Chapter Sixteen: The Saarks
Tranith Argan: Book 1
Felanar and his family, accompanied by Bren, have just witnessed in the distance what could only be Ravesfel fighting off a dragon attacking their home village. Now with urgency they continue to sail toward Elaria, the home of the elves.
By the time it was dusk, they reached the far end of Lake Brindle and began to sail up its river tributary toward the King’s Bridge. It was a clear night under a bright moon and Bren thought it best if they sailed on without stopping. Traveling under cover of darkness appealed to them, as did the idea of reaching their destination as soon as possible. So when darkness settled around them and they had eaten their simple supper they decided that Chafrar would take the first shift sailing while the others slept.
The wind had died down with nightfall but they still made good time with the river current. Sera kept Chafrar company but Kara, Felanar, and Bren tried to find comfortable spots to sleep. There was little sound but the rippling of the water. They pulled blankets around themselves to ward off the colder night air and soon were asleep. In the moonlight the boat soon slipped under the King’s Bridge, its dark mass looming up from the horizon until it covered them and plunged them into darkness for a moment. Then they passed underneath and back out into the open.
Chafrar adjusted the rudder to match the undulating pattern of the river. He pulled out his pipe and began to smoke. He and Sera quietly spoke about events and their concerns. The hours passed and by the middle of the night they woke Bren who was to take the next turn. He yawned as he sleepily sat up and asked Chafrar for news.
“Nothing of note. I heard voices once but they belonged to a family in a house by the river. Other than that, I’ve seen or heard nothing.”
He and Sera now tried to find a place to sleep and Chafrar grumbled about such uncomfortable accommodations. Sera hushed him, but she also felt the lack of a good place to lie down.
By the time they passed Middleton, it was about three o’clock in the morning and the village was dark and quiet. The houses slipped silently by on the left bank. In one there was a lamp alight in the window, and one dog roused himself to bark at the passing boat, but other than that Bren saw no sign of life. More hours passed and the first glimmers of dawn were seen in the eastern sky. Bren woke Felanar and told him they were approaching Upton and the mouth of the river as it fed into the Straits.
Felanar and Kara now took over the sailing while the others slept. As the boat slipped quietly passed Upton, Felanar looked up at the weather-beaten houses that had apparently not changed since he had last seen them. He thought of that scowling innkeeper and his kind wife and wondered what had become of them over the years. Was she still thoughtful and smiling toward the guests? Did she still wear that same faded dress? He thought of the innkeeper’s face should he find out that the young boy he had scowled at was actually the king. That thought made him smile, which made Kara ask what he was smiling about.
“Righting wrongs, Kara. That’s what I was thinking about.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “As king?”
“Yes, as king. I was thinking about the good I can do now. I suppose that’s the best aspect to this change. I can use my power to right some wrongs in this world. Yet…” and he paused and sighed as the last of Upton slipped past and they entered the open water. “Yet, even a king’s power has its limits. I cannot control a person’s heart.” He told Kara about the innkeeper and how he had treated him all those years ago. “I mean, I can’t exactly go into the inn and storm up to the innkeeper and say, ‘You had better treat your wife and guests with more respect!’ Not even a king can change a person’s heart.”
He smiled wanly at Kara as he said this. She said nothing in return but just stared thoughtfully ahead at the open sea. The wind had kicked up and they were making good time. Along with the wind, however, came clouds, some of them dark and getting darker. It soon began to look as though the weather would be rough. Felanar roused Bren and asked if he felt it would be wiser to return to Upton until the weather improved.
Bren looked up sleepily at the gathering storm clouds and thought for a moment.
“No,” he replied carefully, “I think not. I don’t relish the thought of crossing the Straits of Doom when they live up to their name, but the waves don’t seem to be that bad and this might blow over soon.” He paused and looked back at the distant shore. “If this were a normal voyage, I would agree that staying in Upton is the best course. But this is not a normal voyage. Your life is in danger, my lord, and we know the enemy is not far behind. With their messengers, who knows what agents may be in Upton and could give the alarm at your presence?”
Felanar’s thoughts immediately went to that innkeeper and his scowling face. Indeed, such a man would gladly give up a guest if he felt there was some profit in it. He reluctantly agreed with Bren that they would be better off facing the storm, relying on the skills of the family of fishermen.
“If things get too rough, we can turn back and take our chances,” Bren continued, “but if we can press forward it would be better.”
Chafrar and Sera were awake now and they pulled out some coverings for the rain that was imminent. Safely stowing their packs and supplies under the canvas, Chafrar came over to Felanar to help with the sailing. One good aspect to the stormy weather was the speed with which the wind was pushing them along. They were making excellent time in the choppy water.
Soon the rain began to fall and they covered up as they could. It was a soft but steady rainfall at first, but it quickly intensified. Soon a hard, windswept rain soaked them all. The boat was rocked by the waves and wind, and there were a couple of moments when Bren began to privately question his own counsel. But Chafrar’s skills were evident, and he kept them on an even course through the worst of the storm. In fact, it wasn’t long before the intensity lessened somewhat and they felt the worst was over.
It was the lack of visibility that kept them from noticing the oncoming danger. With almost no warning a ship loomed through the rain. It was a ship made of dark wood, large and narrow with rows of oars stemming down into the water. It had sails of black with a red dragon herald. It bore down on them swiftly under the power of the teams of rowers working tirelessly following the beat of a deep, insistent drum.
“Look out!” cried Kara, who saw the ship first.
Chafrar swiftly turned the rudder to steer around the ship but it was too late. Under such low visibility they had no time to react. Their boat was besieged by loops of ropes and hooks thrown over their masts and they were soon lashed against the ship.
“Ai! Saarks!” cried Bren. “My lord, this is indeed a dark day. I’ve led you into far worse danger than we could have faced in Upton! Forgive me, for I have delivered us to saarks.”
Felanar and his family had never faced saarks before, but had only read about them and heard terrible stories told. Sera grabbed Chafrar and Kara reached for her bow while Bren and Felanar grabbed their swords. Bren looked at Felanar and said, “My lord, your life and the kingship is paramount. You must not fall. I beg of you, let me try pleading with the beasts. If it does not work, and all is lost, then do not fight. There are too many for us to overcome and I fear for your lives. If it comes to it, you and Kara must jump overboard and swim for shore. It may be your only chance!”
Felanar glanced up at the ship now alongside their fishing boat. He could see dark figures, dozens of them, too many to fight, leaning over the side and preparing to climb down the ropes to board their boat. He had heard that saarks rarely spared their victims. The boat was tied fast; there was no getting away. Even if they could break free, their speed was no match for the sleek ship of the saarks. His mind racing as the first of the saarks came sliding down the ropes, Felanar came to the conclusion that Bren was right. If things got worse, he and Kara must jump into the water and flee. The kingship was more important than lives, even that of their parents.
Sera backed away behind Chafrar and Bren stepped in front of Kara and Felanar. They could see the first few saarks up close now as they noisily climbed aboard their boat. They were a little shorter than men, but wider and visibly stronger. They had dark brown scaly arms and legs (and presumably bodies, but those were covered with heavy leather armor). The scales stopped at their necks, short, thick necks with tufts of scraggly hair. The necks led into dark, round, squat faces. Their eyes were dark with red rims, their hair was black and oily, and their teeth were prominent fangs. Their appearance repulsed everyone, which was one of the main advantages held by the saarks. Their enemies melted in fear before them.
“Hold!” cried Bren, as he stepped forward with his right palm stretched out before him. “What business do you wish to conduct with a family of poor fishermen?”
The first of the saarks held up his hand to stop the rest from advancing. His reddened eyes glanced at each of the five voyagers and he licked his lips. Then he glanced back at Bren in the foreground and answered with a leer and in a grating voice.
“Poor fishermen, you say?” He let out a guttural laugh that ended in a gurgle, licked his lips again, and continued. “You don’t look like poor fishermen, no, not at all. Whole families out on a boat, having a merry ride in a storm? Not the way fishermen usually work, is it?”
His crew behind him laughed in that same rough manner and the saark leader’s eyes narrowed. “And you, you don’t look like a fisherman, and you don’t look poor, or I’m a fool” he said to Bren.
“Indeed, sir, your eyes are sharp. I am no fisherman, but a relative of theirs, visiting from up north. They took me out on their boat for an enjoyable morning together and this storm has caught us off our guard.” Bren tried hard to hide his nervousness and he fought the temptation to turn around to Felanar. He didn’t want to give away his king’s identity in any way.
“Relative, eh?” responded the saark. “I’ve seen men, the filthy creatures, and I’ve seen men’s families. Not like them, you are, not at all. This is no cursed family reunion. You take me for a fool? Spies you are, foul spies!”
The saark turned toward Felanar, behind Bren. He raised his scaly right arm and pointed a bony finger at him.
“You. I know who you are. You hide like a snotty boy behind his father, but you cannot hide from the Saarku! Miserable worm, we know your plan. You claim to be king, but Vélakk wants a word with you. Yes, he does, and maybe a little more!”
Bren lifted his sword, wheeled around to Kara and Felanar and cried out, “Flee!”
Felanar glanced at his parents in a brief moment of agonized indecision and then grabbed Kara and was about to dive into the choppy sea. Then he stopped, hung his head for an instant, and wheeled around, sword in hand. The right thing to do would be to try to escape. The kingship depended on them and if they died the royal line died with them. But he couldn’t bring himself to abandon his family and friend. It was wrong. But it hardly mattered whether this was the right thing to do or not, for his emotions impelled him to stay.
At the first sign of flight the saarks had let out a cry of alarm and dashed forward, knives and swords in hand. Chafrar and Sera yelled for their children’s safety and tried to block the line of saarks moving forward, but they were thrown aside as if they were weightless. The strength of the saarks was great. Bren hacked at the first saark that he could reach and his cut stopped him in his tracks. Letting out a hoarse cry, the saark slumped to the ground, dark blood gushing from his wound. Bren quickly raised his sword again but to his amazement the saarks ignored him. Every saark onboard the fishing boat made for Felanar alone.
“For Argan!” cried Kara as arrows suddenly flew from her bow and two saarks fell dead, causing two others to stumble over their bodies. That was all Kara could do with the bow, though, for by then the remaining saarks, six in all, had reached them at the stern. Kara grabbed for her sword but before she could pull it out she was roughly grabbed by one saark. She tried to lash out at him but his arms were too strong. As she struggled another saark rushed over and struck her head with his knife. But as the boat continued to rock in the sea, his stroke did not go true and only glanced against Kara’s forehead. It was enough to stun her, however, and the first saark pushed her overboard in disgust. Seeing this, Sera dove in after her instantly.
Meanwhile Felanar was hard at it with the other four saarks. He had slain the first one to advance and was now defending himself from the sword blows of the others. Bren was attacking from the rear but soon was knocked down by another wave of reinforcement saarks who had climbed down the ropes. Felanar continued to fight, curious that none of the saarks seemed willing to strike a deathblow at him. Soon the number of saarks overwhelmed him and, as he struggled, a blow on his head caused him to slump to the deck unconscious.
The saarks lifted his limp body and retreated back to the ropes. Chafrar, seeing his son being carried off, overcame his fear and stepped forward with a cry. He grabbed the first saark he reached and struggled with him, arm to arm, strength against strength. It was no use, however, for as strong as he was it was nothing compared to the strength in the scaly arms of his foe. With a gurgling laugh, the saark thrust Chafrar to the deck and climbed the rope to his ship. Felanar had been carried up by the others and, apart from the four dead bodies that littered the deck, the boat was quickly empty of saarks.
Bren was dumb with grief and anxiety. Seeing Felanar hauled up to the ship, he stood back up and tried to climb the ropes. But about halfway up, the rope was cut from the top by the saarks onboard. Before Bren could react he crashed back down onto the boat. Soon all the ropes attached to the boat had been cut and it began to drift away from the saark ship. The drumbeat picked up again, oarsmen began to row, and the ship pulled swiftly away to the north.
Meanwhile, Sera had reached her daughter and raised her limp body in the water. Slowly she swam back to the boat where Chafrar helped her and Kara back onboard. The parents quickly began tending to Kara. She was barely conscious and had a nasty gash on her forehead. It had stopped bleeding and she would be all right, though she was still stunned.
Bren, too, was stunned from his fall to the deck from so great a height, but he could still manage to see the saark ship pull away into the rainy gloom until it was lost from sight. His heart sank as he realized he had failed.
His lord, the hope of the free peoples of the world, was now a prisoner of the saarks, being carried to his death.
This is the end of book 1 of Tranith Argan.