Short Story – “The Servant of Xoal”
They wore the armour and carried the swords, but they didn’t look much like Knights of Aldor.
The circumstances were already suspicious enough. On the twenty-first of Ashmorrl, the Aldorian ship, known as the Wind’s Keeper, arrived at the dwarven port of Three Bridge. It had arrived on a typical diplomatic mission. Still, shortly after dropping off one of Aldor’s sons alongside a score of knights, it had been called away to some important dealings near the Jungle Isle of Tess’Ax’Ax. Chanterella’s ship, the Traveller’s Choice, had been offered up as a replacement to escort the noble and his knights back to the Kingdom of Aldor. Well, more specifically, the mountain city of Malverin. However, Chanterella could tell that something was amiss from the moment they boarded.
The knights were being led by a sickly-looking fellow bereft of all manners named Adston Sharp. Not a person Chanterella had ever met or even heard of before. Despite being well-built, even for a knight of Aldor, his jaundiced skin and tendency to cough every few sentences made him seem a bad fit for the role. Everywhere he went, he carried a cloth with him that he would occasionally exhale blood into. On their first meeting, the knight had barely acknowledged her presence and had told those under his charge, which included the other knights and the noble, to stay below the ship and out of daylight.
This alone wasn’t enough to make Chanterella distrust these men, but there was a little more to her suspicions. When they had come back from, what she supposed was, failed negotiations and diplomacy with the dwarven parliament officials, they had come back carrying a long case covered in a tattered sheet. When the good captain had asked after it, she had been told by Adston himself that it was a gift to take back to the North. One meant only for the eyes of the king. Then he told her to drop it, and that tone of voice had sent her gut rumbling with suspicion.
It took roughly fourteen days to move from the southern kingdoms to the northern, but it only took her a few hours to put spies in place. Chanterella put some of her crew to work keeping an ear on these strangers. They stayed below deck and kept a very tight watch around the noble, a skittish boy who spent much of his time buried in books, alongside that strange long case that lived at the centre of her attention. The boy’s name was Reddleson Haldy, and he was a noble by blood that was somehow related to the crown of Aldor. In the years since the bad blood had emerged between the North and the South, he was perhaps the hundredth noble diplomat sent to Doomgar to orchestrate some kind of alliance. He was also the hundredth to fail. It was no surprise, really. The war had ended fourteen years ago, and there was still no greater step towards settling the differences between the North and the South.
As the ship’s captain, Chanterella was well within her powers to demand an audience with those travelling upon it. On the third night at sea, she invited Reddleson to dine with her in her cabin, and he had accepted — though, she was told, with some guarded reluctance. Suddenly, she was sitting opposite the pale-faced youth who had probably never seen much of the world between the tall towers and impressive crenelations of his mountain city home. The sea hadn’t treated him kindly either. His hair was askew and shaggy, he was sweating profusely, and even after three days, he hadn’t gained the natural rhythm that allowed him to sway with the ship. It seemed all he could do not to vomit.
‘Are you enjoying your rabbit?’ Chanterella asked through a polite swallow of her own meal. ‘I had been told it was one of your favourites.’
‘Yes.’ Reddleson wasn’t much of a conversationalist. For some reason, he was nervous. She knew it was unusual because most people liked to gawk at her. Chanterella was always at the height of fashion and liked to dress flamboyantly despite what others might think. It was a little hobby of hers that came from a life of visiting the most exotic ports up and down the Avanni Coast. Today, she was wearing a gathering of pink leathers about her body, wrapped up in a charcoal tippet that was lined with wolf fur. Upon her head was a marvellous triangular hat made of cracked black leather, with feathers from a variety of exotic birds sticking out of it. To not get any glances paid towards her “outlandish” attire told her a lot about the person sitting on the other side of the table.
‘How did the negotiations go?’ Chanterella asked. ‘If I might be so bold?’
Reddleson suddenly looked up from playing with his food. ‘Good,’ he shot back at her quickly. ‘Very good.’
‘What was so good about them?’ Chanterella fetched another bit of rabbit, dipped in gravy, to her mouth and chewed it slowly. ‘You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not as well educated on the matter of diplomacy.’
‘Uh.’ The youth grabbed a napkin from the table and patted the sweat from his forehead. ‘I must apologise, captain, but I’m suddenly feeling rather ill.’ He stood up quickly, with enough force to rock the table and spill the wine. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll retire to my quarters.’
‘Of course.’ Chanterella smiled. ‘I do hope you’re feeling better soon, my lord.’
He gave her a curt nod in reply. Chanterella watched him leave, opening and closing the door lightly behind him. She kept her smile until she was sure he was gone, then threw it aside no more than an instant later. There was one thing she was now sure of. Those men weren’t Knights of Aldor, and, at some point along their journey, they were going to try and take her ship.
Chanterella didn’t wait any longer than the next morning to act on this information. These men were imposters, and she needed to deal with them before they acted against her. Talking closely with her lieutenant, a dragonblood named Heels, she made a plan to head to the nearest port that was friendly with Aldor and keep their approach a secret. She figured these imposters wouldn’t act until they were close to Aldor, seeing as she and her crew knew both the ship and the journey back.
They were still too far south to approach any Aldorian ports, but if she sent word ahead to one that she was familiar with, she was sure she could get them to gather a force and overwhelm the knights with her own crew besides. The nearest suitable port, they decided, was a place called Deepwell. It was a port reserved mainly for mercenaries, but she had more than a few friends there who would come to her aid. They would have to get close enough first, without arousing suspicion, then she could send one of her crew ahead on the rowboat to speak to her friends about the current danger.
Another day was spent carefully veering the ship off its path and heading further inward towards the coast. Being below deck, Chanterella didn’t doubt that these imposters wouldn’t be able to tell the needle of the compass had moved significantly away from their original destination. To be sure there wasn’t trouble, however, she ordered a few of her surlier men to keep an eye on the door. If it came to it, she knew a fight would turn bloody, and she didn’t like their chances even though the crew outnumbered them. Even if they weren’t Knights of Aldor, they certainly looked like something.
Everything was working according to her plan, but there was one thing she hadn’t been counting on — the weather. As the blanket of night rolled over the sky, blackened clouds came with it. The ship was suddenly besieged with heavy rain and turbulent waves, which rocked the Traveller’s Choice fiercely. Staying on the top deck was something of a hazard, but it was a danger that Chanterella met face-on. She took the wheel and attempted to navigate the warring seas. All while the symbol of the royal family, that famed dragon mark, stared at her from the sails.
Of course, it was at this moment that the imposters decided to act. Chanterella didn’t know if they had planned this from the start or whether they had caught on to her plans, but her heart dropped an inch when she saw them emerge from underneath the deck. Even through the mist of darkness and rain, she could see that their swords were bloody. She reasoned quickly that no one was left alive below deck, and there was little time to mourn now. The captain shouted a single command to Heels, who turned on her order and rang the alarm bell. The various members of the crew trying to settle the ship caught on quick, and a battle broke out shortly after that.
Through the clanging of swords and shouts of men, Chanterella saw a single figure emerge. His bravado was somewhat diminished by the fact that he was coughing up blood into a handkerchief. She knew well not to underestimate him, though. Looking around, she could already see her crew were on the losing side of this mutiny. While they were skilled fighters, her boys were labourers, and they quickly succumbed to the impressive abilities of the knights. Adston rose the stairs slowly, carefully, never losing sight of Chanterella, who was still biting the wheel to keep it from spinning.
‘Who are you!’ she shouted above the tumultuous tides. ‘You’re no Knight of Aldor!’
‘I’m a servant of Xoal,’ he shouted back. ‘Relinquish the ship, and what remains of your crew will make it to Aldor alive.’
She didn’t believe him. Not for a moment. Chanterella had heard of Xoal before, which was not a name to speak lightly. That was the moniker used for the God of Fear; those who used his name were usually worshippers. They spread terror across the Further Kingdoms in the name of making people stronger, but really, all they did was kill people in cruel fashions. Chanterella tried to guess at what a follower, or followers, was doing on her ship and came up short of an answer. It must have had something to do with that box, though. Maybe they were planning to kill the king? Sow terror?
‘I’ll relinquish the ship,’ Chanterella shouted towards him, ‘if you tell me what fate you have in mind for Reddleson and that curious package you’re carrying.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Adston raised his sword, pointing the tip of it towards Chanterella. It was still stained in blood, and for an odd moment, she wondered whose. ‘What do you fear, Captain Chanterella Ridges?’
The faux knight was about to charge at her. She could tell as much by looking at him. The captain was no stranger to a good fight. Chanterella was still clutching at the wheel as it bit against her, trying desperately to spin free and follow the force of the waters. Behind Adston, she could see Heels trying his best to take on two of the knights at once. Already, there were several slash marks across his side and chest. It was in this moment that she realised the ship was lost. The battle had been for only a few moments, but they had still managed to overwhelm them in that time by picking their opportunity wisely.
‘What do I fear?’ she repeated and didn’t allow Adston to wait more than a second for the answer. ‘Nothing.’
The wheel was sent free, and the ship lurched so suddenly and violently that everyone aboard was thrown to the floor. The sails went wild, sending the ship this way and that, untethered ropes lashed about like wicked whips, crates crashed into the sides and bowled over anyone in their way. Men, both hers and his, cascaded over the sides into the unforgiving waters. Adston was sent careening down the steps he had appeared from, and Chanterella saw her chance. The Traveller’s Choice was a ship of fine renown. It belonged to the Kingdom of Aldor and had such a reputation amongst its peers that its appearance would not be questioned in port. There was no way she could allow it to be captured so easily. Chanterella had to warn Aldor ahead of time that there were imposters aboard. That meant that she needed to escape with her life.
Working her sea legs as the Traveller’s Choice thrashed about in the waves, Chanterella gracefully followed the swaying deck and moved towards the side of the Traveller’s Choice where she knew the rowboat would be. With the obscuring mix of rain and darkness, not to mention the pure chaos of men throwing swords and cries every which way, she knew she couldn’t be followed. Adston would no doubt search for her, but he would find very little. The only regret is that she would have to leave her crew behind, but she had a duty. Whatever they were planning, it had required them to capture one of the fleet’s finest, and that meant nothing good.
Uncurling the sheet that protected the contents of the rowboat, Chanterella was surprised to find a familiar face inside. Reddleson looked up at her with a nervous stare; his eyes were looking for something he could trust. The young noble must have found an opportunity to escape when their backs were turned. He was more resourceful than she had guessed, especially when she caught sight of the unlocked manacles hanging from the wrist of his right hand. The boy didn’t say anything. He just moved over to let her in.
Chanterella didn’t question why he hadn’t tried to escape; she simply got to work. The ropes were unfastened from the pulley as he sat there, quietly watching her, and the rowboat was lowered slowly by a winch. In the moment before it dipped below and out of sight of the main deck, however, Chanterella caught the eyes of Adston. Without hesitation, even after the briefest glance in her direction, he barrelled after them like a raging bull. Men were thrown over in his haste, some his own, and he fearlessly jumped over the lip of the ship in a bid to get to the boat.
The wooden dinghy jolted as this man in heavy armour collapsed on top of it, and it was enough to get the rope to unfasten itself. They careened down and landed with a heavy crash in the water. Chanterella was sent to her back, same with Reddleson, but curiously, Adston had managed to keep his footing. He already had his blade in hand, something he wouldn’t afford Chanterella the courtesy of, and was now swinging it at her.
Chanterella rolled this way and that in an attempt to stay out of the path of the approaching point. It caught her cheek and sent screams of pain along her face. She kicked wildly at him, but she may as well have been kicking the base of a boulder. The man was immovable, or so she thought. Turns out an oar was enough to rock him. She saw it first, swinging out from the foggy gloom of night and rain before comprehending what was happening. The oar cracked the servant in the face, disorientating him first before plunging him into the icy depths. With that armour as well, he was sure to drown.
Reddleson looked down at her with the oar in his hand; his face wracked with nerves and fear. He collapsed in a heap of his own noble silks a moment later. Chanterella took the oar from him and put it back into place. There were no signs of Adston reaching the surface, but it was a pitiful victory. With deep regret, she turned her eyes towards the ship instead. What was once her pride and joy had now been taken over by the most callous of men. The pride of the Aldorian fleet was no more than a vessel of deceit now — a part of some plan she had yet to uncover that no doubt worked against the crown. With a heavy heart, she put the oars to the water and sent the rowboat on its way.
Over the next few days, as they navigated their way towards land, Reddleson conferred his place in all of this to her. She listened intently as he told her about the whole sordid mess. The young noble had indeed been sent to Doomgar, but upon arriving at Three Bridge port, his retinue of knights was slaughtered by Adston and his men. They took the armour and the noble as hostage. Reddleson had never met with the dwarves. Instead, he had been forced to wait inside the backroom of a small pub while the Wind’s Keeper was sent away, and they awaited another ship to arrive. From his understanding, the Wind’s Keeper didn’t have the notoriety needed for whatever they were planning in the North, and another ship, namely Chanterella’s, was a chosen replacement.
Reddleson confessed that he didn’t know much about the long wooden case they were carrying. They never opened it, nor did they tell him what was inside, but from a passing conversation, he firmly believed it to be some kind of weapon. What he did know was their plan for him. Reddleson was going to act the part of a key to gain them access to the river that leads straight up to the gates of Malverin. They threatened him and kept him under tight watch, as Chanterella had seen herself, and swore that if he told anyone they weren’t who they claimed to be, they’d slaughter him in a most brutal fashion and send the pieces to his mother.
Chanterella listened and understood his tale. She believed every word he said, as there was no reason to lie. He may have been bullied into remaining quiet about the imposter’s affairs, but his loyalty was still to the crown and the seat of Aldor. When they finally did manage to land on the coast, Chanterella was distressed to find that they were farther south than she would’ve liked. They were closer to the southern lands of the dwarves than they were to her homeland. It didn’t bode well getting a warning to Aldor before the ship arrived ahead of them.
Never one to give up hope, however, Chanterella led Reddleson forward through the copse of trees and to the road. She was sure it would lead to a town, and from there, they could make a plan. Of course, there were a few advantages leaning in their favour. The imposters had to handle a ship that was off course and without a compass because she had taken it. Also, Adston Sharp, the apparent leader of these imposters, was dead in the water. Without a leader, she expected that whatever fowl machinations they had in mind for Aldor would slow enough for them to reach the city with a message. Together, they marched on with that optimism in mind.
What she didn’t anticipate, however, was that Adston Sharp had survived the plunge into the water.
