not remember me, Emperor Leopold, I saw you often when you were young. I am the commander of this fleet and one of your few remaining officers. Everyone else has fallen, or worse, fled. What you are witnessing are the last remnants of your Empire. The Nine Gods willing, if we are victorious in this battle you will be returned to your throne. Cintar and the Empire will return to their glory. Turia will reign again!’ Leopold remained speechless as the man fawned. ‘Oh please, I forget my manners. Let me introduce my wife—Lady Wind. Through her efforts this magnificent vessel has been restored.’ The lady smiled, blushing, and granted Leopold a gracious bow. ‘And who else have you brought with you?’

Leopold traced the man’s gaze to Salu rambling about the deck, Toby hopping behind. ‘Two companions of Lord Samuel’s,’ was all he could think to say. ‘I will leave it to him to explain. I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘Then I doubt we will hear anything,’ Commander Riggadardian admitted bluntly. ‘Never mind,’ he added with a sigh. ‘We will take them in however we can.’ He then clicked his fingers towards a fellow lingering nearby. ‘Lieutenant Fillius, prepare an extra two spaces.’

‘Yes, Commander. Right to it!’ sprung the reply and the man in turn issued commands to other sailors beside him.

‘That is Lieutenant Fillius, the Captain’s Mate,’ Riggadardian explained. ‘Mr Chapman is the bosun. He’s ... there,’ he said, briefly searching for and pointing to a man shouting orders to the crew from afar. The captain of the ship is Captain Merryweather. I’m sure he’s below decks checking her over. Between the three of them, they keep this ship operating smoothly. I have the fine job of sitting back and watching them do it.’

‘Come now, Commander,’ Lady Wind said. ‘You do much more than that.’

‘Yes, well,’ he chuckled humbly.

‘And what do you do?’ Leopold asked of Daneel.

The fellow retained his mischievous smile. ‘What do I do? What don’t I do?’

Leopold waited; Daneel said no more.

‘Oh,’ was Leopold’s stumped reply.

‘Riggadardian!’ came the call of the magician from afar and the commander spun about as if pulled by a rope attached to his hip. ‘Bring my casket to my cabin at once.’

The commander kept his ear poised until he realised nothing more would be said, and he bellowed to the team at work on the black powder. ‘You heard him. And take care with it! One scratch and I will point you out to you-know-who.’

Leopold knew at once to whom the commander was referring, as did his men. The already-troubled crew looked terrified at the thought, mortified as they cast their eyes to the glossy black box being revealed beneath the barrels, and realised what it was.

****

It took several hours, but one by one the many vessels, great and small, set their sails and were away. Once readied, the Farstride filled with calls and signs of activity. Her enormous sails were unfurled by the teams of men hanging in the rigging and spread across the decks. The squares of cloth fluttered and slapped tight one after another as they gathered the wind and the mighty ship pulled away, marking the start of its voyage to Cintar.

The Farstride had a remarkable number of masts—three enormous ones that raised up from the centre deck and five smaller ones—two at the front and three towards the rear—that poked up from the upper decks. The central masts were towering giants, while the smaller ones matched the largest poles on regular vessels. Leopold was familiar with the cut of the sails, with multiple square sheets on each mast, ranging from the largest mainsails near the base up to the smaller moonsails that hung from the tips of the masts. In addition, the front of the ship bore a series of triangular jibs and the aft had a pair of spankers on manoeuvrable booms to match. The setup allowed the ship maximum speed and she could cut mighty close to the wind before losing momentum, outsailing some of the smaller ships in the right conditions.