Chapter 3
1752 Words
3
Greg shuffled along behind us and we stepped across a board and onto the fine ship. The white paint was new, the ropes were fresh and the engine was shiny with newness. The board was pulled onto the dock and the ropes were unlashed and tossed to us. Erik took the controls and started the engine. We backed out of the ship’s berth and into the narrow expanse between the dock and the fog.
Erik turned the bow of the ship towards the fog and pressed the gas pedal. We sped forward into the gloom. I stood at the railing and glanced behind us. The last view I saw before we were engulfed by the fog was Lady Greenwood on the dock. She had her hand raised in farewell. Then she was gone, swallowed in the darkness of the fog.
Or rather, we were swallowed by the fog. The thick, white fluffy stuff wrapped around us like a thick towel fresh from a cold wash. Visibility was limited to the ship. Anything beyond that was lost to the fog.
I shivered and wrapped my cloak closer to myself. “So how often does this fog go away?” I spoke up.
“On those nights when it doesn’t sense danger,” Erik told me.
“So how are we supposed to see where we’re going now?” I asked him.
He tapped his finger on the top of a table beside him. I noticed there were heavy papers covered in plastic on the top. “Maps and a compass.”
“How modern. So do I need to bring an abacus for the calculations?” I quipped.
“No need. Hundreds of years of sailing on these waters have given them to us,” he replied.
I slumped over the railing and watched the non-view pass by. “So where are we going again?”
“To Market Island. Information as well as goods are sold there,” Erik explained.
I raised my head and looked to Erik. “You werewolves aren’t very inventive with your island names. Is there a Farmer’s Island and a Boat Island, too?”
“Only as nicknames. The others are less plain,” he assured me.
I shuffled over to the boxes at the bow and seated myself on one of them. Greg shrugged off his large backpack onto the deck and took a seat on a box beside me. We faced Erik as he stood at the wheel. His every concentration was now on the maps and the controls.
My eyes narrowed and flickered to Greg. “So are those glass paintings alive or what?” I questioned him.
He turned to me and grinned. “You are very persistent, Sophie.”
“You are very badly avoiding the question, Greg.”
“If I was to say they aren’t?”
“Then I’d say you were lying.”
“Then if you have already made up your mind why ask?”
I leaned towards him and studied his smiling face. “You’re really smart for a servant, you know that? Maybe too smart.”
He bowed his head. “Thank you for the compliment.”
I snorted and leaned away from him. “Maybe it wasn’t a compliment.”
“Then I thank you for the insult.”
“You’re also too sassy for a servant. Were you a cat in a past life?”
“That would make my life as a werewolf very ironic.”
“Yeah, and a bit of a downgrade, at least according to the cat,” I commented. I paused and furrowed my brow. “But that still doesn’t answer my question. You said those glass things talked, so are they alive or not?”
Greg looked past me at the fog and nodded his head in that direction. “We’re coming upon a fine view of the lake.”
My curiosity was strong, so I allowed myself to follow his gaze. My eyes widened as the fog to our stern raised to create a ceiling fifty yards above us. In front of us the way was open and revealed the extent of the lake. It was enormous. From shore to shore I didn’t doubt it was fifty miles across and at least twice that long. Wolf Island behind us sat at the widest part of the lake that was more egg shaped than rectangle. The other islands sat in a long line from Wolf Island down to a small speck in the far distance. Trees sprouted from most the islands and I glimpsed houses along many of the shores. Some, the smallest, were barren but for shrubs and the sharp rocks that made up the shores.
“How the hell is fog hiding all of this?” I whispered.
“Whether on foot or in the air, the fog diverts the curious by sending them around the shores,” Greg told me.
“Yeah, but this big?” I gestured to the lake. “Shouldn’t somebody be wondering why the maps aren’t agreeing or something?”
“They may have suspicions, but what are suspicions without evidence?” he pointed out.
“A big headache,” I commented.
He grinned. “Exactly, and they are left with that and nothing else.”
I whistled. “That must’ve been one hell of a witch to cast a spell this large.”
“Quite powerful, if the tales told of her are true,” Greg agreed.
I turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “What tales are told of her?”
Greg stroked his short beard. “Many, and no doubt there’s some truth to those lies. She was offered a large sum of gold to hide the lake. The task took her a few years to complete, if I recall the stories correctly. When the fog spell was cast it was said to be so powerful she nearly exhausted her magic.”
“Where’d they find a witch that strong?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “That no one knows. She appeared from nowhere, and returned to there when the deeds were done.”
I frowned. “‘Deeds?’ What else did she do?”
Greg turned in his seat so he faced the front. “We’ll soon be at Market Island. In my youth travel was much slower and it took several hours to move from island to island, and a full week to get to one end of the islands to the other,” he mused.
He was right. An island nearly as large as Wolf Island loomed above us and I could see a small port in front of us. The docks that jutted out into the island were in perfect condition, and dozens of small and medium-sizes paddle boats lined their sides. Some sat with boxes in their bows and bellies, and others were being emptied or filled. The port thinned where it met land and followed a winding road up a gradual hill to a small town on the crest. Tall trees were allowed to hang their green branches over the road and created a sort of tunnel effect. Warehouses built of wood lined the front street of the town, but large and small stone houses jutted out on either side. Erik steered us in that direction and cut the engine so we drifted forward towards one of the empty berths.
I grabbed Greg’s collar and yanked him back so we were almost nose to nose. My serious eyes bore into his that were filled with humor. “Oh no, you’re not getting away with answering this question just because we’re about to dock. What else did the witch do?”
“She cursed the werewolves so that no women would be born of them.”
I dropped Greg and spun around to find Erik behind me. I blinked at him. “Come again?”
“Werewolf males are incapable of producing a female werewolf,” he rephrased.
I tilted my head to one side and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” He pursed his lips together and his eyebrows crashed down. I held up my hand. “Okay, seriously. But why did she do that?”
“Her p*****t was less than she asked because the queen convinced the king her price was too high,” Erik explained.
“So she goes and puts another curse on werewolves?” I guessed.
He looked past me at the docks and nodded his head. “Yes. The last female werewolf born to our clan was four hundred years ago.”
I furrowed my brow. “So is that why you have to steal women? Because you can’t make any of your own?”
“Unfortunately, that’s correct,” he replied.
I winced. “Damn. That’s-well, that sucks.”
“That’s an understatement, but we have other concerns,” Erik commented. “Gregory, help me with the ropes.”
Greg and Erik picked up a couple of the anchor lines. I turned around and saw a few rough-looking men on the dock approach our boat. They wore soaked, short-sleeved shirts and ragged pants. Erik and Greg tossed the ropes to the men, and they hauled us in with the practice of years. The ropes were lashed to the anchor posts on the dock and Greg picked up his bag.
Erik picked up the plank and placed it on the dock. He took one step on the board when one of the dock men stepped to the other end.
“You’re from the Den, aren’t ya?” the scruffy man asked us.
Erik paused and frowned. “We are. What of it?”
The men looked among themselves and I didn’t see love for Erik’s information. The leader at the end of the plank shook his head. “Yer not wanted here.”
“Why not?” Erik challenged him.
“Because you’re nothing but trouble. You lord over us from that old crumbling castle and do nothing about these earthquakes,” the man explained.
“There won’t be any more earthquakes. The source was stopped. Hasn’t your representative told you that?” Erik asked him.
The man shook his head. “We don’t know about that. All we know is our houses are all cracked and nobody’s got any explaining to tell us, so if you know what’s good for you you’ll go away and let us at least live in some peace.”
I felt Greg tense beside me and reach into his jacket. Erik didn’t look away from the dock dog as he held out his hand to Greg. “We’ll only be here for a short time, and then we’ll leave. Will that be satisfactory?”
The men exchanged glances. Finally their leader nodded. “Yeah, but it’s your funeral.” His eyes settled on my clean cloak. “Nobody else is gonna like you coming up here with yer high talk and fancy clothes.”
“We’ll take your warning to heart and watch ourselves,” Erik promised.
The men turned and shuffled away, but not before some of them cast ugly looks in our direction. Greg stepped up to Erik’s side.
“Is this wise to be so open?” Greg whispered.
Erik pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, but I would hate to see what the locals would do if they caught us sneaking onto the island,” he pointed out.
I raised my hand. “Um, guys? Mind telling me why we’re suddenly the third man in a two-man race?”
Erik shifted his eyes to the road that ascended the hill. “I’m not sure, but we’ll soon find out.”
- Writer
