The Affinity V

Recap: After being attacked by pirates, and then by a Kraken, Lord Astavar, Layana and Miglio have fled the sinking ship.

The Affinity V

©2008 Ian Hobson

10 – Refugees

A rough hand grasped my wrist and another grasped my sword-belt and, with relief, I was hauled into a longboat.

'You cheat death, time and time again, Lord Astavar.' It was Doran, and two crewmen, coming to my aid again and, pushing wet hair from my eyes, I saw that beside me in the boat were Layana and Miglio, soaked and shivering but clearly as glad to have survived as I was. The two crewmen pulled on the oars while, looking ahead, I saw the privateer, its side lined with grim-faced sailors.

'My men have control of the ship,' said Doran, 'and what's left of its crew have agreed to serve me or been thrown overboard. Perhaps you would like to continue your journey now?'

'Thank you, Captain,' I said, acknowledging Doran's assumption of authority. 'I am in your debt.'

***

Doran renamed the privateer the Maffrai, to honour Captain Maffrai of the Kerree, and personally supervised the painting of the new name over the old one; and, of course, he replaced the Tirukshi flag with the red and gold flag of Elgypta. Though it hung limply from the aft mast, with just the occasional flutter, on the dull and overcast morning that we sailed slowly into the broad sweep of Romada Bay, on the south-eastern coast of the Litanlian peninsula.

When first I had set foot in Romada, it had been little more than a fishing village; but now, centuries later, it had become a busy port. So I was not surprised to see four other cargo ships at anchor, in fact I would have expected more. What did surprise me was the crush of humanity lining the harbour’s two wharves. And as we anchored in the bay, comments from some of the crew, revealed that I was right: there were fewer ships, but more people than was normal, and something was definitely amiss.

'Ahoy, the Maffrai!' A small boat had come alongside, with a young oarsman and a burly, middle-aged man with a bushy beard who, in passable Egyptian, announced himself as a merchant, wishing to do business.

'What Cargo?' Capitan Doran asked, leaning over the side to look down at the man. The privateer had had no cargo, except for a few bales of silk and some gold that was found during a search of the captain's cabin. Along with the original crewmembers from the Kerree, Miglio and I had been given a share of the gold for our part in the fighting though, wisely, Doran had kept half in order to purchase cargo to be traded in other ports.

'Passengers!' the merchant answered Doran's question. 'As many as you can take!'

'Passengers?' Doran sounded doubtful; an offer of passengers was something he had not expected. 'Bound for where?'

'Anywhere south!'

Further discussion revealed that northern Litanlia had been invaded by King Ungstred of Grustan, a neighbouring, and mountainous, country that had for many years coveted Latanlia's fertile valleys, though previous invasions had been limited to the raiding of farms and villages for anything worth stealing.

'Refugees,' I said to Layana and Miglio, as I returned to where they waited with our baggage beside the foremast. 'I thought as much.' I wondered, and not for the first time, if I was responsible for so much suffering in the world, as trouble seemed to follow me everywhere. Though, from what the merchant had said, the moon had waxed and waned at least three times since this war had begun.

'Come aboard!' Captain Doran had one of his men lower a rope ladder, and the merchant, red-faced from the climb, was soon on deck.

'A fine ship you have here, Captain.' The merchant, whose name was Bolligari, looked the ship up and down before eyeing the mixed crew suspiciously, as several were battle-scarred and wearing bloodstained bandages. But he relaxed as one of the Kerree's old hands, a Romadan, stepped forward and vouched for him. Three other crewmen were Litanlian born, and each of them was eager to ask questions about the invasion, but Captain Doran took the man below. I considered joining them but decided that I could learn just as much in the town.

And so, as I had already said my goodbyes to Doran who, in truth, was probably glad to see the back of us, I persuaded the young oarsman to take us ashore while his master was occupied aboard. Though, before long, there were a number of other small boats surrounding the Maffrai, all with occupants seeking passage.

'Perhaps you should stay with the Maffrai,' I suggested to Layana, as Miglio clambered down the rope-ladder below us. 'There may be dangerous times ahead.'

She shot me an angry glance, but then burst into laughter. 'Dangerous times? Are Oruka-men, pirates and sea monsters not dangerous? My lord, you bought me my freedom, which means that I am free to follow you.' She kissed me then and, after throwing her bundled belongings to her brother and lifting the skirts of her dress, she scrambled nimbly over the ship's side and down the rope-ladder.

***

Romada was crowded with refugees, while the regular inhabitants of the town were suspicious of strangers and therefore not quite the friendly and hospitable people that I remembered. Though every tavern and house with rooms to let was full, and I feared that we would spend our first night out of doors. There was also a shortage of food, and we paid an exorbitant price for a meal of fish and stale bread. The tavern owner, where we ate, bore little resemblance to Kello, the man I had hoped to find there and, after questioning him, I learned that the establishment had changed hands five years before after Kello's wife had died and he had lost everything in a single game of baracada.

'Does Kello still live?' I asked in Litanlian.

The new owner shrugged. 'He is old, but last I heard, he was working as a stable hand at the garrison.' He pointed towards the fortress on the hill behind the town, before turning away to serve other customers. I remembered the fortress being built, two hundred years earlier, as a defence against a potential aggressor; though, to my knowledge, it had never had to withstand an attack.

'Kello is a friend?' Layana asked. She and Miglio spoke only Elgyptan and the language of their home country, Islaar; but the latter was similar in many ways to Litanlian, so they had understood the gist of our conversation.

'Yes,’ I answered, ‘though he may not recognise me now. It must be over thirty years since I last sat here in this tavern and shared a meal with him.'

Miglio looked a little puzzled by that remark. I had not got around to telling him my true age yet. 'Why do you seek him, master?' he asked.

'He was a good soldier, and we fought a couple of campaigns together,’ I said, remembering my old friend. 'Yes, Litanlia has seen many invasions; from the sea as well as from the land. But always the Litanlians have repelled the intruders. They are a proud people and know how to defend themselves.'

'Yet so many of them are fleeing the country now.' Layana interrupted. 'Why do they not stand and fight?'

'Some of these people are not truly Litanlians. Some are migrant workers and some are refugees from other wars. Others have grown too rich to risk loosing what they have and choose to flee with their pockets filled with gold. But how many young men do you see?' I gestured towards the crowds lining the wharves. 'Hardly any, because those with any fight in them will be marching north to meet the enemy.'

'And are we to join them, master?' Miglio asked, with that glint in his eye that reminded me so much of Magaglo.

I ran my fingers through my beard as I pondered his question, as though I had a choice. But, of course, I had none; the gods had decreed that I must defend against any aggressor, and I could do no other.

11 - Kello

By late afternoon, the clouds had melted away under the heat of the sun, though it soon began to sink towards the hills to the south-west as we climbed the steep track that lead to the garrison, each of us carrying our spare clothes and other meagre possessions.

'What if we are turned away?' Layana asked as she shifted the bundle she carried from one shoulder to the other.

'Then we shall sleep beneath the stars,' I replied. The earth beside the track showed little sign of the morning's rain, and the air smelt fresh and clean away from the crowded streets of the town, so the thought of a night out of doors was quite appealing.

As we neared the fortress, a sentry sitting on a stool bedside the main gate, sprang to his feet and reached for a spear that was propped against the wall. He looked too old to be a soldier, but he was a big, broad-shouldered man, and he held the spear as if he knew how to use it. 'What is your business here?' he asked in Litanlian. His voice was gruff and somewhat slurred, as though he had been drinking.

I set down my bundle and took a few steps closer. Miglio and I no longer wore our soldiers’ tunics, as the mail had rusted solid, but we still wore our swords over our regular, travel-stained, garments, which was probably the reason for the guard's suspicion. 'Is that the way you treat an old friend?' I asked.

The old man's spear point was immediately thrust forward. 'You're no friend of mine.' The daylight was beginning to fade, but there was enough for him to make out my features because his expression slowly changed from aggression to incredulity. 'Astavar?'

As the spear was lowered and then dropped to the ground, I stepped forward and, grinning like fools, we embraced each other. Kello may have been an old man, but he hugged me with the strength of a bear, before holding me at arms length and studying my face. 'It is really you?'

'It is,' I said.

'Then you did not lie; the stories you used to tell me of being reborn and living your life over again were true?'

'It looks that way,' I said, remembering the times that we had got drunk together, and regretting that my tongue had become so loose. 'But what of you?' I asked. 'I expected to find you owning every tavern in town by now, not playing at soldiers.'

'Ah!' he exclaimed. 'Taverns! May the gods rot them! Just a lot of dammed hard work, fetching and carrying for a lot of ill-mannered imbeciles.'

'I hear you were married.'

'I was.' His expression changed momentarily, as though a dark cloud had passed quickly overhead. 'She was the best woman in the whole world. Better than most men,' he said with a grin. 'Never lost an arm-wrestling contest. Twenty years we were together.' He looked past me towards Miglio and Layana. 'These two with you?'

I introduced, first Layana, and then Miglio, who was immediately handed the spear. 'You are on guard until I send someone to relieve you,' said Kello, giving me a wink. 'Let no one pass.' Then he snatched up all our bundles and led the way into the castle.

***

There were only eleven men left at the garrison, all but one of them old, like Kello. The young one, a Lieutenant called Aesteban, was nursing a broken collarbone, having fallen from his horse as he and his company were about to set off to join King Rubris and their countrymen fighting in the north. He had been left in command and had promoted my old friend Kello from stable-hand to private soldier. And though at first Miglo and I were treated with suspicion, he soon warmed to us, and we sat until the small hours, drinking wine as Kello and I talked of old battles.

Lieutenant Aesteban occasionally looked puzzled by our conversation and by my knowledge of his county's history, but he did not question my willingness to fight. 'I will be fit to ride in a few days time,' he said, massaging his shoulder, 'and I will be glad to have you along.' He told us he planned to leave just three men behind at the garrison, and then offended Kello by revealing that he would be one of them.

'I can fight as well as any man,' he claimed, getting to his feet and swaying back and forth with an empty wine bottle in his hand, 'and ride as well as any! And I will be proud to have a young Lord Astavar at my side once more.' He put a brotherly arm around my shoulders, then slid back into a sitting position and promptly fell asleep.

We sat for a while longer, listening to Kello's snores, before retiring ourselves. Lieutenant Aesteban had given us two rooms in the officers' quarters, and I remember little after kicking off my sandals and falling into bed.

12 – A Reluctant Return

I felt that I was floating; not in water, but in air. And though the sensation was not unpleasant and I knew that I had experienced, and survived, this before, I tried to fight it. I did not want to be torn away from my life as Lord Astavar just then. I had a woman who loved me, a faithful servant, and there was much to do: preparations to be made, roads to travel, battles to be won.

As I woke I could feel a dull pain in my neck and back. Realising that I was no longer floating but lying on a hard surface, my first thought was that I had been dreaming. I opened my eyes, trying to make sense of what I could see and feel: I was on the floor of a small room that seemed to smell of old books, and beside me lay my sword. I sat up with a start as I realised where I was; and who I was.

I was Michael Collington again.

Was this how it normally happened? Somehow it felt right: Lord Astavar, my other self, had fallen asleep, and I, the real me, was back in England, back in my study. Shakily, I got to my feet and went to the window. There was still daylight but the autumn colours were dulled by an overcast sky. So, once again, back in my real world, very little time had passed. I stood there, gazing out of the window, my head filled with images of Layana and Miglio, of our sea voyage and fight with the kraken, and of Romada with its streets filled with refuges. Why is it, I wondered, that as Lord Astavar I quickly become immersed in that role, forgetting completely this, my real life, while here, back in my study, I recall everything? My life had certainly changed.

Jennifer's car pulled into the driveway, breaking my reverie. Carefully, I put my sword back into its secret drawer and went to greet my wife and daughter. I felt a strange elation; the shock of returning was much diminished in comparison to the first time. It was as though I had just read several chapters of a fantastically good book and set it aside to continue later. The only question was, when?

***

The next day, Sunday, was our wedding anniversary. Of course, with all that had happened since finding my grandfather's letter and the sword, I had completely forgotten about it, which did not go down well with Jennifer. To make amends, I drove down to the local petrol station and returned with the biggest bunch of flowers they had, and then booked a table for lunch at the Black Horse. The earliest I could get was 2.15 so it was late in the day when the three of us returned home to find Jennifer's parents on the doorstep, so I had no opportunity to return to the study.

At work the week seemed to drag on for ever, and then an unexpected invitation to spend the weekend at my sister's new house in Coventry used up another weekend. And so a total of fifteen days passed before I found myself alone in the house and able to remove the sword from its hiding place.

Remembering Magalo's words, I stood, back to the wall, and kissed the blade. And, once more, I was transported to my other life.

***

I woke in almost complete darkness, feeling a little cold and stiff, and expecting to find Layana beside me. I was lying on a bed, the one in the room in the officers' quarters, as far as I could make out. But there were others in the room, I could hear their rhythmic breathing and at least three people were snoring. Groggily, I pushed myself up onto my elbows.

'Master?' Miglio's whispered voice was close by, and I could just make out his shape as he rose from the floor where he had been lying. He came closer and then knelt and held something out towards me. 'Your sword, master.'

I took it from him. 'Who else is here?' I whispered as I slipped my sword from its sheath.

'Soldiers, and men from the town.'

'The town?' I was confused. Across the room, someone coughed and then another stirred in his sleep. I pushed away the rough blanket that covered me, got to my feet, touched the sword's blade to my lips and, as always, I felt infused by its power. A tiny shaft of moonlight was seeping through the shuttered window, and I made my way to it, almost stumbling over another prone body. I opened one of the shutters and looked out. I could see armed men on the castle walls and, below in the courtyard there were more men, sitting or standing around fires, while others were sleeping wherever they had been able to find a suitable place to lie down.

'We are under siege, master,' whispered Miglio. 'You have been asleep for twenty days.'

TO BE CONTINUED