Chapter One: Decisions Amid Duress
Tranith Argan: Book 2
Felanar has been captured by saarks, while his family are far behind on their boat.
Waves of nausea rolled over Felanar as he regained consciousness. He had an awful taste in his mouth of salty water and something else, something unidentified but rancid. He realized that his captors had forced some liquid down his throat, and this was what had wakened him. He blinked open his eyes and looked around wearily. He was onboard the saark ship and lying on his side on the main deck, hands tied behind his back and his feet bound. His line of sight was limited and at an angle, but he could see something of his surroundings. It was still daylight, and the rain had stopped. From the angle of the sun he surmised they were headed north. Onboard there were rows of slaves, both saarks and men, manning the oars further down the deck. Felanar was lying near the stern and guarded by three saarks.
What’s the point of guarding me, he thought, exhausted, for I’m clearly going nowhere bound this way. The ship rolled with the sea and his stomach rolled with it. Besides, he said to himself, even if I were free I wouldn’t be able to move much with this stomach. He groaned, causing the saark guards to laugh with raspy voices.
“The rat is awake,” laughed one of the guards, a vile looking saark with grey teeth in an open mouth that looked like a wolf’s grin. His red-rimmed eyes looked down at Felanar and he licked his lips as if to suggest that their diet consisted of more than animal flesh. “His majesty calls for more grank, Tral.”
The other two guards laughed at this and the one called Tral grabbed a green, leather-covered bottle and brought it over to Felanar. Lifting his head back he poured some down his throat, causing Felanar to choke and gasp as that same awful drink as before went coursing through his body. Another wave of nausea hit him and he closed his eyes and groaned again.
“Looks as if royalty doesn’t know what’s good, curse him!” The third saark leered at Felanar’s prone figure.
“He’ll be taught to like grank, and more,” said Tral. “By the time the Dark One is done with him, he’ll wish he could have some grank.” All three saarks laughed heartily at this joke and continued to leer at Felanar.
In truth, Felanar did feel his strength returning. Grank might be nauseating to drink, but it served a purpose, he realized. He opened his eyes again and tried not to groan. He didn’t want to encourage his captors to misinterpret him any more.
Felanar looked at the three guards. One of them had removed his armor, so his back was visible. It was as scaly as his arms and legs. Thick brown scales seemed to cover most of their bodies. Looking at them up close and for a long time, Felanar lost the feeling of repulsion he had at first felt back on the boat. Different in appearance though they were, unkempt and dirty and repellent, saarks were essentially man-like. They seemed intelligent and organized, but wild. He had never encountered these people before, and knew little of them other than from stories told in pubs and old books.
Saarks, he knew, came out of the western lands. Long ago they had come up from the south of Shakaart and settled in the Great Plain. Allies to no one, they fought whomever they wished to fight, and hunted anyone. Stories were told of their captive’s plights and their awful choice between slavery and death. Beyond that, Felanar knew almost nothing of these people. What was their objective on this occasion, he wondered? Where were they taking him? Why had he not been killed already?
The steady drumbeat that he had heard earlier caught his attention. Craning his head to one side he saw a haggard looking man chained to the deck, pounding rhythmically on the pulled skin of a large drum. The man was clearly a slave, put to use to impel the oarsmen to maintain a quick pace. Felanar wondered if this was to be his fate, slave to the saarks. His mind drifted to his family, and Bren, and Ravesfel. And Alessa. His eyes closed and involuntarily he groaned again – but fortunately he wasn’t heard and given more grank to drink. The ship rolled again with the force of a large wave. Felanar felt intensely sick.
The three saark guards began talking among themselves. They spoke in a foreign tongue that sounded harsh but occasionally lapsed into the common tongue and Felanar could make out a few sentences here and there.
“…no point to it, I tell you…he won’t like this turn…killed the filthy thing, that’s what should have been done…orders…”
Felanar guessed they were talking about him and again wondered where they were taking him. To Shanaar, probably, if they were headed north. That would be the Dark One they spoke about, Vélakk. Is he the one who won’t like this? Probably, since Vélakk wanted him dead, not captured. Why had the saarks captured him, instead of killing him? Felanar’s head ached as he lay there, confused and tired. He tried to work the rope binding him fast, but it was tied cruelly tight. The rope chafed against his wrists and he could get no leverage. Even if he could free himself, how far would he get in the open sea? No, whatever was to happen to him, he thought, all he could do now was wait.
• • •
The rain had stopped and the skies were beginning to clear, but the mood onboard the fishing boat remained dark. Sera had cleaned Kara’s head wound and Bren had regained his senses from his fall. But Felanar was gone and there seemed to be little they could do.
“We must go after them.” Kara’s voice was weak as she lay in Sera’s lap. Her clothes and hair were soaked from the sea, and her face was pale. She stared at Bren with an imploring look.
“Yes, my lady, we must do something, but what that is I have no idea,” he responded despondently.
Kara struggled to sit up, but Sera held her in her lap and told her to rest.
“All right, I’ll rest. I can barely do much anyway, I’m so weak. But please, we must sail after that ship. Please, Bren.”
“What hope have we of catching such a vessel?” responded Bren with a weary voice. “Slave oarsmen can pull a boat faster than we can sail. And if we do catch them somehow, then what? Did we not resist them? And much good that did us.” Sorrowfully, he turned his head away.
“I don’t know what we can do, but we must do something. That’s what Felanar said when the dragon came that time. He didn’t know what to do either, but it worked out in the end, didn’t it?” Her voice was gaining strength.
“Yes,” Chafrar answered cautiously, “it did work out, but who knows how it will end the next time?”
Kara now sat up, despite Sera’s protests.
“I don’t know, but we can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
She reached over and rummaged through her pack. The others looked at her curiously. She found what she wanted and pulled out the elven horn that Felanar had given her long ago. Holding it up to her lips, she blew hard for a long time until she had to catch her breath. No sound came. Again she blew, even harder than before, and again no sound. She caught her breath a second time and looked at the others.
“There, I’ve summoned the Llaráin. I don’t know if it will do any good. Maybe we are too far out to sea. In the meantime, please let us sail after that ship. Bren, I would prefer not to command you to help. I would hope you would go willingly, to aid your former pupil in need, and our king in peril.”
Bren sat up and responded, “Where you lead, my lady, I will follow and render what aid I may. I do not know what Ravesfel would think of all this, but I would guess he would want me to protect you. It would be an evil day indeed should we lose both a king and a queen ere the sun set. I will help you try to rescue Felanar, and fight alongside you, come what may. It is my duty.”
Kara turned toward her parents. “I do not ask you to follow. You are not used to combat, and I fear for your safety in such a fight. We can sail north and catch the coast where it bends westward and thus let you off ashore while not falling too far behind the chase.”
Sera looked at this determined woman and tried to see the child in her that she had known so well. She was amazed at this response and felt something deep within her stir at her words. When she answered, it seemed as if her response came from some unknown, buried place.
“What you say is true, Kara. I do not know how to fight. But I cannot stand the thought of being put ashore while both you and Felanar stand in danger. If you die, I would be by your side. And if Chafrar and I aid you, your numbers double.”
Chafrar surprisingly agreed with his wife and Kara stood there amazed at this response. Amazed, but gratified, and she hug Sera tightly.
“Do not fear, for I very much doubt we will have to fight alone. Did I not just blow the horn of the elves? I think we might have aid from them before we reach our destination.”
Bren raised the sail again and they caught the wind and headed northward. With the clearing skies, and strong winds, they made good time. Probably not good enough time to catch their prey, but at least they had acted. What they would do upon reaching the saark ship was something they did not discuss.
At regular intervals, Kara blew her horn to keep any who might be listening informed of their location. The gash on her forehead still hurt, but she was no longer as weak as before. She sat in the bow of the ship and stared ahead. Her thoughts swirled around her, reaching far back to the lessons of her childhood on battle and leadership, and to the present situation which thrust her suddenly into a position of needing those lessons.
Go to Argan, yes, she thought, that was her goal as a child, but it was a general thought. She would be the overlooked one again, she had assumed, and would have little to do. Now the real world had come crashing down upon her and she was suddenly in command in a desperate situation. What had Bren taught her? Leadership is often simply a matter of making a choice in confidence, even if the confidence was on the surface only. People would follow if you acted the leader, and as you acted the leader you became one. She glanced back at her parents and Bren and saw they were looking at her. They need me to lead now, she thought. I must act like a leader now.
“Are you sure you feel all right?” asked Sera as she sat down next to Kara.
Kara turned to her mother and attempted a brief smile.
“I’ll be all right. My wound was not so deep as to cause any great harm. What I’m feeling now is burning hatred for the saarks and will recover only when Felanar is back safe again.”
“They frighten me so, Kara,” Sera said. “There were so many, and so strong and fierce!”
“They caught us by surprise,” replied Kara angrily. “Even so, without warning I was able to kill two of them. I can do better next time. Bren has trained me in battle. Now I will get to use that training.”
“Where did such determination come from in such a gentle girl?”
Kara smiled wanly and said, “It was always thus with me, mother, though I never had occasion to show my feelings. The village life has no need for such skills. Certainly nothing you or father ever did called out for vengeance.” She laughed for a moment, and Sera smiled at that, and then Kara continued.
“Have I not been training for this moment, mother? Did not Bren teach me to fight and to hunt? Yes, I know, he meant it for Felanar and only allowed me to share in it by pestering him. Yet I always knew I would use this training, perhaps in service to the regent. Now my moment arrives and it is in service to the king. May I perform my service well!”
Sera sat there for a long time saying nothing, staring alternately at the sea and at Kara. She seemed to be wrestling with an idea, or coming to terms with a thought. Finally, in a voice barely audible, she asked Kara, “Will you show me how to use a sword?”
Kara looked at her mother, who was staring at the deck. She reached over and gave her mother a hug and laughed.
“Of course I will, and Bren can show father! It was in my mind already though I did not know how you would react. I thought at first that you should stay back while Bren and I attacked, but I don’t suppose the saarks would cooperate, would they? There is little doubt that if we reach our objective, you will be under attack and need to protect yourself. Come, pick up my sword and let’s practice.”
“What will you use, if I take your sword?” asked Sera.
“I will use my bow, of course. When things get too close for bow and arrow, I will take a sword from a dead saark and use that. No need to worry about me.”
Bren and Kara gave the parents simple lessons in defensive swordplay. Chafrar took to it well, for he was used to dealing with tools and regarded the sword as a new tool to use. Sera concentrated on her lessons from Kara and tried to learn quickly. Kara could see the fear in her mother, however, and tried to instill confidence in her.
“I’m sorry, mother,” she said, sighing. “My skills are so finely honed, I can overcome most defenses. You don’t have my training, of course, and it’s making you discouraged. Don’t worry, the saarks are not nearly as skilled. They fight in very basic ways. Here, let me show you how I noticed them fighting before.”
Kara began to attack with simpler thrusts and parries, relying more on strength than skill, as she had observed of the saarks. Sera’s confidence soon increased as she learned to defend this sort of attack. A thought soon came to her as they continued the practice.
“What about bows and arrows, Kara? How do I defend against that?”
Bren, hearing the question, answered reassuringly, “There is no need to fear that, Sera. The saarks may be evil and they may be fierce, but they do not use the bow in their fighting. They do not consider it savage enough, I suppose you could say. It’s hand-to-hand for them or nothing. Death means little to them, and they care not if half their number are slaughtered in the process. Numbers are what they rely upon, numbers and strength, raw brute strength. I doubt very much they would dishonor themselves as to have archers aboard that ship. Therein lies our hope. With Kara’s bow and my own we may hope to slay many of them before they can get close enough to attack.”
The practice continued until all were tired and then they rested as the boat sailed on. It was mid-afternoon when Bren stood up suddenly and peered into west. Seeing this, Kara approached and followed his gaze. There, in the distance, a ship had appeared. Slowly it grew in size as it sailed toward them. It was not the saark ship, yet it appeared on a course to intercept them. Finally it was close enough to perceive it was an elven ship.
“They have heard my call!” cried Kara with delight and hope. “The horn! They heard the cry of the elven horn and they have come to aid us!”