 
Friends of the Crown -

Book 1 of Heroes of the Realm

By Scott Van der Haeghen

Copyright 2012 © Scott Van der Haeghen

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1-Family Matters

Chapter 2-Old Barlow

Chapter3-Fletcher the Fierce

Chapter 4-Newellen

Chapter 5-The Plot

Chapter 6-Radan

Chapter 7-In the Queen's Regiment

Chapter 8-Groden

Chapter 9-The Great Western Ocean

Chapter 10-Marooned

Chapter 11-Stealing the Braydon

Chapter 12-Back to Saladin

Chapter 13-Home Again

Epilogue
Chapter 1 – Family Matters

Two ordinary looking young men were working outside a small house next to a ten-acre field, plowed and ready for the spring planting. Though the days were getting warmer with each that passes, they were splitting wood nonetheless. "Warm it may be," Aubrey's mother, Ellen Cousins, always said, "but the cooking fire still needs to be fed and we will not be fed without it." So Aubrey and Neville are splitting logs into kindling for the stove. The door of the little house opened.

"Aubrey!" called Brey's mother from the porch of her little house. "Finish your chores and come inside. It's nearly time for dinner." Shifting her gaze to the other young man by the pile of logs she added, "I should think your mother would be looking for you as well, Neville. You should run along now so she'll not worry after you."

"All right, mother." Brey turned his golden brown eyes to his companion, Neville Morton. "As if your mother would think you were anywhere but here or in the village working. Really!" Turning back to the shrinking woodpile, he grabbed another log and placed it on the big, flat stump. With a single practiced swing, the log split neatly in two.

Though only fourteen years of age, Brey Cousins was already showing his adult potential in his wiry but strong frame. Another sign of impending manhood was the feathery growth of sandy brown whiskers to match his hair, beginning to grow on his strong jaw line.

Ellen often tells him that he takes after his father. Though he has been gone for many years, Brey can still vaguely recall the sound of his father's voice and can almost remember his face. Mother tells him from time to time to merely look in a mirror to see him, as he is the spitting image of her departed love. Burt Cousins was a gentle, hard-working man who was as friendly a soul as anyone in Carsby had ever met. He was the kind of man to help anyone in need and still see that his own chores were daily met. When he died nearly five years ago in a logging accident the whole village mourned his loss. Ellen Cousins mourned long for her dear husband, but in time found she could once again smile and laugh and even love.

Neville Morton was nearly a full hand shorter than his friend, but was stockier of build. His hair was fair and his eyes a deep brown, bordering on black. Despite their difference in appearance, they were two of a kind in their thoughts.

Nev shifted his position on the log he had been resting upon and turned his gaze toward the plowed field a short distance away. "I doubt my mum even remembers my name these days. She's gone so far to the cups she can't think beyond the next jug of wine." He reflected and plucked another shoot of spring grass from the patch of ground near the fence post and placed it between his teeth. "Think your mum might let me stay for supper again?" he asked hopefully.

"You know she will; you'd never get a decent meal if it weren't for my mum. Help me finish up and we'll go in for dinner." The boys, as they had done in all things since they were very young, took up the task together and finished quickly. As predicted, Mrs. Cousins saw that Nev got a proper meal and sent a bit home with him to see that Mrs. Morton got some nourishment as well.

Abigail Morton was once a fine lady of the village. Though not wealthy, she always had a nice home, managed to have clean, well-kept clothing and made sure her son and daughter were always presentable and polite. Jacob Morton, Nev's father, was once thought of as the next elder of the village of Carsby, even though he was not technically old enough to be considered 'elderly'. He was wise, intelligent, and well respected...once. All that changed two years ago.

Two summers past, Jacob and his daughter, Millicent, were traveling to the city of Newellen; they were making a regular trip to obtain supplies for the farm and some fabric and ribbon for Milli and her mother. It is believed, along the road, they met a highwayman who demanded their money and their wagon. Being a man of honor and strong convictions, Jacob Morton would have refused and demanded the robber leave them alone; the robber and Jacob must have fought, the highwayman certainly being a more practiced swordsman slew him and took the money, the wagon - and Milli. It was more than two days before the crime was discovered. Though the men of Carsby immediately went in search of Milli and her captor, the trail was long cold and they were never found.

Abigail's grief was great and her spirit was crushed; though she still had one child left to her, the taking of the man she loved above all others and her precious daughter were more than she could bear and she took to wine to dull the pain. In time, she was too inebriated even to help Nev run the farm. Eventually, the property fell into disrepair, as the thirteen-year-old Nev wasn't able to maintain it on his own, even with the help of his friend, Brey.

The village elders took pity on the Mortons and offered to help farm the land for only a small fee, allowing Nev and his mother to keep their home and food on the table. In time, they were forced to sell their land piece by piece until only a small garden and the house remained to the Morton family. Now Abigail lived mostly on the few pennies Nev was able to earn selling vegetables from his small garden and odd jobs performed in the village. The Mortons were on hard times and only the kindness of the Cousins' and the pity of the village folk helped to sustain them.

For his own part, Nev had been able to deal with the loss and grief through his strong friendship with Brey, his best friend and closest companion. Though at first it was not easy, in time the tears came less often and he found he could even smile from time to time. Now, two years later, he had reconciled himself with the terrible loss. The youth loved his mother dearly and did all he could to help, but her inability to function at all because of the wine made it difficult for him to be around her for long periods. He spent most of his time with Brey and only returned home to sleep and tend to his garden.

The following day was planting day at the Cousins' farm. Early that morning Brey got up and broke his fast; soon after, Carl Janssen arrived with a wagonload of seed. It was a perfect day for planting, the sky above was clear blue and not a cloud marred the horizon. The field was to be planted with corn and wheat, and the garden with beans; it would make for a well-rounded crop and hopefully a rewarding one as well. Though times had not been terribly difficult for the Cousins' they had not been very profitable either. Now that mother had the help of Carl, the family farm could be more ambitious.

Carl was not only the local smith, but also a suitor for the hand of the widow Cousins. Brey very much approved of this; he liked the idea of his mother being properly cared for by a man of good character, he also noted that his mother seemed to be very fond of him.

"Good morning to you, Brey!" Carl said with the same broad smile he usually wore. As the village blacksmith, he was a large, powerfully built man with a barrel chest and arms as strong and hard as oak. His chiseled jaw was clean-shaven and his black hair cropped short and neat. He wore the same homespun shirt, brown trousers, and sturdy brown boots he always did.

"Good morning, Carl! How are you?" Brey returned, also smiling. Carl's smiles were infectious, even at dawn.

Mrs. Cousins stepped out to the porch, smoothing the front of the apron she wore over her plain green dress. "Good morning, Carl. Have you eaten breakfast? I would be happy to prepare something if you wish."

Carl's smile widened even further. "Thank you, Miss Ellen. I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble."

"It is no trouble at all, I have only just finished with my own and Aubrey's, one more would only take a moment." she replied, her cheeks rosy with a blush. "I will have something for you by the time you two have finished unloading the sacks." With that, she turned and hastened back inside.

Carl stared after her a few moments before shaking himself from his reverie.

"Carl, are you in love with my mother?" Brey asked as he moved to the rear of the wagon.

Carl grinned momentarily then tried to look disapproving. "A proper gent doesn't ask such things you know." However, the scowl failed and he grinned all the more broadly. "Ah Brey, your mother could bring the sunshine through the pouring rain just by smiling. How could a man not love such a woman?"

Brey and Carl began unloading the sacks from the wagon and stacked them near the fence. Carl had looked thoughtful while completing the chore and then turned to Brey. "Lad, could we talk man to man?" Brey nodded. "I know it's not exactly as things should be, but –" just then, the door opened and Ellen called Carl to his breakfast. He excused himself and went inside to eat and returned in fifteen minutes.

Brey had been sitting on the sacks wondering what Carl wanted to talk about. He had an idea but didn't want to hex it by giving it too much wishing. Brey hefted a sack of wheat seed on his shoulder while Carl lifted one sack each of corn and wheat. As they walked across the broken earth of the field, Brey was waiting for Carl to get back to his earlier conversation, but he seemed lost in thought again.

"So...what did you want to talk to me about, Carl?" Brey asked finally.

Carl paused from opening the sack of seed corn, looking back toward the house. He took a deep breath and said, "You asked me earlier if I was in love with your mother; the fact is, lad, I am indeed." He turned toward Brey and looked him in the eye. "I know it's not exactly proper, you not being her father, but you are the man of the house after all. I'd like to ask for your mum's hand."

Carl spoke quickly and nervously as he began to pace back and forth over the uneven brown soil. "As you know we've been courting for a while now and I've made my mind up to ask her to be my wife- if you don't object, that is. I know your father has been gone some time now, but if you say its not right then I will speak no more of it." When he finished he looked down at the sack he had been opening earlier and tugged at the burlap idly.

Brey smiled and then whooped and laughed loudly. "Carl, that's wonderful! Truth to tell I was hoping that was what you were going to say." He reached over and grabbed the big smith's hand and pumped it up and down several times. Carl's smile was so big it seemed to stretch from ear to ear. He too was laughing.

Suddenly Carl's smiled disappeared. "What if she doesn't want to marry me, Brey? I'd not thought of whether she feels the same." The thought of that struck home and he looked positively grim.

"Refuse?" asked Brey with a grin. "As I am standing here, I would wager this whole farm she has been waiting for you to ask. Why don't you just go back there and ask her? Elsewise, you'll mope about this field planting crooked rows just thinking about it."

"Now I don't know if that would be right, would it? Just walk right up and ask her - just like that?"

"Why not?" replied Brey. The fact was he was as excited to find out as Carl was. He gave the big man a shove in the direction of the house. "Go! Off with you! I can handle the planting while you tend to more important business. You can come back once you've done your deed!"

Carl stood for only a moment and began walking toward the house, a look of determination on his face. Brey watched him walk to the house and knock. Once he went inside, Brey turned back toward the sacks.

"Good morning!" said Nev from right beside him. Brey yelped and nearly jumped from his skin; Nev stood by and laughed at the effect of his prank.

"You just took ten years from my life you sneak!" Brey took at half-hearted swing at him, missing by at least a foot. "Have you come to help plant or just to scare me half to death?"

"To help plant, of course, scaring you was just a happy addition to my plan." replied Nev with another chuckle. "Where has Carl gone to?"

Brey told Nev about his conversation with Carl and the errand he was on. "That's great!" exclaimed Nev happily. He too approved of Carl. "Do you think your mum will say yes?"

Brey laughed and nodded. "Of course she will. Carl has been courting her for almost a year now. Every time she sees him she turns pink in the face and he starts talking like a ninny. They will be married all right, you just watch." The two young men began planting the seed. No more than ten minutes later, Carl came bounding out of the house whooping and laughing just as Brey had done when he said he would like to ask for his mum's hand.

Carl came running recklessly across the uneven ground of the plowed field like a boy who had just been let go of his chores for the day. "Brey! Good morning, Nev! And a good morning it is indeed!"

Nev grinned and chuckled. "I take it you are soon to be married, eh Carl?"

Carl smiled from ear to ear for the second time that morning. "That I am, lads; that I am!" Carl grabbed each young man's hand in turn and shook it so hard their teeth fairly rattled in their heads. "It took a while for her to answer at first, for some reason she saw fit to cry right then; but in the end it was 'yes' she was saying!"

"Blessings to you both." The boys said at the same time.

"Thank you, kind sirs." Carl responded with a mock bow. Then with a spring in his step he filled his waist pouch with seed and said. "Let's to the planting boys; it's a sorry husband I would be if I let the planting fall behind now." So, Carl and the boys set to planting the corn under the bright morning sun.

At lunchtime, they all walked back across the field for a meal. Carl was still giddy as a schoolboy as they went to the well for water to clean themselves. In a short while they were gathered around the table and enjoying a hearty meal. The boys set to the meal with the gusto, but all Carl and Ellen could do was hold hands and stare at each other.

By the end of the day, all of the corn and much of the wheat had been planted. Ellen had also begun planting the staple vegetables and beans in the garden behind the house; it was a good day for all. That evening, Ellen prepared a feast to celebrate the planting as well as the happy occasion of her engagement to Carl Janssen. As usual, Nev stayed for the meal. After dinner, Ellen spoke with Carl privately for a few minutes then asked Nev to speak with her outside while Brey and Carl saw to the fire and clearing the dishes from the table.

Ellen sat on the bench on the porch of the house. "Neville, how is your mother?" she asked.

"She is well, thank you." he answered, as any polite young man would do.

Ellen laughed softly. "Neville Morton, don't you be coy with me. I have fed you far too many dinners to accept such blathering from you. How is she really? I worry for her so often." Nev could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

He stared at the rough planks of the porch and kicked at an unseen pebble. "She doesn't get out of bed anymore except to fetch a jug of wine. I don't know what to do anymore. I think she might die soon if she doesn't stop." A tear rolled down his cheek as he continued. "Mrs. Cousins, I am worried that she'll die and I'll be left alone and I don't know what to do to stop it." He threw his hands in the air in frustration. "What can I do?"

Ellen reached over and gently lifted his chin. Her soft blue eyes looked into his brown eyes and she saw his fear and his pain. "Neville, since your father was taken, you have been as much my son as your own mother's. I can't bear any longer to see you shoulder such heavy burdens. Once I am married to Carl our lots together will make us comfortable enough; perhaps even with room for one or two more. Your mother and I were once friends as close as you and Brey. Up to now, I have been unable to do much to help aside from ensuring you were fed, and your mother when I could. Now, if Carl is willing, I may be able to help you and your mother. Would you like me to try?"

Nev felt relief surge through him and his emotions took over. He nodded and turned his head so Ellen could not see him cry, and she stood and took him into her arms. Nev cried and held tightly to her, as any boy might do when holding his mother. Once he had cried himself out, Ellen told him to be strong just a little while longer.

The next day dawned clear and for the first time in two long years, Neville Morton felt truly happy. He got up from the pallet on which he slept, went to his mother's room, and knocked on her door. There was no response. After a few moments, he knocked again. "What do you want?" came the surly reply.

"May I come in?" asked Nev.

"I don't care." she rasped.

He lifted the latch on the door and opened it; the stench of the room came upon him. He was used to it by now, but that didn't make it any more pleasant. The woman who was once a true lady of the village was huddled on her bed in a nest of old blankets and clothing. Several empty wine jugs littered the floor in the corner under the window. A cup and a crust of the bread Nev had brought to her the night before lay on the table beside the bed.

Her dull blond hair hadn't been touched by a brush in weeks and was a tangled mess. Her sunken, bloodshot eyes and sallow skin gave her the appearance of a ghost. Her thin limbs were bony and appeared gnarled. The huddled wretch on the bed looked at him expectantly. "Do you have any money today?" she asked.

"No, Mother." he replied.

"Then what do you want with me?" Nev couldn't form his reply.

Mrs. Cousins had told him to ask his mother if she would be willing to live with them until she was well again. Now he hesitated; not because he was afraid to ask her, but because he was ashamed of what his beautiful mother had become. How could he bring this wretch to Mrs. Cousins looking as she did? Surely she hadn't seen his mother in quite some time and would be repulsed by the creature she had become.

"Well? Spit it out or leave!" Abigail Morton was in a foul mood because she had no more wine.

Nev decided to try anyway; if Mrs. Cousins was kind enough to ask, he had to try. "I was over at Brey's place yesterday." he began.

"So what? You're there every day. Too ashamed to stay around me I am sure!" she spat.

"Mrs. Cousins is to marry Carl Janssen. He asked her yesterday."

"Good for her." croaked Abigail bitterly.

"Um...she asked me to ask you something."

"For what? To be her standing matron? Hah! I am little past those days."

"No, umm - " he opted for rushing through it. "She asked me to ask you if you would want us to live with her and Carl and Brey until you are feeling better. You know, 'til you don't need so much wine." There. He finally got it out.

She sat up in her bed and glared at Nev with eyes wide with fury. Fear welled up inside him. "How dare she!! You tell that - that woman - that I would not live with anyone who would forsake her husband's memory to bed with another man! I'll not have her shame taint either of us!" She was getting more upset by the moment. "The gall of that woman!! She's sat back for two years and done nothing for us and suddenly wants to be helpful? Just so she can strut her newfound 'relationship' in my face?! Never! I don't want you anywhere near that family ever again! DO YOU HEAR ME!!" she shrieked, her bloodshot eyes blazing.

Nev couldn't believe his ears. Mrs. Cousins had told him that she and his mother were once very close, but his mother was acting as though Brey's mum was evil for being able to live with her husband's death and love again. He became outraged that she could speak that way after everything Mrs. Cousins had done for him. For both of them! Well-mannered son or no, Nev couldn't hold his tongue any longer. He moved to the side of the bed in two quick strides.

"That woman has been a mother to me for the last two years while you were too drunk to notice if I was even here! It's been her who's seen to it that I was fed, that YOU were fed, when she was able to! That woman was once your best friend and now wants to help you even though you have thrown your own life to the bottom of a wine jug! That woman is the only person in this village that does things for us because of your friendship and not out of pity, like everyone else!"

Nev, fists clenched tightly at his side, bored into her. "Father and Milli are gone, mother! They have been gone for more than two years! There is nothing we can do about it but try to live with it. I cried my tears and prayed my prayers and asked the Creator over and over why he let it happen, and then I learned to live with it. It's about time you did too!" Nev was shaking uncontrollably when he finished his speech; hot tears streaming down his cheeks. Never in his life had he spoken back to his mother, but now he felt - liberated. Liberated for having let out the frustrations, pain and anger he had been holding in for so long.

Abigail sat stunned. Her eyes were wide with shock, one hand raised to her mouth. She was barely breathing. She realized in that moment that he was right. About everything. She had been so immersed in her own pain that she hadn't realized just how much she had missed. Nev looked at her with an intensity she had never seen before. For the first time in a year, Abigail Morton felt a hot tear slide down her cheek, and then another. She felt a lump in her throat that seemed to grow and grow until she couldn't breathe. She threw back her head and a scream burst from her throat, raw and painful. She accepted it - and the next and the next; each painful outburst a confirmation that she was still alive even if Jacob and Milli were not. She finally broke down and began to sob. She didn't cry due to any physical pain but because she finally realized how much she had hurt the one person she should have been protecting all along. The one person she had left to her.

She didn't know how long she had cried but when she came back to herself, she saw that Nev was still there, sitting by the side of the bed. She could see that is eyes were red and swollen as well.

"What have I done to you, my child?" she sobbed, tears still rolling down her cheeks. "Neville, I am so sorry."

Nev drew a deep, shaky breath. "You haven't been well, mother. You don't have to apologize for that." he replied, reaching out to hold her hand. He hadn't held her hand since shortly after his father's death; it felt good to hold his mother's hand again.

By lunchtime of that day, Nev was able to get his mother out of bed and sitting by the hearth where he had started a small fire. Abigail was feeling both worse and better. Her head felt stuffed and heavy from crying as well as the lack of alcohol. But her mind felt clearer than it had in a very long time.

She looked around and saw how very dirty and run down her house had become. She once had a beautiful and well-cared-for home with whitewashed walls and cleanly scrubbed floors. The fine woodwork that had once adorned the doorways and shelves was cracked and broken from lack of care and the floor and walls had faded to a sickly gray. She felt ashamed.

Nev made a cup of tea and brought it to her. "Here, mother, have this." He handed her the warm drink and she wrapped her hands around the teacup. The fine china with the green leafy pattern had been a wedding gift from her parents. The reminder of her loss brought another tear to her eye. She would not break down again though; her days of all-consuming grief were over. She knew in her heart it was time to heal. Heal her heart and her life.

"Thank you, Neville." She said as she wiped away the single tear and stared into her cup. "I have made something of a mess for us, haven't I? I never intended to let things go so far, son, I just couldn't stop the pain without the wine. I know now the wine replaced the grief with something much worse." She looked over at her son. "Can you ever forgive me for what I have done – what I have become?"

"Of course, mother. As I was once told, 'Love is the bridge over the river of strife.'" He smiled as he reminded her of her own gentle words to him when he was a young boy.

Abigail Morton smiled too. A true and happy smile at hearing those words. She had not lost her son after all, and in the end that can be enough to help her get over the loss of her husband and daughter. She took a sip of the tea and let its warmth spread through her.

They heard a wagon pull up outside the house and a knock at the door a few moments after. "Who could that be?" Nev wondered aloud. He went to the door and opened it.

"Good afternoon, you slug-a-bed." said Brey with a grin on his face. "When you didn't come to help finish the planting I thought perhaps you had decided on the life of leisure." Seeing Nev's mother seated by the fire, Brey removed his hat and said, "Good day, Mrs. Morton. How are you?"

"Hello Aubrey," Abigail said with a slight smile, "I feel better than I have in quite a while, thank you for asking. I am sorry to have kept Nev with me this morning but he and I had some things to discuss."

Brey was stunned. He turned his wide-eyed gaze to Nev and was about to ask what was going on when Ellen and Carl came to the door.

Ellen beamed at seeing Abigail out of bed and looking sober, though very tired. "I am sorry to intrude Abby, but we were worried when Neville didn't come this morning and thought a visit might be in order. May we come in?"

Abigail had not seen much of Ellen in the past two years and was suddenly very aware of her appearance and the state of her house. She self-consciously pulled her blanket up around her shoulders. She said with a flush of embarrassment, "I'm afraid I look something of a fright and the house isn't quite in order. You are, of course, welcome nonetheless. Please, come in."

Seeing Abby's discomfort, Ellen said, "Now boys, why don't you go into the village with Carl, Abby and I have some catching up to do and you would just be bored with our prattle. Off with you now." She said shooing them out the door; and with that Nev, Brey, and Carl bid them goodbye and got into Carl's wagon. Once she closed the door, Ellen put down the sack she had brought with her, went immediately to Abby's side, and wrapped her arms around her frail shoulders.

"Oh Abby, my dear Abby, I have missed you so!" Abby put her arms around Ellen's neck and held tightly to her friend. Once again, tears flowed from her eyes, but these tears were not shed for grief, but rather the joy of having once again found her friend.

After some minutes, they parted and Abby looked at her friend. "Oh, I have missed you too. Thank you so much for watching after Nev. I feel so ashamed -" Ellen placed a finger on Abby's lips, stopping her from saying the rest of her words.

"Abigail Morton, you would have done the same for me had our lots been switched. I'll have no tears and no shame from you. You have been away from us and yourself for too long; now it looks very much as though you are back." Ellen smiled and hugged Abby once more. For the next few hours, Ellen sat with Abby and drank tea and ate some of the bread and cheese she had brought. Abby heard news of the village and folk that she had missed over the past year or more.

For her part, Abby told Ellen everything she had been unable to say since Jacob and Milli were taken from her. There was much crying and some smiles and laughter as the old friends reconnected and healed the breach that had grown between them over the years.

As they spoke, Abby felt a burning inside that spoke not of hunger but of need. She knew the need for wine was coming upon her. She had promised herself she would drink no more; the cost to herself and, more importantly, her son was far too high.

"Ellen," she began, "I understand you bid Neville ask me a question." She licked her lips nervously unsure how to continue.

Knowing what must be on her friend's mind, Ellen answered, "Yes, Abby I did. I have given it much thought over the past year. If you will let me, I want to help you." She reached over and took Abby's hands in hers. "As I have told you, Carl and I are to wed soon and we would be able to take you and Neville in until you are well again." She paused a moment before telling Abby the rest. "I am sorry for having done this, but I have already spoken to old Barlow about how to bring someone back from the drink. He tells me it can be difficult but it surely can be done."

"There is no need to apologize. Love is the bridge o'er the river of strife." Abby smiled, feeling she would now have the strength with a true friend by her side.

In the late afternoon, the two young men returned alone, while Carl stayed at his blacksmith shop. No sooner had they opened the door than they were put to work. Under Mrs. Cousins' direction, Nev and Brey set to building up the fire and fetching the large pot to heat water. In a short time, bath water was heated and poured into the old tub in Abby's bedroom that Jacob had gotten for her many years before. Ellen helped Abby to wash away the accumulated filth of self-neglect and to wash her hair. In the end, a few inches needed to be cut off because the matted mass could not be combed out completely. Once she was dried off and wearing a clean dress, Abby felt years younger and stronger. Strangely, she also felt the urge for a drink of wine was easier to resist. It was a good feeling.

Chapter 2 – Old Barlow

The following morning found Nev and Brey at the lake behind the Cousins' farm. The lake was their private haven; the one place where they were no longer just the farm boys, Nev and Brey, but Neville Morton and Aubrey Cousins, Heroes of the Realm. Yes, heroes; as well as warriors and adventurers of the unknown! What made this place so special was its isolation. Being in a small hollow surrounded by a grove of maples made it feel as though they were worlds away from Carsby village. Here there existed a world where anything was possible for the two young men, it was also the world where they planned and prepared for their biggest dream; a dream they hoped to bring to life soon. A real adventure!

For some time now, both Brey and Nev have dreamed of striking out on their own, undertaking an amazing journey. The adventure they most wished to pursue was to travel beyond the Crystalline Sea; to see the world and its treasures was what occupied the minds of the youths most every day.

"Imagine! Great swelling waves and a fine wind. Umph!" grunted Nev as he delivered a mighty blow with a large stick he used as a sword.

"Not to mention fighting off pirates and bringing back treasure." replied Brey fending off the blow and slipping passed his opponent's guard to skewer him squarely in the center of his bark breastplate. "Hah! You have been vanquished!" he cried triumphantly, holding his own stick aloft in victory. He imagined the sunshine on the wood was instead glinting off the polished steel of a fine sword.

"Arg! You get me every time. You are real good, Brey." said Nev dejectedly. "I wish I could stick you just once." Of the two, Brey was clearly the superior swordsman, though Nev was more masterly at sailing their homemade boat on the pond. The young men had been training for early five years in sailing and swordsmanship, with the help of a retired soldier in the village named Old Barlow. Though neither had spoken of it to their mothers recently, the felt the time to pursue their adventure had arrived.

To be sure, both of their mothers knew of their dream, for they had spoken of it often enough over the years. Brey's mum was to marry Carl and would be well taken care of, and Nev's mum had finally come back to herself; it seemed as though the Creator was cledaring the way for this moment. As they pushed off in the homemade skiff, they agreed to speak with everyone about it that very night.

Supper at the Cousins' farm that night was a bit unusual. Instead of two or three for supper, there were five and the mood was light and festive. It was the first night that the Cousins' and Mortons, along with Carl, supped together as a household. Ellen and Abby worked together preparing supper as Carl and the boys set to adding seats to the enlarged table they had contrived out of the table normally occupying the center of the floor and a table from the Morton home. They were not exactly the same height but it worked well enough. The chairs too were mismatched but in the end, they all agreed it looked quite fine since it was to be occupied by family and the best of friends. The supper of venison and roots wasn't a banquet but was good and plentiful; thanks to Carl's fine hunting skills and the spring tubers from Neville's garden.

After everyone had eaten and tea was being drunk all around, Nev nudged Brey with his foot under the table. The time had come. They exchanged a quick glance and Brey cleared his throat somewhat theatrically. Once he had the attention of the adults at the table, he began his rehearsed speech. He got as far as the first sentence.

"Um, Nev and I would like to ask all of you a question." At this point, the remainder of what would have been an impassioned and eloquently prepared statement fled his brain. "Well, we- um."

Seeing that Brey's mind had turned to jelly, Nev stepped in, speaking quickly. "We've had this idea for some time now and we thought it was about time we went on and did it." Seeing his audience hadn't quite caught on he went ahead. "Well it's not as if we haven't thought it through; we have done all we can to be ready for it." He became more animated as he continued. "We've learned the skills and heard every story of Old Barlow's at least ten times. We've practiced with our hickory sticks and can sail better than anyone in the village! We really are ready. So, what do you think?"

Nev's mother looked at him quizzically. "Neville, have you been drinking?"

"No mum! I'm sober as a Creator's servant!" he replied with a slightly wild look in his eye and his hand over his heart. He realized a moment too late how silly he sounded and everyone got a laugh at his expense.

With his ever-present grin, Carl spoke up. "What is it you boys are driving at?"

"Our adventure." they answered in unison.

"Adventure?" he asked. "What adventure?"

Ellen explained. "The boys had this notion of going off into the world to live out an adventure in which they become great explorers and warriors and in the end, Heroes of the Realm." She turned and smiled at the boys. "I thought you two had outgrown that silly dream years ago."

Brey and Nev stared at her in horror.

Brey's mind was jolted into motion once more. "No!" he blurted. "It's all we have dreamed of and all we have worked for since we were seven years old."

He decided to speak from his heart and risk the possibility of being branded a disrespectful youth. He said to Carl, "When we were seven years old, Nev and I were allowed to go to Carsby with our fathers to get supplies. We thought of that as an adventure at the time. Then we met Old Barlow while we helped load the new seeds for planting that year. He told the most amazing stories you ever heard about seeing far away places and doing adventurous things while he had been in the Royal Army."

Ellen looked gravely at Brey for a few moments and drew a deep breath. "I am sure this may be difficult for you to understand and certainly next to impossible to accept, but Barlow is an old man who, like many old men, likes to tell a yarn or two to pass the time." She shifted her gaze from one boy to the other and continued. "While I don't doubt that old Barlow was in the army, I am doubtful that the life of a soldier was all that exciting and adventurous. In times of war, a soldier's life is hurried and often short; while in times of peace it is probably boring and full of useless marching and standing on watch."

She reached out and took the hand of each young man as she had many times before making her mealtime prayer. "I know the Time of Choosing is close to hand for both of you, but I know that we all hope you will make your Choice based on what is real and right rather than what is imagined and hoped for. We would hate to see you make your Choice only to have your dreams crushed. The army can still be dangerous even in times of peace."

The Time of Choosing is a ritual that each man undertakes when he reaches his fifteenth year. By tradition, everyone marks another year of age on the first day of summer, which is also the Day of Choosing for the boys who turn fifteen. The ritual itself is quite simple; a young man chooses his next phase of life. He may become apprenticed to an artisan or craftsman, or he may choose to stay with his family farm or business, which is what happens most often in Carsby village. Young men may also declare their intention to leave the village to seek employment in another village or town or even join the army. They may also declare themselves independent, beholden to none, and free to travel or pursue individual goals. Having made this choice, however, young men must leave the village to discourage them from becoming layabouts or vagrants.

Upon hearing that she thought they intended to Choose the army, the boys laughed. When she frowned at their reaction, they immediately stopped and apologized.

"I'm sorry, mum, we meant no disrespect, it's just that we don't intend to join the army. We are going to strike out on our own and make our own destiny."

This statement shocked the three adults into silence for a moment. "You mean you are going to just walk off into the world with no money, no craft, no experience?" Carl's voice was strained with shock as he asked this question.

"I will not allow it! I won't - Choosing or not!" burst out Abigail. "I'll not have you throw away your prospects in favor of a dream you have yet to grow out of." Ellen vigorously nodded her agreement.

The boys were sent to loft to 'think about their Choice'. After some further discussion, Carl returned to his rooms above the smithy in the village and the women retired.

The next morning, Ellen and Abigail left for Carsby to find old Barlow, leaving the boys to tend to the chores of the farm. They walked in near silence, only speaking to exchange thoughts on the best way to excoriate the old storyteller for filling the boys' heads with 'nonsense'. By the time they reached the small cottage on the outskirts of the village they were not only well armed verbally for the exchange to come, but in a mood well suited to the task at hand. In short, they were fine examples of well-contained, focused fury. Despite her condition of recovery, Abigail was too angry to even be a little tired after so long a hike.

They walked up to a small three-room cottage, its whitewashed exterior and flower garden showing clearly that a man of meticulous leisure resided there. The terse knock on the door was answered promptly by a spry man in his seventies who showed every sign of having lived a very full life to this point. He wore a trim beard of gray that complimented the blue of his tunic. He had deep-set eyes the color of flint and is bearing, though only slightly bent by age and hard use, still bore a military bearing.

"Good day to you Ellen, and to you Abigail. It is nice to see you out and about once again." he said in his clear, deep voice. Barlow, as did most residents of Carsby, knew of her plight since the loss of her husband and daughter.

Abigail drew herself up and spoke with little preamble. "Good day to you, Barlow, we would have words with you regarding the nonsense our sons have learned at your knee!"

"I am not certain I know what you mean." replied Barlow with a tilt of his head.

For the next ten minutes both Abigail and Ellen told old Barlow exactly what they meant and in terms that even the slowest of minds could have comprehended. Barlow bore the abuse until both women had stated their piece. He then sighed heavily and bowed his head for a moment, while leaning against the door of his cottage.

"Would you like to come in and join me for a cup of tea?" he asked with a smile, as though this were no more than a social visit. He sat the two at his table and prepared the kettle.

The interior of the little cottage was well lighted and tidy; the walls were the same clean whitewash as on the outside. The furnishings were spare but comfortable. A simple wooden table with four chairs, a sturdy long bench along one wall and a well-made stone fireplace on the left-hand wall completed its interior furnishings. Straight to the back was a door that led to a small bedroom. Every surface appeared scrubbed clean and was free of unnecessary clutter. It was obvious that the little home was well cared for and well loved.

"Now, what I am to tell you must, in part, be held in confidence for reasons that will become obvious." He moved to a corner of the cottage, opened a large chest near the fireplace, and removed a wooden box that was about one hand-width to a side. He placed the finely finished container on the table, where he slowly unlatched the ornate hook on the front. He then began a tale that both of the women would forever remember.

"At the tender age of ten, I had but a single dream in my heart. I wished more than anything else in the world to become a soldier. Not just any soldier, mind you, but a member of the Queen's Regiment, one of the Elite, the very cream of the crop." He said, a faraway look in his eyes.

"This dream was still mine to have or to leave as I Chose in my fifteenth year. The village from whence I came, Vorstad was its name, no longer exists but was once a nice home, not unlike Carsby; a simple and wholesome place to grow up. I suppose that is why I chose to live here." he said with a sad smile.

Barlow rose and went the hearth to remove the kettle and prepare the tea. "As I say, I had the Choice, not unlike Brey and Nev, when my time came." He brought the teakettle and a tray with cups and tea to the table and resumed his seat. "I Chose my dream."

"As I recall, my father was unhappy, but proud I had Chosen a path that had a chance at honor; my mother was just unhappy." He grinned to himself at the memory. "She was of a certainty that my future was forfeit. She viewed soldiers as bullies and brutes. She had a bad experience as a young girl and judged all who wore a uniform based on that experience." He served the tea and continued with more vigor.

"Once I had joined the army, I set about making myself the best of the company. I had a goal before me and nothing would bar me from achieving it. I did not hesitate to take on additional duty and I fought as a man possessed, for there were many battles to be had back then. I trained hard and battled well, and in time was recognized for my efforts by Field General Ethan Marsdon himself!" The memory of having the greatest military leader of the time shake his hand and congratulate him on a job well done after the Battle of Kressling was etched sharply in his mind.

"By this time, I had distinguished myself and risen to the rank of Sergeant. I was very proud, but I had yet to achieve my goal. When the Field General asked what I would like to do with my career I told him of my goal. He laughed a bit, knowing this was a common goal amongst all soldiers, and promised to do what he could to help me."

With a great sigh, Barlow returned for a moment to the present. "I am sure you are wondering what this has to do with your boys. Well, I will get there in due course, if you will indulge me but a moment or two longer." He settled back into his chair, and continued.

"Well, old Marsdon made good on his promise and I was soon assigned to the The Regiment. Never was there a prouder moment in my life - but one." Barlow leaned forward with a gleam in his eye. "It was not more than a year after I had been assigned that my company was escorting Queen Ariel and her two-year-old daughter, Arriana, from the eastern coast to the palace at Wellton. We were ambushed by rebels at the ford of the river Gree and were sorely beset. Their archers had killed all but a handful of our company. Myself and but four others remained to protect Her Majesty and the young Princess from certain death. We fought hand to hand with nine of the remaining rebels. One, two, then three of our men had fallen, but just as we had lost men so too had the enemy. Only three remained near the end when my corporal, Shelling by name, was run through while taking one of the enemy with him. I was left to fight two by myself!" Setting aside his cup of tea, Barlow moved to the edge of his seat and continued with fire in his eyes.

"Never had I been so fierce, though tired I surely was. I fended blow after blow until I was able to score a hit on the larger of my foes, the leader of the rebels as it turned out. Once the big man had fallen, his cohort wilted under my continuing onslaught and surrendered in due course. Good fortune that was too, as I had tired to the point of exhaustion and could not have fought much longer." Barlow leaned back in his chair and exhaled, as though even the telling of this story tired him.

"The rest is known to nearly one and all. The last major rebellion had been broken shortly thereafter." He reached over and opened the box he had placed on the table earlier. "And the Queen bestowed upon me the greatest of honors. I was declared a Hero of the Realm, Protector of the Crown." In the box lay an ornate and beautiful medal with the symbol of the crown emblazoned upon it, strung with a wide silken ribbon of gold.

"The name by which I was known in my younger days was Braydon, Barlow Braydon."

The women were thunderstruck! Braydon was a name to conjure with; he was hailed as the greatest hero known in the history of the kingdom. For even after being named Hero of the Realm he went on to continued glory as a line officer and eventually a field general. Not once, but twice, was his status as Hero of the Realm publicly reaffirmed; once more by Queen Ariel, and also by her son and successor, King Roland. After Roland was forced by illness to pass on the crown to Arriana, it was she who conferred upon Braydon the rank of Crown Knight; the highest possible rank for a soldier of the realm. After serving as personal military advisor to the Queen for some years, Braydon chose to retire and was never heard from again.

For all this time, the people of Carsby had believed Barlow to be just a personable old man with some entertaining stories and a knowledge and wisdom brought on by his years. Yet here in their village they find a hero of mythic proportions, for it was never known what had become of Braydon when he left his service to the crown more than ten years before.

"How can this be?" uttered Ellen, once she was able to find her voice again.

"I don't understand, what- ?" Abby couldn't quite finish her question; she was too awed by what she had been told and seen.

"It's quite simple really. I did not choose to be followed or mindlessly admired. I wished to retire in privacy as well as comfort." replied the old soldier, reaching up to stroke his beard. "So, I chose to use only my given name, grew a beard, and I came back to a nice little village I had passed through many years before. Carsby. As I said, it reminds me much of my former home and I wished to feel at home. Besides, I rather enjoy the role of Old Barlow, local eccentric." he finished with a devilish chuckle.

Abby stared hard at the man for several seconds before drawing a deep breath and saying, "I still don't understand." She shook her head trying to get her thoughts clear.

"I can see this comes as a surprise and you are undoubtedly wondering what this has to do with your sons, so I will tell you."

The old hero poured more tea for all and continued his explanation. "Brey and Nev have a dream, just as I once had. Though I know not if they are able to fulfill this dream, they should at least be given the opportunity to try. I do know that the pride of a young man can be fragile and can lead to regrets that are difficult to live with through the years. I have seen this before and it can make a bitter man of even the finest youth." He paused for a sip of tea and continued. "I advise that you give them your support to try. To be honest, I cannot say for certain if they will get beyond the next village; dreams require much desire and even greater determination. Only time can tell if they truly wish to make this dream be real or if they merely wish the opportunity to allow them no regrets later. For what it is worth, I believe they have the will to succeed. "

"But they have no skills, no trade; how can they hope to protect themselves or even feed themselves on the road?" asked Ellen with a tremor of worry in her voice.

"Well, I have spent much time training them in the means of protecting themselves. They are both quite able, though Brey is the superior swordsman by far. In fact, he is as good as I have seen in quite some time." he said with pride. "Both are able to read a map quite adequately and I am sure Neville has developed his own abilities for cooking, having done a bit of that for himself these past couple years. And, of course, Carl has seen to it that both lads are competent huntsmen. I shouldn't be too concerned over their ability to provide for their safety and their stomachs."

"So, that's it? You expect we should just allow them to Choose a wanderer's life without protest?" asked Abby incredulously. "They have no idea where they might go, they have no money, they do not even have a sword between them! What good is your training without the tools to carry it out?"

Barlow chuckled and grinned almost impishly. "I have, in fact, considered all of these things, even your visit here today." Barlow once again rose and walked to the big chest in the back of the room. "In the village of Vorstad, we had a tradition of providing gifts for those who Choose to move from the village, whether to join another village, the army, or to Choose an independent life. I believe the reason was to provide that person with a means to remember their home."

He lifted two large bundles from the chest and brought them to the table. "I prepared these for the lads some time ago, knowing they would one day pursue their dream, through Choice or perhaps afterward. I wished to follow my childhood tradition in providing each with a gift that would remind them of their home as well as provide useful tools to make attaining their dream all the more possible."

He unwrapped one of the bundles and displayed its contents. On the table lay three rolls of parchment, a small pouch, a compass, and a sword of plain appearance in a leather scabbard.

"As you can see, each of these gifts contains the very tools they will need to travel the Queen's roadways adequately." He pointed to each item in turn saying, "Each will have a map, a bit of money, a compass to guide them, and a sword for protection."

"What of the other scrolls?" asked Ellen curiously, noting he had skipped them in his description.

Barlow almost grimaced as he fingered the scrolls. "Well now, these are to be used each in a different case." He picked up a scroll with a red ribbon wrapped about it and a wax seal. "Should the lads make their way to Wellton, this is a letter of introduction to an old friend of mine who may provide them with shelter and work, should they need it by that time." He laid the scroll aside and picked up the other; this one bearing a wide blue ribbon and the same wax seal. "This letter is to be used in case my friend is dead or unable to assist them. Should they be in a crisis, they may present this letter to any of the Queen's garrisons or even to the Palace and they will receive aide. Though I may have been gone for more than ten years, I am not without friends in the army and even within the Palace, as Arriana is still Queen."

At the surprised looks on the faces of the women, he chuckled with genuine mirth. "I do have something of a history with her Majesty after all!" He placed the scroll back in the bundle and began wrapping it back up. "Should the lads meet with trouble, and can get to one of these people, they will see that they are safely returned to Carsby, as that is what the last letter requests of them."

"It is my sincere hope that they will not need to use that particular scroll. Not only would it mean they are in dire circumstances, it would also make it fairly easy to figure where I am living."

After only a few more questions, Ellen and Abby left Barlow's cottage in a daze. They could scarcely believe what had happened and what they had been told. Barlow planned to present the gifts to the boys after the Choosing in something of a private ceremony, at which time he would explain what the gifts mean and what to do with the scrolls should they need to use them.

The Day of Choosing was yet a week away and neither of the women had uttered a single word of their meeting with Barlow save to say they had spoken with him. They surprised both boys by also saying they would consider what they had to say about it; though they could not Choose for them. In fact, they could not interfere with the Choosing at all; each young man must make his choice independently.

The days could not pass quickly enough for the two boys. Though they understood their mothers' upset, they could not bring themselves to give up their dream. The day before the Choice was to be made, the boys were called to the house and sat down at the table with their mothers and Carl.

Abby began, "Now boys, we have given considerable thought to this. We understand your desire to live out the adventure you have planned for all this time. Our real interest is to make certain you have given all of the alternatives full thought as well.

"While we have no doubt you have given this Choice much thought, we are worried that you may find that your journey is not what you expected. Should you make this Choice, you will not be able to return to Carsby for a half a year. You realize this don't you?"

"Yes ma'am." the boys answered together, hope burning inside their chests.

The women exchanged a look and Ellen turned to the boys with a sigh. "Then we will give our blessing, though not without misgivings. Now go and finish your chores." With that, the surprised and happy youths fairly leapt from the table and went out to finish their days work with a smile before their mothers had a chance to change their minds.

Once the boys had closed the door, Carl looked at Ellen and started to speak. "Ellen –"

"Now, I know what you are going to say, Carl." said Ellen, holding up her slim hand. "I only ask that you wait until tomorrow evening before passing judgment on our decision." She looked in his eyes, seeking understanding. "Please?"

Carl could refuse Ellen nothing and agreed to wait, though added that he hoped she could explain her change of mind, which seemed to be so foolish at its surface. She only smiled and told him he would understand everything tomorrow evening.

Finally, the day Brey and Nev had been waiting for had arrived. They were up well before dawn, as further sleep was nearly impossible. They arose, washed themselves rather thoroughly, and dressed in the finest clothing they owned. By the time their mothers awoke, they had the tea prepared and breakfast nearly ready. Chores were generally excused on a Choosing Day.

"Would that everyday could start like this!" exclaimed Ellen upon seeing that she and Abby had little to do this morning but wash and dress and eat the porridge and bacon Neville had prepared.

The excitement in the air generated by the boys was almost palpable. "The Choosing isn't until this afternoon, boys, you will be worn out before your turn has come!" said Abby as she began to shoo them out the door. "Off with you now, you may spend a bit of time at the lake if you wish, only return before lunchtime, else you will miss out on the Choosing."

"Not a chance of that!" replied Nev. "We will be back in plenty of time!" With that, the boys bounded across the field to visit their haven behind the Cousins farm.

Shortly before midday, Carl arrived in his wagon to bring them all to Carsby for the Choosing. He still bore a faintly sour expression over the apparent change of heart of the two women.

The ride into town was not a long one, but to Nev and Brey it seemed hours. All they could think of was standing in line and answering the question 'How do you Choose?' with a proudly proclaimed, 'Independence!' This was sure to cause a stir in the village as it is seldom heard in a Choosing ceremony these days. Most lads choose to apprentice in a craft, work the family business or farm, or take a job in another village; on occasion one may choose to serve the Crown in the army. Independence is very rare indeed in a small village like Carsby.

Normally, the little town was dull with little color or excitement in the air - a common and boring farming village. The single dusty thoroughfare down the center of Carsby was barely more then a quarter mile in length. The various shops and homes were nearly all single story wooden cottages, some with a small loft. Not a one painted any color other than whitewash. The front portions of many were reserved for selling goods such as foodstuffs and general merchandise, while the back or loft was living space for the proprietor and his family.

Today, almost every one of the nearly two hundred souls who lived in or near Carsby had come for the Choosing. Many of the small shops and cottages in town were decorated in some way. Here and there, flowers were strung up above a plain doorway to bring good luck, or colored bits of cloth strung up as a makeshift banner. Most folks were in their finest clothing, usually seen only on days dedicated to the Creator. The young men destined to make a Choice today each wore a single white flower pinned to their shirt or jerkin; Brey and Nev were each given one by their mothers just before leaving for the village.

The carnival atmosphere was a welcome change to those who seldom got a chance to forego work and celebrate. The baker and the butcher had opened stalls on the street selling sweet pastries and seasoned meat pies, even Carl had a table arranged in front of the smithy selling small metal crafts, knives, and kitchen wares. The one inn in the village sold ale or wine, a modest offering getting modest traffic in a largely sober hamlet.

A small platform had been erected in the square in the center of the village for the occasion and Mace Kellen, the Village Elder, stood upon it calling all those to make a Choice that day to come forward. Brey and Nev, along with eight others, nervously took their places on the platform. There was really no need to be nervous since most folks knew what each lad was to Choose already, but some, like Brey and Nev, would make their decision known there on that platform.

The Choosing is a very old ceremony, which has changed little over the years. Larger cities have all but given up the practice, but villages like Carsby still adhere to this tradition. Its continued value to smaller communities likely lies in the need for a village to ensure that each member is doing his share and to see that all of the needs of the village can be met. Since there are only so many apprenticeships, only a few may Choose this, and so forth. In addition, allowing a young man to Choose to remain working the family farm ensures the farm will not fail because the farmer's son had to Choose something else. In this way, villages can thrive and know that each man is doing his part. But it is also a rite of passage for a young man, a rite that signifies it is time to set aside childish things and take on the responsibilities of manhood.

Elder Kellen lined the boys up on the platform shoulder to shoulder; he gave the boys their brief instructions about the simple ceremony, and then turned to address the crowd that had gathered before it.

"Once again we have gathered to celebrate the Choosing!" he boomed in his deep voice. "Before we commence with the ceremony let us bow our heads in a brief prayer to the Creator in thanks for this fine day and for the opportunity to bring these boys into the fold of men of Carsby village." Everyone bowed their heads as Mace intoned the ritual prayer for the Day of Choosing.

"Now then, let us get on with the ceremony." he announced afterward. He turned to face the young men and asked the first of the required questions. "Are you one and all of legal age to Choose?"

"We are." they all replied in unison.

"Does each of you come forward mindful of the meaning of the day?"

"We do."

"Does each of you come forward with a Choice made of your own free will?"

"We do."

"Are you now prepared to make your Choice known to those gathered here today?"

"We are."

"I shall ask you each in turn to announce your Choice. Do so proudly and in the voice of a man."

"We will." was the reply.

Mace walked to the far end of the line from Brey and Nev and began asking each one for their Choice.

"Ned Miller, how do you Choose?"

He yelled a little too loudly, "I Choose to remain on the Miller farm!" Everyone laughed at the young man's enthusiasm.

Mace moved to the next, "Matthew Jenkins, how do you Choose?"

"I choose to apprentice with Master Crafter Hollings, by agreement." he answered in a strong voice.

Mace moved again, from boy to boy down the line, with one surprise Choice being Michael Chilton, who announced he would travel to Newellen to join the Army.

Finally, Mace reached our friends. "Neville Morton, how do you Choose?"

In a voice that only cracked slightly Nev announced loudly, "Independence!"

Silence.

"Did- did you say 'independence', Neville?" asked a shocked Mace.

"I did." replied Nev with an almost defiant tilt of his chin, eyes looking straight ahead.

There were several murmurs throughout the crowd and heads brought hastily together to quietly express shock. Most believe Independence is claimed only by those who choose not to work and would become a lay-about or a criminal.

Mace hesitated a moment and thought it best to simply move on to the last in line; Brey. Mace was certain Brey would announce he would stay on the family farm, his mother being a widow and all.

"Aubrey Cousins, how do you Choose?"

"I also choose Independence." he announced in a firm voice.

The crowd once again surged with whispers and softly spoken exclamations. One voice, however, rang out over the crowd. "Well Chosen, boys! Well Chosen!" All heads turned in the direction of old Barlow as he stood calmly, arms crossed over his chest, beside a large oak to one side of the platform.

"It takes a brave man to Choose to face the world on his own terms, to pursue that which he desires. I admire you both for having the courage to do so!" He clapped his hands a few times, and with a chuckle and a shake of his head, he turned and walked back toward his cottage.

After the closing of the ceremony, Brey and Nev made their way toward Carl's shop to meet up with their mothers and the smith. They could hear the whispers and feel the stares from the townspeople as they passed through the crowd. Clearly, the folk of the village didn't know what to make of it all. While Independence is considered the Choice of the lazy or lawless, the youths were well known to be good lads of good character. It seemed to make no sense. The young men decided it was no use trying to explain it to them, so the village folk would just have to think what they will.

When they finally arrived at Carl's shop, their mothers informed them there was a surprise in store for them. They led the boys and Carl to Barlow's cottage and knocked on the door.

"Well my friends," he said, "welcome, welcome! Come in. Please, have a seat. I have prepared something of a celebratory feast; it seemed likely you would not wish to remain in the square under the scrutiny of those who fail to understand your Choice."

There upon the small table was a feast indeed. Fresh bread and butter, venison cooked to a turn, and a large wild berry pie. There was also cider and fresh cow's milk.

"I would have provided wine, but thought better of it." he said. He then turned to Abby. "How fair you in mastering yourself, Abigail?" he asked with genuine interest, having provided Ellen with the knowledge to help her friend overcome her condition.

"Very well, Barlow, I thank you for providing Ellen with such good advice." she replied. "The help of a true friend has proved the strongest medicine of all." she added, taking her friend's hand in her own.

"I am truly glad of that." he said with a smile.

"So, Carl," the hero continued, "I see by the lack of your ever-present grin, you do not approve of the Choice made by our young friends here. Perhaps I can explain to you as well as the lads here why I find it a grand Choice indeed."

Barlow moved to the big chest and retrieved the bundles he had shown Ellen and Abby the week before. He brought them to the bench near the hearth and set them down without opening them. He turned and faced his visitors.

"Lads, but a week ago, your mothers came to me and had many a word concerning your intended Choice, as well as my part in influencing that Choice." He chuckled and added, "In fact, I felt fairly well bruised by the time they had spoken their piece.

"After having heard their say on the matter, I offered my humble thoughts and some advice. To judge by today's Choosing they have taken that advice and given you their blessing to undertake your journey." Both women nodded at the last. "Now I will tell you what I told them."

Starting with the same promise to keep secret what he was to tell them, he retold much of the story he told Ellen and Abby the week before. Needless to say, the reaction of the boys and Carl was predictably incredulous.

Once he had answered some of their questions, he turned to the bundles and picked them up. Holding one in each hand he said, "In my boyhood, it was a tradition to provide one leaving the village with a gift by which to remember their home. I have a gift for each of you to help you remember from whence you came and to aid you on your journey." The old soldier handed one to Brey and the other to Nev, then squatted down in front of them with a hand on the top of each bundle.

"Now lads, you must understand that these gifts are normally given neither with condition nor expectation of return. I am going to break with tradition in this case and add one condition." He looked from one to the other. "You must learn to use these gifts wisely and well. With this in mind, you must see me as often as your mothers will allow over the next weeks to be best prepared for the life you have Chosen. Do you understand?"

Brey and Nev nodded, wondering what could be in the bundles that could require such a promise.

The old man looked into the eyes of each young man, then stood and said with a grin, "Open them then, for I know you must be bursting at the seams to do so."

With only a moment's glance at each other, they fairly tore open the blanket wrapped bundles.

Chapter 3 – Fletcher the Fierce

Over the next two weeks, the boys spent a few hours each day with Barlow in the bare courtyard beside his cottage. He spent time teaching them the proper use of the compass and how to best read and care for their maps, for they were fairly detailed and thus of much value. The bulk of the time, however, was spent acquainting them with the use of a sword over that of the hickory sticks they had been training with up to this point.

"Remember that the sword will be heavier than the wooden staves you have used until now, but are much better balanced." He would often say, "This balance is the key now, whereas speed and strength were your former goal. Learn how your sword will move and you can make it dance!" He would place a large bit of cork on the end of each sword and instruct the boys in the intricacies of real swordplay, allowing carefully orchestrated sparring between the two. After the first few awkward days, they became more and more confident with the steel, and in a short amount of time were able to wield their weapons with as much ease and skill as they had the wooden counterparts.

Near the end of two weeks, Neville finally asked, "Barlow, do you really think we can defend ourselves if we need to?" Brey looked to him for the answer as well, also a bit unsure of their skill.

Barlow assumed an expression of thoughtfulness, stroking his grey beard. "I have fought with and trained many soldiers, and I have seen both the best and the worst." he said. "Were I to be required to match your skill with those I have seen, I would say you could quite adequately defend yourselves from attack by untrained brigands." In fact, he knew them to be fairly skilled swordsmen, Brey especially, and held little fear whatsoever that they could handle even skilled attackers, though their lack of experience in real combat would weigh against them at first. For this reason, he chose not to give them too high an initial opinion. Better for them to start low and learn to appreciate their skill as it is tested; and surely it will be tested at some point during their travels.

"Now that you have gained ground in the basics of swordplay, I will teach you the tricks that may be used against you in a true battle." he said and picked up his own sword. For the next two hours, he showed them how feints and dirty tricks can be used to overcome a more skilled opponent; how to use them as well as defend against them. He finished with this warning. "Do not attempt to use these in battle unless you have practiced them to perfection, or you have no other recourse. Many of these are desperate measures and can be defeated or turned against you, as I have shown you." The boys nodded their understanding, too tired to speak at that moment.

Barlow released the young men from his tutelage for the day and sent them home. As he watched them walk down the road, exultant even through their weariness, he said quietly to himself, 'May your dreams be yours, lads. I have given all I can to help, the rest lies within you.' With a smile, he turned to his cottage and went inside to enjoy a cup of tea.

It had been more than three weeks since the Choosing and Brey and Nev had been working almost continuously. It was probably guilt that drove them those many days to get as much done as they could before leaving their village to pursue their own dream. Guilt over leaving their mothers, guilt over declaring independence publicly despite what many would think, and guilt over the seeming selfishness of their Choice. While sitting on the porch of the Cousins' house one evening, Nev brought this up with his mother.

"Let me tell you of dreams, Neville." she said sitting close and holding his hands in her own. "My dream as a young woman, simple as it was, was to marry your father and live happily ever after, for I loved him more than you can imagine." She grinned to herself and added. "You see, your father's family did not entirely approve of me as my family was not as wealthy as they would have liked for their son. They had hoped for a marriage that would enhance their standing as well as their combined wealth. But your father loved me dearly and wished to marry me despite their disapproval.

"Even though it was only for a short time, I was able to live my dream. How could I fail to allow you the same chance I had? Often times, dreams are not only all one has, but all one needs."

"But what of you?" he asked, choking up. "I am afraid you will go back to the way you were."

Abigail Morton heaved a great sigh, looking off across the field. "I do not serve the memories of your father and sister well by failing to trust that the Creator keeps them well in the Beyond." She turned her eyes to his. "My grief and my drinking only served to show me my own selfishness in wanting them back in this world where they would not be always safe and cared for as they are now in the arms of the Creator. I will not return to that life, Neville. For my own sake and for yours, I will remain strong in this."

Nev put his arms around his mother's neck and hugged her close, tears of happiness and relief coming to his eyes.

Brey too had his worries and guilt. He was concerned his mother would not be able to tend the farm alone while Carl was at his smithy and he felt a certain amount of guilt for missing the day his mother was to wed.

"I wish we could be here for the day of your wedding to Carl." Brey said one morning after breakfast. "We hadn't thought of that before the Choosing. I'm sorry." Brey hung his head in real sadness and shame at the thoughtlessness of it.

Ellen stroked Brey's hair as she had when he was a little boy and spoke. "My darling Aubrey, never regret doing what you feel is right. The Choice is yours to make for a reason." She sat beside him, her arm draped over his shoulders. "Like your father before you, the man you have become must not only make difficult decisions, but must be willing to live with them. I will miss having you there as much as you will miss being there. But I know your heart and Neville's will be with us as we speak the words." She smiled and stroked his hair once more adding, "I wager if you listen carefully on the day we are to wed, you can hear them as though you were here."

For the next few days, Brey and Nev gathered the things they felt they would need and created a pack to carry with them on the road. In addition to their swords, hats, and clothing, they packed dry provisions, flint and tinder, basic cooking utensils, and two pots. They still lacked a few items, but felt they could acquire them in Newellen as they passed through. With three days until their departure, they were as ready as they could be.

The morning of their last day in Carsby, the boys awoke to a bustling household. They could hear the hushed voices of their mothers and Carl in the front of the house. Just as they were starting to get out of bed, they heard a call from the main room. "Aubrey! Neville! Its time to rise and get dressed; we have an errand to run in the village and would like you to come along."

"All right, mother." answered Nev.

"Why all the hustle?" asked Brey, as he struggled into his trousers.

"Dunno. Maybe they want to fetch some goods for stores before we leave." suggested Nev in reply.

They dressed hastily and washed, then climbed down from the loft. They stopped in their tracks as they saw their mothers and Carl dressed in their best clothes. Both women and Carl wore great smiles on their faces.

"Surprise, lads!" yelled Carl with an expansive wave of his strong arms. "It seems you'll not miss the wedding after all!"

Brey and Nev stood with their mouths agape. "What-?" they began simultaneously

Abby and Ellen laughed. "We have decided to wed today rather than wait, so you could be there. After all, Carl will need a second to stand beside him as the 'man of the house' gives me away." Ellen said with a smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of joy.

"He felt it wouldn't be right for you to miss out." added Abby. "Especially after going to all the trouble of asking for your permission, Aubrey." she finished with a fond smile at Carl for his charming and old-fashioned ways.

"Since I will stand as matron, it seemed fitting for you, Nev, to stand second as Brey will have to act as father of the bride."

"So," asked Ellen, "will you finish preparing yourselves? We haven't got all day and the Servant of the Creator expects us soon."

The boys quickly changed into their best clothing and they all rode into Carsby in Carl's wagon.

The ceremony was performed in the little sanctuary dedicated to the Creator just off the Council Hall in the center of the village. It was a small ceremony overall. Aside from the principles, the only other people in attendance were Mace and Barlow, as witnesses and, of course, friends of the happy couple.

After the ceremony, all that remained to be done was to celebrate until sundown, when the new couple will begin their life together.

The next day's dawn found much activity in the household. The boys were packing the last of the things they would need for their journey and Abby was preparing breakfast for them.

"Do you have everything packed, boys?" asked Abby as she spooned oatmeal into bowls for their meal.

"I think so, mother." replied Nev. "We will have to get what we don't have in Newellen, I guess."

Brey set his pack down near the door beside Nev's. "I think all we should need to get is a good cloak and maybe some newer boots." he said looking at his worn brown boots.

"Perhaps we can help with that." said Ellen, emerging from her bedroom, finishing putting her hair up with the silver comb she always wore. A moment later Carl emerged wearing a silly grin and carrying two bundles.

Carl laid the bundles on the table near the boys. "We rather liked the custom Barlow mentioned of giving a gift to those who are to journey far from home." he said.

Both boys looked curiously at the bundles and then back to Ellen and Carl.

"While I may not have agreed with your decision to journey on your own, I could not in good conscience see you sent off without all you will need." Carl finished, opening one bundle.

He grinned as he pulled from the cloth two sturdy leather sheathes with belt knives which gleamed as though only newly forged; which indeed they had been, by his own hands. "A man needs a good knife he can rely upon on the road. While I know you each have a knife, I hope you will find these useful. They are a bit longer and made of stronger steel than your blades." He presented one each to Nev and Brey.

The women each grabbed one of the cloth bundles and shook them open. "We would like for you to wear these on your journey." began Abby. "These cloaks were your fathers'."

She turned to Nev. "Neville, this cloak belonged to your father, Jacob. It is one of the last items left to remind me of him; this and some gifts which he and I exchanged. I want you to wear this on your journey to remember him and me." She asked Nev to stand and placed it on his shoulders. It was a fine wool cloak of light brown trimmed with green.

"And this was your father's, Aubrey." said Ellen, holding up the blue-trimmed, dark brown woolen drape. "Though he preferred his woolen coat, he cherished this, as it was a gift from me on our wedding day. I am sure he would be very pleased to know you will wear it as you pursue your dream." She placed the cloak about his shoulders and stood back to look at the young men. Both women smiled, though they had tears flowing from their eyes.

"Well then," began Carl, placing his hand lightly on his new wife's shoulder, "I had practiced something of a speech for the occasion, but it seems the words have left me." The big smith stepped forward and put his hand out to Brey. "Keep yourself safe and well, lad. Write us if you've a mind to; I am sure your mother would feel better to hear of you from time to time." He shook the young man's hand and stepped over to Nev.

"You've shown yourself to be a man beyond your years these past two years, Nev. Keep your head about you as you have and your journey will be a great success." He shook Nev's hand and stepped back a moment.

"Oh, come here you two!" He reached out and grabbed both boys in a spine-bending hug for a few moments. When he finally stepped back again, his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Off with you now, else I will cry right here in front of your mothers."

Brey and Nev exchanged a brief glance and turned back to the adults. "Um, -mum?" asked Brey.

"Yes, dear" Ellen answered, dabbing at the tears in her eyes.

"Do you think Nev and I could eat our breakfast before we leave?"

Everyone broke into fits of laugher.

"Of course, boys," she laughed, "eat your fill." Their mothers' set about feeding them and themselves as well. It was a fine meal; their last together for quite some time.

It was no more than an hour past sunrise when Brey and Nev finally set off on the adventure they dreamed of for so long! Each had a pack slung over one shoulder and a sword hung from the hip.

They walked through Carsby as the shops were beginning to open and the laborers were getting to their work. One or two folk stopped to watch the 'independents' as they made their way out of the village. At the far end of town, they stopped at Barlow's cottage, but he did not answer the knock at the door. They were saddened that they could not wish their mentor and friend farewell. However, about a mile of out town, they saw Barlow sitting on a stump by the side of the road.

"Thought you might have changed your minds." he said with a grin. He rose and looked critically at the position of the morning sun. "Making a late start of it, aren't you?"

"Our mum's wanted to send us off with a good breakfast and some gifts." said Nev, showing off his cloak and new knife.

Brey added, "It seems they were taken by your idea of a gift for those leaving the village."

Barlow laughed with a twinkle in his eye. "I have been known to rub off on folks from time to time!" He put his hands on his hips and looked each of them squarely in the eye. "Are you two ready for the road ahead?" he asked, gesturing to the dusty track that led away from the only home they had ever known.

They both looked back at the village, taking in its every detail so they would remember it always. They turned and looked down the road that led to the dream they had held in their hearts since they were young boys.

"I'm ready." said Brey finally.

"And I." said Nev with a nod.

"Well then, its time to find out if your dream is yours for the taking or if it is only a flight of fancy inside your heads." he said. "To the road!"

He reached out and shook each young man's hand. "Remember the things you have learned. From me and from all of life's lessons. Each will serve you well in its own time."

"Farewell, Barlow. And thank you. For your stories, your lessons, and for believing in our dream too." said Nev with genuine gratitude.

"Yes," agreed Brey, "thank you. Farewell."

They turned to go and Barlow added, "One day you will return and then it will be your turn to tell me stories!" He chuckled as he always did, then turned and walked back toward Carsby without looking back.

They stood and watched their mentor for a few minutes then they turned and began walking the road that led from Carsby to Newellen and the world beyond.

The adventurers walked in silence for about a mile then Nev asked. "What do you suppose it will be like, Brey?"

His companion thought for a moment, his head tilted slightly to one side. "I don't know for sure, but I think it should be grand!" he paused, then added, "Of course some of it will be boring, what with all the walking we will have to do to get there."

Nev laughed loudly, "You can't deny that I suppose. Maybe we could buy a horse along the way."

Now it was Brey who laughed. "A horse!? We have barely enough to eat with until we can find our fortune!"

"I suppose that's right enough." he said with a sigh. "Do you really think we can make Newellen in a week?" asked after a few more minutes of silence.

"Well," Brey said slowly, "Carl said it's less ninety miles and can be ridden in two full days with a horse and wagon. If we can keep a good pace and don't over-push, I don't see why we can't make it in seven days easily."

The young men walked all that day, keeping an unhurried but steady pace. The landscape seemed to them to be no different from that around Carsby, a fact they found faintly disappointing. The same oaks and maples and the same brush and prairie grasses they have seen everyday of their lives. Though they hadn't expected a marked difference, they had envisioned some sort of visible change as they walked further away.

They stopped about an hour before sundown to make camp a short distance from the road. The small clearing was near a brook and even had a rough stone fire ring left by some traveler in the past. They laid a fire, spread out their blankets, and took a small meal of softened jerky and a bit of bread. After their meal they lay back and looked up as the stars were making their hesitant entrance, almost seeming to show themselves one at a time.

"Well, Nev," said Brey, "this is our first night as truly independent men. What do you think of that?" He smiled up at the stars and breathed a great sigh of satisfaction.

"To be honest Brey, I am real excited but a little scared too. We have never been this far from home before. Never even a trip to Newellen with my dad!"

He rolled to his side to look at his friend. "I have been over all of it in my head and I can't help thinking we may have missed something despite our careful plans."

Brey too rolled on to one elbow and faced Nev. "What do you think we might have missed?"

Nev shook his head slightly. "Something that Barlow said before we began walking that has nagged at the back of my head all day. Something about all of life's lessons." He cocked his head to the side and tried to grasp the elusive thought. "I mean, we have trained ourselves in all we would need to know, right?" He sat up as though he couldn't be comfortable until he worked this out.

"We have trained ourselves to walk long distances, miles and miles at a time. We have learned to use a sword to defend ourselves. We have learned to read a map fairly well and we have learned how to sail." He scrunched up his face in frustration. "I can't see what we missed, but I can't stop my head from telling me we have." He finished, hands spread wide, looking intently at Brey as though for some insight.

Brey too sat up, cross-legged, across from Nev. "Perhaps he was saying something about using our manners or some such." he suggested. "Maybe travelers who are rude do not fair too well."

"I don't think that's it." said Nev, his face still screwed up in thought.

They sat silently across from each other in the firelight. The only sounds being the light breeze, the occasional crackling of the fire, and a few sounds from animals that scurry in the dark looking for their next meal.

After what seemed a very long time, Brey had a thought. "Nev, do you suppose Barlow may have been telling us something of being a man. I mean an independent man who doesn't have his mother there to remind him of things he should do or say?" he felt his mind start to race as the thought began to form more coherently in his mind. "Perhaps he was reminding us it is time to take all those lessons and use them as adults instead of children."

Now Nev caught the idea of what his companion was saying. "Of course! The other side of the page, Brey! Time to act as the adults we chose to be!" Nev felt a sort of clicking into place in his mind with this thought. This is what had been nagging at him all day.

"Brey! I think you've solved it!" he cried with relief and a sort of exultation.

"But Nev, I have no idea how to act like an adult." Brey responded. "How can we do it if we don't know how?"

"Don't you see, Brey? Barlow told us already. Remember all life's lessons!" Nev grasped his friend by the arm in his intensity. "We don't have to change ourselves; we need only keep in mind what our mum's and others have taught us. The things we learned in school, the things we learned of the Creator and the things we learned at home were all taught for us to use now, when we are men instead of boys!" Nev stood and raised his arms to the sky and laughed.

"Brey! We are men now! We understand! We really understand!!" He spun around and danced a little jig as he laughed some more.

Brey stood as well and watched his friend for a moment, letting the last thoughts sink into his mind. He realized Nev was absolutely right. Every time his mother said to him 'It's for your own good' or 'Some day you will understand' suddenly became clear, today was that 'someday'. He too threw up his arms and danced and laughed.

Soon the young men, for they were boys no longer after having come to this revelation, sat back down and laughed in fits and starts as they made ready for bed. Sleep was not as long in coming as either would have thought, given their excitement, but they had walked a very long way and exhaustion soon took its hold.

The young men awakened before dawn and had a strong cup of tea with a breakfast of bread and cheese. Though neither showed any physical signs of it, they each felt profoundly different. As they broke camp, they were more meticulous in the cleaning of their dishes and folded their blankets quite carefully, even though neither had been particularly fastidious prior to that day. After burying their fire and refilling their water skins, they set off.

The sun had risen just above the horizon and the morning felt cool and refreshing. Each stood a bit taller and even had a bit of a swagger in their step that day. They strode with confidence, packs set high on their shoulders and one hand on their sword pommels. This day they felt like men, true men.

They spent the next several days walking and talking for hours, resting briefly and moving on, eager to get to Newellen and the next leg of their adventure. The training they had undertaken paid off handsomely as they walked nearly fifteen miles each of those days. Just before noon on the fifth day out, they were walking around a long bend in the road and came upon another traveler. He was a short wiry man with a long nose and stringy dark hair with a ragged blanket over his shoulders. He walked with a stoop that didn't quite ring true to Nev's eye.

"Brey, look at that fellow walking towards us. Does he look quite right to you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Brey responded.

"Something about him doesn't seem right. I think we should get past him as soon as we can and make some distance before stopping for lunch." said Nev nervously.

They were nearly abreast of him when Nev's suspicion became reality. He appeared to be shuffling along painfully, then swiftly flung the old blanket that had been draped about his shoulders to one side and drew his sword, leveling it at Brey's chest.

"Ha! Welcome, lads, to my little stretch of the road!" he said in a rough tenor voice. "I am Fletcher the Fierce and you are my latest victims. You will kindly hand over your goods and money to me now." The robber stared intently into Brey's eyes, ignoring Nev almost entirely.

Nev's mind was flung back in time to the loss of his father and sister along this same road long ago. Though he had not planned to do so, his hand moved to the hilt of his sword. His blood began slowly to boil as he imagined this man, or someone like him posing in front of his father and Milli and delivering a similar outrageous demand. Suddenly Nev dropped his pack, found his blade in his hand, and struck down the blade of the robber, who jumped back in surprise then immediately assumed a combat position.

"Well, well, well. I had expected the lankier youth to be the danger here. I can see my mistake and will remedy it forthwith!" he finished his statement with a swift lunge aimed straight at Nev's chest. However, Nev had been trained by Barlow Braydon, the very finest of swordsmen and well-noted sword master. The young man dodged the lazy lunge with ease and came back at the highwayman with two swift overhand strikes followed by low lunge at the man's leg.

Fletcher backed off and composed himself. He swirled the tip of his sword right in Nev's line of sight, making it harder for him to read the man's next move. "I can see you possess a wee bit of training. I shall have to see that my next strike will not miss its mark!" again he came at Nev as he spoke his last word, trying to catch Nev unaware. Between the talk and the swirling sword tip, Nev had momentarily lost his concentration and almost reacted too late to the robber's attack. Nev was beaten back and found himself completely on the defensive and barely able to hang on. Just then, there was a flash from his right and the attackers blows ceased as Brey jumped into the fray and easily beat back the man's fierce attack.

Brey gave Fletcher a grim smile and said, "I can see by your style of attack and your lines of stance that you have been given military training. I recognize it because our teacher was a military man and a great swordsman. He also showed us the weakness of the strict military style!" With this, Brey attacked at the last word, just as the highwayman had done, but took a lower and faster line that stayed low then ran high for a moment and ran low again ending in a quick thrust to the chest. In this quick exchange Brey, who was a very astute pupil of swordsmanship, came quite close to running the man through. As the young men had never trained at attacking in tandem, Nev hung back waiting to see if he was needed. Knowing Brey's skill as he did, he was fairly certain he would not.

Fletcher circled to the side, keeping a close eye on both young men as best he could. "I see I was right at the first, it is you I need be concerned with. Well, bucco, lets see how you handle a style that is not so military."

The wiry little man started circling his blade low and moving it from side to side in an irregular pattern, trying to throw off Brey's attempts to anticipate his next move. Barlow had shown the boys how the trick works and pointed out it is a very difficult attack to defend against since you must react rather than anticipate. However, nearly every attacker using this tactic will attack one side or the other rather than the center; usually their strong side, meaning their sword arm side. Attacks up the center from this trick are almost always from a very skilled opponent who is good enough that he should not need to resort to it anyway.

Brey kept his guard steady, only slightly lower than normal and waited to see what his adversary would do. Fletcher feinted to his weak side and then swung his blade around to his strong side and made to strike at Brey's weak side. Having guessed that this would be the attackers line he easily warded the blow and forced the man's blade low then lunged quickly, piercing the criminal's sword arm at the bicep. Fletcher doubled at the waist and screamed as his sword dropped from his now-limp fingers.

Brey stepped forward quickly and placed the point of his sword against the robber's throat. "You will not move!"

Fletcher the Fierce looked up with pain clearly written on his face. "It seems I haven't much choice, now doesn't it?" He sat down on the road and held tightly to his injured arm. "D'you think you could find something to staunch the bleeding at least?"

"Where's your pack? Do you have a horse?" demanded Nev, who was still shaking from his encounter.

The thief looked at Nev and said insolently, "Haven't got any, boy."

"Liar!" yelled Nev, trying to draw his sword.

Brey held out a hand, crying, "Nev! Hold up! Of course he has a pack and likely a horse." Then pressing the point of his sword more firmly on the neck of his captive, he said, "Haven't you?"

Fletcher cowered a bit, holding up his bloody hands, "All right, all right!! Its back up the road a bit, no need to get heavy-handed with the pig sticker now." The little man's demeanor had changed a bit now that he was a captive; he had become more compliant – even sniveling.

"Nev, can you grab the packs? I think we should march this fellow back to his campsite and see to his wound. After that, we can decide what to do with him. What do you think?"

Nev stared at the robber a moment longer then said, "Right. Let's do that then." and turned to pick up their packs.

Brey ordered the man to rise and lead the way to his camp. They walked perhaps a half-mile up the road and turned off to the side then marched some one hundred paces into the woods to an ill-kept camp in a small clearing.

"I'll find something to bind the wound." said Nev, who began rummaging through the various packs and piles strewn about the camp.

Brey prodded Fletcher toward a tree to one side of the camp. "Sit down by that tree." ordered Brey.

"Here now, there's no need to get pushy about it!" exclaimed the little thief. "I'm an injured man, you should treat me a bit more tender, you know." He sat down by the tree and looked up at Brey sullenly. "You know, the first chance I get, I'm going to cut your throat." he said quietly. He tried to stare Brey down, but only succeeded in looking desperate.

"Then we will see you don't get the chance." replied Brey matter-of-factly.

In short order, Nev found some cloth to make a bandage and bound the wound in Fletcher's arm, then tied the wiry man's arms around the tree behind him with a length of rope he found in the little man's packs. The robber was uncomfortable but not in extreme pain. His horse was staked out across the clearing.

Brey and Nev walked to the other side of the camp pretending to look at the horse and spoke in low tones to avoid Fletcher overhearing them. "What happened to you back there on the road?" demanded Brey. "You could have been run through!"

"I don't know. I just thought of my dad and Milli being robbed this same way and I couldn't stop myself." said Nev painfully. "Thanks for saving me, he very nearly had me."

"You probably could have taken him had you not lost your head. Barlow warned us that battle is for the thinking man; the rash man is almost always beaten."

"I know, I know." responded Nev. "What do we do with him now? Should we leave him here?"

Brey considered this for a moment. "Well, if he gets loose he may go back to robbing others on the road, despite his injured arm. If he doesn't get loose, he may die of hunger or thirst. I wouldn't feel right about that."

Nev sighed heavily. "I agree; we can't just leave him here to die. That would make us no better than the robber who killed my father." Nev thought a moment longer about it. "I supposed the right thing to do would be to turn him in to the constables at Newellen."

"That's what I think too." replied Brey. "There's still plenty of day light, we could pack him along with us and drive him right in to Newellen with us tomorrow." Nev nodded his agreement.

The young men, made a pack of Fletcher's booty and ties it to the horse, they then untied him from the tree, and made ready to leave. The robber's hands were tied together in front of him and he was warned there would be a sword at his back every step of the way. He scowled at them, but made no comment.

"Hold on, I have an idea." said Nev. He grabbed another length of rope and tied one end to the ankle of their captive and the other around his own waist. "This way if he tries to run he will have to drag me with him."

Brey nodded his approval. The young men shouldered their packs and prepared to march.

Nev smiled a bit and said, "Onward, villain! We are bound for Newellen and haven't a moment to lose." With this, he laughed and prodded the man with his sword tip.

"Here now!" cried Fletcher, spinning to face him. "Are you two gonna poke me with a sword every time you want me to move? You could just as easily say please, you know!"

"Please?" snorted Brey. "You want courtesy after trying to rob us?"

"Well, a fella's got to make a living, you know! Some folks farm, some folks are millers, and some folks rob people." replied the little thief, as though each vocation was equally acceptable. "An' I ain't much of a farmer or a miller." With that, the scrawny little man stood straight, turned around, and began walking back toward the road.

It was decided to be too dangerous to allow Fletcher to ride as he may try to get away. Leading the horse they walked for three hours and rested. Fletcher was not fairing well and it was obvious he was in great pain. They rested a bit longer than planned to allow him to recover. They resumed their march and turned from the road with over an hour to go before dusk. They allowed their prisoner a small meal and plenty of water to help him recover. Then he was once again tied tightly to a tree. This time, his legs were also bound to make escape that much more difficult; though that wasn't much of a concern, since exhaustion dragged him into sleep within minutes.

"Should we take turns watching him, Brey?" asked Nev.

He took a long look at their captive and replied, "I don't think he will even wake up before dawn, let alone summon the strength to escape."

"That walk did seem to knock some of the tough out of him, didn't it?" said Nev, "I suppose you're right. But I am going to keep my knife close to hand, in any case." They prepared their bedrolls and lay down to sleep.

That night Nev had trouble sleeping. He thought of all that happened, his attacking Fletcher in a rage particularly. Since his father's death, he had never really had an outlet for anger. He had felt his pain and his sorrow and even his healing. The rage had squatted silently, waiting for its chance to be satisfied and Fletcher provided that chance. He wondered what would have happened, how he would have felt, had the wiry thief not gotten the upper hand. How would he have felt if he had killed Fletcher the Fierce for a crime he in all likelihood didn't commit? Nev pondered this question until sleep finally overcame him.

Chapter 4 \- Newellen

The next morning they discovered that their prisoner not only had tried to escape but had gotten as far as getting his legs loose, but had not been able to free his hands. He had succeeded in causing the bandage on his arm to loosen and his wound had begun to bleed once again.

Nev bound the cut with a fresh piece of cloth and they fed him some strong tea and bread to regain his strength. Fletcher was weaker, but was still able to travel, they considered allowing him to ride but felt it was still too great a risk. The trio walked the road to Newellen for only two hours at a time to allow the little man to rest. As it was, they didn't lose as much time as they had thought. A full hour before sundown, the three travelers rounded a bend in the road and the city came into view.

Neither young man had ever seen a city before and marveled at the sight. A wall, over twelve feet in height, ran from the gate where the road led, to a point nearly a half mile away, where the wall turned and ran along another edge of the city. The wall was nearly vertical, being slightly wider at the base than the top, and was broken at regular intervals by wooden towers where guards could be seen watching both inside and outside the wall. The gate itself was a sizable opening with a massive wooden door reinforced by long iron strips fastened to the wood with huge spikes, giving the door an imposing appearance. The gray granite of the wall was very smooth, but with chips and gouges here and there showing it had been battered in its past by battles and skirmishes.

"By the Creator, Brey! Look at it!" exclaimed Nev breathlessly.

Fletcher looked at Nev with surprise. "Haven't you ever been to this pile of rocks before?"

"We have never been to a city before." replied Brey smiling. "It's wonderful!"

The robber looked from one to the other. "What? Are you two fresh from the farm or something?" The young men just nodded, unable to take their eyes from the city before them.

Fletcher was thoroughly disgusted. Not only had he been bested by a couple of teenagers, but bumpkins, new to the world! He hoped none of the others in the prison in which he would undoubtedly be placed found out about this; he would never live it down. He shook his head slowly in disgust and said, "Let's go then and get it over with. At least the constable's men may be able to find a surgeon to fix my arm up right."

The three men walked the remaining mile, Nev and Brey trading exclamations about the city before them. They tried to ask Fletcher questions about the city but his answers were crude, short, and not very informative.

As they approached the main gate, a uniformed man atop the gatehouse called for them to halt and wait there on the road. In a few moments, the older man came ambling out of the gate toward them. When he was about twenty feet away, he stopped and burst out laughing. Fletcher looked at the man and swore, assuming a posture of absolute defeat.

"Well, well, well!" boomed the deep voice of the gate guard, as he walked the remaining distance to the group. "Look who has returned to our fair city; and in defeat at that!" The man laughed again, long and loud. He appeared to be about fifty or sixty years of age and was quite round about his middle.

"Stuff it, Bergen!" was all Fletcher would say.

Nev looked quizzically at the guard. "Do you know him?" he asked.

"Indeed I do. Fletcher the Fierce here has been a very busy fellow in these parts for the last year and some." replied the guard. "So much so, he has even acquired a price to go on that greasy head of his."

At this Fletcher's head snapped up. "What?"

"It seems you made quite an impression on a certain young pair a few months back; though I am sure had you known they were the niece and nephew of the Governor, you would have let them pass unmolested, wouldn't you, Fletcher?" asked the guard, who leaned forward in a menacing fashion. "Instead you saw fit to not only rob them, but send them back along the road in their undergarments riding bareback!"

"At the time, it seemed rather funny." said the little robber with a slight smile.

Quick as a flash, the guard's hand shot out and slapped the prisoner on the side of his head, sending him reeling, nearly falling down. "You should know the price on your head states dead or alive. Your tongue will help me decide which it will be." growled the guard menacingly. Fletcher just groaned holding the side of his head.

He put his fists on his hips and turned to the young men. "Now," asked Bergen "who might you two be?"

"I am Aubrey Cousins of Carsby and this is my friend Neville Morton, also of Carsby, sir." replied Brey respectfully and a little fearfully.

He looked carefully at them and assumed an expression of mild disbelief. "Am I to believe you two have not only faced down Fletcher, but captured him?!" He laughed patronizingly and continued. "All right then, now tell me, who captured our little friend here? Is he somewhat behind you?" he finished, looking back down the road they had just walked.

Nev found the guard's skepticism infuriating, insinuating they could not have taken down a slimy little thief like Fletcher on their own. "Here now! We fought and beat him fair and square." declared Nev boldly, stepping forward without thinking. "I could have taken him myself if I hadn't lost my focus and Brey could handle him easily enough anytime he wished. Even Barlow, our teacher, would say so!"

The guard had moved his weathered hand toward his sword when Nev had stepped forward, but stopped and looked at Nev and Brey with a rather strange expression after Nev finished his proclamation. "Your swordmaster's name is Barlow?" he asked. "'Bout seventy or so, white beard and still fit as a fiddle for his age? Has a little scar just below his left eye?"

Brey and Nev were both taken aback at the man's question. Neither was quite sure how to react, given that they had promised Barlow never to reveal his secret.

Brey placed a hand on Nev's shoulder to keep him from saying anything just yet. "That might sound a bit like him. Do you know him, Sergeant?"

Sergeant Bergen rocked back on his heals and scratched his chin, clearly deciding what he should think of these two. "Seems to me when I first joined the army, I had a Sergeant name of Barlow. Not only a top-notch soldier, but also probably the best sword arm the kingdom had ever known. Went on to make a bit of a name for himself and then retired." He eyed the young men closely as he spoke. "Would you happen to know the man I speak of?"

It was clear to both Brey and his friend that the Sergeant was trying to say he knew Barlow Braydon and would be willing to keep his secret.

Nev spoke up first. "Yes, Sergeant, that sounds like the man. He is indeed still a mighty swordsman and a very good teacher."

The man visibly relaxed and chuckled in a manner strangely like Barlow's. "He always was, boys, he always was." he said with a wink.

The Sergeant called, "Corporal Mayhew! Bring your carcass front and center!"

Shortly, a slender young man, barley older then Brey and Nev themselves came rushing into view. He ran full sprint toward the group and skidded to a halt to stand at attention before Bergen and saluted in army fashion, striking his breastplate with his right hand. "Yes, Sergeant!" he shouted in a strident voice.

"Take the prisoner to the stockade; and send for a surgeon, though there's no particular rush for it." instructed the Sergeant.

"No rush?" cried Fletcher, "I've been stuck good and well here! I need a doctor!"

"Fletcher, considering who taught these young men their swordplay, I would say you are lucky to be alive." growled Bergen. "Take him away, Corporal."

"Yes, sir!" cried the enthusiastic youth who turned his quarry toward the gate and began marching him along with a sword point in his back for emphasis.

"Well now, lads." said Sergeant Bergen. "What say we proceed to the guard house to discuss your teacher and the reward for capturing our notorious Fletcher the Fierce?" He waved an arm toward the gate of the city of Newellen and waited for them to go.

"Um, Sergeant? You must know who our teacher is and you must also understand he doesn't want to be found." said Brey.

Bergen leaned over and whispered to the two young men. "Boys, I have known the whereabouts of Barlow Braydon since he retired. When folks come a lookin', I say 'Head north'. When they get there, they are sent east. Then south and west and so on." He chuckled quietly and winked. "Not even the great Braydon can disappear without a bit of help." He turned without looking back and starting walking toward the gate. The boys scrambled to pick up their packs and the horse's bridle rope and hurried after him.

The guardhouse was a plain but solid-looking building just inside the main gate of the city. The interior was austere; only a few chairs and a table occupied the orderly main room. At the back of the room was a door with words 'Officer of the Watch' written in well-formed letters.

"Have a seat out here, lads." said the big sergeant. "I have to report to the lieutenant."

He went to the door and knocked. "Come.", was the response. Bergen walked inside and closed the door behind him.

"What do you suppose he will say to his lieutenant, Nev?" asked Brey as he set down the pack and sat down on the hard wooden chair.

"Dunno. What's all this about a reward?" said Nev. "Would they really pay us just for bringing them a thief? I would think anyone who could the right thing, would do it." Brey just shrugged, too nervous to give the matter much thought.

The young men sat fidgeting for several minutes until the door at the back opened and a tall man with a black mustache beckoned to them. "Would you please step inside, gentlemen?" he asked politely. "You may leave your packs where they are."

They stood and walked through the door. Sergeant Bergen was standing to one side, apparently yet to be given leave to stand at ease. He stood ramrod straight and seemed a little nervous.

"My name is Lieutenant Marsh. Sergeant Bergen here informs me you have brought in a wanted man. Is that correct?" he asked as he walked around the sturdy desk to sit in the chair behind it.

"Yes, sir." they responded in unison.

The lieutenant sat back and steepled his fingers before his face, studying the young men before him. "I am not unfamiliar with Mr. Fletcher; his exploits as well as his skill with a sword. As a former soldier, he is well-trained. I am told one of you was able to score a hit and disable him. Was this luck or skill?" He narrowed his eyes, looking intently at them. "Or perhaps someone else did the work and you hope to reap the reward for that labor?"

Nev felt his anger rising at the man's patronizing tone, but checked himself in time, sensing this was not a man to trifle with.

Before either could reply, the man continued. "As the reward for this man is considerable, I wish to make sure it is paid only to those who made his capture possible. More to the point, the man or men who incapacitated him, allowing him to be made a prisoner."

"Well," began Brey, "I guess you could say we both did that, sir. When Fletcher leveled his sword at me and demanded our money and goods, Nev drew his sword and began fighting with him." He nervously cleared his throat and continued. "Well, Nev was distracted and was nearly run through, so I jumped in and fought him and was able to injure him." He opened him mouth as if to continue but closed it again, feeling his explanation was inadequate. By his reaction, Lieutenant Marsh thought so too.

"I will be frank. I do not believe you have the skill to do this. Clearly, you are only recently released from some small village or farm; the kind of training required to best a trained soldier is not available to such people."

Nev couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "Well, you are wrong. Brey is really good with a sword and he can prove it!"

Brey stood with his mouth open, gaping at his companion's outburst. He looked from the lieutenant to Nev and back again. "S-sir, I am sorry for my friend's tongue-"

He was silenced by the upraised hand of the, now angry officer. "You would do well to learn self-restraint, young man. It may even save your life someday." he said icily to Nev. "However, I will take you up on your offer of proof."

Marsh turned to the Sergeant still standing at attention next to the desk. "Bring these two to the practice yard immediately. I would like to witness the amazing swordplay of this intrepid bumpkin." He finished with a mirthless laugh.

"Yes sir." responded the sergeant with a note of resignation. He motioned to the young men to follow him out of the office. He led them back out the door to the street and around the side of the building to a fenced area behind.

"You've stepped in it now, lads. He is not a man to accept that kind of tone or refuse such a challenge. For your sake I hope Barlow taught you as well as you say." he whispered. "He is likely to put you up against our best young blade, Winrow. He is fast as a snake and never makes a mistake." He snapped his eyes forward and continued to march them to the open practice area, as the tall officer came along behind them. The sandy ground was mainly level and perhaps thirty feet to a side. Its trampled surface was hard due to constant use by the soldiers training here. Along three of the four sides were benches where young trainees no doubt sat to receive their instruction before practicing their combat skills; in one corner was a large weapons locker.

Bergen stopped the travelers by a bench to one side of the practice yard and told them to remove their cloaks and to hand over their swords. He took the swords and walked toward the weapons locker to put a cork end on each sword.

"That won't be necessary, Sergeant Bergen. I am sure the young men are well versed enough to keep themselves and others from harm." said the officer with a snide tone of voice. "Corporal Winrow, come forward!"

A solid looking young man came out of the barracks room near the back of the yard and came to attention, saluting smartly. "Yes, sir!"

"There is to be a demonstration. I wish you to represent Her Majesty's Army." The lieutenant smiled and glanced sidelong at Nev and Brey. "It seems that one of these young men claims to have defeated an army-trained swordsman in fair combat. I wish to see if his homebred style is truly equal to Her Majesty's training."

"Yes, sir!" yelled the young man. He moved to the weapons rack and retrieved a sword.

"To your positions!" Marsh called.

"Move to the middle of the ground, lad, but do not raise your sword until told to do so." instructed the old sergeant as he handed Brey's sword back to him. "Remember, battle is for the thinking man." he said, echoing the words he had heard from old Barlow many times.

"Yes, sir." was all Brey could muster in response.

He moved to the center of the ring of dirt and stood facing his opponent, his arm shaking slightly. Dusk was beginning to fall; poor light for such a 'demonstration'. Brey's mind was a jumbled mess, trying to recall everything Barlow had taught him. It was strange that he should do this now; he had jumped in and taken Fletcher without a thought except how best to get around or through his defense.

"Don't force it, let your training take hold and your arm will do what it has been taught to do." Old Barlow had said over and over during the last weeks of training before the boys left Carsby. In that moment, Brey's mind just relaxed and he was no longer nervous. Battle is for the thinking man and his mind was now ready to think as a swordsman.

"Salute!" yelled Marsh.

Both Brey and the young soldier across from him raised their swords in salute. There was a moment of silence in which the two combatants' eyes met. Brey could see the other's hunger and determination.

"Engage!"

Winrow rushed Brey in an effort to overwhelm him and get a quick victory. Brey waited for him to close and then stepped aside without even engaging blades as the attacker went on by. Seeing his mistake in underestimating his opponent, Corporal Winrow assumed a more cautious approach.

The two circled for moment, sizing each other up. Brey feinted high and attacked low with impressive speed, but as Bergen had warned, Winrow was very fast and blocked the attack with apparent ease. Our young hero had to reassess his plan of attack, seeing that his speed was not an advantage against this young soldier.

Winrow began a series of short, quick attacks going from high to low and side to side. He pressed his slight advantage of speed and forced Brey back slowly. As the soldier pressed each series, Brey noted that his attacks were very much like the drills he and Nev were first taught. He watched and counted the steps and the strokes and in two more flurries, he was certain he could predict the next attack. He waited for the next series and found he was right, the young man executed exactly the strokes he thought it would be. Feeling it was time to reverse the tide of the battle, Brey waited for the next series to begin. When it came, he countered and attacked his opponent on the opposite side of his attacking strokes and used his surprise and speed to score a touch, being careful not to draw blood. He backed off to see if that satisfied the tall officer.

"Score touch for Brey!" cried an excited Nev.

Lieutenant Marsh scowled at Nev and called, "One touch to the bumpkin. Continue."

Brey heard the step behind him and whirled in time to meet the blade coming right at him from behind. He parried quickly and danced to one side to regain his footing. Seeing that he still had something to prove to the lieutenant and also seeing that his opponent would have run him through in the exercise, Brey decided he must fight not only to defend his character but apparently his life. So be it. Brey's stance shifted slightly, no longer fighting to aim his strokes wide for the touch, he intended to score blood if he must.

Nev, having known him all his life noted the shift. "Brey! No! It isn't worth spilling his blood over!" he cried to his friend. He tried to run into the circle but Bergen held him back.

"It's worth your life to run into that lad. They will have to finish it as they must. If your friend was truly trained well, he will be able to end it without bloodshed. Or at least without much." he added dryly.

Brey had been largely playing defense to this point, content to hold his own to prove his ability. Now it was time to put his skill to the test. His opponent was very fast and very good, but seemed to be able to use only the basic military skills he was taught and no more. Barlow had warned him and Nev not to use any of the unorthodox tricks he had taught them unless he had no choice. As far as he could tell, the time of choice was past. He could possibly continue to match the young soldier in the strict disciplines until they were both too tired to keep going, but he didn't wish to prolong this until he made a mistake and was injured as a result. He decided to try the simplest of the tricks he had been shown.

When his opponent stopped circling for a moment, Brey made his move by attacking straight ahead in a pattern of two overhand strokes, one low stroke and then disengage. He repeated this twice, certain his opponent should anticipate it the third time. On the third attack, he changed pattern and went from the first overhand strike to a quick low lunge and back high again. As the soldier scrambled to compensate, he was caught overreaching his low block and Brey's sword lay against his neck before he could recover. The blade merely touched the man's throat and was pulled back, but the youth had scored a killing stroke on the soldier!

Corporal Winrow stepped back, clearly shocked that he had been 'killed'. He felt his neck where the blade had touched and looked at his fingers to see if he was bleeding. Fortunately, Brey had made the touch lightly and didn't leave a scratch.

Lieutenant Marsh was equally stunned. Winrow had never been beaten in a single combat exercise before. This 'bumpkin' was clearly a skilled swordsman. Where had a common village boy learned to fight like that?

"Stand down!" ordered Lieutenant Marsh. He walked across the training ground toward Brey.

"I see I must apologize for my earlier doubt, you are indeed well trained." he said with a slight bow of his head. "I have no choice but to believe you have fairly defeated the prisoner and are deserving of the reward offered for his capture."

Marsh cast a withering look at Corporal Winrow and turned back toward the guardhouse. "Come with me, please." As he passed Sergeant Bergen he said, "See to it that the men are trained to deal with that kind of unorthodox attack. Clearly there is a need for a wider range of styles in our training."

Bergen saluted and responded, "Yes, Sir!" As Brey and Nev went to follow the officer back inside, Bergen leaned over toward them with a big grin, "Well, done lad! I will tell our friend about this when next I see him, I am sure he will be proud to know that his training is still as effective as ever."

They rounded the corner of the building smiling as well, especially as they heard the big sergeant bellow, "Winrow! What was that mess? You are supposed to the best we have!"

"By the Creator Brey! I thought that fellow was going to run you through, coming from behind like that." Nev whispered as they went through the door of the guardhouse.

"He nearly did! It's a good thing I heard him step!" agreed Brey with much relief in his voice.

"Come in here, please." called the lieutenant

They walked into the office once again and stood before the desk as before.

Marsh sat down and regarded them for a moment, then asked, "Where did you learn your swordcraft? Clearly you have had professional instruction." He glanced at Nev and added, "Though I have not seen you wield a sword, I must assume you had the same instructor and likely equal knowledge if not skill."

Nev nodded and said, "Our instructor is a retired solider who lives in our village, sir."

"I see." was the simple response. "You must have trained quite hard to be as skilled as you are."

"Since we were eight, sir." was all Brey added.

The officer looked at them a moment or two longer and nodded once. He then reached for parchment and quill. "I am going to write a draft for the city exchequer. He will see you are paid your reward." He wrote in orderly script on the page for a minute or so. "I would suggest you keep the amount of the reward to yourselves or you may have to demonstrate your skills again and again to retain it." He looked at them to be sure they understood.

They nodded and looked at each other for a moment. "Sir, may I ask a question?" asked Nev.

"Yes." he said as he rolled the parchment and began sealing it with a ribbon and wax.

"We don't quite understand what is happening. This reward - we know nothing of it." Nev felt a bit foolish in saying this, but he still couldn't quite understand being paid for simply doing what is right.

Lieutenant Marsh seemed surprised at this. "You mean to tell me you don't know how much the reward is?"

"Well sir," he said, "In all truth, we don't quite understand what a 'reward' is."

"You understand that wanted criminals have a price on their heads, do you not?" he asked, growing more astonished at the naiveté of the youths.

"You see, sir" began Brey, "where we come from, a person wouldn't be paid to do the right thing. It's just- expected." Nev nodded his agreement.

The stunned officer dropped his hands to his desk and stared at them. After a moment, he began to laugh. "You truly are just a couple of village boys fresh from the farm, aren't you?" As Nev began to open his mouth in retort, Marsh held up his hands. "Now, now, no need to take offense at that. I assure you its very refreshing to meet actual good and honest people. It happens so rarely in this city." He chuckled a moment longer and sighed.

"I can see I had you incorrectly labeled from the beginning. I apologize for my behavior, I had assumed you might be runaways or rogue independents trying to get by on the sly. I can see you are indeed just what you appear to be." He looked at them now a bit more kindly than before. "I will arrange for an escort to take you to the exchequer in the morning."

He stood and handed the scroll to Nev. "Thank you, sir." Nev said. "And thank you for believing us as well."

"It seems I have little choice in the matter." he replied with another chuckle. "Have you made arrangements for lodgings? It will be full dark soon and the city can be confusing to those unaccustomed to it." he said, looking out the window at the darkening street.

"Well," said Brey "we hadn't really thought about it. We were going to buy some things we needed and camp along the road near the river. It seems we can't do that now."

"Indeed, with the gates closed for the night you will not be able to leave until morning." said the officer. "Perhaps I can make a suggestion; there is an inn just down the street that is quiet and clean. I will have Sergeant Bergen escort you there and see that you are given lodgings at a fair price."

"Thank you, sir." said Nev appreciatively. As neither youth had been in a city before, they had no idea how to inquire about lodgings or what would be a fair price for it. The help of the big sergeant would serve to ensure they were not taken advantage of.

The lieutenant called for the burly sergeant and gave his instructions. The young men picked up their packs and prepared to leave. Noticing the extra pack, Nev turned to Bergen. "Say, I had almost forgotten we have Fletcher's horse and pack of stolen goods. Who shall we give this to?"

The sergeant's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You brought back his booty as well? You two are thorough, aren't you?" He reached over and took the pack from Nev's hand. "This can be left here. Should anyone come looking for their things, we will see that they are returned." He excused himself for a moment, placed the pack in a locker in the corner of the room, and returned. "I will have one of the men see to the horse."

"All right then, off we go." he said. He led them out the door and proceeded down the crudely cobbled street, past several shops just closing for the evening. Roughly a quarter of a mile down the main road was a building with a sign depicting an ale cup surrounded by berries and leaves hung above the door.

"There may be a bit of noise from the alehouse below, but the rooms here are clean and well tended." explained Bergen, stepping through the low doorway. "The keeper here is a friend of mine, he will treat you fairly." Nev and Brey only nodded as they stepped into the loud and crowded room and stood next to the door.

Inside was a smoky, dark common room filled with many men. Along one side was a long bar with two serving men behind it handing out ale and wine with one hand and collecting coins with the order. Additionally, there were two serving women deftly handing large trays atop their upraised hands, delivering food and drink to men sitting at a row of tables running up the middle of the room. The wall opposite the bar was lined with tables and chairs; a fireplace with a low, smoky fire was in the far corner. The serving staff as well as the customers had to yell to be heard over the din; to the young men used to the quiet of Carsby village this was absolute chaos.

"Keep your money close to your skin in places like this, lads. A good cutpurse could skin you clean and be drinking your money away across the city before you know it." warned the burly soldier. "Wait here for a moment."

Both reached involuntarily to the pouch beneath their shirts to ensure it was still attached to the thong around their necks.

Bergen walked to the nearest end of the bar and shouted. "Carney! Come over here, you old dog!"

A man walked to the end of the bar, a limp in his step. "That kind of talk will get you kicked out of my inn, Bergen! I might have to call the guard!" was the laughing reply from a man of equal size and girth to that of the kindly old sergeant. "If you've come for free ale, you've come on the wrong night. I take charity cases only on the day of the Creator."

"You close the bar on the day of the Creator, Carney." observed Bergen.

He looked at his friend with an expression of surprise and replied, "Why, I believe you're right!"

"You are a cruel man, Carney." Bergen said with a chuckle. "I have come to ask if you have a room for the night."

"Has your wife finally come to her senses and given you the heave?"

"Not much chance of that. I'll not be rid of her that easily." he replied sorrowfully.

"Why do you need a room then?"

Bergen leaned in close and spoke quietly. "The lads by the door are in need. Being they are friends of Barlow, I thought you may be able to accommodate them for a night."

Carney looked sharply at the youths standing nervously by the door. "Are you sure of them?" he asked.

"I have seen the taller lad fight; his swordplay has Barlow written all over it. And he bested Winrow with two straight touches, one a killing stroke."

The innkeeper's eyes widened and he whistled lowly. "Impressive! Winrow is as sharp a blade as I have seen, short of Bra –" He almost uttered the name Braydon but caught himself in time.

"Well, I have no rooms here but I am sure I can arrange something; perhaps the loft over the stables, not the sweetest smelling, but a roof and soft hay nonetheless." He looked at the young men again with a critical eye and then grinned. "A killing stroke eh? I should think that would call for ale at the very least."

Bergen looked back at them also. "They are fresh from the farm, Carney, I doubt ale has ever passed their lips."

"You're right, of course." replied the innkeeper with a perfectly straight face. "We'll have to do that for them, I suppose."

"It's the only decent thing to do, my friend." replied Bergen with a hearty laugh as Carney went to draw two tankards of ale.

"Come over here, lads!" the soldier called.

Nev and Brey walked uncertainly over to the bar to stand by the sergeant.

Bergen waved his hand toward his friend and said, "This here is Carney. He is the owner of this establishment and a pretty good man."

Carney reached across the bar and shook their hands. "Please to meet you, lads. I understand you need a place to sleep tonight."

"Yes, sir." answered Nev as he shook his hand.

"Well, it's a busy time and all my rooms are filled. I can put you up in the loft of the stable though. It's likely to smell of horses, but it's dry and quieter than the rooms upstairs are likely to be."

"Oh that's fine, sir." said Brey. "We don't mind the horses at all. How much will you charge?" he asked reaching for his money pouch.

"Now, don't you worry about that." he replied with a wave of his hand. "I'd not charge you a copper for one night's stay in a smelly stable in any case. Just wouldn't be right. Besides, I hear you bested young Winrow; that's no mean feat and worthy of reward."

"Well then, have you boys had a bite of supper yet?" asked Bergen. "I'd be happy to treat you as I have never before seen or heard the lieutenant ever admit to being wrong. Now that's something worthy of reward, even without besting our finest swordsman!"

They were indeed quite hungry and accepted his kind offer. The friendly sergeant treated the young men to a meal of lamb and cheese and goat's milk, since ale was not appealing to them. Once fed, they thanked him and bid him good night, then went to the stable to sleep. Despite the smell, it was more comfortable than sleeping on the ground had been.

They awoke at dawn and got washed and were ready to leave when Sergeant Bergen and one other soldier showed up to escort them to the exchequer to claim their reward. The office was in the Town Hall, two story building of brick and whitewashed wood. Inside it was a bit dim and rather plain, the furnishings simple and functional rather than ornate as one might have suspected in such an important building.

The stuffy clerk at the exchequer's office sat behind a high desk of dark wood and looked at the young men from under dark bushy eyebrows; he was quite thorough in examining the document they presented despite its being sealed. He even went so far as to ask the sergeant to verify the seal and signature of Lieutenant Marsh. He completed his notations in the large register upon his desk and excused himself. A short time later, he returned carrying a bulging pouch.

"I am not able to pay the entire amount in silver, but the full sum is here. Now if you will each sign this document we may complete our transaction." He pushed a piece of parchment and quill toward them.

Brey read the document and gasped. "Nev! The reward is thirty silvers!"

Nev stared at Brey in astonishment and then took the parchment and read for himself. "H-how can that be?" he stammered.

The exchequer sniffed at their response. "You would think you have never had money before." He looked at them again with a disdainful expression. "Then again, you may not have at that. Please sign the document, I have a great deal to do yet today." he finished pompously.

Their hands shook as each signed their name to the bottom of the parchment. Heads spinning, they took the pouch and walked outside feeling numb. Neither youth had ever seen more than two silvers at once in their lives and have never had more than ten coppers of their own. Even the pouches they got from Barlow amounted to little more than a few silver's worth each.

"Well, lads," asked Bergen, "what will you do with your riches?" He chuckled, knowing that thirty silver coins could support a small farm like the ones they undoubtedly left only recently, for several months.

"I have no idea." said Nev almost breathless.

"Allow me to make a few suggestions then." The sergeant advised them on how to split up the coins and hide them in their packs or on their person such that they will not risk all of their coin at once in the event of loss or robbery. "Since it is known by now that he was captured and that someone has thirty in silver, it might be best to watch your backs a bit." he concluded, wagging a finger at them in warning.

It was late morning by this time and they still had quite a journey ahead of them. "We should be going on in any case." said Nev. "We still hope to make Groden before autumn so, we should keep moving."

"Yes." agreed Brey. "Thanks for all your help and advice, Sergeant. We can't thank you enough for all you have done for us." Each young man shook the burly man's hand and prepared to go.

After a moment of looking this way and that, Nev turned back toward Bergen. "Sergeant? Which way is the road out?"

The soldier laughed loudly, his belly shaking with the effort. "Lads, would you like one more bit of advice?" They both nodded.

"Take the map from your pack and use it." he said laughing hard again.

The two stood and looked at each other and felt very foolish. After a moment they too began to laugh, they laughed until their sides hurt.

Chapter 5 – The Plot

Bergen sent them off down the main road through the city. Soon they could see the gate opposite the one they entered the day before. As they neared the exit from Newellen, they saw a sign that caused them to both stop in the middle of the street. They turned toward one another and smiled. Without a word, they nodded and walked toward the stall next to the sign that read 'Riverboat to Wellton – One silver, To Groden - One silver and five. Cargo extra. Food extra. Sails at midday.'

The man behind the counter of the stall watched them walk up; he looked them up and down and grunted. "No deals or barter for passage. Off with you!"

Nev scowled at the man, but let Brey do the talking. His temper had been getting the better of him lately.

"We can pay our fare, sir." responded Brey calmly.

"Sir? I am the captain of the riverboat, Pride of Wellton. You call me Captain Gill, not sir." he admonished in a surly tone.

"Sorry. Captain Gill, then." Brey apologized. "We would like to buy a trip to Groden please."

Gill grunted again and shook his head in disgust. "The word is 'passage', not trip. Have you no sense, boy?"

Now Brey felt his own anger rising. "We are bound for Groden and would like to go there as quickly as possible. May we buy passage to Groden on your riverboat, Captain?" he asked with forced patience.

"Two silvers each." he responded shortly.

"The sign says one silver and five!" exclaimed Nev testily, pointing to the sign. "You'll not get a copper more than that!"

Gill stood and leaned over the counter menacingly and growled, "It's my boat and I will charge what I will for passage. If you don't like it, boy, you and your friend can walk!"

"Why, Captain Gill, have you suddenly raised the price of passage?" asked a voice from directly behind Nev, it was a well-dressed gentleman who had approached unnoticed. "But an hour ago I paid a single silver for passage to Wellton." The man was fair of hair and clean-shaven save for his long sideburns, the current height of style in the capital city of Wellton.

Captain Gill's demeanor changed instantly when he saw whom it was that had spoken. "Of course not, Mister Callum! I was merely quoting the price of passage plus meals. Apparently I was misunderstood by these young lads." He quickly removed his hat and smiled, showing gaps where several teeth should have been. "Of course the passage without food is one silver and five as it says there on the sign." he finished lamely.

"We will take two, Captain, with food included please." said Brey with a winning smile. He opened the pouch at his throat, withdrew four silvers and handed them to the scowling sailor.

"Pleasure to have you aboard." the captain growled. Gill directed the young men to the docks outside the walls of Newellen and the berth of the Pride of Wellton

Mister Callum walked with them toward the docks. "I assume you are taking your first trip abroad?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." replied Nev. "And thank you for helping us with the captain; I don't think he likes us much."

"Don't mind Captain Gill too much, his bark is much worse than his bite, as you have seen." said the gentleman with a grin. "I travel a great deal and have sailed with him a few times, both down and back up the river. He once sailed the Great Western Ocean under the flag of the Crown. Though he never rose above the rank of ensign, he saved enough for his own boat and rates captaincy by virtue of ownership. He is a pretty fair navigator of the mighty river, so I'll not begrudge him his bit of audacity."

"How far is it to the Groden from here? If it's not too much to ask, that is." asked Brey, not sure how to act around the obviously important man.

"Not at all, lad, not at all." he replied with a wave of dismissal. "The journey from here to Wellton is usually three or four days, depending on weather. Gill will often layover for a day and then go on to Groden the next, hoping to pick up one or two more for the last leg. You should see the port of Groden in about six or seven days."

"Hah! That's a good sight better than the three or four weeks or so on foot we had planned for!" exclaimed Nev, beaming. Brey nodded his agreement.

Callum laughed a pleasant rolling laugh. "You had planned a three or more week journey on foot just to see Groden? There must be some prize at the end of so daunting a journey."

"Well, Mister Callum, it's like this." began Brey. He went on to describe the purpose of their journey. He even told the man about their run-in with Fletcher and the reward. He would have thought better of it except that the man was obviously well off and would have no need to rob them. It may have been the easygoing manner and kindness, but for some reason he felt he could trust the friendly man.

As Brey finished the telling, with occasional input from Nev, particularly embellishing the battles with Fletcher and Corporal Winrow, Callum raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I should say this adventure of yours has begun in grand style." he exclaimed, sounding impressed. "Two sword battles, a reward, and one minor squabble with a salty riverboat captain. I hope the rest of your journey is not a disappointment in comparison." He looked at the two young men and then began to laugh. Finally catching on the rib, the young men laughed as well. In a short time, they arrived at the river docks; Mister Callum pointed out the Pride of Wellton to them and they proceeded aboard.

The riverboat had a shallow draft, nearly flat at the keel; it was plain, but well maintained. There was a large rudder astern, four slots for oars and a stout mast for the square sail used to propel the craft when the wind allowed. Though it was not more than twenty-five feet in length, it had plenty of space available for passengers in the form of two small huts built on the flat deck. Each hut had a table with two benches, and four bunks. There was a "sea stove" in each hut, consisting of a small iron stove on four legs set in a shallow trough of water to protect the deck from the heat and embers. Cargo space was limited to a small hold near the stern of the craft.

The young men settled themselves in the forward hut or 'cabin' as the mate, Filbey, insisted on calling it. Mister Callum settled himself in the second cabin, noting the rest of his party would be along presently or he would have gladly bunked with them.

They looked about the boat and then took in the docks in greater detail. The riverboat docks of Newellen were not what one would describe as attractive. In fact, it was a dirty and smelly place. Flotsam drifted under the four large docks, eventually taken by the current and swept on down the river. Buckets of waste were regularly thrown over the side of the few boats moored at the docks and still more thrown in from the shore a little way downstream. It occurred to Nev that there must be a better way to handle it all. He was about to mention it to Brey when his attention was caught by a group of men approaching the dock where they were moored.

The three men seemed mismatched to his eye. One of them appeared to be a man of minor substance, though not as fine as Mister Callum in his dress or manner. The other two had a dangerous look about them. Nev distrusted them immediately.

"Hey Brey, look at those men coming this way. There is something odd about them, don't you think?" he asked, nudging his friend with his elbow as they leaned on the railing of the riverboat.

Brey looked at them for a moment. "What do you mean odd?"

"I don't know exactly, just something not quite right. That one fellow looks like a sort of trader, but the other two look more like guards or soldiers or something."

"Maybe the man trades valuable goods and needs protection." he responded, without much more thought. "Here comes Captain Gill. Perhaps we will get going soon." Brey was excited to get under way. The riverboat was going to carry them to their adventure even more quickly than they could have hoped for traveling afoot.

Nev glanced at the men as they went into Mister Callum's cabin, feeling almost certain there was something amiss. He guessed it was possible that what Brey suggested was true and attempted to put it out of his mind. It stayed in the back of his mind, however, and in time his suspicion would not only prove correct, but of the utmost importance.

The sailor stumped along the dock to the plank that ran from the dock to the riverboat. "Filbey, you lazy dog, see that the provisions bein' delivered are stowed quickly! I want t'be under way in no more'n an hour!" The captain came aboard and checked the rigging, the rudder, and mast to be sure all was in readiness for the river voyage. The mate set about opening the hold and getting ready to load the items that were being brought to the dock.

Within an hour, they were casting off and putting out into the current of the great river heading westward. The Groden River is a mighty waterway, as much as a mile wide at some points. It spans nearly the entire width of the realm, stretching from Mallock in the east to Groden in the west. The river serves as a vehicle for commerce throughout the land, bringing goods both up and down the river, making trade a business of great opportunity and importance.

The voyage seemed exciting at first, due to the novelty of riverboat travel and the feeling that the adventure was finally getting a running start. However, after a few hours of watching the water slip by, their excitement began to wane. The riverboat put over to shore just before dusk and Gill handed Brey their rations for the evening, consisting of dark flatbread, tea, and dry cheese. They ate on deck while sipping the weak tea and watching the fiery sunset.

"Should be a nice, bright day tomorrow." said Filbey, startling the boys. The first mate constituted the entire crew of the Pride of Wellton for the down-river journey. A crew of oarsmen would be taken on for the upriver journey. Filbey was a lanky fellow and a little slow-witted, but appeared to be a competent sailor nonetheless.

Nev turned his head to look at the young mate. "How do you know that?" he asked.

"Cap'n says, red skies at night mean no clouds the next day. He was a sailor for the Crown and he learnt a lot o' handy things like that." The lanky youth leaned against the rail near the travelers. "Where you fellas headin' to?"

Brey turned a bit toward him and said, "We are going to see what is beyond the Crystalline Sea. We have been waiting all our lives for this adventure;" he enthused, "we are going to find riches and become famous!"

Filbey laughed in disbelief. "Adventure is it? You must be awful rich to afford passage like that! And the Crystalline Sea is so far off, only a few fellas has ever seen it."

"Well, we will." said Nev asserted. "We'll sign on to a ship heading that way and work our way up to the passage we need. You'll see."

Filbey laughed again and said, "Good luck to ya!" With that, he walked off to see to his duties.

"Can you believe his laughing at us?" fumed Nev. "We have planned and worked for this for so long, there's no way we will fail." He pause a moment. "We won't fail, will we, Brey?"

Even though he felt a small doubt beginning to form in the back of his mind, Brey smiled and replied, "Of course not."

They sat and talked of little things for a while longer and decided to turn in for the night. The bunks on the boat were very hard with little in the way of padding aside from their blankets and cloaks. Despite the uncomfortable beds, they slept well and awoke at dawn to the sound of Captain Gill barking orders to his mate.

"Look alive there, boy! Untie the bow before the stern else we'll swing into the current."

"I know, I know." replied Filbey as he tramped by the shack in which the travelers slept. "I done it 'nough times to know what t'do."

"Don't be insolent, you laggard, or you can swim to Wellton!" came the captain's surly reply.

Brey and Nev came out of the cabin in time to see the boat swing about as the stern line came loose from the tree to which it had been tied. Now they were facing into the current and the port side of the boat came around into a clump of branches, causing Gill to swear profusely.

"Damn your eyes, boy, what in the name of the Creator are you doing?" he screamed. "We'll be fouled in the tree, you idiot!"

"I didn't do nothin'! The rope slipped from th' branch!" he called over his shoulder as he ran toward the stern to try to prevent them from getting fouled; but there was little he could do to stop the boat from sliding under the low-hanging branches and getting her rigging caught in the limbs.

"Damn!" swore the captain. "We're caught good now! Get the saw and cut off the worst of it. We'll have to pole our way out and bring her about quick." He began unlashing long poles from the side of the riverboat as Filbey ran to the locker near the hut where the captain and his mate slept in the stern of the craft to retrieve the saw.

"Is there anything we can do to help, Captain?" asked Nev.

Gill stood and was about to make a remark, then seemed to think better of it. "If you wouldn't mind helping the boy clear them branches, it would be a great help." he answered. Turning to Brey he added, "Could you grab one of these poles and help me shove her away as soon as the bowline is brought in?"

Brey moved forward and picked up one of the long poles. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"As soon as Filbey frees the mast, we need to push her away from the shore. Once he gets the bowline free, we'll pole her out a bit and then turn her about as fast as we can. It doesn't pay to be out of sorts in the current we're about to hit. There's sand bars and rocks in this stretch that can strand us or sink us." he said dropping the pole into the water on the landward side of the boat near the stern. "Drop yours in nearer the bow and get ready to push for all your worth, lad."

It took Nev and the mate several minutes to get the largest of the branches cut through, only a few more needed to be cut before they could start to move. "She'll be free once I cut this last big one here, Cap'n!" called the young sailor. "Be ready to push now." He sawed furiously at the last large branch as Nev pulled it to one side to clear it more quickly.

"A'right, push her out!" he yelled as the branch snapped off in Nev's hands. Brey and Gill bent over their poles, slowly pushing the boat away from shore. She began to swing out on the end of the rope.

"I'll get the rope loose." called Nev. He ran to the bow and began pulling the rope to get nearer the tree to which she was tied.

"Never mind trying to save the rope!" called the captain as he strained on his pole. "Just cut it at the cleat. I can replace a rope, boats are more expensive!"

Nev sliced through the rope and felt the boat move more rapidly out into the current. The river narrowed a bit at this point and the current was swifter. Gill shouted for Brey to switch sides and push from the starboard to make her spin more quickly.

"To the rudder, Filbey!" yelled the old sailor. "Be prepared to steer her straight down the middle!"

"Aye, Cap'n." said the young man reflexively and ran to grab the large tiller.

Gill eyed their position and the rate of spin and gauged the moment perfectly. "Haul in yer pole, lad!" he shouted to Brey, and they both pulled the long poles free of the water. "Hold her steady right down the middle, Filbey!" The relief in Gill's voice was clear.

The captain wiped his brow with the back of his hand and pointed to port. Not more then eight feet away was a large sandbar only inches below the rushing water. "None too soon, lads. Thanks much for your help; I would not want to be stranded on a big lump like that." He shook his head, laid the long pole along the gunwale, and took the other from Brey and placed it with the first.

Captain Gill walked back to relieve Filbey at the tiller and sent him forward to watch the way for sandbars and rocks. Nev walked over the Brey and they shook each other's hand. "Some excitement, eh Nev?" he said breathlessly.

"You can say that again!" exclaimed Nev. "All that excitement made me hungry, what do you say to breakfast?"

Brey nodded and they walked back to the cabin to make some tea and eat.

During all the excitement, Mr. Callum and his men simply watched. Nev glanced at them as they entered their own cabin and his feeling of suspicion once again came to the fore. Why hadn't they helped or even offered to help? He mentioned this to Brey as they sipped their tea.

Brey was once again reticent to find fault with their fellow passengers. "Perhaps they didn't think there was anything they could do. There were only two poles and not much room for them to help you and Filbey cut the branches away." he pointed out. "Why are you so suspicious of them, Nev?"

Nev considered this for a moment as he munched a piece of bread. "I don't know exactly. There just seems to be something a little off about those fellows. Not Mister Callum though really." He tilted his head and thought about it. "Do you suppose those fellows are going to swindle Mister Callum?"

Brey chuckled. "I think you are thinking too much. Turn your mind toward our adventure, Nev! We have waited forever for this, let's enjoy it." he said expansively.

"I suppose you're right, Brey. Sorry." he replied with a grin.

The rest of that day, the boys spent in the company of Captain Gill. Out of appreciation for their timely assistance, he agreed to teach them the basics of river navigation. They found that rivers were a very different set of rules and a different set of mind; whereas sailing on the lake had been mainly about the direction of the wind and the set of the sails, the river is much more about the movement of the water itself. During that day, they learned much about currents as well as how to read the water for movement and depth. It was altogether an enjoyable and educational day.

They had turned southwest on the third day out of Newellen and could really see the changes in the land as they sailed into warmer climes. The night before they were to arrive in at Wellton, Callum and the men with whom he traveled entered into a heated argument. Though they tried to keep their voices down, snatches of conversation could be heard. Seeing that they were being noticed, the merchant suggested they move into their cabin to continue.

Nev's suspicion got the better of him again and wondered what they were arguing about. He thought Mister Callum was a good man and thought to help protect him by trying to hear what the argument was about, in case those men were indeed trying to swindle him. He moved as casually as possible down the rail of the boat toward their cabin until he could hear what was being said. His position by the rail was out of sight of the window but afforded him a good vantage for listening.

"I'm telling you, it's too risky to try right now, Kabar. The Queen is there along with the whole Queen's Regiment. It'd be suicide to try it now!" he heard the shorter man they called Basker hiss.

"Nothing was ever gained without risk, Basker." the sinister looking Kabar replied.

The taller thug named Winton added, "I agree with Basker, it's too dangerous. Our heads would be in a noose in less than a day."

"Nevertheless." was Kabar's only reply.

Nev was quite surprised to here Mister Callum speak next. "Gentlemen, the die has been cast and the plan moves forward. Our men are already in place and prepared for what is to come. We make our move tomorrow; thereafter, if the Queen doesn't submit to our demands, then the consequences are on her head."

"Jasper will meet us at the house after he has done his work." added Kabar. "The days of the Queen wind down and the time for our movement is at hand."

Stunned, Nev moved quietly and quickly back toward his cabin and went quietly inside where Brey was relaxing in his bunk, sharpening his belt knife. He went to his bunk and sat down heavily, his mind racing at what he had just heard.

"What's wrong, Nev?" Brey asked, concerned over his friends agitation. He jumped down from the top bunk and sat next to him. "You look positively sick, what's happened?"

Nev snapped back to reality and hurriedly hushed Brey. He got up, closed the cloth covering of the cabin window, and turned to Brey. "I was right." he whispered almost too quietly for Brey to hear.

"What? What do you mean you were right?"

"Shh! Not so loud, we may be overheard!" he whispered as quietly as before. He hurried to the bunk, sat down next to his companion and told him what he had overheard.

Brey was thunderstruck. "I-I can hardly believe it. Are you sure that's what you heard?"

"As I am living and breathing, that's exactly what I heard." replied Nev holding his hand over his heart in the sign of the Creator.

"What should we do about it?"

"I don't know. We have to tell someone!" Nev shifted his gaze aimlessly around the room. "Maybe we can find a constable in Wellton tomorrow and tell him."

Brey thought about that for a moment. "What if they don't believe us? Those men may try to kill us!" He suddenly had a vision of being attacked by the men and run through as they laughed about it. He started to get alarmed, but Nev grabbed his arm and calmed him down.

"Only if they find out we said anything. If the constable doesn't believe us, he may not even ask them about it. We could just go on to Groden like nothing happened." he said in a placating tone.

They discussed the matter for some time; in the end, the young men decided they would go to a constable the next day while in Wellton. Filbey had told them they would be in Wellton for a few hours while Captain Gill tried to find passengers for the remaining leg to Groden. They planned to disembark as soon as they arrived and find a constable as quickly as they could so that Mister Callum and his cohorts would not have time to escape before they reported them.

The next morning, Captain Gill informed them they would be in Wellton shortly before noon and that if they got off the boat they had to make sure to return before he left three hours later; if they missed the boat, it was their loss.

They docked as predicted just before noon. The young men were ready to disembark before the riverboat was even tied to the dock and jumped across to the dock and were off before Callum and his crones were even out of their cabin. The walked quickly through the sparse crowd looking for a constable, they spotted an army sergeant standing near a merchant's booth and approached him. He was a tall man, a hand taller than Brey at least. He was wearing the uniform of the Royal Army consisting of a crisp blue tunic over tight white trousers and polished black boots, three hashes on the right sleeve denoted his rank. His shiny black sword belt hung at a slight angle, allowing for the best access to the wire-wrapped hilt of his sword.

"Excuse me, Sergeant?" Brey said hesitantly.

He turned and looked at who had addressed him and answered. "What can I do for you?"

Brey cleared his throat and asked, "Do you know where we might find a constable? We need to talk to one as soon as possible."

The soldier assessed the young men before him with his deep blue eyes. "Is this something concerning the city of Wellton? Or something that has happened here at the docks?"

"What's the difference?" blurted Nev without thinking.

The soldier just smiled faintly at the young man's outburst. "The difference is that the constables are the law in the city of Wellton, but the Army is the law on the docks. Now, which do you need, boys?"

Brey looked back toward the docks and saw Mister Callum and his men just walking off the dock where the Pride of Wellton was moored. "Tell him quickly, Nev." he said hurriedly. "They are coming!"

Nev related to the soldier the conversation he had over heard two nights before. When he finished his tale, the uniformed man turned quickly and called to a private a short distance away. "Apprehend those men there." he said pointing out Callum and his men. "Bring them to the guardhouse immediately; I will meet you there." He turned back to Brey and Nev. "You two, come with me."

The soldier led the young men into the modest guardhouse, which looked much the same as the one in Newellen, simple stone and whitewashed wood outside and unadorned wood inside. "You will need to surrender your swords so long as you are in the guardhouse." he said, holding out his hands.

They handed over their blades and were directed to sit in a room off the main area and told to remain quiet. Only moments after being shut inside, they heard Callum and his men enter the outer room.

"What is the problem, Sergeant?" asked Mister Callum in a calm voice. "Your man was unable to tell me anything other then they had been instructed to bring us here." He did not feel as calm as he had acted, however. Is it possible their plans were known? Had Jasper been caught? No, the only way for them to have found out his own involvement in the plot would be if Jasper talked and it can't be that or they would have been put in chains almost immediately. It must be some sort of mistake.

"I will get to that in a moment, sir. I must ask you to surrender you weapons while in the guardhouse. Corporal, please take their blades and see they are stored properly." The sergeant then asked Callum and his men to sit in the chairs in front of a long table in the middle of the room. He excused himself and went to the office of the guard captain at the rear of the main room.

"Do you think we are found out?" whispered Kabar, trying not to be overheard by the corporal standing by the door.

"Not now!" hissed Callum from the corner of his mouth. "I am certain this is all a mistake, my dear Kabar. It will all be straightened out presently." he said in a louder tone, making certain the corporal could hear him.

The sergeant was gone only a few minutes when an officer in a blue tunic with a red sash walked from the office to the side room; the younger man opened the door for him and closed it behind them.

"Who do you suppose is in there?" asked Winton. He tried to see in the room as the captain walked inside, but he wasn't able to see anyone.

The tall officer entered the small room with a crisp step, placing his hands behind his back. He looked over the two young men for a moment. "I am Captain Melkin and I will be conducting this interview." he said quietly.

"Sir –" began Brey.

The officer raised his hand. "I will ask the questions and you will answer them. You will only speak when spoken to, and speak in low tones so your voice does not carry beyond this room. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." they answered quietly. It was clear the officer did not want Callum and his men to hear their report.

Captain Melkin sat down opposite the young men and folded his hands on the small table between them. "Sergeant Gant tells me you have an interesting tale to tell. I would like to hear it."

"Yes, sir." said Nev, who proceeded to recount the conversation he overheard. When he mentioned the name Jasper in his retelling the captain showed extreme interest.

"Are you certain the name you heard was 'Jasper'?" he asked, his voice changing in intensity for the first time since he walked in. He leaned forward and awaited the answer.

"Yes, sir. That was the name he used." was the reply.

Melkin took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I see. Thank you for your testimony." He pushed back his chair and stood. "Sergeant Gant, these young men are to remain in this room and silent until I return." He turned his intense gaze to the young soldier. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." he replied, snapping a salute.

Callum, Kabar, Winton, and Basker were sitting nervously in their chairs as Captain Melkin stepped out from the side room he had been in for the last twenty minutes. He stopped in front of the door he had just closed and regarded the men with an unreadable expression.

"Which of you is Mister Callum?" he asked without preamble.

"I am." replied the merchant calmly.

The officer walked across the floor with a deliberate pace and stopped behind the empty chair across the table from the men, placing his hands on the back of the chair. "I have cause to detain you and your associates in the name of the Crown. Before delivering you to the garrison at Wellton Gate, I would have you make a statement of your guilt or innocence in response to the charges to be laid against you."

"As we have done nothing wrong, I can enter a plea of not guilty to any charges, except that of absolute loyalty to the Crown." said Callum smoothly. He was prepared for this possibility and had provided himself and his friends with clear alibis; Gill, his lackey, and those two bumpkins from the riverboat could verify he had not even been in the city before today. In fact, being detained only added to the perfection of it all. There was no direct connection between him and those he had hired through an agent here in Wellton. He could deny anything they say with impunity.

"We shall see. May I assume you are the chief member of this group, Mister Callum?" inquired the officer.

"As I am their employer, I suppose you may."

Melkin smiled coldly. "Good. I will make note of your plea and have you delivered to the garrison shortly." He turned to the corporal standing near the door. "Have the prisoner wagon brought around and have the cover put on; I do not wish for these men to be seen. Saddle my horse as well."

Kabar stood up and exclaimed, "This is ridiculous! We will not be treated like common criminals!"

The captain stepped around the table the stood directly in front of the angry man. "Until I have determined you are not a criminal, I will treat you as I wish. As an officer of the Royal Army it is my duty to act as I see fit in Merridon's defense." He looked down into the man's eyes and held his gaze until Kabar turned away and sat back down. "Now that we understand one another, we will see to your transfer."

Winton cleared his throat. "Captain? Who has made an accusation against us?" he asked as politely as possible.

"Who said anyone had?" replied the Captain. "I merely stated I had reason to detain you and that charges may be levelled." The mention of the name Jasper by the young man, Neville, had nearly made his heart jump into his throat. Only two weeks before, an agent of the Royal Army had intercepted a message from a person known only as Hawk that was to be delivered to a mercenary by the name of Jasper. The message stated clearly that Jasper was to take some sort of action against the Queen in the very near future. The agent copied the letter and allowed the message to be delivered, and had a man tracking the note until it was picked up. The recipient of the instructions had been watched closely ever since. It was only by the strangest stroke of luck that these two young men approached Sergeant Gant this morning.

The captain decided to take a chance on a hunch. "Perhaps it was Jasper." he said, watching the men for any reaction. Basker started and turned deathly pale.

The rattle of a wagon pulling up in front of the guardhouse could be heard and the door opened. Four guardsmen came in the door and came to attention, waiting for orders. "Have these men bound and hooded. They are to be taken to the Wellton- Dock Gate garrison. I will escort you."

Though Callum and his crew protested loudly and resisted, their hands were tied behind them and hoods placed over their heads. They were loaded in the wagon and shut inside. Captain Melkin called for Sergeant Gant to bring the young men out. In a moment, Nev and Brey came into the main room and stood again before the officer.

"I am going to require you stay in Wellton until this matter has been settled to my satisfaction. You may have your swords but I warn you to stay within the city walls." He looked into each of their eyes to be sure they understood him. "Have you somewhere to stay in Wellton?"

Nev and Brey were both heartsick. They were supposed to go on to Groden and get on with their adventure, and now they were told they had to stay in Wellton for Creator knows how long.

"But, sir-" Brey began.

"I understand you were to continue on, but the accusation you have made requires a great deal of investigation. For all I know you may even be part of this scheme and just trying to find a way out." He held up his hand to forestall the argument forming on Nev's lips. "No, you will stay where I can find you until I am satisfied the entire truth is laid out before us." He turned to Gant and said, "Take them to their boat to retrieve their packs. I wish them searched before they are returned to them, is that clear?" The tall sergeant nodded.

"The sergeant will escort you until you have arranged for lodgings. If I need you, I do not want to have to search for you, do you understand?" he asked, his face a stern mask.

"Yes, sir." was Nev's dejected response.

As the young sergeant led the travelers out of the guardhouse and toward the docks, the captain mounted a waiting horse and led the large wagon with Callum and his men off toward the city gate.

They arrived at the dock in a short time and saw Gill sitting by a booth trying to sign passengers for a trip to Groden for a mere eight coppers.

"Have you been arrested, lads?" he asked half standing.

"No, Captain. We have to stay here for a while though, so we need to pick up our things." said Nev, still downcast over the change in their plans.

"I'm real sorry to hear that, boys." he said with genuine sympathy. "I hope you understand I can't refund your money, though. Business is business after all." he added, looking a bit guilty for saying it. His greed was still stronger than his gratitude to the boys for their help in saving the boat from grounding, but only just.

Brey laughed at this, having gained something of an understanding of the captain over the past few days. "That's all right, Captain Gill. A few coppers are not such a big amount. Besides, we learned a thing or two about river sailing, so I suppose we are even." Gill too laughed at this and sat back down, looking relieved at getting off the hook.

Gant followed the young men on board and to their cabin. He asked them to wait outside while he searched their packs, so they would have no opportunity to hide anything, he explained. He was very professional about it, almost apologetic, explaining it was just how things were done and that nothing personal was meant by it. Once he finished, he allowed them to get their packs and escorted them back toward the city.

Chapter 6 \- Radan

As they walked toward the large city gate, they wondered what they were going to do. They could afford to stay at a cheap inn for a while if necessary but that would consume much of their money and leave them very little to get by on until they could get to Groden and find work to pay for passage on a ship. Then Nev had a sudden thought.

"Brey! I have it!" he said excitedly. "The letter! The one Barlow gave us. We could find his friend and maybe he can help us." He had stopped walking when the revelation hit him.

"Come along, boys." called the sergeant, who had been walking ahead of them.

"Sorry." said Brey quickly. He pulled Nev along to keep up with the taller soldier whose pace was quick enough already. "Do you think we could find him?"

Nev reached in his cloak and pulled out the scroll with the red ribbon. Written on the outside of the scroll was the name Kale Radan. There was also the name of a road and a number. Nev called to the sergeant, "Excuse me. Sergeant Gant?"

The tall man stopped and turned, "Yes?"

Nev showed him the scroll and asked, "Do you know where this is?"

The soldier looked at the name and number for a moment then turned his gaze back to the boys in front of him. "Do you know this man?" he asked in a strange tone.

"Well," began Brey, "no. He is a friend of a friend. This is a letter we're supposed to give to him if we needed help while in Wellton."

The sergeant looked at them a moment longer and slowly handed the scroll back to Nev. "You must have some friend. General Radan is the former garrison commander of Wellton; once a top military figure in Merridon." he explained. He looked each of the young men in the eye. "I can take you there, but for your sake I hope this is not some prank; this is not a man one plays with." With that, the sergeant turned and continued on to the gate.

As they approached the gate, the adventurers saw just how large it was. It was easily twice the size of the gate at Newellen and much thicker. The gate itself was made of oak timber in two layers, at least two feet in thickness. In addition to the gate itself there was a large "sheath" made of steel set to slide down into place at the far end of a tunnel over twenty feet in length. Clearly, it would have been impossible for an enemy to assault such a gate without taking very serious losses. When Brey made this observation aloud, Sergeant Gant smiled proudly and said, "There has never in the history of Wellton been a successful assault made on these gates. Nor the walls for that matter."

The young men were led through the gate and down the broad avenue that ran in a straight line from the gate toward the center of the city. The thoroughfare they walked was lined with carts and stalls of all sorts, most hawking trinkets or foodstuffs for the traveler just passing through from the main gate. They walked for nearly a quarter of an hour, and then they were led down a narrower side street where a number of shops selling various goods stood side by side. The sergeant led them to a small shop with a curtained window facing the street. The sign above the door read 'K. Radan, Cartographer'. He stepped to the door and opened it, allowing Brey and Nev to precede him, then stepped inside himself and closed the door.

There did not appear to be anyone about. Sergeant Gant called out, "General Radan? Are you in, sir?"

There was a muffled call from the back area of the shop. "Be there in a moment!" Presently, a man of approximately seventy years of age, his back ramrod straight came walking through the door behind the counter. "Good day, Sergeant. You should know by now, however, that I am retired and no longer need to be addressed as General."

"Respect does not retire, sir." was Gant's only reply, as he stood at attention.

Radan sighed heavily, looking at the sergeant with a grin. "Gant, you have a very good chance of becoming a politician with all the crap you can shovel about."

The young sergeant finally broke and chuckled as well. "Uncle, you know very well that politics will never be my calling."

"Then I suggest you never rise above your current rank, or you will have little choice in the matter." he replied. "And who are these?" he said pointing to the travelers standing to one side of Gant.

Brey and Nev were actually staring at Sergeant Gant. They had been caught unawares when he addressed Radan as his uncle. The question about them brought their attention back to the old man before them.

"They have a letter to present to you, uncle. It seems you had a friend once." said Gant with a grin.

"Not bloody likely." snorted the old soldier. "Who's this friend of mine then?" he asked looking each young man in the eye.

Nev held out the scroll to the man and was about to say the name when the older man looked at the seal and snapped, "Say nothing! Gant, let down the door shade."

The young man did as he was told and turned to see what was to happen. He hadn't seen this kind of behavior in his uncle before and wasn't sure if there was going to be trouble. He resolved to be ready in any case.

Radan's gaze bore into the boys before him. "You," he said pointing at Brey, "describe the man who gave this to you."

Brey described Barlow as best he could, not sure what the problem was; he did know that Gant was obviously right when he said this was not a man to be taken lightly.

The old man held them riveted by his gaze, tapping the scroll lightly on the counter before him. He seemed to come to a decision and set the scroll down and seemed to relax a little. "So, which of you is Aubrey?"

The questioned stunned Brey and Nev as well as Sergeant Gant, who made a noise of surprise from behind the boys.

Radan began to laugh loudly. "You should see the faces I am looking at right now!" He continued to laugh for a few minutes while the young men all looked at him in astonishment.

"Before you start thinking I am a witch, let me enlighten you all." He pulled over his stool and sat down with a sigh. "About a year back, my old friend wrote me about a couple of apt students who seemed to be as romantically minded as he about seeking fame, fortune, and adventure. Something I assure you he had aplenty, though not in the way you seek it. He told me their names and that he might give them a letter of introduction in case they should step in something along the way and need my help."

Seeing that Gant still didn't quite understand, he continued. "Please, lads, put down your packs. And Gant, for the love of the Creator, stand at ease!" he looked at his nephew a moment longer and said, "What I am going to say here, son, must remain a secret. Do you understand?" Gant nodded. "I will assume you lads are already aware of the need for secrecy."

Radan settled himself a bit more comfortably and began stuffing a pipe with tobacco as he began his tale in earnest. "More years ago than I care to remember, I had a friend in the army who enlisted about the same time I did. In fact, we had the same sergeant for our initial training. This friend was eager to become the very best soldier in the entire Army with a single purpose in mind; he wanted to be part of the famed Queen's Regiment." The old general paused to light his pipe. He inhaled deeply and allowed the smoke to wreath is head, then continued. "This lad was more than just eager; he was also a very gifted soldier. I have trained many men in my time and I have yet to see his equal. He kept pushing the limits and moving himself forward until fortune smiled on the fool and he got his wish, though at great cost. He was given a place in the QR and began to make a name for himself there as well. As we were both stationed in Wellton, he and I saw each other often and our friendship continued. In time, he became what even he could not have dreamed – Hero of the Realm." At this, Gant gasped.

Radan smiled kindly at his nephew. "That's right, lad. This friend was none other than Braydon. Throughout those greater years, he never forgot our friendship and did me several good turns, though none I did not also merit on experience, skill, or knowledge. It was he, in fact, who appointed me to garrison commander of this fair city." He smiled at the memory. "Boys, those were truly the days of heroes and men of honor. Sadly, there are not as many in these times of peace. No chance to separate the soldiers from the politicians, I'm afraid."

"Well," he said after a moment lost in the memory, "to make a grand tale nothing more than a short story, my friend wanted to retire and couldn't think of a way to do it without being pestered by fans or potential acolytes." Radan chuckled. "He came to me one night to ask a favor, something he rarely ever did. He wished to disappear.

"Now, to make a national figure and Hero of the Realm thrice over just disappear takes a bit of doing, I can tell you." Radan pulled on his pipe, making another cloud of aromatic smoke float in the still air of the shop. "We had to plan every step of this operation and also arrange for a safe method of communication. Fortunately, the old scoundrel had already chosen a place to go. He fancied a little town very far removed from any major roads or garrisons; he chose your hometown, lads, Carsby village. He said it reminded him of his home, a little town that was wiped from existence during one of the many wars we had back in those dangerous days.

"When I got him safely delivered to Newellen, I left him in the hands of a capable old sergeant whom he and I had both fought with and knew to be a reliable man."

"Sergeant Bergen!" blurted Nev in his excitement.

The old general looked a Nev with a glint in his eye. "I see you've met. What else did that old windbag let out about it?"

"Nothing at all, sir!" said Nev defensively. "It was he who recognized the name Barlow and let us know he knew who it was; but he didn't say anything out loud. He-"

Radan gently cut Nev off. "I believe you, lad, I believe you. In fact, that is why he is there instead of here, where he was until shortly before Braydon retired." He nodded in approval, though clearly Nev was a bit put out by the insinuation that Bergen was less than completely trustworthy.

"Well then, to finish this tale quickly. Bergen got him sent off to his new home in Carsby and served to divert the curious who might come looking for him. In fact, we have a man in nearly every large garrison in the land. We have gone to a great deal of trouble to let Barlow have his peace in life." He picked up the scroll and pointed to the seal. "This seal is most unusual too. In point of fact, it is only half of a seal. The day he retired, he broke his seal in half. He has one half and I have the other. So you see that is how I knew you were not a fake, coming in search of the great Braydon. And since he mentioned a couple lads in his last letter a year ago, you two could only be them. Though I can't seem to remember the other name. Something with an N in it I think."

"Neville, sir. Neville Morton." interjected Nev.

Radan nodded. "So, now that we are all up to speed, what brings you to my door? Are you in trouble?" he asked, glancing at the young sergeant. Gant shook his head slightly.

"No, sir. At least I don't think so." Brey went on to explain what had transpired and why they decided to find him.

"The gang has been brought to the garrison for further questioning." added Gant. "Captain Melkin is going to question them personally." he added with a wry smile.

"Hah! I bet he is." laughed the old soldier. "That man is a politician through and through; if he can find them guilty that would be a big feather in his cap." He shook his head in disgust. "It's a shame true ability and leadership don't carry the weight they used to."

He turned and regarded the young men before him once more. "Now, let's see what Barlow would have me do with you." He broke the seal and read the letter silently.

Nev and Brey stood silently, waiting for him to finish. They weren't quite sure what to make of the retired general. He seemed quite different from their mentor in so many ways; it was hard to imagine they were close friends. Where Barlow was calm and patient, Radan was loud and almost harsh in his speaking. Where Barlow smiled readily and talked often, the former garrison commander was prone to staring, examining in a way that was quite disconcerting. He made the young travelers nervous.

As he finished reading the note, he laughed shortly. "The man will never change." He looked up at them for a moment and then seemed to come to a decision. "Well, lads, it seems I am asked to offer my help and hospitality should you ask for it. Since you have come to my door I will assume you are asking."

"Well," began Nev, "we really just need someplace to stay until we are allowed to continue on our trip- if that's all right with you, that is!" he added hastily, not wanting to seem impertinent.

"I am an unmarried man with a large enough home to accommodate you. It would be not imposing at all to allow you to stay for a bit." He grinned a bit at Nev and added, "Besides, our friend has asked one more favor of me, and it very much involves you."

The travelers and Radan bid Gant goodbye and then the old man led the boys to the back of the store and up a steep stairway to the next floor.

"You can sleep in that room there." he said, pointing to a room at the back of the building. "You'll need to haul your own water and clean your own pots. I may be hospitable, but I am not an innkeeper."

"Thank you, sir." said Brey. "We really appreciate this."

"No need. I owe Braydon a few favors and this one doesn't cost me much." He stopped and turned back from the stairs he was about to descend. "And don't call me 'sir'. My army days are done and, like old Barlow, I am getting to like it. Just call me Radan."

"Um, Radan? What did Barlow ask you do with me?" Nev had been afraid to ask before now. The former general scared him a little and he was very nervous about this unknown 'favor'.

He grinned at the youth and said, "Stow your gear and come on down when you're set. Bring your blades with you." With that, he went downstairs.

They prepared their bedrolls, to save time later and washed their faces in the bowl in the room. When they felt ready, they went down the stairs. They found the old man sitting behind the counter of his shop going over several different maps with a grizzled looking character in a shabby blue cloak. The stranger glared at them suspiciously. Radan looked over his shoulder at them. "Would you lads mind waiting for me in the back?"

They went back to the kitchen area and sat down. In a few minutes, the old man came back to join them. "Sorry about that. Some of my customers are a might suspicious; especially if they are heading north to look for gold or silver."

He went to the stove and set a kettle on to boil. "I wager you are wondering what Barlow had to say about you in his letter, eh?" he asked with a grin.

Nev shifted nervously on his seat. "Well, I am a bit curious."

Radan came to the table and sat across from them. "He wrote that you are a fair swordsman, but you have a little problem that he is not best equipped to deal with. He is too blind." He pointed a finger across the table. "You have a problem that is fairly common and not often properly dealt with. I have dealt with it before and I know what to do to fix it." He got up and went back to the stove to remove the boiling water for tea.

"Your problem, young man, is that you have got to get comfortable with your swordplay and get your head back in the fight. Frustration will get you killed as surely as any lack of skill." Radan brought the kettle to the table and retrieved three cups from the sideboard. "I am going to finish your training in a way that Barlow cannot. He can teach you every move with a sword known to man, but he cannot teach critical thought in swordplay. His problem is that he does it without knowing he does it and the rest of us have to try. That is what I am going to teach you."

That evening after Radan closed his shop, he took them to the small courtyard behind his home and began the training. At first, he had the young men spar. They went on until Brey had gotten his fifth touch and he asked them to stop.

"I will make the most obvious observation first. Aubrey, you are a superior swordsman. You have a bit of what Barlow has, fighting with mind and body without having to give it much thought. That alone makes you a poor sparring partner for Neville. Your skill and your presence of mind are too much for him to handle just yet. He will spar with me or perhaps Gant from now on." He turned to Nev with a smile on his face. "My old friend exaggerated your situation a bit. You are a good swordsman; you would make a solid soldier or constable. From what I can see, your main problem is not being able to anticipate your foe. Let me show you what you are not grasping."

Radan spent the next hour showing the lines of attack or defense from a given sword position. If the enemy attacks this way, he will have to go this way or that way because it is the only thing he can do. The elder swordsman showed Nev each scenario in turn and reviewed what the enemy could do. Then he sparred with the younger pupil, leading him through each series. In another hour, Nev was able to successfully defend every attack that Radan launched. His confidence was up and he was able to think clearly, now that he had a way to better anticipate his enemy. The old man halted training as the sun was beginning to set.

"Now do you see what Barlow tried to show you before?" he asked. "What he sometimes forgets to tell his students is this; not all lines of attack are open in all fighting situations. He just knows what's possible and it doesn't occur to him that you don't see it that way too. You are looking for too many things that might happen when only one or two are possible. Understand?

"I do, I really do." replied Nev excitedly. "I didn't understand it before, but I can see it now." He swished his sword dramatically a few times before returning it to his scabbard.

Nev went inside with a glow of accomplishment about him. He felt sure with a bit of practice he could handle himself well enough in a fight now.

The young men waited at Radan's home for three days, practicing and occasionally venturing out to explore the neighborhood around the shop. Late on the fourth day, after a meal of bacon and cheese, the three sat around the table talking. A knock was heard on the door of the shop, loud and insistent. The old man got up and went to the door, and called, "I'm closed! Come back tomorrow."

"General Radan! Please open in the name of the Queen's Chamberlain!" called a voice from outside the door.

He peered through the screen and then opened the door. "What does that old windbag want of me now? I'm retired and happily so." He barked at the young officer standing outside. "Tell him I –".

"I am not here for you, sir." the lieutenant interrupted. "I bear a message for the young men staying with you." He looked a scroll he carried. "Aubrey Cousins and Neville Morton."

Radan squinted at the young man closely. "Magar, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir." was the prompt reply.

"Have you come to arrest them?"

"No, sir! In fact, quite the opposite. I bear a proclamation from her Majesty. Chamberlain Osten has bid me deliver it."

Radan's eyebrows shot up. "Indeed? Well then, come in, Magar." He led the officer to the rear of the house and introduced him to the young men. "It seems, lads, you are to have a letter read to you."

The lieutenant came to attention, opened the scroll with a smooth motion, and began to read.

"In the name of Her Majesty, Queen Arriana, thanks are extended to Aubrey Cousins and Neville Morton of the village of Carsby for their part in the discovery and arrest of traitors to the Crown. Further, let it be known that these men are known as Friends of the Crown for their loyalty and their action.

By way of reward, these men are to be awarded the sum of five gold pieces each.

Their service to the Crown shall be remembered and valued.

With gratitude,

Osten, Chamberlain to Arriana, Queen of all Merridon"

When he finished reading, Magar rolled the parchment back up and replaced the ribbon. He solemnly handed the scroll to Nev, who held it carefully, as though it may break in his hands. He reached inside his tunic and removed a heavy pouch, passing it to Brey.

"To be named Friend of the Crown means your name is known to the Queen and that She acknowledges you personally. This is a rare honor for a commoner and one that is not to be regarded lightly. Think of it as Her Majesty's way of shaking your hand in thanks, while being unable to actually do it in person." He said with a wry smile.

"You two are to be congratulated;" he continued more conversationally, "it seems after one of the men finally broke, we were able to ascertain the true identity of the man you knew as Callum." Turning to Radan he continued. "He was none other than Chalakan, a spy from the south who has sought the overthrow of the Merridonian crown for many years. It was he who sent a message to Jasper under the code name of Hawk regarding some action that was to take place today."

Radan breathed in sharply. "Chalakan!? Why would he have put himself in such danger? I understood he was a very crafty individual."

The lieutenant chuckled, "It seems he saddled himself with the wrong underlings. One of them broke without any torture at all." Then he frowned slightly. "Though I understand none would speak of what they had planned in the city, for surely they had something planned here, or Chalakan would not have put himself in peril."

"It is fairly well known that some of the lesser families still feel they have a claim on the crown, and it would be simple to place one of them on the throne and control them from behind the curtain, so to speak." replied Radan.

"Indeed." said Magar.

"I'm not sure I understand." interjected Brey. "Hasn't the royal family been on the throne for a long time?"

"They have, lad, but some folks just don't know how to forget. Or forgive." replied the general. "That's why there were so many little wars back in my younger days. Some of those families thought they could take back the power by force. Now it seems our enemy to the south believes they can move on Merridon by placing a puppet ruler on the throne. Clever really."

The four men talked a while longer about Callum, his plot, and his capture, then Magar excused himself and bid them a good night. Radan and the young men decided to call it an early night and went to bed.

The next morning, the boys arose and went downstairs; the old soldier was just coming in from the courtyard, stripped to the waist and slick with sweat. "Good morning, lads, I trust you slept well." he said as he wiped off the perspiration with a towel.

"Yes, thank you." replied Nev, looking at the man in askance.

Radan caught the look and explained, "I keep myself in shape daily. Just because I am retired does not mean I should allow myself to go to fat."

"Barlow does much the same." replied Brey. "We have seen him taking long walks in the morning and he still practices with his sword often."

"I'd be surprised if he didn't, some habits are too old to break." laughed the older man. "I have several appointments this morning. Perhaps you should walk around a bit and take in the capitol of our fair Merridon. You can also decide your best way to continue on to Groden, now that you're free to leave, though you are welcome stay as long as you care to."

Chapter 7 – In The Queen's Regiment

Wellton was a labyrinthine assortment of streets and alleyways in various states of repair and cleanliness, arranged in roughly east-west and north-south lines. In the area immediately surrounding Radan's shop, the streets were narrow and somewhat dark, but not in disrepair. They learned that part of the city was older, but housed solid working-class folk who largely abided the law and kept their neighborhood clean and safe. Only a quarter mile west, toward the outer wall, the houses became more run down and the rate of crime a bit higher. A quarter mile east, toward the center of the city the houses grew in size, the shops were more expensive, and crime rate much lower. The young men were amazed in such changes over so short a span of distance. Being country-bred they had not encountered such a phenomenon before.

While considering their next steps and what supplies they may need on their journey, Brey remembered he needed boots and the lads set out to find a cobbler or clothier who might have a reasonably priced pair. Though they had plenty of money now, he saw no need to be extravagant. Besides, they needed to save as much as they could for their passage to the Crystalline Sea.

A cobbler was found who sold good, sturdy boots at fair prices and they each got a new pair. They asked the man where they could get a good meal and he directed them to a nice inn two streets over. He explained they could go through the alley around the corner and go straight through to that street. Brey thanked the man and he and Nev went toward the alley indicated.

Rounding the corner, they found the alley easily and walked through to the next street. Halfway to the last street was a small courtyard with a few booths selling cheap trinkets and scarves. Only a few people were gathered there, which made seeing her almost inevitable.

She was wrapped in a common brown cloak and wearing plain clothing, but she was the most amazing thing Brey had ever seen in his life. She had skin the color of marble and fine, golden hair cascading gently over one shoulder. Her eyes had just the slightest tilt at the corners making her appear wonderfully exotic. The young woman's heart-shaped face was perfection, her high cheekbones accentuating the gentle line of her jaw. Her full lips, the color of roses, were exquisitely shaped. In short, she was more beautiful than any princess in any story Brey had ever read.

She was looking at scarves, pulling them down from the rod on which they were hung one by one, holding each up to the light to see how the sunlight filtered through. She found one she liked and smiled brightly, causing Brey to stop breathing for several seconds.

Nev had walked on several steps before he realized his friend was not beside him. He turned back and looked at him, then turned and looked at the object of Brey's adoration. Nev walked back to his companion and shook him slightly. "Hey, chum. If you don't start breathing, you will keel over right here."

Brey shook himself and took a deep breath. "Isn't she the loveliest thing you've ever seen?" He was thoroughly smitten and could not take his eyes from her face.

"She is very beautiful, but we aren't staying in Wellton, Brey." responded Nev gently, he grabbed Brey's arm and started to pull him along.

They started walking toward the alleyway opposite and Nev noticed a man standing there staring at the girl as well. "Besides, it looks like you have competition." he said with a wry smile. As the other turned to look at the man, four more came into the courtyard from the alley they were approaching and the one who had been standing by the wall joined them and walked toward the young woman. They silently surrounded her and they reached for their swords. Without thought, both young men also drew their swords.

The tall man in the dull gray robe said clearly, "You should never have left your guards. Now you are mine!" With his last statement, he stepped forward and spun the beautiful girl around, placing the tip of his dagger at her neck. She gasped and backpedaled until she was up against the stall at which she had been shopping. The crowd ran quickly from the alleyway, leaving only Brey and Nev and the brigands with their captive.

The men were standing relaxed as they watched their leader, so they were completely unprepared as Brey and Nev attacked them from behind. Two men were hamstrung and unable to fight before they even knew what happened, the remaining swordsmen spun quickly and held their swords at the ready.

"Let her go!" yelled Brey, his bloodied sword leveled at the man who held his knife to the young woman's throat.

"Deal with them!" barked the leader, grabbing the girl by the arm tightly. The other two men held their swords low, swinging them slowly side to side.

Nev was only a little nervous. The last sword fight he was in, he was nearly run through by Fletcher the Fierce; however, this time was different, he was now truly ready. All the patterns and series that Radan had shown him were clear in his mind. His opponent swung his sword in a slow overhand stroke, obviously underestimating his ability. Nev blocked easily and struck low and fast, drawing blood from the villain's left knee. The man hobbled backward and switched his stance, putting his right leg more to the fore and making his left-handed attack clumsier. The robed swordsman began a series of strikes and counter strikes that were quite basic. In Nev's mind, it was obvious the injured man was not able to put up a serious offense. The young man countered the last feeble strike and forced the man to defend his weak side then pressed until the man began to loose his balance. In short-order the man was clearly ready to fall. The enemy tried to side-step to right himself, but he only succeeded in throwing himself further off balance, allowing Nev to step in and score a solid hit to his sword arm. The criminal was not able to continue and threw his sword aside, laying down in submission.

As for Brey, his foe was uninjured and more skilled than Nev's vanquished foe had been and was able to give and take in a fierce exchange where each man was put to the test. The would-be kidnapper would attack high and defend low. Brey knew this gambit and began setting up the attacker for a surprise. Barlow had shown them many different types of attacks, including those that involved long series of strokes not so easily picked up by the defender, allowing them to be caught in a 'trap'. Brey knew the man would continue with a high-low series for a several exchanges, letting him slip into a rhythm and be caught when the foe switched tactics suddenly, thus catching him off guard, and likely running him through. The young man had used such a tactic himself in his 'demonstration' with Corporal Winrow in Newellen.

Brey wasn't going to wait for the trap to spring on him. He waited for the next series to start and then countered with a series of thrusts to his opponent's weak side followed by a rapid high-low exchange; this was intended to cause the man to fall out of his own rhythm and allow our hero to make a killing stroke.

While Brey and his opponent rang blow after blow on each other, Nev moved cautiously toward the man holding the young woman hostage. He wanted to make sure this man would not escape while the battle was raging. The man saw him coming and sized him up. The tall criminal opted to pull the young woman in front of him and hold his knife-edge to her throat. Obviously, he planned to escape with his life, even if it meant killing the girl. Nev stopped before the man and held his sword ready, though not threatening him directly as yet.

Behind him, Nev, he could hear the sharp ring of steel meeting steel. By watching the face of the man in front of him, he could gauge how the battle was going. The man's expression went from annoyance to anger to consternation and then to fear as the blows seemed to be coming closer and closer together. Just as the man's eyes widened in shock, Nev heard the man behind him groan in pain; Brey had won. In a moment, his friend stood beside him.

Brey moved a bit to one side so that the man had no escape. "Let her go and we will spare your life. Three of your men are sorely injured and one is dead, your only means of escape is to let her go and run for your life." His voice sounded strange in his ears, as though someone else had spoken the words.

The man kept a hold on the girl and began moving toward Nev slowly, the young man moved to block his escape. "Just let her go, mister. You can leave if you let her go unharmed." Nev held his rock steady blade before him. The man looked from one to the other then suddenly thrust the girl toward Brey and ran for the alley at top speed.

Brey quickly stepped to the side to catch the young woman as she lost her balance. She clung to his arm tightly and began to cry, her first tears since the ordeal began. He set down his sword and held her as she wept. Between sobs she thanked them over and over.

Nev gathered the injured men together, disarming them. Just then, four crimson uniformed guards burst into the alley from the same direction the travelers had come. They leveled their swords and ordered Nev to drop his weapon. One large soldier grabbed Brey, wrested the girl from him, and held him at sword point.

"Stop!" was the loud cry heard from the young woman. "Put up your swords, they are not the criminals you seek." She pointed to the injured villains sitting huddled together. "Those and one who escaped are the men you want."

"Are you harmed, Your –" The girl silenced him with a quick motion, her composure once more intact.

"I am fine, thank you. It is, of course, all my fault for sneaking out." said the girl with a sidelong glance at the young men. "We should go; I am sure my mother will be very upset with me." Without even looking back, she turned and walked down the alley, the cloaked guardsmen close around her. Brey watched her walk away with a pang of disappointment sharp in his chest. In the stories he had read, the hero was rewarded with a kiss for rescuing the fair maiden. It seemed that was only in stories.

One soldier remained behind to get an accounting of the attack and to watch over the remaining criminals until the constables could take them into custody. After Nev and Brey had given their names and their statement of events, they began walking back to Radan's shop without having eaten; their appetites seemed to have fled. Brey was troubled and remained quiet almost the entire way back. Soon Nev asked him what the matter was.

"Nev, I ran that man through. I killed him." He took a breath as though to say more, but nothing came out.

"You had no choice, Brey. He would have done the same to you if he had gotten the chance."

"I know. It's just – " He couldn't frame his many feelings into a single thought. He just shook his head and continued to brood. Soon they were back to Radan's shop and related the events of the day to the old general.

"And you say the soldiers that came at last were wearing crimson tunics and cloaks? You are certain of that?"

"Yes." said Nev. "Is that important?"

Radan looked from one to the other and grinned. "I guess not, but I have a feeling you two may have stepped in something again. You seem to have a talent for it."

"Why?" asked Brey fearfully. He was terrified he would be taken into custody for killing the man. "Who are those crimson cloaked men, Radan?"

"A crimson cloak is the uniform of the Queen's Regiment, lad. You may have saved a young noblewoman from harm. If so, you are not likely to be bothered over killing a common criminal in self-defense. Not to worry, Aubrey, if they were going to arrest you, they would have done it already." He patted the younger man on the shoulder to reassure him. "Well, nothing for it now but to wait and see. Why don't you try to eat something? Worrying on an empty stomach will only make you feel worse."

The evening passed without event and the boys tried to get some sleep, but it was not to come easily. They spent a restless night, alternately trying to sleep and sitting up talking quietly about the day's events. Brey was hit especially hard at having taken a life, regardless of how lawless the man may have been. No matter how hard he tried to justify the act by claiming self-defense, his small town upbringing told him he was a killer nonetheless.

Early the next morning, there was a banging on the door of Radan's shop followed shortly by the sleepy old soldier's exclamations. "What in the name of the Creator is all the noise about!" he barked as he made his way to the front of the shop. He peered around the shade, holding up his lantern see who was there. "This had better be good, it's not even dawn yet." he said testily as he opened the door.

"I apologize for waking you so early, General. I am to deliver a message to your guests, if they are still here." announced the man. He was a man of middle years, a good fifteen years younger than Radan, wearing a crisp white and crimson uniform, adorned with clusters indicating he was a Guard Captain.

"Any reason you couldn't have delivered this in daylight, Captain Gelling?"

"Chamberlain Osten was quite clear that the message be delivered as early as possible." he replied. "Your guests are to be brought to the Chamberlain's office no later than one hour past dawn, sir. You may accompany them if you choose."

Radan made a sour face. "Osten has always been very fond of being 'quite clear'. Wait here." He walked to the back where Nev and Brey had been sitting at the table, trying to hear what was going on.

"Have they come to arrest me?" asked Brey, his hands trembling. His mind conjured images of being brought to prison in chains.

"Doubt it. The Queen's Chamberlain seldom involves himself in the simple arrest of street fighters. Let's go and see what the Captain really wants." He turned and walked back to the front of the store.

The captain was still standing by the door, his posture rigid and his face serious. He looked over the young men with their plain clothing and tousled hair and said, "I am to bring you to the office of Chamberlain Osten. You cannot go looking like that, however. You will need to make yourselves more- presentable." He practically sneered as he said 'presentable'.

Radan made an ugly noise, but said nothing to him. "C'mon, lads. Let's find something presentable to wear and see what the old windbag wants."

"You're coming too?" asked Brey with a surge of relief.

"I wouldn't honor my old friend's request well by letting you go alone, now would I?" he replied as he entered his room to dress. The young men ran up to the loft to find their best clothes. After changing clothes, they went out back to wash their faces and comb their hair as best they could. In a short span of time, they were ready to leave. Dawn was just beginning to break.

Outside Radan's shop was a carriage unlike anything either of the young men had ever seen; it even got a comment from the surly old general. "Not pulling out any of the stops is he?" he asked, mostly to himself. "That settles it, lads. I guarantee you will never be brought to prison in a carriage. It seems Osten is trying to be impressive."

He looked over at the awed expressions of Nev and Brey. "Guess its working on you two anyway." he said with a laugh. They stepped up into the carriage along with the captain; a young soldier sitting in front shook the reins sending the horses walking along the street.

The carriage ride through the streets of Wellton was quite a novelty for the two young men, Carl's four-wheeled wagon being the most extravagant conveyance they had been on outside of the riverboat. The next novelty came after ten minutes of riding when the ornate gates of the castle came into view. Both gasped at the sight of the golden gates, the guards standing perfectly to attention, and the banners and pennons flying from battlements and spear tips. The castle itself was a constructed of light grey granite blocks, nearly two feet to a side. The walls were over fifty feet high, almost smooth, and broken only by the few arrow slits facing the front. It seemed exactly as they had read about in adventures.

"I imagine," began Radan, interrupting their thoughts, "you might be thinking that this is how it is supposed to be. Books and stories tend to make castles and palaces more grand and exciting than they really are. Although, I have to admit this is a remarkable castle in that it is probably as close to one of those stories as you can reasonably expect to get, but don't get too caught up, we are here to visit, not move in."

They entered the gate without stopping and rode up to a broad stairway at the right side of the massive edifice. Captain Gelling led them through the doorway and down a long corridor. He turned left and right several times before stopping in front of a polished wooden door adorned with ornate iron hinges, and knocked.

"Enter." was the muffled reply.

As the young men entered the large room, they saw a plain looking man standing by a desk, looking over some papers. He looked up and smiled widely. "Well, well. Please, come in." His smile lost a bit of its brilliance as he saw Radan. "General." He added, nodding his head slightly.

Radan seemed a bit cool. "Osten. Good to see you again." There was much tension in the air over that very brief exchange. It seemed there was a history of unpleasantness between them.

The Queen's Chamberlain stepped forward and shook each hand in turn, even Radan's. "I hope you weren't too inconvenienced being awakened so early."

"That's all right." responded Brey nervously.

Seeing his agitation, Osten got to the point. "I imagine you are wondering why you are here this morning, correct?"

Both young men nodded. Radan thought it obvious why they were there, a young noble woman was rescued and the 'secretary' wanted to get some of that glory to rub off on him.

"When you arrived in Wellton a few days ago, I am told, you were instrumental in the capture of a known enemy of the Crown." They nodded again. "Then, yesterday afternoon, you were involved in a bit of a skirmish in the city. It seems your intervention was quite timely, as well as valuable to the Crown yet again. Let me explain why. Please, have a seat." he offered, gesturing to the chairs in front of his large desk. He sat in his own comfortable chair behind the desk.

"The Princess Ashlynn is a precocious young lady, as was her mother at that age, I understand. She has made a habit of eluding her escort and venturing into the city without protection, sometimes with one of her ladies-in-waiting, though more often alone. Yesterday was one such day. It seems the event that the spy, Chalakan, was waiting for was the opportunity to abduct or perhaps assassinate the Princess Ashlynn."

Radan nearly jumped up from his seat. "By the Creator! Chalakan had become desperate indeed to try something like that. The Queen would never have succumbed to such extortion; surely he must have known that."

"It is hard to say, General Radan. A mother would give much to save her child; perhaps even the throne." replied Osten.

Nev half raised his hand and asked, "I don't understand, sir. What does this have to do with us?"

"Everything, Nev." answered the general. "The girl you two rescued yesterday was the Princess Ashlynn."

"Indeed, my friends, it was the Princess." Osten responded. "And in order to properly express her gratitude as both mother and Queen, Her Majesty would like to thank you two personally."

It took a moment for that to sink in for the young men. Their hearts began to race as they realized they were to meet their ruler. Brey's raced even more, since he would again get to meet the young woman who had so completely taken his breath away the day before. And she was the Princess!

"Now," began the official, "before I bring you to see them, I must provide you with some instruction. I understand you are country lads and unfamiliar with the protocol of meeting royalty." he said with a smile.

The young men nodded and laughed nervously. For the next ten minutes, Osten showed them how to kneel and bow properly and what phrases were required when greeting or bidding a monarch farewell. As far as Nev could tell, being a royal person must be very difficult; there was an awful lot to remember just to say hello and goodbye. Once the chamberlain deemed they were ready, he called for a page and asked him to inform the Queen her guests were here and at her disposal. Nev wasn't sure what that meant, but trusted that Osten and Radan must.

The messenger returned in less than ten minutes to say the Queen would receive her guests in her sitting room. This news caused Radan to raise his eyebrows. "Seems this may be less formal than you thought, Osten, if she is to see us in her sitting room"

"Not at all," replied the balding man, "she meant for the audience to be informal, given the nature of the service these young men have provided her personally. She is speaking as monarch and mother both, and the throne room is for monarchs only, mothers can be seen in sitting rooms, however." he replied with a good-natured chuckle.

The old soldier actually laughed with him. "I see your point." Nev and Brey had no idea what they were talking about, their only thought was they were going to meet the Queen and they were never more nervous in their young lives.

Once again they were walking the halls of the castle, the chamberlain led the way, his robes of office billowing as he took long strides along the stone corridor. In a short time, they approached an arched doorway with two ornately decorated, iron-bound doors and four guards. The sentinels snapped to attention as they approached. From the slightly sour look Osten gave Radan, this action may have been for the retired commander's sake rather than the royal official's.

The Chamberlain walked up to the door and knocked. The door was opened a moment later by a butler dressed all in white except for a black waistcoat and bow tie, who gestured that they may enter. The chamber was by far the largest single room either young man had ever been in. It was larger than the inn they stayed at in Newellen! Their eyes were everywhere at once, trying to take it all in; all others in the room went unnoticed until a high clear voice spoke.

"Please, come in." The voice belonged to a beautiful woman with long golden hair and clear green eyes. She stood near a dining table wearing a dress the same orange color as autumn leaves, soft yet vibrant. Sitting at the table beside her was the young woman from the market, looking somewhat shy. She held her hands in her lap and her chin was raised, though not so high as to make her look haughty. Her dress was a soft blue, like that of the spring sky. Her eyes flickered over Nev and rested on Brey for a longer moment before being demurely downcast.

Brey's eyes didn't see the Queen in that moment; they rested on the radiant face of the Princess. He too lowered his eyes after a moment, not wanting to offend her by being too forward. Then both he and Nev remembered who stood before them and knelt quickly, causing Osten to cringe slightly at the abruptness and clumsiness of the young men. Radan and Osten knelt as well, though with much better form.

"Please, gentlemen, there is no need for that here. I do not wish for this to be a formal ceremony." Her gaze shifted to the servants present in the room. "Would you please leave us?" she asked politely. As Nev rose, he marveled that the Queen of a whole land would be so polite. He had envisioned rulers as being the kind of people who gave commands and did not need to use their manners.

Once the doors to the sitting room were closed, the Queen asked them to come closer. They walked on shaky legs toward the ruler of their country feeling very uncertain of what to do next. Brey was first to remember what Osten had told him to say and Nev repeated it just as awkwardly right after. Arriana, Queen of all Merridon laughed a silvery laugh that seemed to relax her young guests almost instantly.

"I see my chamberlain has tutored you in the niceties of greeting royalty. Well done, you have done your duty to ceremony." She smiled sweetly at them and they returned that smile tentatively. "With that out of the way I hope we can relax." She looked at each speculatively for a moment and stated, "You must be Neville." choosing him correctly.

"Yes, Ma'am- I mean, your Majesty." he replied, quickly correcting himself.

She turned her gaze to his chum and said, "That would make you, Aubrey. My daughter tells me you are a fierce swordsman." Brey blushed and nodded his head.

"In fact, you must both be quite skilled indeed, I am told by my daughter's guard captain that the men you defeated were known to be well-trained and quite dangerous. Pity we were not able to capture their leader, Jasper. However, given the situation, I am quite pleased to have him go free if it means my beloved Ashlynn lives." She gazed lovingly at her daughter as she said the last.

She turned to her other visitor. "General Radan, it is wonderful to see you again. I trust your business is good."

He bowed slightly, "It is, Your Majesty. Thank you for asking." It was clear the general had the utmost respect for Her Majesty.

She gestured toward the table and said, "Please, let us all sit. Given the hour, I would wager you are all in need of breakfast."

On the table was a meal so sumptuous it was nearly overwhelming to the country-bred lads. They had never seen so much food served for a single meal in all their lives. There was a large bowl of eggs, scrambled to perfection; a platter heaped with sausages, ham and steaks; a large assortment of drinks; and many kinds of bread, some toasted and some plain. Creams and sauces whose purpose they could only guess at were also served. The young men ate their fill, as they were invited to do by Her Majesty, using their best manners of course. Throughout breakfast, Brey and Ashlynn stole glances at one another and occasionally exchanged a few words.

Nev was enjoying the wonderful food and listening as the Queen and Radan made small talk and answered the questions asked of him. She has asked him the purpose of their journey and he related their goal to her. She commented that while it was an ambitious undertaking, it was clear the young men were determined and capable and she felt certain they would succeed. He glowed at the confidence she showed in them.

All in all, he found the whole idea of having breakfast with the Royal family quite surreal and he thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. Soon everyone had finished their meal and was enjoying a cup of tea.

"I am afraid," said the beautiful Queen, "that my day must start in earnest in a short time. So I must proceed with the other reason you have been brought here; though I assure you, I would much rather spend the day in your gentle company." She rose and glided to a side table where she picked up a little silver bell and rang it lightly. Momentarily, the butler came into the room carrying a silver tray; atop it were two scrolls and two small boxes. The man set the tray down on the table, bowed, and left without a word.

"Last night," she began, "I gave much thought as to how one rewards another for selflessly thrusting himself into a battle not of his own making and saving the life of a person he has never met. I puzzled over this for some time in fact." She picked up the scrolls and turned toward the table where the others sat. "Such action would be expected of one of the Queen's Regiment, for that is their duty. You two have no military oath or vow binding you to such action; you have only your own honor, your decency, and your bravery.

"It occurred to me that no amount of silver or gold could adequately express my feelings about this. I also understand you have already been given a monetary reward for aiding in the capture of the spy, Chalakan. No, this reward cannot simply be more gold, for the service you have provided is too profound. You have shown the kind of skill and bravery we seek in selecting soldiers to serve as my personal guard; given that, I have decided to confer upon the two of you the honorary rank of Sergeant in the Queen's Regiment, with all the privileges that entails." She handed each a scroll.

Radan gasped at the proclamation. "By the Creator!" he exclaimed.

The young men were thunderstruck. They held the scrolls in trembling hands as though they were made of glass. Could they have heard her correctly? Such an honor is long sought by almost every soldier; becoming a member of the Queen's Regiment can take years, as it had for their mentor, Barlow.

Queen Arriana smiled at their awestruck faces. "I can see you are surprised. Well, I assure you it is well deserved. Your actions are precisely those we seek in the men who would protect the Royal family." She seemed thoughtful for a moment. "In fact, you two remind me much of a former member of this select group. In my youth, I met another soldier who acted as you have, without thought of self, taking on a great challenge and emerging victorious; Braydon, my former advisor. It is good to see that such men still exist in the Realm." The young men exchanged amazed looks at being compared so favorably to the greatest Hero of the Realm and their mentor, Braydon.

She turned to the table and retrieved the two small boxes. "These insignia, worn upon your cloak, denote your rank; wear them proudly. Though this may be an honorary rank, it is granted for the same reasons a serving soldier may receive it." Still speechless, they accepted the boxes. "Osten will take you from here to the quartermaster where you will also receive your crimson uniform and cloak."

She stepped back, looked at the stunned young men, and giggled almost girlishly. "I can see you will need some time to absorb all of this."

Brey tried to speak, but in the end could only manage a weak 'thank you'.

She replied gently, "Do not thank me, Aubrey; it is I who am grateful. To the both of you." She reached out and took each by the hand pulled them to their feet; she held their hands a moment and kissed them each lightly on the cheek. Ashlynn, too, arose and bestowed a light kiss upon each, thanking them.

"I am afraid it is time for us to go. Godspeed on your journey and know that you have the gratitude of all Merridon." Both lads wished them goodbye, then she and the princess turned to leave, Ashlynn's gaze lingering a moment longer on Brey's face. The Queen stopped a moment to bid the general goodbye and then she and her daughter left the room through a door in the back.

Osten led the young men to the quartermaster and had them sized and outfitted with the crimson cloak, uniform, and shiny black boots and sword belt of the Queen's Regiment. Osten grudgingly allowed General Radan to affix the insignia on the collar of each young man's cloak.

Brey and Nev had never in their lives felt so proud. They found their voices once again as they were being walked to the entrance of the castle where they had come in just a few hours before. They chattered excitedly and could not seem to stop smiling. The carriage that had picked them up that morning was once again there to bring them back to Radan's shop. As they rolled through the gate, Nev jumped and whooped loudly, letting some of the excitement he felt come out. He and Brey laughed and whooped all the way back to the shop. Radan joined them in their laughter and was very excited for the young men. It was not yet noon when they finally got back.

Radan asked the young men what they planned to do next.

"I imagine we should be planning our walk to Groden. Maybe we could just take a riverboat again." he thought aloud, looking at Brey for his opinion.

Brey seemed a bit distracted. "Hmm? What? What riverboat?" he asked, looking from Nev to Radan.

Nev laughed at his friend. "Is your mind elsewhere, Brey? The palace maybe?" Brey blushed and mumbled something about being overwhelmed by the morning.

"I imagine you are." said the old soldier. "She is quite beautiful, isn't she? They both are in fact." He finished with a wink at Nev.

The lanky youth tried to assume an air of innocence. "I don't know what you mean." he said. After a moment, they all started to laugh. "Ok, ok. The princess Ashlynn does sort of sit in my mind."

"Don't let yourself get too absorbed, lad." advised the old man. "As a princess, she is a bit out of your league."

They talked of their plans for moving on to Groden. At one point Radan asked to see the map that Barlow had given them. "Well, it's not exactly the finest map I have ever drawn now is it?" he asked as he scrutinized the parchment.

"You made this?" asked Nev in surprise.

"Of course." he replied. "Why do you think I chose to open a map shop when I retired? I spent a great deal of my time in the military as a cartographer, a mapmaker. It wasn't until I was promoted to colonel that I became a bureaucrat. I didn't stop making maps though; everywhere I traveled I refined my maps."

"That must be very hard to do."

"Not as hard as you might think; you just have to have an eye for scale and proportion. If we had more time, I would show you how it's done." He looked at the map again and said, "I am going to give you a better map than this. A man always needs a good map." He went to the front of his shop for a few moments and returned with a slightly larger scroll than he had taken. "This should be much better; it's more accurate and has more detail. A few of the roads and towns on the old one aren't even there any more; and quite a few have been added." He handed the map to Nev who unrolled it partially to look at it.

"What do you think we should do, Radan?" asked Brey.

"About what?"

"Should we take a boat or go afoot to Groden?"

He scratched is chin in thought for a moment. "Well, it's not for me to tell you your business, but if it's an adventure you want, I should think taking the road would be preferable. Taking the river is faster but you don't get as much of a feel for the road or the Realm. It wouldn't do for all your memories of this journey to be on the river; you need to see the land you're traveling to really appreciate it."

The travelers looked at each other for a moment. "I guess you're right." said Nev. "There's not much adventure to sitting and floating. We should get enough of that when we put out to sea."

Radan grinned at them broadly. "That's the spirit, lads!"

They spent the rest of the day pouring over the map and gathering supplies for their long walk to Groden. The distance appeared to be about the same as the journey from Carsby to Newellen, perhaps a bit longer. Part of the journey will take them through the low foothills at the southern end of the Merridon Mountains, from which the country got its name. They found the notion of seeing the mountains, even from a distance exciting. Coming from a village on the Central Plains, they had no experience with such sights.

The Merridon Mountains stretched from north to south on the western border of the Realm, the southern portion curving to the southeast almost to Groden itself. Even from the city of Wellton, the peaks could be seen in the distance, inviting adventurers to come and explore. Many seekers of precious metals, like silver and gold, have gone to the northern end of the mountains seeking their fortunes. Few returned with their fortune, most returned with just their lives; the northern reaches of Merridon's western border can be a very dangerous place.

After dinner, they sat with Radan at his kitchen table finalizing their travel plans. "It looks as though we will be a good six or seven days walking to Groden."

"More likely ten and some, lads. Once you get to the foothills, it'll be a little slower going; those roads twist and turn and go up and down as well." He was thoughtful for a moment before adding. "You may want to consider riding."

"Horses?" exclaimed Brey. The old man nodded. "We can't afford to buy horses!"

Radan laughed at the incredulous look on the young men's faces. "You two should have been listening a bit more closely when Queen Arriana conferred your rank. 'With all the privileges that entails'?" He could see they still didn't understand. "Lads, one of the privileges of a Sergeant in the QR is to sign out a horse for travel. You get a horse here, ride it to Groden and turn it in to the garrison there. Nothing simpler."

Nev thought about this new insight for a minute and then asked, "What other privileges are there?"

Radan spent the next several minutes outlining some of the benefits of being a member of the QR. There were many that didn't seem useful, but a few could be very handy indeed.

Chapter 8 – Groden

The next morning dawned bright and clear; a perfect day for travel. Radan told the young men how to go about requisitioning a horse for the journey to the port city and joined them in the street outside is shop.

"Thanks so much for your help and your hospitality, Radan. And thanks especially for your help with my sword work." said Nev as he hefted his pack to his shoulder.

"Think nothing of it, it was a small thing to fix and you picked it up right off." He looked to the horizon where dawn was brightening into full daylight. "Well, lads, it's been a pleasure meeting you. Goodspeed on your journey and drop by to see me, should your path bring you to Wellton again." He shook the hand of each and watched as they walked away toward the garrison stables at the south gate of the city.

"Those two are either going to end up dead or Heroes of the Realm; they seem to have a knack for stepping in things that could lead them to either." he muttered to himself as he turned and went into his shop, ready for the day's business.

It took a bit of explaining to get the horses from the garrison stables, but once the corporal in charge read their papers, he saluted and saddled two horses without delay. Grain for the horses was also provided.

All in all, they were on the road no more than three hours past dawn. They road awkwardly at first, not being familiar with the riding of horses. The shape of the military saddles was something to be contended with as well; the horn was uncomfortably high and the shape of the saddle was flatter than they would have expected and caused some discomfort. After an hour or so, they got the hang of riding and found the going much easier to bear.

"Riding a horse is really quite fine, once you get used to all the bouncing around." said Nev. "We really should get some horses when we get back from our adventure. Don't you think?"

"Hmm? What was that?" said Brey, roused from his thoughts.

Nev shook his head. "I said we should get some horses when we get back from our adventure. Where was your mind just now anyway?" he asked, though he was certain his friend's mind was back in Wellton at the palace.

"Oh, well, I was just thinking a bit, that's all."

"About a certain princess maybe?" Nev asked teasingly. "She is pretty enough, Brey, but what would you do with her? She is royalty and we're just ordinary fellows. I don't think her mum would even let you marry her."

Brey laughed at his friend's words. "I am pretty sure I would have to be a prince or some such. They must have rules about that kind of thing."

Nev laughed too. "Who knows? Maybe we'll conquer a kingdom on our travels and then you could ask her mum." The two shared a laugh at the absurdity of it and soon the conversation turned to other matters large and small.

About noon, they stopped by a brook that ran near the road to water the horses. The groom at the garrison stables said the horses would only need to be fed morning and evening unless they rode hard. They had a bite to eat themselves and soon were riding on again. As evening drew near, they began looking for a likely place to stop. Since the ground had been sloping toward the foothills since midday, finding a suitable camp was not very easy. Eventually they found a level spot that was sheltered and was not far from water; they ate a hot meal and talked by the fire for a while. Nev volunteered to take the first watch while Brey got some sleep.

The next morning, Nev awoke to the smell of bacon. He rolled from his blanket and splashed cold water on his face, gave the horses their daily ration of grain and went for his own meal. They ate a small meal of crisp bacon and hard bread, washed down with hot tea. Once they were fed, they packed up camp, filled their waterskins and readied the horses for another day's ride.

They rode all that morning watching dark clouds gather in the distance. It was clear that foul weather was coming their way; had they known how quickly it was coming they would have begun looking for shelter immediately. As it was, they were not aware of how fast a storm can come once it gets over the foothills, by the time they realized the danger they were nearly caught in the open.

A great wind began to blow from the west, coming with great force where not even a breeze had stirred before. They could feel the bite in the air as the temperature dropped quickly.

"Nev! We have to get to shelter quick! Let's ride back to the trees; I think we can make it!" yelled Brey over the wind.

Just as Nev was about to turn his horse, he spotted a shadow among the rocks to his right. He peered at it more closely to be certain of what he was seeing. "Wait, Brey!" he shouted, "I think there's a cave over there!" He pointed to the shadow. The noontime sky was darkening quickly and the shadow was getting harder to see.

Brey could just make out the dark spot Nev pointed to, it was much closer than the trees; however, if it wasn't really a cave, they would be completely exposed.

A big gust of wind blew at them, strong with the smell of coming rain. He decided to chance it. "All right, let's try for it!" With that, they put their heels to the horses and rode for the shadow as fast as they could. It was indeed a cave and they arrived just as the rain began in earnest; large drops had begun splatting loudly on the ground. The opening was just large enough to ride inside. They discovered the cave opened up beyond the entrance, providing plenty of room for the frightened horses; they dismounted and looked through the opening at the now pouring rain.

"Whew! That was a close thing. A minute or two more and we'd be soaked to the skin now." exclaimed Nev, peering outside at the driving rain.

"That's for sure." replied Brey, as he loosened the cinch on his horse's saddle. "I wonder how far back the cave goes. I don't fancy sleeping under this horse tonight."

"I'll take a look." Nev went to his pack and fetched a small lantern. He lit it with his flint and steel and closed the cover slightly. The light cast a yellowish glow, illuminating an area of about six feet before him. He held it high and walked toward the back of the cave. There was a narrowing of the walls leading toward an opening smaller than the one they rode in a few minutes before. He ducked his head and looked beyond the opening holding the lantern before him.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "There is another room back here. It even has a chimney of sorts with a fire pit. Come here and look!"

Brey went to his friend's side and peered into the chamber. There was a small pile of wood to one side of the fire pit near the back wall and some discarded bits of food and broken crockery to one side. The smell of recent habitation hung in the air; old sweat and smoke.

"I don't know, Nev. It looks like someone has been living here. What if they come back?"

"Oh, come on. Don't be a ninny. It's just leftovers from some travelers like us who needed a place to stay." replied Nev with a wave of his hand.

Brey wasn't so sure, it looked more lived-in than just a passing traveler might leave behind. However, they had little choice and could not ride in the storm. "Maybe, maybe not. In any case, we should keep watch tonight."

Nev grumbled a bit but agreed anyway, just to make his friend happy.

They saw to the needs of the horses and then got a fire going in the inner 'room'. Nev stepped to the entrance and gathered rainwater for some tea, while Brey prepared the fire. After they had eaten and had a second cup of tea, they looked outside to gauge how long the rain might last. The storm still blew strongly and didn't give any indication of slowing down. It was fortunate that the storm held little thunder or lightening; as cramped as the first part of the cave was, if the horses panicked, they would probably have injured themselves.

"Well," said Nev looking up at the dark sky, "it looks like we are definitely staying for the night. How late do you think it is?"

"I imagine it's not more than a couple hours past noon." answered Brey.

The lanky youth turned from the rain and walked back into the 'room' at the back of the cave, his friend right behind him. "Looks like we have a long day ahead of us here. What do you think we should do?"

"Dunno." Nev sat down near the fire and stared at the flames. "Brey? Do you miss our home?"

His friend sat across the fire from him and sighed. "Every day, Nev. I can scarce believe it's just two weeks and some since we left."

The stout youth raised his head in surprise. "Is that all it's been? It seems like so much longer than that."

"I know. Do you realize that in less than twenty days we have been in three sword fights, ridden on a riverboat, helped capture a spy, collected two rewards of money, rescued a genuine princess, AND got to have breakfast with the Queen of all Merridon?"

Nev laughed at the list of 'accomplishments'. "You forgot we have also been made sergeants in the Queen's Regiment! Brey, I don't think we have ever gotten so much done in so short a time." The laughter came even harder. "We have had more adventure than we dreamed of and haven't even seen the ocean yet!" He was now doubled over in laughter, trying very hard to catch his breath.

Brey too had begun to laugh at the irony. They had indeed surpassed their expectations of the trip from Carsby to Groden. According to their plan, the adventure wasn't even supposed to have begun yet. The young travelers laughed for some time, with tears streaming down their faces and their sides splitting with pain. They finally caught their breath and subsided into only occasional fits of giggling; the laughter had helped them release some of their homesickness. Though they still missed their home, the weight of that emotion was not so heavy.

The night was uneventful, save that the storm blew itself out sometime near midnight. The next morning dawned a murky grey and chill dampness hung in the air. After a light breakfast, they saddled the horses, tidied up the cave, and continued their journey to Groden.

They rode for five more days along the twisting road, climbing and then descending the foothills. They marveled at the beauty of the landscape and majesty of the distant Merridon Mountains.

Near the close of the sixth day, they rounded a small hill and spied the port of Groden in the distance. The city was quite large, even when compared to the capitol city of Wellton. Compared to the village of Carsby it was immense. From their vantage point, still many miles away, they could see the city centered entirely around the docks and wharves. The layout of the city was much like a large wheel, with all main thoroughfares leading from the outer edge of the wheel to the water at the center. Narrower avenues ran in a circular manner, parallel to the outer wall. The road upon which they rode ran nearly straight from the base of the hills they now descended to the main gate of the port city. With Groden in sight, they grew more excited by the moment and agreed to ride into the city rather than wait for morning.

With their crimson capes flapping in the wind behind them, they rode the horses at a fast clip for more than half the distance. By the time they reached the gate of the city, dusk was at hand and it was being closed for the night. They called to the guard atop the gate.

"Excuse me, sir. Can we get in please?" yelled Nev.

"Gate's closed. You'll have to wait til morning." the skinny soldier called back. "And no making camp on the road!" The sound of his derisive laughter could easily be heard.

Brey recalled one of the 'perks' Radan had told them of and decided to test it. "Oy!" he yelled. "We are of the Queen's Regiment! Open the gate, please!" While it didn't feel quite right to use their reward of rank in such a way, but Her Majesty did grant them all the privileges of that rank so she probably wouldn't feel disappointed if they used them once in a while. He also didn't feel much like sleeping on the hard soil for another night.

The soldier appeared at the top of the gate again. "You best be able to prove it. Pretending to be in the QR can get you in a lot of trouble hereabouts. Stay there."

In a few moments, a wiry soldier in a rumpled blue tunic came swaggering out, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He approached them until he was within ten feet and stopped. "You!" he barked, pointing at Nev. "Show me your papers, and they better be real." He put his fists on his hips, affecting an air of authority. The insignia on his collar showed him to be a corporal of the regular army.

Nev climbed down from his horse, handing the reins to Brey, and walked toward the guard. He removed the scroll denoting his rank from the inner pocket of his crimson cloak and handed it over to the surly little corporal. The wiry man slid the ribbon off and jerked open the scroll. After reading for a few moments, he looked sharply at Nev and Brey's insignia. He rolled the scroll back up and stepped back from them before turning and yelling back toward the little door he had come from. "Sergeant Bales!"

"What!" was the booming reply.

"Can you come out here for a minute, Sergeant? You might want to look at this yourself."

A squat, but powerful man with short-cropped black hair and long mustache came out of the door in full stride.

"This had better be good, Ramar." he growled menacingly. The wiry little corporal shrank a bit as he approached. Obviously, the Sergeant was a man not to be crossed. The soldier silently handed the scroll to the muscular man. "What's this?" he growled.

Ramar snapped to attention. "These men claim to be of the Queen's Regiment, Sergeant, but they seem a bit young for it and aren't in proper uniform so I asked for their papers." It was true that they were not in full uniform, having opted for the comfort of their own clothes and a desire to keep the uniform clean in case they did choose to wear it later; their age was something they could not help.

Bales held up the scroll in his hand. "And are they, Ramar?" he asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

The Corporal gulped and replied, "They seem to be, Sergeant, but when I saw the signature I thought you should have a look yourself."

The surly Sergeant stared at Ramar for a few moments, obviously delighting in the way he shrank back from that gaze. He then unrolled the parchment and read the document, tilting it to catch the torch light from the gate door he had come from. Just as the corporal had done, his eyes snapped up to Nev's face and then Brey's. "Where did you get this?" he asked in a low, menacing voice.

Nev froze momentarily under the man's intense scrutiny, but Brey was not under it so directly and answered boldly. "The Queen conferred the rank upon us seven days ago at the palace in Wellton."

"Hogwash." replied Bales with a snort. "No one is just given a spot in the QR. It is the most sought after post in all the land. I should know; I have been working toward it for four years now." He glanced at the parchment again. "What was the 'invaluable service to the crown' you performed? Surely it must have been something quite extraordinary." The Sergeant clearly believed they were lying and was certain he would catch them at it.

It was Nev who spoke next, having found his voice in the face of the man's sarcasm. "We saved the life of the Princess Ashlynn when she was attacked by foreign agents. If you want proof, you can send word to Chamberlain Osten or General Radan, retired commander of the garrison at Wellton. I am sure that either one would support our claim. I'll take that back if you don't mind." He stepped forward and held out his hand for the scroll.

Bales was stunned to the core. He had only the day before received a message by boat from a friend in Wellton telling of the attack on the Princess. The missive had stated two young travelers, friends of General Radan, had defeated a larger force of men and rescued her.

"My apologies, Sergeants. I have heard of the incident in Wellton; your claim is accepted." He turned to the corporal and snapped, "Open the gate, Ramar."

"Thank you, Sergeant." said Brey with gratitude, he would not have to sleep on the ground after all.

"Do you know of a good inn?" he asked politely and Bales directed them to a nearby inn that was quieter than many and fairly priced.

They noted as they rode toward the inn through the streets of the port city, that the salt smell of the ocean was strong in the air, as were other smells like tar and dead fish. While the less pleasant odors took something from what they had imagined, they were nonetheless growing more excited by the moment. Their dream was at hand!

They located the inn with no trouble and were given the last available room. The room was only a small space with two straw-filled mattresses and a small table with a tallow candle providing meager light, but after several days on the road, it seemed like luxury. The following morning they spoke with the innkeeper about the best way to go about finding a ship heading toward the Crystalline Sea.

The innkeeper, Boris, was a round man in his forties with a ready smile. His wife, Sara, was equally round and even more prone to smiling; she was, in fact, the most exuberant person either of the young men had ever met in their lives. She practically bounced from place to place with seemingly bottomless energy.

They sat at a table in the common room of the inn across from the man. "Well now, buccos." he began with a gravelly voice they thought sounded as a sailor's ought. "If its passage you want, you'll need to talk right with a ship's cap'n to make arrangements; but if it's ship's work yer wantin' you'll need to see the Harbormaster. Yep, only merchant ships would likely to be heading toward the Crystalline Sea; and since the merchant ships are all Queen's registry, the Master is the maker of the 'list' round here."

"What's Queen's registry mean?" asked Nev curiously. He liked the innkeeper a great deal. The rotund man was honest and open and seemed to have a penchant for getting to the point with as few words as needed.

"And what is this 'list' you mentioned?" added Brey.

Boris squinted at them a moment, taking their measure. He decided they weren't pulling his leg and answered. "Well, it seems you've a bit to learn yet, lads. All right, here it is." He paused a moment to light a cob pipe he had filled with tobacco. "Queen's registry means that ships wantin' to do merchant tradin' in Merridon have to get permission from the Crown. All Merridonian trader ships has to fly a trader flag or they get their ship and cargo took away. Also, most cap'n's own their ships outright, but if a trader wants to get started, they can buy a ship with the Crown's help and they work if off over time, payin' a bit at a time as they go. Technically the Queen Herself owns all those ships 'til they're paid up. Those ships is called Queen's Traders. The others is just Traders." The jolly innkeeper flashed a winning smile and added, "'Course, the Crown gets their cut either way!

"Now as to the 'list'; the Harbormaster keeps a list of sailors who be in Groden lookin' for a ship. He takes their name and their skills and puts 'em in his book. Now let's say a cap'n loses a man or three to pirates and needs to put a few back on the crew; well now, he jus' goes to the Harbormaster and asks who's on the list. For a little fee, he can hire hands without havin' to go to the trouble of rovin' the alehouses."

Brey and Nev were amazed at how efficient the whole process was. In the stories they had read, captains had to find men by hiring them right out of the taverns, as Boris had mentioned, or knock men on the head whisk them out to sea before they wake up and make them work. Hearing the bureaucratic way it was done definitely took some of the glamour out of their adventure. No great loss though, since they weren't likely to become ship's captains anytime soon.

They set out not long after speaking with the innkeeper. First, they returned the horses to the local garrison and then proceeded to the docks to find the Harbormaster. It was their intent to get their names on the 'list' and hope for the best, since Boris had said that only traders were likely to be heading toward the Crystalline Sea.

The process of putting their names on the list was simpler than they had imagined. The Harbormaster, his assistant actually, took their names and asked what skills they had. After learning that neither lad had ever sailed on an ocean, he put them down simply as 'rough hands'; essentially a warm body that can do basic labor. Though disheartened by the designation they accepted it and vowed to return daily to see if they were needed.

As they stepped down from the shack that housed the Harbormaster's office, they were hailed by a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. The man that approached them seemed to be an ordinary sailor, wearing the kind of garb they had read of in adventures; plain trousers of rough cotton and a brown shirt open at the collar. His boots were well worn with much of the black dye rubbed off them. He wore a simple cap of blue wool and his curly brown hair looked a bit wild, though not exactly unkempt beneath it. He walked toward them with the rolling gait they had come to understand marked a sailor of the Great Ocean. "Excuse me, lads." he said in a clear baritone, "Could I speak with you a moment?"

They looked at one another, wondering what a deck hand might want with them. They hoped it was not an attempt to rob or swindle them. They both unconsciously placed a hand on the pommel of their swords. Noticing this, the sailor stopped short and raised his hands before him, indicating he meant no harm.

"Relax friends, I only wish to speak with you. Your purses are safe." He cautiously stepped a bit closer. "Have you just been to the Harbormaster looking for a ship?"

Brey cleared his throat and replied, "We have. We are looking to sign on to a ship heading for the Crystalline Sea."

The man was a bit taken aback by this reply. He looked at them a bit closer and said, "That's an ambitious aim for two I would take to be but rough hands. Why do you wish to go there?"

Nev spoke up, answering a little defensively, "It's what we set out to do. Since we were boys, we planned to."

He studied them a bit longer and sighed. "Only one or two ships attempt that voyage each year, sometimes they return with their lives; only one or two have ever made it there and back to my knowledge. Besides, it's unlikely the Harbormaster could get two green, rough hands signed on to a long journey like that. Those voyages require experienced men who can handle themselves." He glanced at the swords on their belts. "Do you know how to use that steel you carry?"

Brey placed a hand on Nev's arm and answered for them both. "We can handle ourselves very well, thank you." He started to turn, pulling his friend along behind him.

"One moment, please." said the sailor. "I would like to talk to you a bit more if you are willing. I may know how you can get to the Crystalline Sea." They turned and looked at the man, he just smiled and added, "I will buy you a cup of ale and we can talk. What do you say?" After a moment's hesitation, Brey and Nev agreed to go with him, though they remained cautious.

Once settled at a table in an alehouse just beyond the harbor's fence, the man introduced himself. "Lads, I am Captain Report of the schooner, Braydon." He took a sip of ale as they looked at him with mild suspicion. He made a wry face and added, "All right, I know I don't exactly look the part, but all that 'captain garb' is uncomfortable and hot. Besides, a schooner captain who overdresses tends to be open to ridicule. Now, who might you be and why do you wish to go to the Crystalline Sea, really?"

"I am Neville Morton and this is my friend Aubrey Cousins." They shook Captain Report's hand. For the next several minutes, he told the Captain about their dream of adventure and only that they had travelled there from Carsby, leaving out the parts about Wellton and the schooner's namesake, Barlow. "Now, you said you knew how we could get to the Crystalline Sea. Do you know of a ship making that voyage?"

He nodded as he took another swallow. "I do indeed. I am gearing up to make just that voyage myself. You see, I am a Queen's Trader and I am but three payments from owning my ship. If I risk a voyage to the Crystalline Sea, and I am successful, I can pay it off in one and I will own the Braydon outright!" He beamed at the thought of finally owning his craft. "Just as you have decided on your goal, so have I; I have long wished for, and soon will be, the master of my own ship."

"But if we are so 'green'," began Brey, using the term the captain had used, "why would you wish to have us aboard?"

He squinted at them in thought, obviously considering how much to tell them and how much to hold back. "Well, lads, I will tell you straight. A schooner is not really the best open ocean vessel. It is better suited to shorter voyages of no more than a month or two, total. Sailing to the other side of the Western is likely to take closer to three, one way.

"Don't get me wrong, the Braydon can handle herself very well and she is as seaworthy as any, but in a fifteen foot swell with cargo aboard she can be tricky to handle." He drained his ale cup and continued. "The other problem is a ship as shallow as she is will probably be easy prey for pirates; with ships nearly as fast as a Navy ship of the line they are a formidable foe. What they lack in size they make up for in speed and firepower. Many are outfitted with as many as ten or twelve guns and canon." He waved at the barman for another cup of ale.

"Now, the Braydon is not your average schooner." He winked at them and leaned in, speaking more quietly. "I have a sail maker and a clever carpenter who have made a few changes that make her very fast indeed, but having only two deck guns, she is not much in a head to head fight. We must rely on our speed and cunning, but failing that, I also need hands that are good with a sword."

To Nev's thinking, there seemed to be something missing in this narrative. "That still doesn't speak to why you would take two 'green' sailors over more experienced ones."

Captain Report sat up and cleared his throat somewhat nervously. "Yes. Well, it's like this; not many would take the chance on such a voyage in a smaller vessel like mine. In fact, most consider me insane to even consider it."

He paid the barman and looked across the table, noticing for the first time that neither had touched their ale cups. "Not drinking men, eh? Good, it's a bad habit for a sailor." he said as he took another drink from his own cup.

"The long and the short of it is that I need sailors, green or not, willing to take the chance. If we aren't killed and we make it back with a full hold, we stand to make a fair bit of money. If you go with me, I will give you full share. As rough hands normally get no more than bunk, their rum ration, and a few pennies, so that's quite a deal that I am offering. What do you say?"

"What if we don't come back with a full hold?" asked Brey.

The sailor shrugged and held his hand out palms up. "Then we come back poor, but alive. It's all a gamble, lads." He could see they had not been fully convinced. "I'll tell you what. I've a need of the trough 'round back, why don't you two talk about it for a bit and I will come back to hear your decision." With that, he rose and walked toward the back door.

Nev was thinking hard about the offer they had been given. "I think we should do it. He's right in saying that we may not get on a large trader for some time until we aren't rough hands any more. And with only one or two trying each year, we may never get on those. What do you think, Brey?"

"Well, I can't say this is what I had in mind when we started out, but I think we should do it too." After a moment he grinned and added, "I also think the name of the ship is a good omen." Nev nodded vigorously in agreement.

They told Report of their decision when he returned; needless to say he was pleased. He asked them to come around the docks the next day and find him.

Chapter 9 – The Great Western Ocean

They checked out of the inn the day after agreeing to go on the journey and moved aboard the Braydon. Since the crew's quarters were cramped, the young men had to store most of their belongings under the canvas of one of the two rowboats the ship mounted for landing where no dock was available.

For the next several days, the captain kept them busy getting to know the ship and crew and helping prepare the schooner for the long voyage.

The first two crewmembers they met were Mallen and Greer, the sail maker and the carpenter the captain had mentioned at the tavern. The former was a tall man with light gray hair and a narrow goatee he seemed quite fond of stroking as he spoke. The latter was a squat man with thick arms and flaming red hair. Though they may have seemed mismatched at first, it was clear they were two of a kind. They were often found walking the deck together looking over various parts of the ship, ensuring that all was in proper order. The young men found them to be easy to talk with and quite knowledgeable about all things related to the sailing or ships. The rest of the crew consisted of a cook, a cabin boy and twelve other 'hands' who would handle the rigging and other duties on-board.

Upon hearing that they had never been on an ocean-going vessel, Mallen explained the configuration of the sails and how they were used under different conditions.

"The thing to remember is that sails are for pushing a ship along and if you don't get the best angle on the wind, you may as well row." he said in a surprisingly light voice. "A schooner is much larger than you're used to and she will handle more slowly, so you have to see the need to change your sails sooner and give more time for it to take effect." Though Brey understood what was being said, he was having difficulty grasping the bigger picture. Nev, on the other hand, absorbed it all and understood the concepts easily.

Greer also gave them a lesson in the difference between their little sailboat and the ship. "If I understand you correctly, you two built your own 'sailer' and used her fairly often. True?" he asked, as he seemed to do when explaining things. The young men nodded. "Well then, you're ahead of most in understanding how a ship is built."

He turned and spit over the side. "Well, you may have noticed the Braydon doesn't look exactly like the other schooners you see 'round here. True?" Again, they nodded.

"Mallen and me were the first two that Cap'n Report brought on when he got 'hold of her. He said he wanted a ship that was faster than most and prettier than 'em all!" He let out a gravelly laugh and spread his arms wide. "Well, here she is! She was dry-docked as soon as she was contracted and we set out to make her what she is. And what is she, you ask? She is narrower at the bow by a foot and smooth all the way through and we shellacked the hull in five coats to make her slide through the water like an arrow through the sky. We also raised her rear mast a full two-foot taller than the average, putting on two more topsail.

"Now, it cost a bit more to make her this way, but we can haul a cargo a full day faster than the rest on a weeks sail, and that's what makes her so special. We didn't lose much on cargo space either when she was trimmed down as most of it was in the bilges anyway. A clever bit of work if I do say so myself. True?"

They came to know the ship and its workings very quickly and were soon feeling confident they could handle themselves at sea. To their surprise and to the captain's as well, their training on the homemade sailboat applied more readily than they thought. They found that they already knew the knots they needed and how to properly deploy a sail. Of course, they had to adjust for scale, as the schooner was much larger and had two tall masts and multiple sails, but the principles were the same.

When asked to show their skills with a sword, they sparred for no more than five minutes before Greer declared them up to the task.

"Seems to me, you two have seen a bit of training, true?" They nodded. "You had a good teacher. You are better than most I have seen, be glad to have you beside me in a fight."

In just over a week's time, Captain Report declared they were ready to sail. That afternoon they loaded the 'trader cargo' they would use to trade for exotic goods to bring back and sell. Trader cargo consisted mainly of trinkets and beads the natives prized, as well as fabrics of different weaves. Simple wool and cotton were the most important staples, however.

That evening, the young men penned a letter home, their first. They described in brief their adventure to this point, promising to give full detail when they were able to write again, and assured them they were well and happy to be getting underway the following day.

The next morning they prepared to cast off. However, before the order was given, most of the crew went down the gangway and walked toward the dockyard.

"What are they doing?" Nev asked Mallen.

"Engaging in superstitious nonsense." he replied, leaning on the rail and stroking his beard. "An alarming number of sailors believe it is good luck to kiss the ground of your home port before sailing. I have no idea why, all you really succeed in doing is getting your mouth dirty."

Something about Mallen had been nagging at the back of Brey's mind and he suddenly figured out what it was. "You don't talk like a sailor, Mallen; not like the ones in the stories we've read anyway, nor a tailor. You sound more like our old teacher from Carsby. You weren't always a sailor were you?"

He grimaced and turned to Brey. "Now, don't go spreading that sort of thing around. The other hands wouldn't respect me much if they knew." He glanced toward the crew to make sure they were not nearby. "I was, in fact, a teacher. I taught in that school right over there." he said pointing toward a whitewashed two-story building just beyond the port to the north. "I got tired of just watching the ships come in and go out; I wanted to see where they went. I guess I just never got around to going back to the school." His gaze lingered on the little white building for a moment longer and sighed.

"You are a clever lad, Brey; most folks just think I'm being uppity." He looked sharply at both of them and added, "And I would appreciate it if it stayed that way."

They were ready to cast off in under an hour. A crew of rowers came out to pull them from the dock and get them into position to set their sails. The long boat with a dozen oarsmen attached a rope to the stern and began pulling in long, powerful strokes. It took a half-hour to get them in position to 'put up canvas', as Mallen put it. They raised two sails and began to move slowly into Groden Bay.

The furthest western portion of Merridon formed a long peninsula enclosing a large bay. The word 'bay' may not have been entirely accurate; it was more of an inland sea. The body of water took a full day to sail from Groden in the north until you reached the Great Western Ocean to the south, and another full day to round the Great Peninsula where the 'open ocean' began, allowing for westward sailing.

Even though Nev was working with the riggers, he paid close attention to what was done and how, marveling at the beauty of the whole process. Once they had cleared the harbor, they were ordered to put on three more sails and the ship leapt forward. Greer had not exaggerated when he said she was a fast ship; she sliced through the water gracefully and made him feel like they were flying. It was the best feeling Nev had yet known.

The first leg of the voyage was relatively uneventful and had gone smoothly. They sailed south-southwest along the rocky coastland of the Great Peninsula for two days and finally turned westward, quickly losing sight of the Merridonian mainland.

They were heading toward a string of islands a few weeks sailing away; from there, they would be bound for the Crystalline Sea! During this first leg of the journey, Brey and Nev learned all they could about ship's duties. Nev was particularly interested in how the captain navigated by the position of both the sun and the stars. For his part, Report seemed quite pleased to have an eager student and taught him how to read the sighting devices and how to determine the speed of the ship by counting knots on a rope placed overboard for a specified amount of time.

Brey was less interested in navigation and spent much of his time in the company of Greer, learning more about the ship's construction and the improvements that the carpenter was always working on as well as other 'contraptions', as the carpenter was fond of calling them.

Once they headed for 'open ocean', the shipboard routine changed. Ship's watch was increased and everyone was instructed to be especially vigilant. The biggest concerns for them would be poor weather and pirates. Even though they would sail for a couple more days in home waters that were patrolled often by the Royal Navy, it was not uncommon for pirates to raid smaller ships and run back out to open water before they are caught. One other new order was that all who crew not in the rigging would keep their swords near to hand in case of attack. The tension in those first few days was felt keenly by all the crew.

Despite the added feeling of unease, both of the young men felt a keen exhilaration. As often as they had pretended and dreamed of this part of the voyage, they were still unprepared for its majesty. The ocean had been a deep blue, tinged with green as they sailed from Groden to the southwest extreme of the Peninsula. However, once they began to lose sight of land, the color changed to a very deep green that verge on blackness. Captain Report told them that the depth of the water was reflected in its color. More shallow waters tended to be a deep blue with green, but as the ocean floor dropped further and further away, it shifted toward green and then dark steel gray when it was truly deep indeed.

Something else they had not been able to imagine adequately was the kinds of animals that lived in the deep water. They saw many different kinds of fish and beasts. While on watch one morning, a large group of fish swam along side and in front of the ship. They were light grey in color and leapt among the great waves. The curved fin on their backs made each animal appear as though they too were sailing the great ocean. Mallen informed them that these animals were 'dolphins' and were considered a good omen.

One afternoon, four days out from the mainland, Brey saw an enormous fish that took his breath away as he tried to call out to Nev. "Nev!" he gasped. "Look at that! I never imagined a fish could be so big!" The animal was nearly forty feet in length and had not only an enormous dorsal fin, but had two more huge fins just behind the enormous head. The behemoth rose to the surface blowing a large spout of water and foam dozens of feet into the air. Several minutes later, it shot up out of the water and turned in mid-air before crashing into the water, creating a huge splash. Brey had reached unconsciously for his sword while watching the beast in awe. He heard the captain and Greer laughing behind him.

"I'm afraid your sword would have little effect on a monster of that size, my young friend." called the captain chuckling. "You have little to fear from the likes of them. They may be large, but they are harmless."

Greer sighed and smiled at the two adventurers gasping at theses strange sights. "D'you remember your first time, Cap'n? I was the same as them I suppose. Though I doubt I was willing to draw steel 'gainst a whale." The craftsman and the captain shared a laugh and left the young men to enjoy each new discovery; both could remember their first sights as well and didn't want to spoil it for them.

After nearly three weeks of sailing due west, the Braydon was in sight of a cluster of islands. "What islands are those, Captain?" asked Nev, who had taken to spending much of his time near Captain Report, learning all he could about navigation and ocean sailing.

"Those would be the Saladin Islands. While there isn't much for valuable native trade there, we can get fresh water and food, and see if any other traders have goods worth taking on."

He grinned slightly and continued. "When I was near to your age, I came here for the first time as a hand aboard the Shark, also a Queen's Trader, though she was a three-master. I remember feeling almost overwhelmed at the exotic people and things that I saw. You yourself may feel the same way when we get there."

"What kinds of things, Captain?"

"Well, you are likely to see more strange animals in one place than you had ever believed could be. I once saw an animal a dozen feet tall at the shoulder, with a nose so long he could use it as you would your hand to pick up things. He could even drink water through it."

Nev's mouth stood open in astonishment. "Is that really true?"

"May the Creator strike me down if I have lied." The Captain held his hand up for a moment, seemingly waiting to see if he was indeed struck down. "You will also see strange peoples, Nev. There are men that are taller than anyone you had ever seen, nearly a giant in his height. There are men with skin the color of coal and men covered head to toe in tattoos of strange design. There may also be women so exotic as to nearly place you under a spell at the mere sight of them."

Nev looked closely at the captain's face for a moment and asked, "Captain, are you pulling my leg? I can hardly believe all those things."

Report laughed and clapped a hand onto Nev's shoulder. "My young friend, obviously you've a need to see things for yourself and that makes you well-suited to adventure, by my way of thinking." He turned toward the helm and said, "C'mon, Nev, let's see how you pilot us to the south side of that large island."

Meanwhile, near the stern of the ship, Greer was losing his patience. "You don't know what yer saying, boy!"

"All I am saying is that its possible." replied Brey in a calm voice. "After all the things you have told me, I can't see why it wouldn't work. I've seen one like it before."

"D'you realize how big the thing would have to be?" exclaimed the carpenter raising his voice a bit more.

"It doesn't really need to be that big." said Brey, his voice rising as well.

"What is all the yelling for?" asked Mallen, who had heard the conversation escalate over the last few minutes.

Greer waved his hand in disgust. "Young Brey here is trying to tell me how to load ships' cargo, now that he has learned so much in just a few weeks." he replied with a poorly concealed sarcasm.

Brey sighed heavily. "All I am saying is I think it's possible."

"Well, it ain't. It's-"

"Hold on now." said the sail maker, cutting into the conversation before it became a full-blown argument. "What is it that may or may not be possible?"

"Fine, I'll tell you. He has this notion that a hoist can be built to move cargo straight from the dock to the hold without stopping. No gang to move it!" He swung his arms from left to right in a broad chopping motion. "Straight from one to the other! Can you believe it?"

Mallen stroked his beard in thought for a moment and asked, "Well. Why couldn't you?"

Brey's face was exultant. "See? He agrees."

"Now I didn't say I agreed with anything, I merely asked why it couldn't be done? Greer?"

"The problem is, even though you can do that sort of thing moving hay bales about, water casks and food casks weigh five and even ten times that amount. The hoist would have to be huge and well anchored just to handle the weight, let alone move it around. It wouldn't be practical in any sense."

Brey rolled his eyes and said, "You can get around that easily. I have been trying to tell you, it needn't be big, it just needs the right balance." When the men just stared at him, he continued. "Back home, the village blacksmith used just such a hoist to lift large castings and move them about easily. The hoist wasn't large because he used counterweights to even the load on the arm and make it easy to move and keep it from tipping over. Let me show you." He took a coal stick and a piece of sailcloth and drew a rough sketch of the contraption Carl used in his smithy.

"Of course it would need to be a bit bigger, but not so large it couldn't be used easily. If it were built right, it could be run by only a few men doing the work of many in less time."

Greer stared at the rendering for several moments. "How do you hold the weight still while it is being moved from the dock to the hold? It would be too heavy for a few men to hold the weight of the cargo and move the contraption around."

Brey had already considered that himself. "A cogged wheel would be used at the pulley and they need only trip a lever into the cog to hold it. It would probably have to be forged steel to hold it and not just shear away."

Greer looked from the drawing to Brey and back again, studying not just the drawing but also the concept carefully. "All right, I can see how the weight may be held, but how can you move it in and out? A swing arm would surely hit the mast or rigging on many ships."

Brey had worked that out too. "Remember when you told me of your idea about extending certain types of sails along the yardarm rather then unfurling them? I was thinking we could use the same idea; if we used two parallel rails of heavy timber with a steel track along the top, we could lift the cargo and then move the whole block-and-tackle rig on small wheels along the rail from the ship to the dock and back, that way there is no swing. Of course that would require setting up a temporary support aboard ship, but that shouldn't be too hard to do, I wouldn't think."

The red haired carpenter stared hard at the drawing and then closed his eyes in concentration for several moments. His eyes snapped open and stared at Brey and then at Mallen. "You know, the lad may actually have something here. Counter weights for the lift and a rolling rig with a block and tackle. It just might work!"

A look of wonder crossed the carpenter's face and he grinned widely. "Perhaps you know a thing or two after all, young Brey. Let's make a proper plan of it once we pull out of Saladin!" The young man beamed with delight.

It was nearly two hours 'til dusk, when the captain's voice rang out. "All hands on deck! All hands on deck!"

Once the crew was assembled, the captain stood above them atop the shack that housed the helm. "Well mates, we have nearly arrived at our first port of call. We will be here over night and will sail with the morning tide. There will be no drinking and no carousing." He paused and looked over his shoulder at the harbor and continued. "I know we would normally take a day and allow for some time ashore, but if you look to the harbor you will see the reason for my decision."

Brey and Nev turned to look to the harbor beyond. "If you look closely, lads, you will see a ship of note to the left of the main docks." The ship to which he referred was a three-masted frigate, painted black. Canon ports were clearly visible along the side, showing she had six per side. Four smaller deck canons could also be seen fore and aft. "Though I know not the name of the ship, I know what she is. She is a pirate raider and we do not want to attract her attention. Therefore, no one goes ashore who is not on the detail to haul fresh water and supplies. You will all go armed and there will be a four-man watch at all times."

Report jumped down from the shack and stood near the rail. "If we use our heads and keep quiet about our voyage, we should be fine. We may be deemed a simple passenger ship and not worth their time. However if they have enough incentive they may try to take our cargo and perhaps even our ship at sea. Everyone look carefully at that ship, for if you see her or one like her on our horizon, we may be in for some trouble. Do you all understand?" The young men hadn't anticipated feeling this scared with the prospect of seeing actual pirates. They looked at one another and understood how each felt immediately.

Everyone acknowledged and looked once again at the ominous black ship.

"Should we see her, we will make a run for it, so be prepared to rig for speed at a moment's notice. A frigate is a fast ship, but the Braydon is also built for speed and we will surely show her what we have if it comes down to it. That is all." Report turned back to the helm and guided the Braydon into the harbor.

Anchor was dropped and Report chose four men to accompany him into the city; Greer, Brey, Collad, the sail maker's assistant, and, surprisingly, the cabin boy, Micah. Brey noted to Greer that he thought the choices odd, but the old carpenter explained. "It's simple really, he'll bring you and me for our skills with a blade, Collad because he is tall and can be intimidating at sight, and Micah because the boy knows best what supplies we will need, being the cook's assistant and all. That leaves the rest aboard in case someone tries to come a-callin."

The Port of Saladin was a surprisingly clean and well-run city with its own militia and a thriving market. Greer said that the local guard is very efficient and see to it that little in the way of trouble happens in the city. He also said that the port city is neutral and that the only law that prevails here is the law of Saladin. Pirates and raiders use the port regularly and provided they don't cause trouble in the port itself, the authorities leave them alone.

They lowered one of the Braydon's two rowboats over the side and rowed to the landing near the main docks. Report led them to the Harbormaster's office to be logged and inquire about supplies.

The Harbormaster was a grizzled old man with a short-cropped white beard and a glint in his eye that stated clearly that he was no feeble oldster. "Registration." he said tersely.

Captain Report handed him a leather folio with his papers signifying his ship's registry and other important information.

The master looked over the papers and looked out the window at the ship anchored in the harbor. "Strange to see a two-master this far out to sea; them's usually land-huggers." he commented, referring to the fact that nearly all two-masted ships are considered too small for long open ocean voyages. "Where you bound, Captain Report?"

The captain waved his hand in dismissal. "I will be heading directly back to Groden on the morning tide. Trade is not so good these days along the coast and I thought I would take advantage of the weather and make a passenger run here and back before it turns."

The Harbormaster glared at Report for a moment. "Your manifest lists no passengers. You know you are supposed to list them don't you?" Brey was certain that the old man saw right through the lie.

"I am here for pick up, sir, not drop off." replied the young captain, without pause.

Again the master sat back and stared hard at him. "You sailed nearly a month on the hope that there might be a passenger or two for Groden? I get the feeling you aren't giving me the full tale, Captain."

The captain just shrugged and said, "As I said, times are difficult. I have to take some chances or I risk losing my ship to the Crown."

The Harbormasters face turned to a scowl as he made a rude noise. "Pah! Crooks! The Crown has no right to take a man's ship. Even if they help to pay for it, they should know it can get hard for a trader and he may need to ride out a storm of bad luck." Clearly, Report had struck a nerve with the old man. "That pirate king, Roland, took my brother's ship some years back for the same reason. I's never happier than the day I heard the old thief kicked off." He took a quill and made a notation in his log and on the manifest and handed the papers back to Report. "Good luck to you, Captain. I suggest you look to the Dolphin Inn for prospects. Only place where passengers with gold might be found in Saladin."

"Thank you, Master." said Report gratefully, putting the sheaf of papers back inside his tunic. "Now, about some fresh water for my return." Report haggled for a bit and in the end got a reasonable price on four large casks of water, to be delivered to the schooner in an hour's time.

As they left the Harbormaster's shack, Greer began to chuckle and then to laugh outright. "How in the world did you ever pull that off, Report?"

"Nothing simpler." he replied with a grin, "The captain of the Mermaid told me how the master here was once a naval officer of Merridon until his brother's ship was taken for non-payment. He resigned and left for Saladin twenty years ago; he's had a chip on his shoulder over it ever since. I merely had to mention it to him to be past the rest of his questions. Apparently he loses all power of thought when it comes up."

They proceeded toward the market to get the food supplies they would need to replenish their stores. The captain instructed the men to remain watchful and to try not to gawk at all the things they would see. Pirates watched closely to see who is new to the port and listened even more closely to try to pick up on which ship is carrying valuable cargo.

Though there were many strange sights, sounds, and smells, Brey did his best not to show his surprise and awe; and it was no easy task. He saw strange people and even stranger animals. Just as the captain had described to Nev, he saw the tall beast with the long nose. He discovered it is called an 'elefant'. He even saw a large cat with teeth so long they reached past its mouth and extended past its lower jaw. He felt sorry that Nev had to miss them - this was the stuff of adventure!

It took only an hour for Micah to pick out the goods needed and soon they were walking back toward the docks.

On the way, a group of rowdy men wearing long curved swords blocked their path and demanded money to allow them to pass. Brey, Greer, and Report made to draw their swords and the men decided it would be best to let them pass. Local authorities do not look kindly on street brawls and the punishment can be harsh for those who start them. The group returned to the shipyard without further incident. As darkness had already fallen, the shipmates had to load their supplies in the boat by lamp light. They rowed back to the Braydon where the water casks had only just been delivered, and the supplies were placed in the hold and pantry.

The night passed quietly and they made ready to sail at dawn. Sometime during the night, the mysterious black frigate had sailed from port; though Captain Report did not seem too concerned, Nev had a bad feeling about it.

They set out from Saladin on a course west by southwest. Report told Nev they would sail for two months to a cluster of islands named Achinta Mala, in the eastern extremity of the Crystalline Sea. He said the name meant 'gateway to the world'. These islands are the farthest any traders from Merridon had successfully traded and returned. While there are several islands between Achinta Mala and Saladin, he said that the goods to be gotten from these faraway islands are the most valued and will bring the highest return.

Because the voyage takes them across the equator, known as 'the Belt of the World', they were likely to hit some bad weather. The division of north and south is an area of upheaval where the winds are concerned and sailing will be challenging unless they cross under the right circumstances. Contrary to the belief of some captains, the best time to cross over is not in fair, sunny weather, but in cool weather when the winds are not as upset by the additional warmth in the air. If they meet with bad weather, they will have to sail many leagues off course to go around it. Storms along the 'Belt' are said to be vicious and would likely cause the schooner to founder in swells as high as twenty or thirty feet.

"If we have to sail around a storm, how will we find our way back?" asked Nev.

"Well," he replied, "we will have to sight the position where we leave our course and keep note of how far we go off of it and return later. If we keep track of course, speed, and time, we can get back to the very spot we left it." The captain had a way of making things that were complicated sound easy. Nev hoped to one day be as adept as the captain was.

Three weeks after leaving Saladin, Brey was on the morning watch. His duty was to keep a lookout to the port side. About an hour into his watch, he called out for the captain. "Captain Report! I think I see something on the horizon."

"What is it, Brey?" he asked as he came to the rail, long-glass in hand. A 'long-glass' is a tube with a lens at either end that allows someone to see great distances. "Where away?"

Brey sighted the object he saw along his arm and then Report held the glass parallel and viewed for several moments. "Damnation." he swore. "Bring her over ten points starboard!" he cried at Nev, who was at the helm.

Nev turned the big wheel used to steer the ship and held it while counting off the points. At ten, he swung the wheel back amidships and held it steady. "What did you see, captain?" he asked.

"I may be wrong, but she looks much like the frigate we saw in harbor at Saladin." he said as he strode to the shack where the helm was housed. He pulled out a map from a wooden chest affixed to the wall and unrolled it on the table secured to the deck. "Keep a good count of the time off course, Nev."

"Aye, sir." was Nev's prompt reply, as he noted the sand in the glass before him. "How long should we stay on this course?"

"I will let you know. Moss!" he cried to another crewman. A thin young man appeared at the door of the shack almost immediately. "Check speed and report to me as soon as you have it."

"Aye aye, Cap'n." he replied and went to drop the float and knotted rope over the side. In a few moments, he reported back they were making ten 'knots' and the captain wrote it on a piece of sailcloth.

"Nev," he called after a few moments of calculation, "we will maintain course for four hours and turn five points port then. With luck, we can make the Kulu Islands by tomorrow. We can take shelter there and see if we have been followed."

The captain returned to Brey's station and looked through the glass again. "I hope they are not looking this way." he whispered. Brey did too.

Luck was not on their side and the speck soon turned into a shape, and the shape was soon discernable as a ship with the naked eye. At the rate the frigate was approaching, it would catch the schooner within a couple of hours. The Braydon had long since put up all the sail she had and was making the best time she could at twelve knots. The captain ordered the men to arm themselves and get ready for the inevitable.

Greer had taken some of the men to the stern to prepare some additional weapons for their defense. In a short time, he and the men had prepared a dozen firebombs out of lamp oil and bottles with a piece of cloth stuffed in the neck to serve as an igniter. They had also manufactured several devices that would make boarding the craft more difficult. These were made of three pieces of wood in a three-way cross pattern with the ends sharpened to a point. If a boarder fell on one, they would be very painfully impaled. Anyone trying to board would have to get over these devices before they could attack. The Braydon also had two deck guns that fired a three-inch ball or a double handful of nails, which is what was loaded in them. While these may not have an effect on the hull of a ship, they would certainly do serious harm to any prospective boarder who got in the way of the projectiles.

All the preparations they could make were done and now all they could do was wait. As the raider ship drew closer and closer, she raised her black flag. Just as in the stories they had read, Brey and Nev had learned that each pirate captain had a personal flag; though not all were black, this one was. The image on the flag was that of a sword thrust through a skull. While they knew it was just cloth and its design was just a picture, still it struck fear into their hearts like an arrow.

They could now hear the jeering voices of their pursuers calling out to them. The raucous voices were taunting and horrible. Brey's hand was slick with sweat and he felt sure he would not survive the attack that was to come. Suddenly the voices of their nemeses were silent and a large man in a long dark coat steeped up to the bow of the pursuing ship. He raised a large cone-shaped device to his mouth and hailed the Braydon.

"Ahoy! I am Captain Blunt of the frigate Daemon!" he called. "Slack your sails and prepare to be boarded! I do not wish to have to sink you; I just want your cargo and your coin! If you surrender it peacefully, you will be allowed to sail on. If you fight, we will be forced to kill you and sink your ship!"

Captain Report had strode to the stern and looked across at the pirate captain. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called back, "What you wish to take, you must earn, pirate! I know very well that you will not allow us to live. Your reputation precedes you and you never leave survivors!" With that, the captain turned and called to the helmsmen on duty. "Moss, keep her at our stern to the port side for as long as you can!"

"Aye aye, Cap'n." was his grim reply.

"Greer!" called Report. "Set your defenses and then find me."

"Aye!" was the short reply. The carpenter took five men and set to laying out the stakes and placing the firebombs in reach of the defenders. In a few minutes, all was in readiness and he went to find the captain.

"We are as set as we're going to be, Cap'n."

"I know, now I want you to do one more thing. Get yourself, Mallen, Micah, and the two green hands set to drop a boat off the starboard side. If it looks as though we will lose the ship, get them and yourselves off the Braydon and row away fast."

Greer stared at Report in astonishment. "Have you lost your mind? I'm not going anywhere!" he replied hotly.

Report grabbed the squat man by his shirtfront and glared into his eyes. "I will not give them the complete victory! You and I both know what's going to happen here, I want at least some of us to get away. Now get your stuff into the boat and get it ready to drop. If you never need it, then more's the better, but if we are overrun...?"

The carpenter had never seen such intensity in his friend's eyes. He exhaled heavily and nodded. "All right, I'll do it." He turned and went in search of Mallen. Within minutes, he had told Mallen of the captain's order and they set out to get Micah, Nev, and Brey and ready the boat.

Chapter 10 – Marooned

Both young men resisted the idea, even though everything inside of them told them to run. They just could not stomach the idea of leaving their mates behind, orders or no. In the end, they were forced to, knowing it was on the captain's orders. Their packs were already in the starboard rowboat, so they only needed to grab a few things in the crew's quarters. Mallen tossed in his pack as well, along with some water and food he was able to grab from the cook's stores. The boat was then lowered partway down the side to make launching quicker and hide it from the view of the approaching ship. Inside a half hour all was in readiness.

Despite searching high and low, there was no sign of Micah. The boy seemed to have disappeared. It was likely he had hidden himself somewhere on the ship out of fear; they searched as long as they dared while the pirates kept gaining ground. When it was clear he was not to be found, they had get ready to depart without him.

The Daemon was now within a couple hundred yards and looked to be getting ready to bring guns to bear. Report told the men to be ready to slack sails on his order and be ready to repel boarders. He walked to the port side stern railing and yelled across to the frigate. "All right, we are slacking sails now! We are prepared to be boarded!" He raised his hand and dropped it in a chopping motion. The riggers let loose the ropes and the sails dropped. In a matter of minutes, the Daemon was drawing along side. Hooks were thrown from the larger vessel, catching the rails and rigging and pulled taut, drawing the schooner close to the larger ship.

Report turned to his crew and shouted, "Prepare to be boarded!" At that prearranged signal, the deck guns shot their deadly missiles into the pirate crew and lit their firebombs and threw them onto the decks of the frigate. Great flames erupted on deck and men ran about yelling, trying to put the flames out. The pirates hit by the shrapnel were quickly removed from the fight and others took their place. Chaos reigned in the battle between the Daemon and the Braydon.

Brey and Nev had their swords drawn and waited side by side with their shipmates for the coming battle. Their hearts raced as they saw the pirates trying to get across.

Those who tried to board the Braydon first stepped on the wooden spikes and were quickly taken out by the defenders. The next wave used deck brooms to literally sweep aside the painful devices, while their comrades occupied the defenders closest to the rail. Once the deck was cleared of the stakes, over a dozen pirates flooded on to the deck and hacked left and right with their swords, felling defenders.

Seeing their mates in the first line dropping, Brey and Nev surged forward and fought the boarders with all their skill. Though neither noticed consciously, their fear had dropped away once they engaged their enemy.

During the course of the battle, they were swept apart. Nev was forced in the direction of the stern, and was constantly wielding his blade in his defense. The pirates were not particularly adept fighters, though they utilized a number of underhanded tactics, quite often succeeding in scoring a hit on one of the defenders. Nev had been trained to handle most of them and was able to counter their attacks. At one point, just as darkness was falling, he was beset by two swordsmen at once. Later, Nev would recall the exultant rush he felt as he fended blow after blow and finally felled both attackers, one after the other. Mallen grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the starboard bow, where Report and two crewmen were defending an open area in front of the small boat.

Brey had been swept along the rail toward the bow. The pirates learned quickly to avoid the blade of the fierce fighter. Everywhere the young man's blade flashed, pain followed. A concerted effort was made to isolate him and remove his blade from the larger battle. At one point, three of the villain's banded together to kill him; however, Greer was able to remove one of them from the battle before they could strike in force. Brey was able to push the remaining two back and win free. At a signal from Greer, they moved across deck to the starboard rail, where Nev and Mallen were making ready to jump in to the rowboat.

Report called over his shoulder to Greer and said, "Get ready to drop that boat."

"Aye aye Cap'n." he said gravely and nodded to his friend.

"Good luck, my friends." was all the captain said, clasping each hand, and then turning back to the fight.

Greer and Mallen chivvied the young travelers into the boat. "Hold on!" yelled Mallen as he and Greer jumped in and cut the rope that held them. The boat dropped into the water with a crash, bumping and bruising all of them. It was only good fortune the kept the craft from breaking to pieces as it hit the water. They quickly got the oars in the locks and began rowing. As they cleared the bow, they turned and rowed directly away from the melee aboard the ship. They all looked on in horror as the boarders finally brushed aside the remaining defenses and slew the Braydon's crew one by one until only Report remained in the fight. He was dueling with the pirate leader and seemed to have the upper hand until he lost his footing. Time was frozen in that second as all aboard the small boat saw their captain and friend run through by the notorious Captain Blunt.

As Captain Report had hoped, the little boat slipped away during the confusion, the darkness hiding them from those aboard the ships. The four friends could only watch in silent horror as their comrades bodies were thrown one by one into the sea, including their fearless captain. The fires aboard the Daemon had done some damage to two of her masts and rigging but not enough to make her less than seaworthy, though she would limp until she could be repaired.

The pirates left a prize crew aboard the Braydon and made ready to sail her away along side the frigate. Soon both ships raised what sails they could and turned south, sailing away from the little boat floating in the middle of the Great Western Ocean.

Out of the fight, Nev and Brey finally felt the brutality they had just been involved in; tears welled up in their eyes and flowed freely for some time. The carpenter and the sail maker spoke quietly to them about the life of a sailor on the high seas and the possibility each runs that this sort of thing can happen.

The next morning dawned chill and the sky was leaden from horizon to horizon. "It looks like we may be in for a blow. I don't know about you gents, but I would like to be anywhere but stuck in the middle of the Western in a storm floating in a shell of a boat like this." said Mallen sourly.

Nev looked around, trying vainly to see land on the horizon. "How far do you suppose we are from the Kulu Islands? We weren't that far away when we were attacked last night."

"Depends on the currents hereabouts." replied Greer. "My guess is since we are still north of the Belt; we have been drifting away from the Kulus rather than toward. With a bit of a breeze we may be able to fix that though. Mallen, you have a guess how far we might have drifted in seven or eight hours?"

Mallen stroked his beard and replied. "I would guess no more than several leagues. If memory serves, the currents calm a bit near this part of the Belt."

Glad to have something to distract him from his thoughts of the terrible battle, Brey had been figuring in his head, "So we are maybe thirty miles further away. Nev, do you remember how far the captain said it was?"

Nev thought back on it. "Well, he had me sail almost due west for four hours, and I was supposed to turn five degrees south again, but I never did. So we must be north and east of the islands. If we were supposed to be in sight of the islands by dusk we must be something like sixty or seventy leagues from the islands by now."

Mallen had been calculating in his head as well, "I agree." He turned to the carpenter with a quizzical look. "So, do you think you and your young friend could rig up some sort of sail and get us somewhere more hospitable?"

The squat carpenter laughed heartily and said, "I am sure we can come up with something."

In short order, a cloak was affixed to a makeshift mast made from one of the long oars of the boat. They sailed southwesterly for that entire day without sighting land. From time to time, they would partake of the meager supplies they brought with them. They had perhaps two days water and an additional day's food. They elected to sail through the night as well, as Nev had learned enough of the stars to gauge direction with at least a little confidence. They knew landfall was the only way to survive. Nev took the first sailing watch and Mallen the second, as he too knew how to read the stars to navigate. Fortune was with them in that the storm they feared never materialized and only had to suffer through a light rain.

By morning, they were in sight of the Kulu Islands. The largest was a vast cone-shaped island covered almost entirely in deep green vegetation with few breaks. The bright sun shone down, giving the island a shining appearance. There were no apparent signs of habitation on the north side from which they approached.

"If memory serves," said the lanky sail maker, "there is a natural cove on the south side of the island. We should be able to land there by noon, I would guess."

"Does anyone live on this island?" asked Brey.

"Of course. The natives of Kulu are quite friendly and hospitable. I imagine we will be given a very nice reception." responded Mallen with a grin. "From what I have heard, it should be quite nice indeed." He winked at Greer, who merely grunted.

Nev leaned over to Brey and whispered. "What does that mean – 'quite nice'?"

His chum shrugged. "Maybe they like traders or something."

Greer dropped the sail as they entered the cove and Brey rowed the rest of the way toward the white sand beach.

Mallen had been scanning the beach and the trees for signs of the natives. "This is decidedly odd. The natives are reputed to come down to the beach to greet visitors." He shielded has eyes from the noontime sun and searched once again. "I suggest we go carefully once we land, gentlemen; in fact, I suggest we go armed. This doesn't look right."

Greer grunted again and added, "Not even smoke from a cook fire. You sure this is the island with people on it, Mallen?"

"Positive." was his tense reply. "You can see well-cut trails over there." he said, pointing to the left end of the beach. There was clearly a well-traveled path there. They landed the boat at that end of the beach and pulled it well up on the sand to keep it from being taken by the tide.

They looked at the deserted trail leading deep into the jungle. Brey and Nev drew their swords and followed as the older men began walking cautiously down the path. The jungle darkened under the canopy a mere fifty yards in. Approximately a quarter mile along the trail they came to a large clearing; spaced evenly around the outer edge of the open area were dozens of huts. The middle of the clearing was occupied by a much larger hut and a deep communal fire pit at least ten feet in diameter.

Nev looked around the little village. Not only were there no signs of anyone living there, but it appeared as though no one had been there for some time. The ashes in the fire pit had clearly been rained upon and the open area was littered with fallen palm fronds. The huts looked as though they had been shut purposefully, large pots and firewood stored neatly in corners.

"I think your reception has been postponed." said Greer with a chuckle. "Looks like they picked up and moved, my friend."

The former teacher had a perplexed look on his face. "These are not a migratory people. They are supposed live here year round."

"Why would they move?" asked Brey.

The stout carpenter grunted. "Only two reasons I can think of - food dried up or unwelcome visitors. We saw signs of game aplenty just walking here, so..."

A look of alarm crossed the older man's thin face. "This must be where the raiders are holing up! We need to get off this island and fast." he exclaimed.

Nev, who had been exploring the village, asked "Where are they staying then? It doesn't look like anyone has been here for a long time."

This observation caused Mallen to pause. "Well, that appears to be true." he said, looking around the village more closely. "Perhaps they stay on their ship and simply come ashore for provisions. In any case, we don't want to be caught here. I doubt we can be lucky enough to escape them again."

"Couldn't we go to another part of the island?" asked Brey. "Maybe we can sail further on and find a spot where they won't find us."

It was Greer who answered his question. "Problem is, lad, we are marooned. Our only chance of getting off this lump of sand is to light a signal fire if we see sails on the horizon. True? If we can't light a fire for fear of pirates, how can we get off?"

"Oh."

"We are left with a couple of choices then, my fellow castaways, we stay and live the life of luxury or we find another way off this island.'

"Couldn't we just get some food and water together and set sail?" asked Nev.

"Wouldn't work very well." said Mallen. "We are a long way off normal trade routes and very few ships travel this far out. Even if we could get back to the Beltline, we could drift for months before we saw a ship."

"Not to mention," added the carpenter, "the boat is fairly small and any swells higher than five foot or so could swamp us. Sorry, Nev, but sailing any distance in a dinghy is suicide for sure." He grunted and said, "Besides, the amount of fresh water we would need is enough to scuttle the boat all by itself."

"So we stay here and hope a friendly ship comes right up to us?" asked Brey incredulously.

Mallen looked at him and grinned. "That about sums it up."

Brey felt sick to his stomach. He looked over at his friend and saw in Nev's face the same hopelessness he knew was in his own eyes. Tears came to their eyes for the second time in three days. The two older men allowed them a few minutes to get out some of their emotion. Both young men sat down on a large log and cried for several minutes. Suddenly Brey lifted his head and turned to his chum.

"Nev, we are not going to be stuck here. We are going to find a way off this island." His red-rimmed eyes burned with conviction.

His friend didn't even raise his head. "How can you say that? We are stuck in the middle of nowhere on an island used by pirates. We are going to die here." he replied in a hollow voice.

"I tell you, we aren't. I look deep inside and I just know we will get off this island. I don't know how I know exactly, but I do."

"And you are right, young Brey!" said Greer as he and Mallen approached. "My pointy-bearded friend and I have been discussing our situation and we have a plan."

Both young men looked up at the burly man and asked in unison, "What?"

"Here is what we think. It will be the storm season fairly soon and that means the raiders and the like will head below the Beltline and back toward Merridon's southern neighbor to ride out the winter." He sat down in the sand on front of them and continued. "We also know for a fact that two ships tried for the Crystalline Sea a couple weeks before we set out. They should be heading back this way pretty soon; and with the storm season upon them at that. What does a ship do when they know foul weather may be on the horizon at any minute, Nev?"

Suddenly he understood. "You always sail towards a port! Captain Report said this was the last big island north of the Beltline before you cross over to the Crystalline Sea."

Mallen beamed at him. "Exactly! So we keep an eye peeled to the southwest and keep a signal fire ready to light once sails show on the horizon. In a few weeks anyway; we are still not safe at this point."

Greer chimed in, "We should be here no more than a month, maybe two." At seeing the grimaces on the young men's faces he added, "It's a sight better than dying here. True?" The adventurers smiled and even managed a weak chuckle.

Mallen smiled as well and said, "Now, if you lads would be so kind, will you bring the packs and provisions from the boat? We will go back later and hide it from sight." They got up and headed back toward the beach to retrieve their things.

The men looked at each other for a moment. "How long, do you suppose, before they ask how likely it is either of those ships actually made it there and will make it back?"

"A long time, if we can keep them busy." replied Greer with a tight smile.

They filled the next several days with various tasks. The group first settled themselves in the village temporarily and gathered water and food. A small stream was found close to the village; the gourds and jars left by the villagers were used to store a good supply of fresh water. The island also boasted many different kinds of fruit and plenty of fish in the lagoon.

Next, they moved the boat off the beach and concealed it further east along the shoreline in case the pirates came back to the island again. While Nev and Mallen assembled a pile of wood for the bonfire, Brey and Greer planned and began building a suitable dwelling where they could see the shore and the village without being easily seen themselves.

The shelter they contrived was really quite clever. It was a tree house of sorts. It was built around four adjacent trees and consisted of two 'rooms', one for sleeping that was enclosed and one that was open and afforded a view of the surrounding area. Because the palm trees were prone to swaying in the wind, the whole structure was supported by ropes woven out of vines and fibers found easily in the jungle, making the whole structure move as the trees moved. Unless there was a heavy wind, the shelter would move only slightly since it was somewhat counter-balanced between the four tall trees. The flooring was comprised of bamboo and driftwood and the underside, walls, and roof were thatched with palm fronds in an irregular pattern, making the structure harder to see in the jungle.

At the end of eight days, they had finished the hard work and waiting was now their most difficult task. They each spent four hours on 'horizon watch', keeping an eye out for sails. The remaining time was spent gathering food or exploring the island.

In various places around that side of the island were strange idols carved from wood or rock. Mallen had explained that these markers were intended to bring luck or to warn people away, depending on the depiction. Nev was quite taken with the grotesque figures and studied each one intently; one particular statue was a yard or so tall and carved from wood. The little man depicted was round, though not exactly fat; its head was round as well and bore an expression of anger or perhaps distaste. He also wore a crown that was half again as tall as his head. The chest and belly of the idol had several symbols carved upon it. Some looked like swirls and some like tiny stick figures. The only other adornment appeared to be a wrap about the waist, extending almost to the knees. Nev found the representation to be strange and exotic.

"That one warns that their god will be angered if a person were to go along that path." Mallen said from directly behind the youth.

"Why don't they just make signs, like normal people?" he asked.

"They have no written language such as we have, Nev. They pass information along through the spoken word and through idols or symbols."

"How do you know what this one means?" Nev replied.

"It's simple really. Each of the idols is roughly the same; the same face and clothes and crown, indicating their primary god, Kolohu." He pointed to the symbols carved in the midriff area of the idol. "These symbols here and the angered expression in which the face has been carved indicate displeasure along this path." He went on to explain the carved symbols on this and other idols nearby.

"So," concluded Nev, "they have a written language, just not in letters, right?"

"Precisely, my boy." he said with a smile. "The 'letters' are representative of an idea rather than an actual letter in a word to be spelled out."

"Is this Kolohu the same god as the Creator?" The young man asked, intrigued by the idea of the Creator being portrayed in such a strange manner.

"Not exactly. There are as many gods as there are different peoples in the world I would imagine." Mallen stroked his beard in thought for a moment, seeking the best explanation. "You see, the Kulu's believe their god speaks to them through nature. The trees and the fish in the water are all an embodiment of the god himself. If a villager were to walk down this path and were attacked by a wild animal, it is accepted both as the will of their god, and as a warning by that same god not to walk this path. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Not really." Nev replied, feeling confused.

"All right, let me explain it this way. If you come across a bush with pretty red berries on it, try some of the berries and get sick from them, what have you learned?"

"Not to eat berries you don't know are good to eat, of course."

"Yes!" exclaimed the schoolteacher. "Your common sense tells you so. But, what if you were the first person ever to try them and you had no way to write down a warming because you have no written language? You would leave a sign of sorts so someone else doesn't get sick too. And who kept you from dying? Your god, so you could warn others." He thought a moment about how to sum up his example. "You see, the people here would believe that since you were only sickened rather than killed by the berries, someone must have been giving you a warning about eating them. Only a god could do that."

"That doesn't exactly make sense, you know."

"For that first tribe of savages a thousand years ago, it was the only way to explain it. They attribute things not easily explained or understood to a wiser and older being. A god."

Nev began to understand what he was driving at. "So you are saying when they can't come up with a reason for something they say it was a sign from their god. Right?"

"Precisely! It is actually a very clever way for the ignorant to avoid learning."

Though it still didn't ring completely true to Nev, he accepted what the older man told him for the time being.

By the end of their second week on the island, they had settled into a routine of standing watch and gathering food and water. The remainder of their time was mainly spent talking. They talked about everything under the sun. Nev and Brey spoke of their home and their journey from Carsby to Groden, with a few omissions. Mallen told of his own home, his early Choice of being a tailor and of his years as a schoolteacher. Greer spoke mainly of his love of ships and the ocean; in fact, he could describe every ship he had sailed upon in minute detail. There were arguments as well. Brey and the gruff carpenter would often get into lengthy, heated discussions about the cargo rig they would build once they returned to Groden. Nev would challenge Mallen on his observations, asking question after question trying to get a satisfying answer. Overall, the time spent was passed as pleasantly as one could expect while being marooned in the middle of a vast ocean.

On the twenty-sixth day of their ordeal, Nev spotted what he was certain must be sails while on horizon watch. He waited nearly a half-hour before he felt certain that he was indeed seeing what they had all hoped to see. What gave him pause was the direction from which they came. The ship was approaching from the southeast rather than the southwest. He itched to light the large pile of brush and driftwood that they had built on the beach but hesitated, uncertain of who may be on that ship. He decided it would be best to fetch his mates to get their opinion. He sprinted from his perch atop a large boulder at one end of the beach toward the shelter they had constructed.

"Hey! Hey! I see sails on the horizon, I see sails!" he yelled as he ran down the path. All three of his shipmates were in the structure amongst the trees.

"Where away?" Greer yelled down. "I don't see anything from here."

"To the southeast." was the reply.

The two older men exchanged a look of concern. "Are you certain, lad?" the carpenter asked.

"Yes. I wasn't sure if I should light the fire or not. I came to ask you."

Mallen nodded as he made his way toward the rope to climb down from the tree house. "Wise choice, Nev. Let's go take a look at this ship, shall we?"

All four ran back toward the lookout spot near the beach. Once there, each looked to the southeast horizon. After several minutes of intense scrutiny, Mallen swore loudly. "Pirates! Gentlemen, we need to hide all traces of our having been in the village and around the beach. We cannot help the wood pile, but with luck they won't give it any thought. We must hurry, the raiders will be here in no more than an hour and a half."

As they all turned and hurried back along the trail, Brey asked, "How do you know they're pirates? It could be a trader just as easily, couldn't it?"

"I am afraid not, my boy." he called over his shoulder. "Those sails belong to the Braydon; I should know as I made them myself."

Chapter 11 – Stealing the Braydon

The sail maker first led them down the beach where they quickly hid their makeshift fishing gear. Then they set about erasing the numerous tracks they had left in the white sand with palm fronds. Nev and Mallen hurried to their tree house and covered the small fire they kept going with sand as Brey and Greer hurried to the village to ensure no signs remained that they had been there. In under an hour they were all gathered on the 'porch' of the dwelling and watched as the schooner made straight for the lagoon.

"Look at the condition she's in!" growled the burly carpenter. "Not a soul among those black-hearted murderers knows a thing about caring for a fine vessel."

The ship did indeed appear the worse for wear. There were several long scars along her port side where she had rubbed against a quay or perhaps another ship. The sails were sloppily stored as the anchor was weighed in the middle of the shallow lagoon. The bellowing voice of the pirate captain could be heard ordering the men to make ready to come ashore for provisions.

"How many do you count?" whispered Mallen, though it was unlikely anyone on board the ship could have heard him.

Brey answered first. "I've counted thirteen so far."

"Me too." Nev added.

Greer grunted and said, "I have fourteen. One was sent below when they dropped anchor."

"All right, fourteen. What do we do then?" asked Mallen.

"I don't see us fighting them all and winning, if that's what you have in mind." snorted the stout man. "Even as good as young Brey and Nev are I doubt we four could take them all. Especially if they leave a few aboard, as they probably will."

As the older men continued their discussion, the taller youth was watching the pirates closely. "Hey, fellows, look at this." He pointed toward the lagoon. The raiders had lowered two boats into the water and ten men were rowing to shore. One man stood at the bow of the lead boat, posing as though he were a lord. "Isn't that the Captain Blunt?"

"May the Creator strike him as we speak; it is!" exclaimed Mallen.

"If I had him alone for just a few minutes..." Greer left the thought hanging, but they understood how he felt. The image of the evil man running through their friend, Report, was still fresh in all their minds.

"Gentlemen," began the lanky teacher, "I think we should have our goods ready for a hasty departure, should we need to move further inland. Quietly though, they are landing just now."

Brey and Nev moved quickly to get their packs together. In a few moments, they returned from the enclosed portion of their dwelling to see the two men crouched down and peering through the palm branches that camouflaged the exterior of the structure. They too crouched down and watched what was happening on the beach. The captain was forming two parties, one to gather fresh water in the casks they brought with them, the same casks the little group of watchers had purchased themselves on the first leg of their journey, and the other to gather fruit and coconuts in woven baskets.

The parties walked past our heroes several times; completely unaware they were being watched. One man even stopped to light his pipe directly beneath them. During that time, one of the boats had returned to the ship and come back with two more small casks; these were not empty. After all the men had returned to the beach, the captain announced that rum was being served. The brigands cheered and each stepped up to get their portion of the liquor. They drank and sang and enjoyed themselves.

As their little party continued, an idea began to form in Brey's mind. "Greer, if they get drunk will they go back to the ship afterward or stay on the island til morning?" he asked quietly.

He grunted and said, "They probably won't be able to row straight if they keep going as they are. Even the lads aboard ship are at it. Look." And true enough, the men aboard the Braydon were hoisting their cups and singing.

"Do you suppose we four could sail the ship out of here in the dark?" he asked.

Mallen looked thunderstruck. "Of course!" he fairly shouted, catching himself before he attracted attention to their tree. "Why hadn't I thought of it? I see no reason we couldn't. It may be a bit difficult, but it's not impossible."

Greer appeared to be deep in thought as the other three looked to him for his thought. "I count ten ashore, so that leaves four aboard. We will have to take care of them quickly and quietly or this lot will have time to row out before we have made ready to sail." He looked back to the ship once again, studying her closely. "They have dropped the sea anchor, so bringing her up will be easier than it normally would. Daft lot these are."

They laid out a simple plan. They would wait until the sailors ashore had drunk themselves silly and after full dark, they would go to the boat they had hidden and row out to the ship. As quietly as possible, they would subdue those men and sail the Braydon out of the lagoon.

As dusk approached, they decided to move themselves to the hidden boat to await full darkness. They scooped up their packs and provisions and climbed down from their hidden shelter. The journey was not overlong, but the need for cover and quiet made for slower going and they arrived at the hiding place as darkness fell. From this vantage point, they still had a view of the beach and could see by the firelight that most of the sailors were passed out or very nearly so.

The ship had only two lanterns hung, but it was easy to see two of the crew lounging on the deck, clearly intoxicated.

"We will give them another hour. Yes?" whispered Greer, "By then they should be far enough gone to make this easy." He looked at Nev and Brey with a hard gaze. "Don't get cocky thinking this will be real easy though, even a drunk man has a bit of fight in him." They nodded their understanding and continued their vigil, watching as the drunken sailors nodded off one by one.

After an hour had passed, they had seen no movement from ship or shore for some time. "Let's get the boat in the water." said Mallen quietly. "Have a care though; we still need to be very quiet." They all positioned themselves around the boat and half-lifted and half-dragged it from the tall grasses to the water's edge. They made one last check of the beach and the ship's deck for movement. Satisfied that no one was about they pushed off and began to row. They had to pause for a few moments as Mallen stuffed some cloth in the oarlocks to quiet them and then continued on. The trip took twenty nerve-wracking minutes; they watched the ship constantly for signs of motion. Though it was dark, the sliver of the moon cast enough light that they could see the ship's full silhouette in addition to the lanterns on deck. They glided quietly to the seaward side of the ship.

After listening closely for a few minutes they climbed up the anchor rope one at a time. Greer went first, followed by Brey then Nev then Mallen. The squat man carefully peeked over the edge of the deck; no one appeared to be awake. He crawled over the edge and squatted low next to the rope locker attached to the deck. Brey came aboard next and crouched next to the older man. Just as Nev was about to pull himself on deck, one of the pirates roused himself near the aft mast and arose. The young man froze, then slowly climbed back down the rope a bit and waited to see what was to happen. The drunken sailor staggered to the landward rail and began to relieve himself, oblivious of the two men crouched on the other side of the deck.

Greer signaled to Brey to stay put as he reached slowly for one of the long wooden pins attached to the forward mast. He slid it from its place and squatted back down. The sailor finished his business and turned to stagger back to his sleeping spot. As he did so, his eyes stopped on the very spot where the two men hid. The inebriated pirate thrust his head forward squinting in their direction, trying to see the strange shadow. He strode toward the rope locker unsteadily, his chin still thrust out before him. When the man was within five feet of them, he was finally able to focus on them and realized they were not of his crew.

"Hey –" he began, but was cut off as Greer sprang forward and struck him on the side of the head with the wooden pin. He crumpled to the deck heavily, out cold. Brey held his breath, listening for signs that the drunken man's cries were heard by the others. After a few moments, it was apparent that the alarm had not been raised. The young man reached inside the rope locker to retrieve a length of rope with which to tie the pirate's hands and feet. Greer, meanwhile, waived for Nev and Mallen to come aboard quickly.

In minutes, they had the unconscious man bound and gagged then pushed into the deep shadows beside the locker.

"You two go round that way," whispered Greer, pointing to the starboard side, "we'll go this way. Just rap them on the head with one of these." Held up the two-foot long wooden pin and grinned. "Seems to do the trick nice and quiet."

Nev and Mallen crept along carefully, looking to the shadows to find the other sailors. They came across one man sprawled on the deck, his cup still in his hand. Nev thumped the man on the side of the head; the sound was much more hollow than he had expected. The act of hitting a helpless man made him feel squeamish for some reason; he had fought men with swords and made a showing for himself, but striking an unconscious man just didn't feel quite right. Despite his feelings on it, he and the former schoolteacher quickly tied and gagged the pirate.

Shortly afterward, they heard a muffled noise and then a dull crack as a wooden pin made contact with a skull. The two groups met up at the stern and conferred briefly.

"How many for you?" asked Brey.

"Just one." replied Nev.

"We're missing one." growled Greer.

"We'll have to look below then." said Mallen in a tense whisper. "That will require a lantern and the possibility of being seen."

"We can wait on that til we get out to sea a bit." said Greer

Mallen shook his head. "If someone is down there, they'll be wakened by our raising the anchor. We will be pressed enough as it is outrunning the rowers from shore, once they realize what's happening."

Nev asked, "Couldn't we just cut the rope? I know it's a loss, but getting out of here is more important than the sea anchor just now, isn't it? Besides the main anchor is still there."

The older men looked at each other for a moment. "It's a loss sure enough, but you're right, Nev, getting out of here is more important." said Greer quietly. "I say, lets do it."

Mallen and Brey nodded their agreement. "All right then. Nev, can you and my skinny friend here get the ship about and some sails hoisted? Brey, you go cut the rope as soon as they are ready with the sail, but keep down so as not to be seen from the beach." They nodded. "I will see if I can find the last of them below so we can be on our way." They all set to their respective tasks, moving quickly and quietly.

Brey crept forward along the seaward side, stationed himself next to the line securing the anchor, and waited for a signal. Behind him, he could hear the rustling of the forward mainsail as his chum and Mallen made ready to hoist her. He could hear the whispered conversation between them as well.

"Will the breeze be strong enough to move us about?" asked Nev. "Wouldn't a flying sail work better?"

"On most ships, that might be true, but these sails are not ordinary. Believe me, if there is even a breath of breeze, these sails will catch and hold it. Just watch and see, my boy. I have this ready to hoist, you will need to be able to run to the tiller quickly; can you do it?"

"No problem, I can get there fast enough. Ready?"

"Ready. Brey!" Mallen whispered loudly, "Cut it now."

Brey set his knife to the rope and cut through in two strokes, he heard a small splash a moment later as the end of the rope fell into the warm water of the lagoon. He then moved to help Mallen raise the sail as Nev hurried to the helm. The sail was raised slower than it normally would, so as to reduce the booming noise sails often make once they catch the wind. The canvas rustled loudly and made a 'whoom' noise as the material caught and held the breeze blowing across the small harbor. Nev had taken the wheel and turned the ship toward the sea, tacking slightly to get the most out of the wind.

The rigging began to creak loudly as it is prone to do when getting underway. The noise was enough to awaken at least one sailor ashore and he sounded the alarm that the ship had broken from its anchor. The captain could be easily heard yelling that sails don't raise themselves; the ship was being stolen! He ordered his men into the boats to catch the ship before she could get out to sea.

Nev was keeping close watch on the men on shore; the Braydon was not making any real speed yet and the danger of being caught was still very real. He glanced back to the deck to see his friends making ready to hoist another sail. If they could get up even one more large sail, they would make it out of the harbor, provided the wind kept blowing. His pulse raced and he could feel his hands sweating on the wheel as he squeezed it harder, willing the wind to blow and move them further away.

The pirate captain had gotten most of the men up and both of the boats were now in the water rowing toward them with as much speed as they could muster, which looked to be enough to catch them if they couldn't get another sail aloft.

Greer came back on deck with a smaller man behind him, the darkness made it impossible for Nev to see who it was. The stocky sailor seemed not at all concerned to be followed by this other man. He went immediately to the stern and uncovered the small deck gun there. In moments, he and the other man had loaded it and made ready to fire. "This'll make 'em think twice!" he cried as he put flame to the gun and fired at the lead boat rowing toward them.

The shot was just a bit short, but close enough to send spray over those in the rowboat, causing them to pause in their rowing. Nev realized in that moment they might just make it; if the pursuers could be delayed long enough for the ship to make way, they could actually pull this off! The squat carpenter and the small stranger loaded the gun again and fired another shot at the lead boat. Once again, the rowers stopped to take cover and lost even more distance. Blunt was screaming at the top of his lungs for them to keep rowing or they would be 'marooned on this bloody patch of sand in the middle of the ocean'.

The two began loading the deck gun a third time and Nev was finally able to get a glimpse of the other person there. It was Micah, the cabin boy! How he came to be here had to remain a mystery a little longer as the pursuers were making a final push to catch the fleeing schooner.

The deck gun shouted out one more time, this time producing the satisfying crunch of wood being demolished. Nev looked back in time to see a rowboat sinking rapidly with a large hole in the bow. The sailors on board were jumping out and beginning to swim back toward the beach. The rowers in the lead boat had stopped stroking and sat watching as the Braydon pulled away from them. Captain Blunt stood at the bow of the little craft swearing a blue streak and shaking his fist.

Greer then roused the three prisoners and made them jump overboard to swim back to the island. He and Micah pulled in the rowboat's line and made it more secure until it could be pulled aboard properly later.

The ship now had three sails up and a fourth was being raised as they began picking up speed. Nev steered as close to due south as he could reckon and tied the wheel off. He turned and rushed to Greer and Micah, clapping the burly sailor on the back and then picking up the young cabin boy in a bear hug,

"Micah! I thought you had been killed with the rest. How did you come to be here?" asked Nev excitedly. Brey and Mallen came up behind him and were equally shocked at the sight of the boy who had served as cabin boy and surrogate younger brother to all aboard.

Once everyone had asked the same questions Nev had, the lad was able to get in a word edgewise. "The captain had ordered me to go with you when you left the ship, but I hid so I could help defend the ship." He lowered his head and slumped somewhat at the memory of that fearsome battle. "I should have did as the Cap'n ordered; I didn't know what it was like. Once the fightin' started, I just hid again like a scared rabbit, once you was ready to shove off, I had covered my ears and din't hear you were ready to drop the boat." He sat down heavily and tears of shame flowed over his smooth cheeks.

Mallen sat down next to the boy and draped an arm over his slim shoulders. "You know, I think the captain would have been quite proud of your loyalty, lad. It's admirable to want to defend your ship and your captain. Of course, following orders also has its place." He finished with a grin. "We're just glad you are alive and well."

Greer squatted down in front of the boy, reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder and said, "Micah lad, were you hiding this whole time? Or did the pirate scum make you work for them?"

The boy lifted his gaze and looked just beyond the carpenter's head. "At first I hid, sir," his tale began, "after a few days I was caught. They dragged me up to the mate since the cap'n, the pirate cap'n that is, wasn't on board the Braydon yet." Micah took a deep breath and continued with a more forced tone. "They were just going to throw me overboard, but the mate decided I should stay on as the cook. He asked me if I could be trusted to make their food. I said no, then he did – things to me to make sure I wouldn't do anything to the food."

The young mate took a sharp breath and fought back his tears. He described a series of sadistic tests and tortures used to make him succumb to their will and do as he was told. By the end of the story, the young man had broken down and cried openly. For several minutes no one spoke. The acts he described were both humiliating and horrible in nature, and each of the men present felt their blood rise at the idea of abusing a young lad that way.

Brey stood and stared out to sea for a moment and declared. "Micah, should we ever get the chance, we will make those scum pay for the way they treated you. I promise that." He looked down to see the young man looking at him with a mixture of pride and gratitude.

"Thanks, Brey. You're a real mate." was his grateful reply.

Nev was able to get a reading on the stars to ascertain an approximate position. He figured they could make the Beltline in less than a day and head for home. They sailed the remainder of the night and much of the next day; they were able to turn east before sundown and set a course due east. After six sleepless days, they sighted sails on the horizon nearly dead ahead. It was decided to get close enough for a look at the flag she flew and try to run if need be. With the winds blowing mostly from the west southwest, they had a good chance of making great distance on a pursuer.

Brey had the duty of watching the approaching ship carefully. Mallen told him what to look for in the set of the sails and the colors likely to be flying if it was a pirate ship. As he watched through the glass, the distant ship took shape slowly. She was a large ship, much larger than the Braydon. She was a tall, three-master who had intricate rigging and flew at least twelve sails. The sail maker had not described anything like this when pointing out the details that tell a raider ship. He decided to get the older man's opinion on the ship he saw.

Mallen looked through the glass for several moments before heaving a great sigh. "That, my young friend, is a Ship-of-the-Line; she is a ship of the Royal Navy!" he cried. "Nev! Bear straight on the ship ahead! She is our salvation!" He ran to the aft locker, removed the trader's colors as well as the flag of Merridon, and ran them to the top of the foremast.

Within two hours, the Navy ship, the King Roland, had pulled alongside having ordered the smaller ship to drop sails and have all hands on deck. They were boarded and the ship searched before the senior captain of the Naval vessel came aboard to hear a report of the Braydon.

"Stand to! Senior Captain Posen on deck!" cried a yeoman. An imposing-looking figure transferred himself from the larger ship. He was dressed in a uniform of dark blue trimmed in gold. The shoulder epaulettes were white trimmed in gold braid with a gold fringe. His belt and boots were highly polished black and his shirt was a crisp white with a ruffle at the cuffs. All in all, he cut an impressive figure, despite being a very short man.

Greer, being a former navy man himself, recognized the individual. "Posen? Lucien Posen of Groden by way of Rollick?"

The captain looked more closely at the squat man. "That's Senior Captain Posen. Name yourself, Trader." he responded haughtily.

Greer began laughing; he laughed so hard, he couldn't speak for a few moments. "How rich this is!" gasped the carpenter. "And a Senior Captain at that! How in the name of the Creator did you get to be a Senior Captain in less than fifteen years?"

The Captain had begun to turn red while the stocky man had been laughing; suddenly his eyes widened in recognition. "Well, I'll be a green hand! Galen! Galen Greer! How rich indeed!" Now he too began to laugh. "You are quite the last person I would have expected to come across limping along in the middle of the Western; and on a two-master at that!" he said, the haughty expression returning to his red face.

Both groups stood watching this odd reunion. Clearly, these two men knew each other, and just as clearly, it was not necessarily a meeting of old friends.

Greer turned to his friends and said, "Lucien and I were middies together back in the bad old days. Many a battle we saw when there was still a bit of fighting to be done. So," he continued, turning back to the Captain. "How is it you have come so far so fast? When I left the service, we were still lowly lieutenants."

"Loyalty to the Crown is rewarded." he practically purred.

"And having a Lord for an uncle can't hurt much either." replied the trader with a tight grin.

"My career has progressed under its own wind." He shot back hotly. "Now, where is the remainder of your crew? A ship of this size clearly requires more than just you five."

Seeing that the enmity between the Captain and Greer was not going to get them anywhere, Mallen stepped forward and briefly related what happened to them from the pirate attack to the stealing of the Braydon. "I know this is something of an imposition, Captain, but could you spare a few hands to aid in our safely sailing back to Groden? We-"

Posen put his hand up, ending Mallen's request. "Seeing that your ship is not in any imminent danger, I am under no obligation to provide you assistance. You seem to have gotten this far just fine." He glared at Greer. "You will get no help from me."

As the captain turned to leave, Nev stepped forward. "Excuse me, Captain. You are required to lend aid to military men in distress, right?"

Posen turned slowly, a look of disdain on his face. "Senior Captain. And Lieutenant Greer," he fairly spat, "has not been in the Navy for a great many years and no longer enjoys such a privilege." He once again began to turn to leave the ship.

"Actually sir, I was talking about myself and my friend, Brey. We are sergeants in the Queen's Regiment." replied Nev. The young man whispered to Micah and sent him below.

Posen turned and looked at the young men and burst out laughing. "You should have used the old man for your little lie, boy. That, at least, would have been plausible." Posen stepped over the stand in front of Nev. "I will have you know that impersonating a soldier of the Crown is an offense punishable by flogging. Have you ever been flogged, boy?" he growled, leaning forward to glare into the young man's eyes.

"It doesn't pay to assume things, Lucien." Greer burst out laughing, followed shortly by Mallen, as it dawned on him what was about to happen. Nev and Brey were such unprepossessing young men, it was easy to forget how much they had been through and accomplished in such a short time.

Micah ran up to Brey and handed him the scrolls he had sent him for. "Captain, here are our papers." said Brey holding the scrolls out for him to inspect, "They are signed by the Queen herself."

Posen looked at the scrolls and snatched them from him. He chuckled and shook his head as he opened the first parchment. "Forging the Queen's mark is punishable by death. You should have stuck with lying –" The remainder of his thought trailed off as he read the document in his hand. He unrolled the other and read it as well. While he may not have been familiar with the Queens signature, he certainly knew the flowing hand of her Chamberlain's well enough. He slowly rolled both scrolls and handed them back.

Senior Captain Posen cleared his throat before speaking. "It seems I have indeed been caught by my own hastiness. Given your appearance, I am sure you will agree my assumption was not unwarranted."

Brey retrieved the documents from Posen and handed them to Micah. "I guess that's so." he replied.

Greer stepped up and clapped a hand on the officer's shoulder. "If it makes you feel any better, Lucien, we can make the loan of a few men worth your while. How would you like to give your career a little boost?"

Posen looked at him suspiciously, shrugging the big paw off his slender shoulder. "What do you mean?"

Greer filled in the remainder of the tale begun by Mallen regarding their plight since being attacked by the pirates. "So you see, Lucien," he said in conclusion, "we left Captain Blunt and an odd dozen of his cohorts marooned. You could become quite notorious yourself if you could bring in the worst pirate on the Western, wouldn't you agree?"

Posen's eyes took on a very greedy cast once Captain Blunt's name had been mentioned. As a political climber who has advanced his career as much by relation as by service, he knew a good opportunity when he heard one. "I will, of course need as many hands as possible to make the arrest. Can you get by with only - six additional crew for your return?"

"That will do quite nicely, Captain. Thank you." replied Mallen with a smile.

The officer was so preoccupied with thoughts of capturing a famous pirate he forgot to correct the man about his rank. "Good. Now, where are they marooned?"

"Kulu. The big island, lagoon on the southern shore."

"Well, then; thank you for reporting this and good luck on your journey, gentleman. We must get moving to arrest the criminals." Posen didn't even wait for help returning to his own ship, he leapt from the rail of the Braydon to the Roland and pulled himself over the rail, barking orders. Six men were quickly reassigned to the Braydon and the ship made ready to sail as soon as possible. In twenty minutes, the Roland was raising sail and heading west.

The squad of sailors assigned to help them was mostly young hands with a midshipman as the squad leader. As Navy hands, they would be trained and wouldn't require much supervision. The small crew of the Braydon felt immediate relief.

The young officer stepped forward and introduced himself and his squad. "I'm middie Cathrup. My men and I are at your service. What would you like us to do, sir?"

"Well, I imagine that you and your men would like to get your things stowed first, so why don't you do that and return. We should be ready to set sail by then." replied Mallen.

The small crew made ready to raise sail and continue their voyage home. Presently, the seamen were back for orders.

Mallen turned to Nev and said, "Well, my friend, you have gotten us this far, will you give the order to get us under way?"

The young man beamed at the sail maker and said, "I sure will!" He turned to the sailors standing around him on deck and assigned tasks to them. Soon the sails were raised and the Braydon was once again slicing through the waves. Brey and Mallen took time to get some sleep as none of them had gotten more than a couple of hours since leaving the Kulu Islands. Nev and Greer followed suit not long after, leaving the midshipman in charge of the ship.

Chapter 12 – Back to Saladin

It was nearly two weeks later that the Braydon was in sight of Saladin. It had been over two months since they were here last, the sight of a familiar place made Nev and Brey feel better. "It seemed back on Kulu that we would never see this place again; even though we were only here a half day, this place makes me feel like coming home, if you know what I mean." said Nev.

"I know just what you mean, Nev." replied his chum with a smile.

The port was less crowded than the last time they had dropped anchor here; the only ships in the harbor were two large traders, a Navy corvette, and a ship of the line similar to the Roland, she bore the name Queen Arriana.

As soon as they had secured the ship, they lowered the dinghy over the side, the same boat they used to escape the pirates and land on Kulu. Nev, Brey, Greer and two of the Navy hands rowed to the main pier and went to the Harbormaster's shack.

"Seems to me I have seen that ship before." the heavyset man said without preamble.

Greer spoke up first. "Ye have. We were in a couple months ago and lost our ship to raiders after setting sail. We were lucky enough to get her back."

The gruff Master raised his eyebrows then scowled. "Ye lost yer ship and then got her back? I am sure this must be a whopper of a story." He looked out to the Braydon anchored to one side of the pier. "Y'see, I've seen that schooner here in the last month or so, though she was flyin' Blunt's rag then. Now she seems to be flyin' a trader flag again; how do I know you ain't with Blunt, trying something funny here in Saladin?"

Greer quickly reached to stop Nev and Brey from drawing their swords. "Now, now, lads, that won't be needed. The good Master has a valid question here." He made a face at them clearly indicating they needed to stay in control. "Now, Harbormaster, when we was through here last, 'bout two months past, we had us a captain name of Report. You're known for having a good memory, do you recall him? Youngish fella, said he was making a passenger run back to Groden?"

The cranky official raised a plump hand to his chin and tilted his eyes toward the ceiling. "Seems to me I recall that; had a thin story, but nothing I could much call him on at the time. What about him?"

Brey, recalling the attack on the Braydon vividly, stepped forward and gripped the edge of the Harbormaster's table. "That blackheart, Blunt ran him through when we were attacked. That's what about him! Our whole crew, but us, was slaughtered and we only escaped because the captain ordered Greer and Mallen, our sail maker, to get me and Nev out of there!"

The young man had spoken more harshly than he had intended and felt badly for having done so. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Master, but it makes my blood boil still." he added, stepping back from the desk.

"I can see that." he responded with raised eyebrows. "Though you seem a bit young for it, you should down a few tankards to help them nerves. Besides, if what you say is true, you all need to go toast your fallen anyway." He scribbled the ship's information in his log and looked back up at Greer. "How long ye be in port?"

"One, maybe two days I expect."

"A'right. Have you any coin for supplies?" he asked more quietly and in a less official tone.

Greer hadn't thought of that prior to this moment. He cleared his throat and looked over at the boys with an embarrassed expression. "Well, sir-"

"We have enough, Master. Thank you." said Nev. He turned to see the stout carpenter looking at him in surprise. "We never took our money from our packs, so Blunt didn't get it. I also still have my purse with me, so we should have enough for supplies anyway."

The Master barked a short laugh. "Didn't see that one coming did you Mister Greer? Must be nice to travel with men of means." The large man laughed again, his barrel chest shaking with mirth.

"All right, you're free to enter the port of Saladin, gents. Be sure to stop at the Skull to toast yer dead." The Harbormaster handed Greer a slip of paper and waved them out the door.

Once outside, the Navy sailors who had been waiting for them to conduct their business with the Harbormaster asked Greer if they could use the boat to go to the Arriana and report about their situation. "Fine, lads; will you be back by dusk so we can return to the Braydon 'fore dark?"

"Yes, sir." replied the young midshipman.

"Well, my young friends, it's off to the Skull for us." Greer announced grimly.

"What's the Skull?" asked Nev.

"It's a tavern, Nev. When a sailor is lost, you drink a toast to their spirits sailing the seas without need of an earthly ship any longer. It's a tradition, and in Saladin, it's the Skull where it's done."

"But we don't drink." responded Brey.

Greer suddenly swung about and glared at them. "You do today! I'll not have you disrespect the memories of Cap'n Report and our mates lost this trip by failing to honor them properly." He turned again and stalked off toward the west end of town.

He said nothing as he walked and kept a pace or two ahead of the young men until he arrived at a shabby-looking building with a grotesque skull painted on the sign above the door. He turned back and spoke again more softly this time. "I shouldn'a yelled at you as I did and I'm sorry for that. Sailors spend many months at sea and you build a strong bond with your mates. Now, sailors have some beliefs that are a bit different from those who stay to the land. True?" He grasped for a moment trying to find the right words. "When you lose a mate, it's believed that they continue to sail the seas they love. In order for us to send them off properly on that journey, we drink a measure of rum for them since they can't do it themselves. Rum is the tradition of sailors, and the mates we lost are entitled to their share. We are the only ones who can do this for them. Others may join in the toast, but it's our responsibility. D'you understand what I mean?"

The young men thought about the friends they had lost and nodded; they then followed the older man into the tavern and he led them to the bar. The bar itself was nothing more than a long wooden plank atop three barrels, one at either end and one in the middle. Greer banged loudly on the plank and yelled to the barkeeper. "Rum! A toast is required."

The room had been fairly loud when they had entered, a dozen conversations of varying volume happening at once; now the room fell completely silent. The barkeep stumped over, wiping his hands on a grimy apron. His gray hair had been crudely pulled back in a tail, accentuating his thin pockmarked face. "What crewman do you toast?" he growled.

"All hands but five of the Braydon, a proud two-master, lately captained by Martin Report of Groden." said the squat man loudly. "Fourteen souls in all, set to sail the mist."

The thin little barkeep stared at Greer for a moment; then without a word, he turned and grabbed a large jug and four cups and set them on the bar. He carefully poured an exact measure of rum into each cup. He set aside the jug and moved a cup in front of each, keeping one for himself. "My name is Kreyton and this first toast is mine t'give as I knew Report when he was still a hand. He was a good lad, I can't believe he wasn't a good captain." He lifted his cup high and called out, "Captain Report of the Braydon!"

A chorus of 'Here, here" replies sounded throughout the tavern. Everyone drained tankard and cup. Nev and Brey picked up their cups and sniffed the contents. The sharp smell of alcohol was more than even Nev was used to, as wine is not as strong as this dark liquid. "Drink up, lads." said Greer softly. "For the captain at least." They each tipped the cup and took a large swallow, choking on the fiery drink. After a few more coughs, they finished the cup.

Kreyton had been watching as they struggled to finish the first toast. "Not real good at that, are ye?"

"The first bit o' rum to pass their lips, my friend. I think they are in for a short night." replied Greer with a slight chuckle.

Brey looked at Nev, feeling his face turning red from the effects of the alcohol. "I hope I can do this, Nev. I wouldn't want to disrespect our friends by getting sick, but rum is much stronger than I expected." he said quietly, not wanting others to hear his concern. Fortunately, only Greer and Kreyton were close enough to hear. The barmaids were all busy serving rum and ale to the rest of the patrons.

"I have a thought." said the barman. He leaned over and whispered to Greer for a few moments; Greer looked at the man with a slightly surprised look on his face.

"Really?" asked Greer. The barkeep grinned and nodded. "Well, then I guess it's a'right." he grumbled.

Brey and Nev had been watching to see what was said. Clearly, it was something out of the ordinary and their friend deemed it to be somewhat distasteful.

The barman leaned over the bar toward them, his foul breath giving their stomachs a turn. "A little secret about your captain, lads. His first time toasting his mates in death was much like yours. Since he couldn't handle the rum well, he drank each toast with ale. No exactly as it should be, but there's no real disrespect in it since sailors are as fond of ale as they are of rum." he chuckled.

He drew two tankards of ale and placed them before the young men. "Be prepared to toast heartily, lads, you've many more to go."

Over the next three hours, each member of the crew of the Braydon was toasted solemnly by all. Brey and Nev made it through the first four or five without feeling anything more than a warm, slightly nauseated feeling in their stomachs. The warm feeling spread to their ears and soon their whole bodies felt kind of fuzzy and numb. By the time the last toast was drunk, five tankards apiece had been emptied and they both found themselves smiling foolishly and swaying as if they were on the swelling sea.

It was near dusk when Greer peered at them with bleary eyes. "Lads," he said with slurry speech, "iss time we're getting 'round to the suppliers an' back t' the ship." He lurched to Nev's side. "Nev, me boy. Dint you say you ha' some money? We're gonna need to pay good Kreyton and the water merchant."

Nev's head seemed to be stuffed with sand; it took a moment for the words to sink in. "Oh! O'course I do. I have lots; how much d'you need?" The young man could hear the words coming out in much the same way his mother used to sound when she was far gone to the drink. In the back of his mind, he thought he now understood why she drank so much. His mind was slow and he couldn't focus on anything for very long. This was how she had avoided facing the death of her husband and daughter for so long. Despite having gotten drunk honoring his mates, he still felt disappointed in himself.

Brey was not quite as far gone as Nev appeared to be and noticed several men turn and look in their direction as his friend exclaimed about having money. He told himself to pay attention as they left to be sure they weren't followed. Kreyton called them to the end of the bar nearest to door to settle up; three silvers and five coppers in all. The thin man warned them to be careful heading back and to be sure to stay in sight of the local militia as much as possible for he too had noted heads turning in their direction at Nev's boast.

They walked out onto the street and began walking toward the port area. The cool air helped the clear their heads a little bit. They passed several small vendors on the way; Brey paused by one of them pretending to be looking at the man's goods. He snuck a look back toward the Skull and noticed four men who had been sitting in the tavern walking slowly in the same direction as they. The men made a show of seeming nonchalant, but did so poorly; Brey was certain they were following them purposefully. He turned and caught up to his friends.

"I think some men from the tavern are following us." he said in a low voice.

Greer grunted and said, "Be surprised if they weren't after all that." His hand rested lightly on the pommel of his sword. "Should they try us, do your bes' t' keep by Nev's side, he's a bit wobbly jus' now." In truth, Nev was having some difficulty walking at all; he swerved and stumbled and seemed oblivious to his whereabouts.

They were now in sight of the shipyard and the vendors of provisions, yet still not so close as to make them feel entirely safe.

"Were I those fellas, I would be trying to take us here where there are enough shadows to keep them from easily bein' seen by the militiamen way down there."

As if he had given the men following them their cue, Brey heard footsteps running up behind them. His sword fairly leapt into his hand as he drew and turned in one motion. He stood ready before the pursuers were close enough to make their attack with full surprise. The squat woodworker grabbed Nev, pushed him toward the wall beside the thoroughfare, and drew his own blade.

"Hold there!" he boomed in his deep voice. "You'll find no easy pickings here, lads. I'll give you but one chance to turn and go."

"It's us four to your two." growled the wiry brigand. "We've no fear of an old man and a boy." He swung his blade menacingly in front of him but had not yet stepped forward to engage.

Greer lowered his blade slightly and laughed heartily. "It's a wonder you have lived so long, friend. You face a well-seasoned sailor and fighter as well as a sergeant of the Queen's Regiment. Look to the rank insignia at the young man's throat for yerself. I am sure you'll recognize the insignia of the Royal Guard."

The man paused in his sword wielding and looked to Brey's cloak clasp. His eyes widened momentarily as he saw the cluster of gold. His eyes slid to the side sizing up his men; clearly, he was trying to come to a decision. "I still see four to your two. I think we can manage."

Brey, feeling less inhibited than usual said, "It's your funeral, sir." He leapt forward and engaged the nearest man. Even though his reflexes were slowed by the effects of the ale, he was still much faster than the sailor was; it was only a moment before the man was disarmed. The dirty little man scrambled back quickly to hide behind the others.

The leader of the little band of would-be thieves stood gaping at Brey as the young man returned to his ready stance, prepared to do battle.

"I'd say you oughtta rethink your plan, friend. My young companion doesn't appear to be in as good a mood as I am and I wouldn't cross steel with him on a bet." He chuckled and took a casual step forward, closing on the wiry little man who had been doing all the talking. "Last chance." he said as he lifted his blade to a fighting position.

The whole group of brigands turned as one and ran back up the road. Greer laughed as they sprinted up the road. He turned to Brey and watched as the young man slid the blade home in his scabbard. "'It's your funeral?' When did you become so cheeky?"

Brey grinned foolishly. "I read it in a story once." He chuckled and added, "I'm just glad I didn't drop my sword. I feel a little wobbly."

Greer laughed loudly and turned to help Nev get up. The youth was out cold lying by the side of the road. "Looks as though Nev is not much of a drinkin' man; probably a good thing, that." He picked up the limp young man and slung him over his shoulder. "Let's get the supplies and head back to the ship for some shut-eye. Yes?"

They ordered their supplies and headed toward the pier without further incident. Brey had begun to feel a bit rubber-legged by the time they met the Navy sailors to row back to the boat. He stumbled once trying to climb down the ladder to the boat but made it without falling into the harbor. Nev was handed down from Greer to the sailors and laid in the bow of the boat, his cloak under his head.

"Will he be all right?" asked Brey, a little worried.

"He'll be fine, lad." Greer replied. "He'll have an awful headache in the morning. You will too, most likely. Drink some water before sleeping; that will help."

Brey lay down near is friend in the bow and was fast asleep shortly after they pushed off. He awoke when they arrived at the Braydon and climbed aboard and helped carry Nev to their berth where he once again dropped off.

He was awakened early in the morning to the sound of retching. Nev was in a corner of the room hugging a large wooden bucket tightly to him. He glanced over and saw by the lamp light that his friend was awake.

"I think I am dying." he rasped miserably. "I have never felt so horrible in all my life."

The smell in the room was powerful and made Brey's stomach turn, he too felt quite sick and moved quickly to the door. He ran up and out, just making it to the rail of the ship as the contents of his stomach erupted from his mouth. He retched several more times making him feel exhausted. He lifted his aching head and opened his eyes, noticing for the first time that they had left port. This was unusual, since ships seldom left port before the morning tide and it was still quite dark.

"If you're feeling that poorly, I imagine Nev is in a truly sorry state." said Mallen. He held out a cup that Brey took in his shaky hand. "Drink that and you will feel better in no time."

"What is it?" he croaked, peering into the tin cup.

"Weak tea with a lot of sugar. Trust me; even if the taste is unpleasant, you will feel much better for it. I have one for Nev too." The sail maker watched as the young man drained the cup with a grimace. The older man chuckled a bit. "I suggest you try to get a bit more sleep. Once you've gotten a bit closer to dawn, you will be good as new." He handed the other cup to Brey and sent him back to the cabin he and Nev shared with the rest of the crew.

It took several separate gulps for Nev to get the brew down, but was able to hold it once he did. He rose and took the bucket he had been using up to the deck and dumped it overboard. Mallen took it from him and sent him back for more sleep.

It was past dawn by an hour when the two young men rose again. Mallen had been right, they both felt much better, except very thirsty. The headache Brey felt earlier still lingered, though not as insistently. Nev's wince at the sunlight showed he too had a bit of a ringing in his head. They each drank their fill of water and sat amidships waiting for their headaches to subside a bit more.

Mallen told them that the stout carpenter had not yet risen but would likely be up and around soon; and just as predicted, Greer appeared a half hour later. He looked a little tired and his mood was less than sunny.

"You set sail after dark?! Have you lost your over-educated mind, Mallen?" he yelled. Clearly, he was not going to be in a good mood until he had gotten to yell for a while. The taller man just poured him a cup of tea, liberally added sugar, and handed it to him without comment. The grumpy sailor just took it and drank it down in two gulps, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Looks like there may be some storms coming in, season is right and the wind is too fresh for my liking. Thought it best to get an early start and try to beat them to Groden."

"At least you haven't run us aground or anything." He looked at the thin man a moment and asked, "Have you toasted?"

Mallen grinned and shook his head. "I thought it best to have someone sober to guide the ship. I will see to it now that you are up and feeling yourself."

Greer made a sour face. "There's a jug below for you. Micah is too young for full measure; maybe water one down for the captain anyway."

"I had thought to allow him a few prayers instead. He is only ten after all."

Greer grunted and said, "Well, I suppose that's fine for the boy. He is getting to be of age though." he added defensively.

"Not for a couple years yet. Besides," he replied, "seeing how these two fared, I think it only right to give the boy some more time." He chuckled as he turned to go below, calling for Micah as he went.

Greer turned to the young men and put his hands on his hips. "I just want to say I am proud of you both for honoring our mates. Now to be fair, there ain't usually fourteen to toast at once, usually just one or two." He grimaced a bit and seemed a bit uncomfortable. "I also want to apologize to you for being so harsh with you. I sailed with the captain for a spell and taking a month and more before we could honor him and our mates rankled me a bit; I shouldn't have taken it out on you, specially seeing as how you never had a drink before."

They could see he was sincere and understood his frustration and anger at having lost their mates; each forgave him without hesitation.

He stepped forward and squatted down in front of Nev. "I also owe you an extra apology. Knowing how yer mum was, I shouldn't o' pushed you. I won't do such a thing to you again, lad; solemn promise to that."

Nev wasn't very concerned he would end up in the same state as his mother; he had seen it enough to know he would never walk down that path. The first ale had actually been quite enjoyable, but he was wise enough by now to know that eventually one would lead to many more and he could just as easily fall under its power. "It's all right, Greer, I understand; and aside from feeling like I was dying, no real harm has come."

Greer laughed hard at his reply. Then he grabbed his head with his strong hands and held it as if it might split apart if he didn't hang on to it. "Oh! I think I need some more of that tea before I am ready to laugh too much." He got up and moved toward the cook shack to find some hot water to make his tea.

After a few minutes of silence Brey said, "I hope we don't lose any more mates, Nev. I don't think I could toast like that again."

Nev groaned. "I know what you mean, Brey. I know what you mean."

They spent the remainder of the day learning their location and seeing to the duties of keeping the ship sailing. The Navy crew was relieved and allowed to go below to sleep. Nev took the tiller as he had before and Brey saw to the set of the sails and the general upkeep of the deck. A ship sailing smoothly under full sail and fine weather is not too difficult even for a skeleton crew, so the day passed uneventfully, even enjoyably.

The Braydon sailed true on unseasonably calm seas for two weeks. Ten days out from Groden, a dark cloudbank that stretched across the length of the western horizon pursued the little ship as she sliced through the ocean heading home.

"That is going to be a nasty storm, lads." announced Mallen after watching the dark gray front for some time. "I estimate it will catch us by morning, maybe sooner."

Greer grunted by the sail maker's side, his eyes never leaving the approaching blackness. "Better get to lashing down anything that moves." He turned and added. "Care to try those storm sails of yours?"

"What's a storm sail?" asked Brey curiously. During the voyage, he and the squat carpenter had taught him and Nev nearly everything they could about ships and sailing, but had never mentioned anything like this.

Mallen pursed his lips in thought. "Well, Brey, I had this idea about a special kind of sail." He sat on a rope locker near the rail and started in with his best lecture voice. "You see, in a storm, winds aren't consistent, they gust from dead calm to a squall and back again in no time. Such winds would tear normal sails to shreds and maybe even heel us over enough to founder."

"Why not just take down the sails until the storm is over?" ask Nev.

"Ye gotta have at least some sail aloft, Nev, else you're at the mercy of the waves and the wind both. At least with some sail on, you can move with the storm and maintain some control over your tiller. Most ships put up a mainsail or two with some slack to keep them from being torn away and hope for the best." explained Greer.

"Now," said Mallen, once again picking up the thread of conversation, "the sails I have come up with will allow us to catch the normal winds reasonably well, but allows the gusts to mostly blow through. You see, the sails each have a set of 'flaps' in them. The edges are sewn and reinforced all the way around each edge to keep them from simply tearing open. This way we can keep up even full sails and still handle the gusts without capsizing or losing canvas to the wind." He grinned and shook his head slightly. "They haven't been tried before so we have no idea how they will actually fair, but the theory is sound enough."

"I think I get it. Even though the flaps would let some of the wind bleed off, we would still have enough push to steer and when it gusts the extra air just goes through the holes like water draining from a wash tub."

Mallen smiled widely. "That's it, Nev! You are a very clever boy; it took me three cups of rum for Greer here to get it right." He turned to his friend with a grin. "What say we give them a try? Even if they don't work or they are torn to shreds, we will still have the main canvas."

"All right. We best move quickly, though, it will take a bit to get the canvas down and hang the new." remarked Greer

"I don't think we need hang the top sails, just the jibs and the main should do for now."

For the next hour, they all worked quickly to string the lifelines at the deck level and remove the sails and hang the special 'storm sails'. Through an ingenious series of fasteners and connectors Mallen had designed, the process went much more quickly than if they had used traditional methods.

The sails were raised as dusk fell and the remainder of the ship was made ready for the coming storm. Since they were in the middle of the ocean with no land within reasonable sailing distance, they were forced to prepare as best they could and hope the ship with her special sails would carry them through.

Each man donned an oiled slicker made of canvas. The garment is intended to keep much of the rain off, though they are notorious for leaking horribly.

The wind began to come up in gusts, making the sails boom dully as they snapped full and relaxed. Soon the sails boomed and held the wind as it increased with each further gust. The rain did not start calmly as one might expect in a normal rain. It came with drops as large as a copper and increased in frequency and size until a full downpour drenched every inch of the ship as well as those on deck. With the rain came the erratic winds; near calm in one moment was followed by a howling gust that made the masts creak under the strain. The sails seemed to be holding well enough, though the strain could be seen at the anchoring points, stretching the fabric.

Brey asked Mallen if his 'storm sails' would hold up. "They will hold, I think! I reinforced the anchor points at the corners with silk to give them some elasticity!" he called over the wind.

"What's eelast- Er, elasty-" Brey struggled with difficult word.

"Elasticity, Brey." he replied. "That means it stretches a bit so it won't rip." The young man just nodded, silently repeating the word to himself a few times.

Meanwhile Greer made his way back toward Nev, who manned the wheel. "Best lash yourself to them cleats, lad, so you'll not get washed overboard!" he barked over the howl of the wind.

"All right!" called Nev. "Here, take the wheel for a moment while I tie off!" He took the length of rope stowed next to the wheel for that purpose and tied to a cleat on the deck near one side of the wheel, then wound it around his waist a couple times before tying it off on the other side. Though the wheel was beneath a shelter of sorts, it was not really much more than a small roof and skeletal walls, allowing for the air and rain to blow right through. "That should do it!"

Greer examined the knots a moment before nodding his approval. "I'll stand this watch with you and turn it over to the Navy boys in a few hours."

"I can sail longer than that." responded Nev.

Greer firmly shook his head. "This storm will take a lot out of you, you'll be glad of a rest in a short time, lad. Trust me."

They stood side by side, battling the storm together. The stout ship was tossed and bucked violently. Though they were unable to take a proper reading, Greer estimated they reached speeds of nearly twenty knots when the wind blew strongly for a time. Waves of twenty feet and more crashed over the deck from stern to bow and rocked the sailors where they worked. It was only good precaution and attentive sailing that kept sailors from being washed overboard.

Two Navy sailors relieved them three hours later. They fought along the life lines, heading toward the hatch that led below deck. The roar of the wind and the blinding spray of salt water made the usually short journey seem miles long. They passed through the hatch right behind Brey and Mallen. Once the door was shut and the howl of the storm was muffled they all heaved a great sigh.

"I swear," declared Brey with a pant, "that is a mean storm."

Mallen chuckled wearily. "That, my young friend, is a babe compared to some of the gales we've seen. Isn't that true, Greer?"

"True enough. Why the masts are still standing and the sails seem to be holding. In a really bad storm, they'd both have been gone by now."

Nev gulped. "Then I am glad for the babe of a storm; I hope I never meet an older one than this!"

The older men laughed at the young man's odd turn of phrase. "I second that, lad." replied the lanky sail maker. "Who's for a cup of tea?"

The friends shared a hot cup of tea and tried to get a few hours sleep before battling the storm once again.

Finally, after three similar rotations, the storm blew itself out. The winds died down and the rain slackened to a cold drizzle. Though it was no warmer than it had been, it was much less miserable.

The 'storm sails' Mallen had contrived seemed to have done their job well. The ship had come through the storm in fine shape and never felt it was at the mercy of the swells or the fierce winds.

"It seems you have a good idea, my friend." said Greer with uncharacteristic cordiality.

The sail maker looked at him suspiciously, waiting for a following remark, when none was forthcoming he responded, "Thank you. I must admit they performed better than I had anticipated." He looked up at the sails thoughtfully for a moment. "I wonder if I could sell them. The Royal Navy could afford them and I think I could get testimony from the young lads sailing with us as an endorsement. What do you think?" he asked, looking at his mates.

"I believe that notion has some possibilities, my narrow friend." replied Greer with a grin. "Between your sails and the idea of the cargo mover that Brey and I have toyed with, we could make up for our loss on this trip and perhaps a bit more."

Mallen stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "We could indeed; a comfortable winter would make for a welcome change, eh my friend?" He let himself get lost in the thoughts of warm fires, hot food, and cool ale.

Chapter 13 – Home again

The remainder of the voyage home was uneventful, even relaxing. Even with a shorthanded crew, the routine of the ship was smooth and well run. The day the Braydon sailed into Groden harbor was sunny and warm.

"Hold to the buoy, Nev!" called Greer. "The master will send for us when it is our turn."

"Aye!" Nev replied. "Prepare to lower sail!" he yelled to the hands on deck.

Brey stood next to his friend, enjoying the view of their homeport. "It sure is good to be back, Nev."

"You can say that again." he agreed. "Lower sail! Prepare to drop anchor!"

In a matter of minutes they had dropped anchor and stopped ship right next the marker buoy in the harbor. While they waited for their turn at being pulled in the harbor, everyone set about securing the ship from open water sailing; ropes were coiled and stowed, the sails were secured and the deck cleared. That complete, they all sat on deck and drank in the site of their home port.

After and hour, a Navy skiff was rowed out to the ship. "Ahoy, Braydon! Lieutenant Kadon requesting permission to come aboard!" called a young officer in a crisp uniform.

"Granted!" called back Mallen from the rail. A rope ladder was let down and the young officer nimbly climbed up on deck. "Pleasure to have you aboard, Lieutenant." he said shaking the young officer's hand.

"The pleasure is mine, Captain -" he left the name hanging, waiting for a name to be supplied.

"Our captain was lost to pirates; I am a Chief Mate, Mallen by name."

"'A' Chief Mate? There is more than one?"

"Indeed; myself and Mr. Greer there share the rank. Captain Report didn't feel like choosing between us, so he made it equal. A sound decision in the end, really."

"I see. Well, it seems I should speak with the both of you then."

"Better make it all five of us." said Greer as he approached with Brey, Nev, and Micah right behind. "We're all that's left of the crew and its only fitting."

The officer looked over the small group before continuing and nodded. "As you wish." he then motioned for all to sit, as he himself sat on a rope locker located by the rail.

"The first item I wish to address is how you came to be the last of the crew of the Braydon and how you reacquired her from the pirate, Blunt."

Mallen's eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded the young naval officer. "How is it you know of this, if I may ask? We have only just arrived in port and have spoken to no one here."

"The Naval crew you have aboard reported to the ranking officer while you were in Saladin for supplies. A corvette was dispatched immediately to bring the news that Blunt was almost certainly going to be captured. We have wished to have him in our custody for some time now."

"I bet you have." snorted Greer. "All right then, here's how it was." The burly carpenter went on to tell about the pursuit of the Braydon by the pirate ship, Report's order to remove the young men from the ship, and their subsequent marooning. He told of their retaking of the ship in fair detail and finished up with their meeting up with Captain Posen of the King Roland.

"I see. That is quite an adventure." He turned and looked at Nev. "Tell me young man, do you believe you and your mates helped to affect the capture of the pirate, Blunt?"

Nev felt defensive almost immediately. "Of course we did! We may not have had to cross swords with him on the island, but leaving him marooned worked just as well, didn't it?"

Kadon seemed unruffled by Nev's apparent offense at the question. "That remains to be seen of course, but should he be captured, then I would agree that your actions were indeed helpful in bringing him to justice."

Greer leaned forward a bit and scowled at the young man. "Now, the Navy wouldn't be looking to take full credit for Blunt's capture and deprive us of the reward hanging over his head, would they?"

Kadon quickly raised his hands saying, "I am not saying anything of the sort, I assure you. I am only here to gather the facts of the matter."

"Good." was the terse reply.

Kadon stood and clasped his hands behind his back and paced a few steps. "Now to the second matter." He turned a faced the small group. "It seems the ownership of the Braydon is in transition. It is my understanding that this ship is a Queen's trader registered to Captain Martin Report?"

"That is correct." answered Mallen, fearing what he was about to be told.

"Did the Captain have any financial partners or heirs who may claim her legally?" Mallen shook his head.

The young officer sighed heavily before continuing. "In that case, with the passing of Captain Report, possession of the ship and her cargo must pass to the Crown." He raised his hand to forestall the objections jumping to everyone's lips. "It has been taken into account what you have gone through to regain the ship and to return home safely; as a result, possession will not be officially taken for another week. This should allow for each of you to seek lodging and perhaps placement with another ship; however, the manifested cargo will be off-loaded tomorrow or perhaps the next day."

Mallen had been furiously stroking his thin beard since Kadon mentioned the ship would be taken; now he spoke. "What if we were able to pay off the remaining amount to the Crown? Might we be allowed to finish Captain Report's contract and assume ownership of the Braydon ourselves?"

Kadon shook his head slowly. "I am sorry. Queen's traders are specific to only one contracted individual or group. Had payment been made while Captain Report lived, the source would have been irrelevant, and ownership passed to him. Legally speaking, the Braydon became Royal property the moment he passed on; I am afraid the Crown has owned this ship for some months now. You could, of course, purchase her outright if you've the funds to do so." he finished.

"How much is that?" asked Nev, without pause. The idea of losing the Braydon after all they had been through on her seemed unbearable.

"I couldn't say; that is a matter for the Harbormaster, as he is the Queen's agent in determining a ship's value for sale or contract."

Kadon asked to be shown the ship's manifest and the log. Mallen had been making log entries since they recaptured the ship and showed the young officer the log entries corroborating their accounting of the events surrounding the loss and reacquisition of the ship. The log was left aboard ship, but the original manifest was to go with Kadon ashore.

After a few more questions, Kadon bid the crew of the Braydon farewell and disembarked, taking the sailors that had helped to bring the ship home with him. Handshakes and thanks were exchanged as they young sailors made ready to leave.

"I thank you for your help in bringing her in, lads." Greer stated simply. "You made for a fine crew."

Soon the crew of the Braydon stood alone on her deck.

It was morning before the Harbormaster sent for the Braydon to be brought in. She was towed by two longboats and many strong men to a berth near the main pier. Lieutenant Kadon was waiting patiently with a squad of sailors and several dockworkers to remove to the cargo and log of the Queen's Trader Braydon.

Epilogue

Two weeks on dry land and the crew of the Braydon had been very busy. This was a good thing, much had happened to them and staying busy was definitely the best medicine.

Shortly after their arrival in Groden, they discovered that the Braydon and her manifested cargo were forfeit to the Crown due to the death of their friend, Captain Report. While this was painful for them, particularly for Micah who had idolized his brave captain, it was not unexpected. The contract was in the name of Martin Report and no other, and he was unable to complete his contract.

Then there was the matter of the reward on the notorious Captain Blunt's head. One hundred gold pieces for information leading to the capture of the pirate; that much gold would go a long way toward obtaining another ship.

And the crew had not been idle in the pursuit of their inventions either. Soon after arriving in port, Mallen had been in contact with the Navy regarding his storm sails. The crewmembers 'borrowed' from the King Roland had been happy to provide an endorsement and assured the procurement office that the sails had performed quite well. An order for two sets had been received and an advance provided to pay for the material needed to make them. Needless to say, the slender sail maker had been quite please.

Not to be outdone, Greer and Brey finalized their plans for the cargo loader they had devised and presented the idea to the Harbormaster. He agreed that such a device could be valuable and told them they could demonstrate the device once they had a working model.

For their part, Nev and Micah helped on both projects as they were able. The young man had also begun teaching the boy the basics of cooking in the small house they all shared. Micah had only been the cook's assistant aboard the Braydon and he aspired to be the cook when they set sail in the spring.

It had been generally agreed that they would try for the Crystalline Sea again once the cold weather had passed. It had been the Captain's goal as well as Brey and Nev's, so it seemed the only choice. Soon they hoped to realize some profit from their inventions. If so, between the reward and any income from their inventions, they would be comfortable until spring and perhaps even build enough funds to get their own ship.

As they had promised to do before setting sail months earlier, the young men wrote to their mothers and related their journey in detail, they added the request that they share the letter with their mentor and friend, Barlow.

While returning to their lodgings after posting the letter, they reflected on their adventure to date.

"You know, Brey," said Nev, stopping for a moment, "even though things haven't gone quite as we planned, I would say our adventure has been, well - adventurous!"

The tall and wiry young man laughed and stroked his auburn whiskers, a habit he had recently picked up from his friend, Mallen. "That's the word for it, sure enough. And come spring, we will finally get our chance to reach the Crystalline Sea!"

"Do you think we will really make it this time?"

"I've no doubt, Nev." he replied. "Just as I knew in my heart we would get off Kulu Island and get back home, I know deep down that we will make it to the Crystalline Sea and beyond!"

Nev smiled at his friends certainty; he too felt deep down they would make it.

Then the young men walked on through the streets of Groden trading thoughts of what they would do with the riches they discovered in far-away lands beyond the Crystalline Sea.

The adventures of Nev and Brey will continue in the next volume, To The Crystalline Sea.

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