Tyler's Dream (13 page)

“I am supposed to dine with the very people who killed my family?” asked Kol.

“No,” Thorfinn said softly. “You may leave.” Thorfinn pointed a finger straight at Tyler as he continued. “But this boy is our only hope to beat back the enemy after all these years. You have all seen his tattoos and have heard his story from Haranio.” Thorfinn nodded over to where the old shamif peaceably sat. “We knew there would be deaths before the end, that there must be war before there is peace. This was never going to be an easy struggle, and indeed it is all too probable that it will not be a successful one, but this boy is our
hope.
He was blessed.”

“Spare us, Thorfinn!” roared Odinn unexpectedly, grinding his chair back and heaving up his overshadowing form so that all the candles fluttered from the speed of his movement. “That is a legend, a story to take its place beside the myths and dreams of children. It is not real. The
real
battle will be decided by how many men we have against the enemy, and how well they are trained. Neither this boy nor the old man are worth a single one of the lives they ended back at Windbreak Village.”

Tyler fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt under the table. If Odinn decided to suddenly attack him, which seemed like an imminent possibility, he doubted anyone could hold the goliath back. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Irrian’s hand ease to his sword, but Thorfinn hadn’t flinched and remained crouched over, fists against the table.

“Sit, Odinn,” Thorfinn whispered dangerously. “And calm down.”

But obviously Odinn’s size didn’t match his intelligence, and he overlooked the hint. “You’re chasing a myth, Thorfinn, a dream without substance. Due to our hurried escape our food supplies are barely existent. How are we supposed to survive now, without fresh water? Do you expect us to drink from the sea?”

Thorfinn smashed down his great, ringed cup with such a crack that the entire table buckled under the blow. Wine spilt from goblets, and plates clattered in their places. Orio let slip an audible gasp. “
Enough of this!
” Thorfinn sliced his hand angrily through the air and glared at each person in the room one after the other. Most looked away – even Odinn. Only Kol didn’t flinch. Thorfinn gestured towards Tyler and Haranio. “These people are guests at our table, yet you insult them as though they were not standing right there before you. I
will not
allow it.” Thorfinn pounded the table to emphasise his point, and he let the silence hold. “If any dares utter another word tonight in disrespect to my guests, I will personally see to it that they spend the night locked below. Or have you forgotten who I am? If I tell you sail east or into storm, you obey. Well? Trust my judgment now.” Thorfinn softened his tone to implore to those around him. “I believe in Avalon’s Blessing, and this boy carries it. One look at the markings of the spider, the stone that never grows cold, or the strange company he travels with should tell us that this is no ordinary child. What’s the point of killing him if there’s even the
slightest
chance he may be the one of whom the legends speak? And I can tell you now that no harm shall come to him, so long as breath passes between my lips and blood through my heart. We will sail to Ithrim, because that is where the boy tells me he must go, and we will do so with due haste and with no discussion or complaint.”

There was a general, uncomfortable shuffling in the room at this information, and Thorfinn continued. “If we ration wisely, we will have enough food, and God willing it will rain enough for water. I cannot believe you all! This boy could save us. Don’t you want relief from our years of misfortune? Windbreak is not the only village He has now plundered, and those were not the only ships whose ashes now warm the coral bed.”

Tyler’s heart pounded with adrenaline. Except for a few strange dreams, he was no different from the person he was before the blessing, which he felt was very ordinary indeed. However, giving voice to these doubts would hardly help Thorfinn now. The oiled wicks below lighted Thorfinn’s face fearsomely. He was daring someone to speak out of turn against him. The silence was his authority, and it was as brittle as glass.

A chair slowly scraped backwards. The sound of it filled the entire room, the entire world. The brittle glass shattered. The sound was a snub to Thorfinn’s authority, the voice of contempt that was buried secretly in everyone’s hearts. Kol stood up. “If you would excuse me, Thorfinn,” he said, before giving a slight nod to those present and striding out of the room.

Odinn coughed lightly before rising. “Your pardon, Thorfinn,” he said as followed Kol out of the door.

There was a slight pause, and suddenly Orio stood abruptly. He licked his long tongue nervously around his lips before scurrying after the other two.

Tyler looked to Thorfinn. His face was red, and his knuckles drew white against the table. The company present still had not touched their food or drink, instead preferring to bow their heads to their chests and avoid eye contact with each other.

“Father, allow me to tell a tale. Perhaps it will lift the mood.”

Thorfinn’s tensed expression did not ease, but he grunted in consent and forced a smile. “Yes, m’boy. A grand idea.”

Irrian nodded, rose, and gave a respectful bow to the seated company before fetching an odd-looking stringed instrument from its hanging on the wall. With a slight twist he turned and ran his fingers across the strings. It was a strange sound, yet the air was filled warmly by it. Then Irrian began his song after yet another slight bow, this time to Tyler. Sometimes he would sing, sometimes he would talk, and all the while he paced, playing his wonderful instrument to his silvered words.

Of legends

There are many t
ales:

Of bravery and st
rife,

Of heroes, gods, and tyr
ants,

Of demons

      Breathed to
life.

But there is one

That stands a
lone,

Legend above
all,

The greatest tale ever
told:

      Of Tryton and
Laor.

Back before time had mea
ning,

When the world was
new;

When the stars shined so brig
htly,

When the grass so greenly
grew;

The hills, uncut by unkind
wind,

Still smooth and wide and
bold;

The sea the colour of the
sky,

      The sand the sea of
gold.

And there upon the young raw e
arth,

A legend proudly st
rode.

Came Tryton of the mighty
Gods,

Greatest of the
old,

Clad in armour and tall
helm,

With shield of fame well
told,

The wind blew wildly through his
hair,

      Long locks of shining
gold.

He stopped upon a yellow field

And shouted to the
sky,

“Laor, I am r
eady.

It is time to
die!”

For Laor, god of thu
nder,

Had stolen Tryton’s b
ride,

The fair and lovely
Ilda,

      His love and all his p
ride.

Then Laor laughed

A thundering boom

And crashed down from a c
loud.

He rode a bolt of light
ning,

Which smashed into the gr
ound.

“Tryton!” called the traitor
Laor,

“’twas a mistake in co
ming.

Before his night is done, I s
wear,

      Your body will be br
oken.”

The whole world quaked

As they clashed their sw
ords.

Mountains simply crum
bled;

Hot sparks lit the grass and t
rees;

      The sounds of battle rum
bled.

That night pa
ssed,

And then the
next;

Again, and yet ano
ther.

They fought so hard

And for so
long,

      Their blades stung white with sme
lter.

Then Tryton cried a mighty yell

And hurled his sword
away.

It slashed into the o
cean,

Which boiled for half a
day,

Laor laughed and lunged his sword

So lightning edged its b
lade,

But Tryton simply stepped aside

And threw his fist with
rage.

As Laor lay there dying

In the crater from the
blow,

He smiled a set of broken teeth

      And looked up from down
low.

“I go now to meet the
dead,

But I shall see you t
here.

My blade was run with po
ison;

Your death draws quickly
near!”

Then Tryton with a snarling roar

Cut off Laor’s
head.

Already he could feel the t
oxin;

      All too soon he would be s
pent.

Quickly he travelled

On thundering
foot.

He cratered plains with h
oles;

He carved out ridges and steep h
ills;

      He flattened trees and kn
olls.

Ilda he found in a ca
stle,

Held by four high w
alls.

He smashed them down to get to
her,

      To take her in his
hold.

But his blood was thick with sick
ness,

His brow was lined with s
weat.

He whispered softy words of love

And murmured gently with re
gret.

And Ilda cried her precious t
ears,

As helpless as a c
hild,

For Tryton died within her
arms,

      First hero of the w
orld.

And there it
ends.

The tale is told

Of Tr
yton,

      Legend of the
old.

Irrian led his clever fingers over the strings one last time. Then Thorfinn rose with a laugh and patted his son on the back, obviously well cured of his previous concern. The whole company erupted into applause, and the ill words of before were forgotten. The rest of that hot night was filled with song and tales of great deeds.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
STORM

For the first few weeks, Tyler had been free to do as he pleased. With this great liberty he took to sitting at the ship’s bow, his legs dangling absently over the edge of the boat, his forehead against the deck rail, chin in his hands and doubtful brown eyes staring ahead to the vast blue of sea and sky. What bothered him the most was the question of his identity. His personality had undoubtedly been formed under the twisted narrative of Hargill’s lies. That bull-headed, thoughtful lad had been an illusion along with everything else. Now, defined by Avalon’s blessing and his quest, the innocent lad he remembered was gone, and in his place another person had begun to emerge – one more serious and constantly weighed with responsibility. It was not the Tyler Finch he remembered.

Two ships sailed along with them,
The Albatross’s Wing
and
The Seal
. Tyler took great pleasure in watching the large ships spray through the waves, their proud sails bursting with captured wind. Occasionally he caught sight of whales snorting in the distance or dolphins skipping ahead of the ships’ crashing bows. At times he would forget the disapproving glares of the sailors and shout with excitement if one of the dolphins cartwheeled from the sea.

Everything changed the day he volunteered to help the crew. Tyler’s brief period of bliss ended, and pain, misery, and torture took their lonely posts. Kol was first master, which meant he was in charge of delegating duties on the ship. The man didn’t try to hide the fact that he bore a grudge against Tyler – indeed, he wore his hate openly, forcing Tyler to do the nastiest jobs available, whether it was cleaning vomit from the toilets, scrubbing urchins off the deck, polishing rust from the rails and cannons, or untangling the heavy rigging ropes. Tyler would go to sleep at night covered with cuts, blisters, and burns.

Tyler never spoke a word of this mistreatment to Thorfinn. Not only would he have risked being labelled a snitch, but Thorfinn would most likely have been enraged into some drastic action, which would only have made matters worse. As it was, there was an unpleasant air aboard, a clammy, uncomfortable feeling that seemed to cling about the ship closer than the wheeling seagulls that had followed them since Windbreak. There were suspicious silences when Tyler entered rooms unannounced, as well as sudden dispersals of conspiring groups. A feeling of mutiny was in the air, and Thorfinn’s authority was constantly eroded with snide remarks. Tyler discovered that not many believed in Avalon’s Blessing and thought it madness to be risking their lives on the journey to Ithrim.

Tyler never met with Varkon, as Thorfinn had promised. The ghatu was on
The Albatross’s Wing,
and Thorfinn told him it would take too long for the boats to come close enough for an exchange. Food and water were scarce, so time was of the essence. It rained only once during the long weeks, and so each drop was savoured. Each scrap of food, no matter how mouldy, was eaten with ravenous appetite. Any rats that were found in the grain bins were held in high regard; they were cooked on top deck in the evenings with the women and children, who were allowed onto the deck at the end of each day to stretch their legs and breathe in some fresh air. If Tyler showed his face at these gatherings, he was quietly ignored and would soon find himself staring at a row of turned backs and cold shoulders.

Haranio proved a bad substitute for company. The old shamif spent the majority of his time locked in his cabin alone. What he was doing there, Tyler could only guess. He had a suspicion that Haranio was not taking well to the sea, perhaps because the old man had more cat in him than he cared to realise. Not that it really mattered. Even if Haranio had made the effort to come on deck more often, Tyler’s laborious schedule at all times of the night and day would have prevented them from spending too much time together.

Kol had insisted it would be impossible for Tyler to work on the ship
and
keep separate apartments from the rest of the crew. Tyler consented to his request. Thus the bullying never stopped. Tyler’s cabin mates tortured him nightly, drenching his mattress with water, smearing his pillow with rat’s droppings, and stealing his shoes so he would be forced to work barefoot all day on the splintered deck.

To escape, Tyler would sneak up to top deck and hide away in a nook between the stacked lifeboats. From this position he could listen to the wind luffing at the edges of the sails and stare past the straight-backed masts and snaking halyards to the distant stars beyond.

The storm changed everything.

“Wake up, rat! How could you possibly still be sleeping?”

It was Ottar, the person in his cabin whom Tyler disliked the most. The man’s face was shaped like an orange segment, starting out wide at the back of his head before squeezing in to his short nose and swollen lips.

Tyler groaned and heaved himself off his bunk. Immediately he was slammed into the opposite wall. The rush of the storm came to him then, as well as the beat of the waves and the tear of the wind. Tyler could hear the rain against the deck and the groan of wood straining against their gunnels.

“How could you not wake up? It’s the end of the world!” Ottar had an excruciatingly annoying habit of ending every sentence in a rising pitch. It was hard to listen to what he was saying with the knowledge that the dreaded exclamation was sure to come.

The cabin door exploded outwards to expose Furufis, another of Tyler’s beloved roommates, dripping from head to toe and breathless. “You lazy mentals, get your bums on deck and help! We’re not on a blimin’ holiday.”

“Some of us are,” said Ottar, eyeing Tyler sourly. “The boy almost slept through this whole business!”

“Come on, pretties, let’s get a move on. This boat’s just as good for floating as it is for filling up. The other lads are just putting away the sails.”

As soon as they had climbed the ladder from the cabins, Furufis and Ottar launched across the deck like a pair of scampering lizards and disappeared among the shadows under the sails. Tyler was not nearly as steady on his feet. He swayed violently before grabbing hold of a jutting rail.

The sound of the rain was deafening. It was only just possible to hear the cries of the sailors as they clambered like spiders across the climbing ropes, trying their very best to pack in the sails.

“What are you waiting for, laddie?” A strong hand grabbed Tyler suddenly from behind. “Get up there and help!” It was Kol, scars and all. He looked even more menacing through the rip of the rain.

“But I can’t! I mean to say, I don’t know how—”

Kol snarled and lowered his face closer to Tyler’s so that the boy received a shower of spit along with the rain. “If you don’t move right now, I’ll toss you overboard!”

“But I’ve never even been up on the climbing mast before!” said Tyler with unashamed terror.

Kol, apparently losing his patience, grabbed Tyler by the collar and threw him onto the deck. “
Co
ward
!”

The ship yanked to starboard. Tyler skid across the slippery deck. Another unexpected turn put him off balance just as he thought he was about to recover. He caught a glimpse of Kol smiling cruelly in the smashing rain.

Finally he made it to the mast and hugged it as tightly as he could for a while. After a while his breath came back, and he began to climb. Eight yards of ladder saw him to the base of the climbing ropes, which looked like a giant web that extended to the crow’s nest at the top of the ship. Men dangled off it perilously, limbs flailing like leaves.

Beyond the tilting ship, the grey waves gathered. They lumbered their swollen selves to the side of the ship before ploughing deliberately into the ship’s hull or occasionally washing over the deck.

He did not want to drown. There was something unacceptably disturbing about the thought to Tyler, perhaps exacerbated by his recent near-death encounters in the river. Unfortunately the air tonight had mixed with the ocean so that it felt like a liquid soup about him, and he gasped it in fearfully as though at any second, the humidity could fill his small lungs entirely and end him. What was the purpose of his predicament? Thus far his tasks aboard the ship had been limited to scrubbing, polishing, and knotting. Now seemed like less than an ideal time to teach a new trade. It was clear that Kol was tempting death by sending him up here. Tyler’s death would mean that Thorfinn would abandon his quest.

Ottar had somehow managed to already reach the crow’s nest. Tyler could make out his wedged head like a tiny half-moon against the clouds. He realised that the fact he could make out such a detail probably meant he was a great deal higher than he had originally thought, and a glance to the deck confirmed this. Far below, two men mounted the mast ladder, as he had done earlier. He watched them ascending the mast. Looking down at the deck was better than gazing anywhere else anyway because it was easier to see through the rain that lashed brutally from the sky. Eventually the two men drew close to him, but Tyler could not make out their faces, covered as they were by sealskin hoods.

“Hey!” he yelled. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He cocked his head in expectation of a reply.

“Quickly –
get him
!” One of the men growled, and then he lunged, catching hold of Tyler’s foot. Tyler’s right hand slipped from the ropes, so he was now only barely holding on with his left. The man tugged down as hard as he could.

They are trying to murder me
! Tyler kicked out his free leg, and he felt his book connect squarely with the man’s face. There was sharp crack and snap of nose cartilage, but the man didn’t let go; if anything, his grip tightened. By now the second man had scaled high enough to also take a hold of Tyler’s left foot. They both pulled down together. The rope sliced into his hand. Tyler realised he was going to fall. Quickly he threaded his free foot into one of the climbing squares, just as his fingertips unhooked from the rope. The two men loosened their grips as they felt their victim fall.

The whole world tipped sideways, passing Tyler in a blur of rain and wind. He flipped over by his right foot, which held firm. He was now upside down, wet hair hanging vertically off his scalp. One of this would-be killers was alongside him, and Tyler felt the man start pulling at his right leg, trying to loosen it from the square of climbing rope in which it was tangled.

Tyler grabbed the man’s ankle and bit into it sharply. The man yelled with agony and wrenched his leg from Tyler’s teeth, but as he did this the ship dropped into the dip of a cresting wave, buckled roughly, and snapped the surprised man from the ropes, hurling him off the rigging and towards the boiling sea.

A boot kicked Tyler in the face. The other man had already scuttled sideways to replace his unfortunate companion. Tyler’s head recoiled from the blow, but he managed to hang on. His eyes felt like they were crossed, and combined with the pitching of the ship, everything was moving far too much for him to think. He craned his head up into his chest to prepare for the next strike, and he flailed his arms weakly ahead of him in an attempt to ward off the blow he was sure would soon follow.

Thousands of drops of rain exploded violently against the man’s sealskin hood, and through his grogginess Tyler could have sworn he saw the man’s eyes: they were wild with violence and glinting with impending victory. There was a loud
thud
. The man’s arms went immediately limp at his sides, and for a second he hung in disbelief before giving way to gravity and toppling over silently towards the furious waves.

Ottar was beside him on the ropes. The ugly man wrapped a muscled arm about Tyler. “I’ve got you, lad. It’s all right.”

Tyler smiled with relief, and as Ottar untangled his foot and swung him upright, he caught sight of Kol disappearing down the stairwell below deck. That monster must have been the architect of his planned demise. Tyler clenched the climbing ropes as though they were Kol’s neck. With Ottar beside him, he began his slow descent.

“Why did you help me, Ottar?” Tyler asked when they were back in their cabin. Tyler was standing but held on tightly to the door frame to support himself against the rocking ship. He regarded the drenched figure of Ottar, who was sitting on Tyler’s bed, oblivious to the fact that he was soaking it wet.

An oil lantern squeaked with rust as it swung from the ceiling. Ottar scratched at one of his desperate cultures of stubble on his chin. “
Why
did I help you?” he repeated, obviously shocked. “Well, I suppose you thought I’d just go let those men kill you?”

“But you’ve always been so unkind—”

“I’m treating you no worse than when I was first recruited onto this barmy bit of wood. I know the others hate you for bringing the Dhimori, and for this rotten journey we’re on.” He spat on the ground. “I’m a little bitter about that, mind. But I’m not about to let you die in front of me!”

“You were treated as badly when you first came aboard a ship?”

“Of course. A little hazing is good for ya! We break you down so we can build you up. We just haven’t got to the building part with you yet. It’ll come, although maybe a bit later than most given how much bitterness has to be taken out on you first for our current predicament!” Ottar jumped to his feet and supported himself against the bedpost. “Now, did you see who those two men were tonight?” Tyler shook his head. “Well you’ve no shortage of people that dislike you, lad. I’m sure we’ll be finding out who they were come the morrow. Don’t bother coming back to the deck tonight. Keep your head down here and rest. Speaking of which …” He looked a little sheepish now. “I’d appreciate it if we kept this incident between ourselves. If the men found out that I had killed …”