The Waywatcher - Trainee (Chapter 2)

Nadia was escorted away from the market area. People stared at her while she walked along with four guards surrounding her. As they reached the town’s barracks the gate was opened. They walked her through to the courtyard where low stone buildings stood on three sides of the courtyard. Next to the gate was a guardhouse. Nadia looked behind to see the tall gate being shut. She was pulled along by her arm to one of the buildings and taken down the steep steps. There was a row of cells with a corridor between them. It was dim, and the only light came from the narrow windows at the top of the cell walls. A cell door was opened and she was shoved inside before the door was locked behind her.

Nadia blinked as her eyes adjusted to her surroundings. The cell had a small wooden bench in one corner, a bucket in the other, and some straw scattered on the floor. Nadia sat on the bench and drew her knees up towards her chest. Her feet stung. She had managed to cut her big toe which dripped blood onto the straw below. She held back from crying; too angry to feel pity for herself. Why had she trusted that new cobbler? She hoped Stuart would realise something was wrong when she didn’t come to meet him. It was known for guards to leave prisoners for hours or days before even asking them for a name. Guilty until proven innocent.

‘Hey, welcome to this glorious hellhole,’ said a male voice from one of the other cells. ‘Breakfast is promptly served at seven, lunch if you’re lucky will be at one pm, sadly you’ve missed that today. Dinner is around five pm. A delicious mix of lukewarm gruel and hard bread. All brought to you by the generosity of his honour the mayor of Albernay.’ A strange sound followed which almost sounded like muffled applause. ‘I thank you.’

‘Who are you?’ asked Nadia, she stood up and peered through the bars of her cell.

‘You’ll not see me where you are, but I’m up here,’ said the voice. ‘Fourth cell along, opposite yours. Been empty awhile now yours has, but mad Jimmy was in there at one point about five years ago?’

‘You’ve been here five years?’

‘No, no, just three days this time. A Minor offence, picking fun at his Lordship,’ a screeching sound came from his direction.

‘What was that?’

‘My harp. Doesn’t she sound wonderful? I call her Verona. She sings like a…’

‘Like a Harpy.’

‘Harpy? No, have you ever seen a Harpy, vicious creatures? All wings and sharp claws. They lure you in with their large breasts and sweet smiles. Then gut you after they’ve had done with you.’

‘You’ve met one?’

‘I was accompanying an adventurer one time who went to the Hidden Lands and we stumbled on a nest of them,’ said the voice.

‘But, now you’re here,’ said Nadia

‘Only by using my wit and thanks to the lovely Verona here who lulled them to sleep with a lullaby.’

‘Sounding like that?’

‘No, the Guards have stolen her voice,’ said the bard. ‘Soulless bastards! I hope Baphomet comes for you in the nights and tears your souls out.’ Heavy boots sounded on the steps.

‘Keep the noise down.’ The guard banged on the bars of the cells with a short wooden club. He peered into Nadia’s cell.

‘And what do we have here? Little street urchin thief. Looks like another one for the Parish-men.’

‘I’m not an urchin. I’m the Smith’s daughter; I’m Nadia.’

‘A liar and a thief. Don’t you worry we’ll have you out soon,’ said the Jailer, ‘On the next boat to the island anyway.’ He walked back out banging on the iron bars sending the sound ringing in the air.

‘Don’t mind him,’ said the Bard. ‘He just likes to scare the younger ones by threatening them with the Parish-men. So, are you really are the Blacksmith’s daughter?’

‘Yes,’ Nadia sat back on the bench and looked up to the small barred window in her cell.

‘Then you’ll be out in no time,’ he said. ‘Nadia, I’m Jerald, with a J.’

‘Jerald? Um, please to meet you I guess.’ She checked her toe which had finally stopped bleeding but still stung. ‘Are you a Bard?’

‘Yes, and a very good one too,’ said Jerald, ‘If my dear Verona wasn’t so beaten up, I would play a tune that would lift your heart and clear all your troubles away.’

‘I need to get home. If I miss making dinner again, then my Dad will be mad at me.’

‘I’m sure he’ll understand with you being in here,’ said Jerald. ‘Say what day is it? Can be hard to keep track in here.’

‘It’s Tuesday,’ Nadia replied.

‘Tuesday so all going well I’ll be out tomorrow, or Thursday. Will just have to see.’

‘How can you be so cheerful in this place? It reeks in here, and this bench doesn’t look big enough to sleep on.’

‘Oh, you get used to it.’

She could hear Jerald moving about in his cell. ‘Usually, there’s a couple more fellas in here, but the last one was moved on yesterday. I’m quite glad to have another fellow cellmate. Talking to yourself does get quite dull, and the Jailer isn’t much of talker.’

The heavy footsteps sounded on the steps as the Jailor came downstairs with a tray in his hand carrying two bowls and two chunks of bread.

‘Oh, it’s dinner time, already?’

‘Shut up wise mouth’ The Jailer opened a small metal flap in the cell, placed one of the bowls on and dropped the chunk of bread in it.

‘Aww, you know I like my bread nice and dry and not covered in gruel.’

The Jailer grumbled and went to Nadia’s cell to repeat the process. ‘Here, told to feed you both now, so eat up.’

‘See I said he’s not much of a talker,’ Jerald took the bowl with the bread. ‘No spoon? Deary me, no wonder this place doesn’t get many customers.’

‘I said shut up.’ The jailer banged on the bars of Jerald’s cell before going upstairs.

Nadia took her bowl and chunk of bread from the shelf. The gruel was a thin mixture of barley, carrots, and a few scraps of meat. The bread was hard, so she put it in the gruel to soften up. She sat back on the bench and put the bowl to her lips and carefully took a sip. It was salty and not very hot, but she was hungry.

‘He always does that,’ said Jerald. ‘Dropping the bread in. Means it softens up quicker, and he thinks he’s doing it to annoy me.’

‘Why would he have to feed us early?’ asked Nadia.

‘Probably something to do with the kitchen. If the Town Guards are doing training then they’ll eat earlier in the day, and this food is the leftovers of what they have, minus all the good chunks of meat and veg. Sometimes it doesn’t get brought down here until everyone up there has eaten and then its near cold.’

Nadia placed the empty bowl back on the self. Her stomach still rumbled, and she thought of her Dad. Surely, he should realise something is wrong by now. She called out through the bars to the Bard.

‘Have you ever been to Oakshaw?’

‘That backwater place? Yes, once or twice. Never for long though, strange bunch they are. Very religious, some of them of them terrifyingly so. Especially their Advocates. They don’t like Elves or any form of magic there.’

‘Well there’s no such thing as Elves anyway,’ said Nadia. ‘What’s wrong with magic? It’s just tricks and illusions.’

‘No such thing as elves? There’s plenty of them. And I expect you’ve never heard of Magistow or West-Isle? There’s much more to magic than the parlour tricks you’ve probably seen at the Fayres or Markets. Have you never left Albernay before?’

‘I’ve been to Whelmore a few times,’ she said, sitting back on the bench. ‘That’s where my cousin lives and my Uncle, he’s a Miner.’

‘So, you’ve never really travelled?’

Nadia leaned her head back against the wall and looked at the small window; the sky was a dark blue with the soft orange glow of dusk. All her life had been spent around Albernay, and as much as there was to see and do on the mainland with its wealth of travellers from distant islands, she had never gone much further than between here and Whelmore further North up the coast. All her dares with her friends, her visit to the nearby caves, and jumping off the bridges, suddenly seemed immature. She wanted to do more, needed to do more. The emotions welled up from inside her and tears poured down her cheeks. She held her hands over her face.

‘You okay in there? Gone a bit quiet.’

‘I’m, I’m fine… I just want to get out.’ Her words came out broken between the sobs.

‘Aww. You’ll be alright, just hang on in there.’

She could hear movement from inside Jerald’s cell and then a banging, he was banging on the bar and calling for the Jailer who promptly came down the stairs asking what all the noise was. Next she heard the jailer scream which was quickly cut off, followed by a thud. A cell door screeched open and Jerald stood before her door jangling the keys in his hand. He wore a multi coloured tunic over green stockings and dark grey hat with a wide brim and a long white feather tucked into the red band. Jerald had a bright smile on his face and light blue eyes.

‘I think we’ve been in here long enough, don’t you?’ He said unlocking her cell door. ‘Now, just follow me and keep quiet.’

Nadia hesitated for a moment and Jerald held out his hand to her, in the other was his crumpled harp missing a few strings. They went past the empty cells and stepped carefully around the red-faced jailer who appeared to be sleeping.

‘You killed him?’

‘Shush, no, just… Well, he might wake up in a bit.’ He tugged her by the hand and they went upstairs. Instead of going straight out to the courtyard, Jerald led her into the first building. Desks and chairs were arranged in the middle of the room while several small wooden cupboards and a large wardrobe stood against the far wall. Giving the place a quick look around he opened the wardrobe and took out two dark brown robes with hoods.

‘Here, put this on.’ He handed her one of the robes which went down to her ankles when she put it on. He opened the door then looked to check the area.

‘Alright, this is the plan,’ said Jerald backing into the room. ‘We walk together, heads down. I’m going to lead us to the docks which is to the south of us. From there we’ll board a boat and head to Whelmore or some place.’

‘What?’

‘Shush, we can discuss that bit later. For now, just follow me.’ He stepped out of the doorway and cut a diagonal path across the empty courtyard outside. He walked boldly and with purpose as Nadia trailed behind him, looking everywhere that someone might come out from and spot them. Jerald made a small hand gesture at the single young guard at the gateway who motioned them both through. From there they followed the rough road of the mainland south keeping to the edges before turning left towards the islands and heading to where the docks were. People passing them didn’t pay them much notice and those that did were given the same hand gesture Jerald had given to the Guard and they were promptly ignored again. When they reached the docks, Jerald began looking for a suitable boat as Nadia stood keeping watch, certain that someone would spot them.

‘I think I’ve found someone who can take us,’ said Jerald when he got back to her.

‘Wait, I have a friend, a Fisher’s son,’ said Nadia, ‘I need to find him.’

‘Fisher’s son eh? Does he have a boat?’

‘His Dad does, yes.’

‘Great, let’s go find him then, will he be around the Long Pier?’ Jerald grabbed her by the arm and began pulling her in the direction of the Long Pier.

The Long Pier was where people fished for crabs and smaller fish or for walks to look out at to sea. Families came here to visit the puppet shows and other stalls where they could try their luck to win a prize. As evening drew in, people began returning home, and the pier became occupied by couples waiting for the sky to darken and the stars to come out so confess their undying love for each other.

Nadia and Jerald were mostly ignored, as they passed by in their brown robes. Nadia looked at those nearer the edges of the wide pier for Stuart. Like other fishermen, he would have come here to hire out rods and sell bait to visitors and locals. She spotted a small group of youngsters sitting on the edge of the pier with their legs dangling down and leaning against the wooden rails. Stuart was with them teaching them how to attach the bait to their hooks. She tugged on Jerald’s sleeve and motioned over to where Stuart was. They walked over together, and Nadia nudged Stuart, then put a finger to her lips as he was about to say her name.

‘Don’t make a scene,’ she warned. ‘I need your help; we need to get away from Albernay and fast.’

‘What have you done?’ Stuart asked, ‘And who is he?’

‘I can’t explain right now,’ said Nadia, ‘Can you help me or no?’

Stuart looked back at the group who were happily fishing with the bait from his bucket.

‘I can help,’ he said. ‘Go down to the boat and let me finish up here.’

Nadia left Stuart to deal with the youngsters and showed Jerald down to where the boats were docked. The fishing boats were crewed by a group of rowers usually in teams of six or eight. They each had a mast and sails for when they were out at sea. Alberney had five fishing boats captained by the members of two families. Stuart’s family had been fishing the waters for years and had three of the five boats including a smaller dingy which was mostly used to gather shellfish in the shallows of the closer islands. It was this boat that Nadia headed towards. She pulled up the large thick cotton cover and told Jerald to get on-board. The boat was big enough for four but only needed two to crew it. One to pull the oars and the other to guide the tiller. A mast could be pulled up or put down as needed with a single sail for when they were out of the bay. They sat in the boat and waited for Stuart to come arrive.

After a while Stuart came down the steps to the boat, he had a backpack and a bundle under his arm.

‘It’s getting late,’ he said, as he threw the backpack and bundle to Nadia and untied the rope attaching them to the dock. ‘We won’t be able to go far but I know a quiet cove we’ll be able to pitch in for the night.’ He set the oars in place, Nadia took up one oar and Jerald the other and they began rowing. Stuart sat with the tiller and guided the boat out of the docks.

‘I expect they’ll have noticed something is amiss now,’ said Jerald as he pulled awkwardly on the oar.

‘Wait till we’re at the cove,’ said Stuart. Once they were clear of the bay, Stuart told them to pull in the oars and set the sail up. The wind caused the sail to flap, so Stuart turned the boat more into the wind. The sail billowed out, and the boat tilted slightly as they moved swiftly through the water. The sea was relatively calm and Stuart made sure to steer clear of the rocks near the cliffs where the waves could push their light craft on to them. Keeping as close to the coast as he dared, he brought the boat South-wards. After a while, he turned in sharp towards the coast and passed just inside a high cliff edge which hid a small bay area with a sandy beach. Stuart took down the sail and set the oars again so they could row against the waves and land the boat on the beach.

They dragged the boat up out of the way of the tide and staked it in place, then moved inland to the shade of the cliffs. There was a small cave opening where Stuart sat them down and opened up the bundle which contained a few pieces of firewood and kindling, wrapped in a cloak. He put the cloak around his shoulders and gave the firewood to Nadia who set about making a fire. In his bag, he had some bread, cheese and dried meat which he divided between them.

‘So, what have had you done now Nadia?’ asked Stuart once the flames had settled.

‘I didn’t do anything,’ she replied.

‘No, she didn’t, I guess you could say it is me who complicated things,’ said Jerald.

‘And you are?’

Me? Why I am…’ Jerald moved to stand up

‘Just give him your name and tell him how you got us into this mess,’ interrupted Nadia.

‘I’m Jerald,’ he said, slightly crestfallen. ‘Nadia was in a bit of an unfortunate situation, and I boldly rescued her.’

‘Someone kidnapped you?’ asked Stuart.

‘I was in the town jail.’

‘As was I, but this dear lady’s distress caused my heart and mind to spring into action and deliver her to safety.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Stuart. ‘Why was you in jail?’

‘I was mistaken for someone else, and that Cobbler whoever he is will pay for this.’ She kicked at the sand which landed in the fire and sent sparks up to the cave ceiling. ‘And Jerald here thought it would be a great idea to kill the jailer and break us out.’

Jerald smiled and gave a mock bow where he was sitting.

‘Oh Lord, and now I’ve helped. And… We’re in a right heap of dung.’ Stuart looked at the fire. ‘I’ve stolen my Dad’s boat. We could all be hung for this or worse.’

‘Well yes, I guess there is worse than hanging,’ said Jerald. ‘Have you ever seen someone gutted by a Harpy?’

‘What?’ asked Stuart.

‘Don’t ask,’ said Nadia. ‘I had a plan before all this mess happened. I was gathering what we needed before those kids ruined it all. I guess we’ll just have to do it without the warm cloaks and boots now.’

‘Do what?’ asked Stuart, ‘We’ve no chance walking free from this.’

‘Go to Oakshaw,’ replied Nadia. ‘Join their Militia.’

Jerald stood up.

‘I’m not going to Oakshaw,’ he said. ‘Not that backwater place.’

‘Then you are welcome to find your own way out of this mess you landed me in,’ said Nadia.

‘There’s an old path at the back of the cave, leads up to the mainland,’ said Stuart. ‘Unless it’s fallen in now, not been used in years.’

Jerald muttered and sat back down.

‘I found a recruitment leaflet of theirs the other day,’ Nadia explained. ‘I don’t want to be a Blacksmith, and my father keeps threatening to marry me off. I need to get away from here.’

‘So why have I got to come?’ asked Stuart.

‘Because it would be good for you,’ replied Nadia.

Stuart grumbled.

They sat in silence for a time and watched the sky getting darker. The fire gave out little heat, so they huddled together in their cloaks to keep warm.

Nadia was woken by Stuart who was the first to wake, used to getting up early to go fishing with his Dad. Realising it was likely someone would come searching for the missing boat they nudged Jerald who woke with a start and shouted something before regaining his composure.

‘We better get going before they come looking this way,’ said Nadia.

The fire had burned down to embers, and they shivered in the cold morning, a mist had descended and given everything an eerie white appearance. They could barely make out the sea in front of the beach.

‘Damn it,’ said Stuart. ‘I should have brought a lamp. We could get lost out in that, or worse have a bigger ship hit us.’

‘We’ll just have to make do,’ said Nadia. ‘Help me look for some driftwood.’ She headed down to where the tide had come in and began picking up large sticks that were dry. Jerald helped grudgingly and was constantly yawning. Nadia checked the pile Jerald had gathered and threw the ones that were either too short or too thin.

‘Alright, let’s go,’ she said and dropped the pile into boat. They pushed the boat off the shore and into the water. Stuart and Jerald grabbed the oars and rowed the boat until they were clear of the waves and into deeper water. Stuart set the sail again, and they continued South-wards.

‘We need to head to Kingsburgh,’ said Nadia. ‘We can try and hitch a ride with a caravan from there.’

‘Alright,’ said Stuart. ‘I’ve not sailed that far in this boat before but been there a few times in the bigger ones. We’ll just have to keep the coastline insight which in this weather will mean avoiding rocks too.

‘That’s where these come in,’ Nadia pulled at a loose thread on her robe and used it to tie some of the sticks together. She fished out the flint from Stuart’s bag and struck it to light the sticks. It took a few goes, but they sparked and gave off a strange blue-green glow which was enough to see through some of the fog.

‘Keep to the right more,’ she said. ‘I can only just make out the shore.’

Stuart pulled the tiller to his left a little and kept an eye on the clouds above him. ‘Mind your heads,’ he warned. He pulled on the tiller more, the boat tilted to the right and the mast turned, the sail fell flat for a moment and then billowed as it filled with the wind. They turned towards the coastline. ‘We should reach the City in a few hours if this wind keeps up.’

As the bunch of sticks began to burn down, Nadia handed them to Jerald to hold and made another bunch. She lit them from the first one and cast the burnt remains of the others into the sea. Jerald sat in silence in the boat, clutching the harp to his chest and occasionally stroking his hand over the wooden curves. If the boat caught too much of a wave, he would grab at the side of the boat and grip on tightly. He began to bemoan his choice of rescuing the fair maiden.

Nadia sat in the bow of the boat keeping the burning sticks at arm’s length. The sun was showing as a dull yellow glow above the mainland, it had risen just over the tree line but barely penetrated the surrounding fog.

Chapter one can be found here. https://medium.com/@carinamitchell17/the-waywatcher-trainee-chapter-1-1a81f5c51530