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The BloodVaine EpicChapter 31: A Light In The North
A day of celebration had worn itself thin, and the sun held low on the western edge of the sky. However, far to the north of Bull’s Isle, a new sun rose, blazing and red.
The guards on their patrols along the keep wall were the first to notice it. At first, they thought it nothing more than a strange reflection on the sea. But as the shadows of twilight spread, the glow grew brighter, and some swore that they heard the shrieks of the flames themselves carried on the wind. Though it burned many leagues away, the sky was sullen with embers. A tiny mote of searing light-- like a star fallen from the heavens-- slid like water amid the glow, and it burned all the brighter where it passed. A guard was sent to the hall where the newly-crowned king was feasting.
“Brix and Blox... Jack’s never seen such a blaze!”
King Barbod, Gerrik, Jack Craft, the Lone Falcon, and Trevelayn stared with wide eyes towards the distant north, which was lit like daylight. Flashes of bright flame spun skyward like red lightning, and they had no way of knowing at this distance that some were taller than any mountain on Dametreos.
No one responded to Jack’s observation -- there were no words that seemed appropriate. Barbod tried to speak, and found his throat too tight for words. He knew -- as did several others -- that the searing nightmare was about the right distance and direction to be the land of the Forestdweller Factions. Swallowing hard, he tried again.
“Ge- Gerrik. I want a ships crew and a full compliment of guard assembled on the docks by midnight. Have the fastest ship in the fleet ready to sail by then. Have emergency supplies loaded -- food, medical supplies, weapons. Go. Go, quickly.”
As Gerrik ran to obey, Barbod turned back towards the north, the distant fire mirrored in his eyes.
Soon, four ships out of the Bull’s eleven-ship fleet, Rose Marie, Bull’s Revenge, Barbarian Blood and Fleetwood were jammed full of an assortment of supplies.
Barbod’s eyes were grim. Turning, he addressed an assembly of high-ranking officers.
“Men and woman. The Forestdweller Factions are ablaze. Our friends, our allies are at this moment beings burned, scorched. I need three able-bodied persons to command these fine ships.”
“Three?” asked Lovana, “Who will command the forth?”
“I will.” replied Barbod.
There was a murmur. Lovana cried indignantly, “But you are the Bull King, you cannot just abandon the rest of us here at Bulls Crest!”
Barbod’s eyes blazed. “Trevelayn here is a Dark Forester, would I stay here stuffing my face knowing his family and friends might be in danger? One of my fellow Misfits was Willem Blackcloak, leader of the Wolfpack. Would I stay here while his empire burns? Bjarn, leader of the League of Forestmen, sheltered myself and a small amount Bulls when we hid from the bloody Falcons. Would I sleep here in contentment while his lands turns to ashes? NO, I TELL YOU! I AM GOING!”
Hushed awe followed.
Barbod spoke again. “Gerrik will be in command here while I am gone, you will take all your orders from him. Now, who will command these three ships? I will command the Bull’s Revenge.”
Trevelayn spoke. “Milord, I will not stand idle when my faction burns. If you allow it, I wish to take the Barbarian Blood.”
“Very well.”
“Milord?” asked the Lone Falcon, “I wish to command the Rose Marie, since she is a Falcon ship.”
“Very well.”
Pause.
“Will there be anyone else?”
“Milord…” it was Peter, the Bull Barbod had punched, “If you please, I would very much like it if I commanded the remaining ship, Fleetwood.”
“Very well,” replied Barbod, “We leave in ten minutes!”
In fact, it was closer to seven. While not all of the Bulls and Falcons under Barbod’s command knew Forestmen, enough had had dealings with them to understand the horror of what must be going on.
When the Lone Falcon boarded the Rose Marie, he found Jack Craft already on board, his ever-present grin tight.
“Welcome aboard, your Falconship -- or ought that to be your Captainship, now?”
“Whichever you prefer, Jack. Glad to have you here.”
“Aye, well, since Jack’s the one who repaired Miss Rosie here, who else’s work would I trust?”
The Lone Falcon smiled a bit, knowing full well -- just as Jack did -- that Barbod’s shipwrights had spent the last two days completely restoring the Rose Marie to full seaworthiness.
“Who else, indeed,” the Lone Falcon smiled and signaled to the crew, who began to pull in the mooring lines and hoist the sails. They cracked and shivered in the moonlight, pale and white against the sky, red where the glow to the north struck them.
“Besides,” Jack continued, “I haven’t seen Bjarn in -- well, must be the better part of ten years, now.”
It was the Lone Falcon’s turn to be astonished.
“Bjarn? You know Lord Bjarn?”
“Well, aye. He wasn’t a lord back then, to be sure, but surely I’d mentioned I’d scouted with the Forestmen before."
The Lone Falcon shook his head, wondering what other surprises the wandering tradesman might have up his sleeve. He turned to Jack.
“You’ve a bit a nautical experience, Jack -- care to give the order?”
Jack puffed up a little, his grin widened.
“Aye, your Falcon-Captainship, sir. Hoy! Hard to starboard! Keep as close to the King’s ship as ye can! You, there, get those halyards tight! You and you -- get a watch up in the rigging! You--er... just keep doing that with the foresail. Aye! Looks proper to me.”
“Good. You can add ‘bosun’ to your list of occupations, Jack. Divide the crew up and set watches, and keep me informed if there's anything amiss. Carry on, Bosun Jack.”
“Aye, aye and aye, sir!” Jack saluted loosely, and set off to get the crew organized, chuckling to himself.
As the ship swung northward around the tip of Bull’s Isle and the distant red haze blazed up again, Jack’s demeanor took a darker tone.
“Oh, Jack-me-lad...this is a grim night and no mistake.”
He closed his eyes and muttered a brief hope for the safety of the Forestfolk.
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