Chapter V

-CHAPTER V-

The next morning, Tavion and Winston contacted Cecilia through one of the guards to inform her of the weapons cache Ralph had discovered. After a few hours of patient waiting, they had a return missive stating that it was merely part of the latest addition to the city’s stockpile, stored away in that remote facility, soon to be brought across to the main Surat armoury.

            Reading her message aloud, Tavion was highly aggravated, ‘how can she do this? She must know that there is something amiss here. She is utterly blind to the facts!’

            ‘Sir, you must remember that she is control of a huge city. The very idea that anyone could seek to achieve harm would be unfathomable. An army in the tens of thousands would be needed to contest with Surat. Her garrison alone numbers in the thousands, and the people love her. That instantly rules out rebellion which she would have heard of from her spy network anyway.’

            ‘But-‘ Tavion protested.

            ‘Sir, we have warned her. There is little more we can do but pray that whatever is coming will be quashed immediately. It may not look like it, but she is prepared. We both know it. Little goes on without her immediate awareness. Surat is safe. She is safe.’

            Tavion glowered at Winston, ‘I am not worried about her. Don’t be daft. I am going back to sleep. Stay on your guard. I know something is going on here, and I don’t believe for a second that whatever is planned is going to be as easily pushed aside as you both might think.’

~

The city reared up ahead of them, large and beautiful. Malachi had been sure that he would never manage to get here while out at sea, but after a mere extra day or two more than he had expected, they’d managed to reach Surat.

            Riding beside him, Wendon looked relieved to be in sight of it at last.

            When they had realised that they were on the large coast spit West of Surat they had been amazed. It transpired that the storm had blown them hard North West, past their destination, but then without them knowing, had sent them back East into the cliffs a mere hundred miles North of the city.

            In fact, when they had landed, it would like still be two days before Tavion docked in at the city, if this was in fact where he was going. Hearing this, they had raced to the nearest town and hired some horses to ride and a wagon for Florian, and travelled south as fast as they could manage.

            The captain still hadn’t recovered from his ordeal and he was scarred more on the inside than the out from losing his beloved ship and crew. Each evening, he would sit and stare in eerie silence into the flames of their fire. What he saw none of them doubted, for each had their own nightmares of the wreckage and its aftermath.

            Even awake, just closing his eyes Malachi could see the last moments of Archon.  

            Despite not liking the man, he hadn’t deserved the end he had been given, though he had conceded that at least it was quick. Archon hadn’t suffered. That part had been left to Malachi and Wendon.

            So it was that the gate guards found a small group of exhausted and depressed men entering the city in the late afternoon that day.

            None of them could sufficiently raise themselves to the task of finding decent lodgings, and had simply gone into the first inn, exchanging the horses and wagon for coinage and shelter for the night. Wendon and Gaff, one of the remaining sailors, had carried Florian upstairs and put him to bed while Malachi went out into the city to discover if Tavion had in fact come through, though he didn’t hold high hopes.

            If he had been here, it was probable that he had moved on quickly on the next ship going East to try and flee up the Red sea to Egypt, and then on to Europe where he would vanish without any difficulty with his wealth of friends and contacts.

            Plausibly he might even run to his father, General Julius Asterhill for protection, unlikely as it seemed.

            Due to the almost overwhelming doubt and misery going through his mind, Malachi didn’t believe the man he was talking to when he started ranting on about some aristocrat being thrown out of the castle some two days before, in nothing but a pair of trousers in the oddest of colours and a beggar’s coat, looking almost like a Union Jack.

            After talking to several other men, he started to regain hope that in fact, Tavion might not be as far out of his reach as he had previously thought.

            Spending some more time talking around the taverns that evening, he even managed to find out where the elusive gentleman was residing.

            For a moment, Malachi debated whether he should simply go straight over there and confront him, but then he considered how he looked and the state he was in. There was little chance that looking as he did, he would be able to convince anyone, let along Octaviannus Ashford that he was in fact an officer of the British Empire.

            With that in mind, he returned to his accommodation and checked up on the others. When he walked into the bar, he found to his mild shock that Florian was sitting at a table in the corner nursing a flagon of beer.

            The man even waved him over wearily. Nodding to the bartender to bring over a pitcher and a flagon for him, he went and sat opposite the now emaciated captain, wondering whether he would speak. If he did so, it would be the first words he’d said since the night of the shipwreck.

            At first, silence greeted him, but on the second or thought flagon, the broken man turned a weary gaze upon him.

            ‘Malachi,’ he croaked out at last.

            ‘Captain,’ he replied, in a voice rich in sympathy, ‘I’m sorry’ he began but Florian waved a skeletal hand at him to stop him.

            ‘Florian is my given name. I am a captain no more,’ he said with a small grimace, ‘and you have no reason to be sorry.

Far from it. You saved my life. I remember what happened, and nothing can bring back my friends or my ship, but I can live on, and try to build anew.

            I had that ship built for me you know. She was my pride and joy for nigh on fifteen years. I knew every square inch of her, from bow to stern. The crew had been with me to a man for longer still. Now all that is left to me are two of them. I hear my first mate hasn’t left my side since you dragged me into that cave. He’s sitting over there looking at me like a worried parent now in fact,’ he said with a nod to the bar where true to his words, the man Gaff sat nursing a beer of his own, keeping a close eye on proceedings.

            ‘Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for bringing me back. Without your continued support, I would be in my watery grave, so now I shall bid you goodnight.’ With that, he gestured to Gaff who hurried over and helped Florian to his feet. Together they slowly shuffled over to the stairs up to their room.

            Malachi remained where he was for a further few minutes, but his hands and feet still ached from the only half healed cutes, so he left half the pitcher behind with his flagon that had only a few blood stains on it from his wounds- which he took for a sign of progress- and went to bed himself.    

            For the first time in longer than he could remember, he luxuriated in his large soft bed until sometime after midday the next day, resting his aching frame. While lying there, he analysed his various appendages.

            His feet were in the best shape, having only lost his boots late on in the climb, so the cuts on them were minimal and had mostly healed up by this point. They still hurt a bit, but nothing like his hands.

            He knew that they would never be smooth again, but at least they functioned.

            Malachi’s hands were criss-crossed with deep, angry cuts that bled intermittently, and angry scar tissue where parts had closed up. In short, they were a mess.

            He did of course feel guilty for the blood he left on the sheets overnight, but not guilty enough to re-bandage his hands. They needed to be open to the air now so they would heal properly and as well as they were able.

            Despite this, he put on a pair of supple leather gloves he had bought in the city so that he could try and look more respectable when he visited Octaviannus later in the day.

            Wendon was keeping an eye on the place he was staying to make sure he didn’t leave and disappear during the day. It would be too cruel if he went over there to find the man had just checked out and taken ship west to God alone knew where.

            It took him a good hour to reach the location when he set off, and he stopped off at a curry vendor for a light lunch to sate his appetite on the way, so he arrived sometime in the late afternoon.

            After a moment or two, he spotted Wendon drinking wine at a table with a group of locals including a man dressed in a smart suit- Tavion’s butler no doubt- and a huge beast of a man with an odious smell that forced the rest at the table to sit a little bit of a distance from him.

            Wendon spotted him as he walked in and inclined his head almost imperceptibly toward the stairs at the back.

            Without breaking stride, Malachi continued on and stomped up the stairs.

            The first couple of doors were non-starters, but knocking on the third got him the answer, ‘go away, it’s late at night, and a man is trying to sleep.’

            Bemused, Malachi opened the door and walked in. Lying on the bed in the dim light, a man sprawled naked, half under a sweat sodden sheet. Mercifully, he was semi decent at least.

            ‘Ahh Winston, you’re back, did you bring me my t…Wait, you’re not my butler. Who on earth are you, and why are you in my room?’ he asked groggily, yawning loudly with his eyes blurred. ‘Oh god, you’re not one of those men who likes men are you? I can assure you, I am only interested in women. There was only the one time.. But, I was sure he was a woman too, only, she, er, he.. It, wasn’t? he said babbling slightly, though spiralling down to being completely lost at the end of the sentence.

            ‘Actually, now that I think about it, that was an excellent evening, I think. I don’t remember it terribly well. It was a few years ago.’ he tailed off again.

Malachi tried to speak, but got as far as ‘I..’ before he was further interrupted by the man.

            ‘I say, you don’t know her.. him do you? You do look awfully like.. that person. Same high cheekbones in fact. Admittedly, they had softer eyes. Yours look a little bit intimidating. I mean, I guess I am not one to judge of course. Everyone has their little foibles.’

            ‘For Christ’s sake, stop talking man. I am not a prostitute, and I am definitely not here to bed you!’ blurted Malachi in exasperation.

            There was a soft click close to his ear, followed by a soft voice, ‘No, I am well aware of that. No, don’t turn your head. Go and sit in the chair in the corner you disgusting vermin.’

            Dumbfounded that a man could sneak up on him so well, and by what he had just been called, he meekly moved to and sat in the aforementioned chair.

            The man in the bed sat up and pulled a large pistol out from under the cover where he had somehow hidden it and directed it at Malachi. All of a sudden, he didn’t look very asleep at all. His eyes shone blue with a keen intellect that positively glowed.

            The man who had held the gun to his head was Winston, the butler, who now shut and locked the door and continued to point his piece at Malachi’s heart.        

 

Tavion looked at the would-be assassin perplexed. He had the look of a killer, but he had made too many mistakes. He didn’t even have his weapon out for pity’s sake. Hired killers these days.  Either the people who wante medead are stupid or they are not as resourceful as I thought, or, this isn’t a man sent to kill me. Given the first two had been proven untrue, he chose the third.

‘You weren’t sent to kill me. Correct?’ he asked pointedly.

‘No.’

‘What? How did you know that sir?’ asked Winston. Tavion ignored him.

‘So why are you here in my room? I certainly won’t believe you’re a man of the night.’

‘I am a high ranking officer in service to the British Empire, and I have been following you for a long time. Or trying to.’ he added.

Winston and Tavion exchanged looks, baffled.

‘Over a dead watchman?’

‘That is part of it. I came here, because I have reason to believe that there is an agency of great secrecy and diligence that are planning something vast which could destabilise the Empire’s rule of Southern India, though to what gain I have no idea. I had thought you were a part of it, but my instincts are telling me otherwise. Does that satisfy you?’

‘Hmm, yes, that does make sense actually, but I am afraid you’re a little bit wrong.’ said Tavion grimly.

‘You’re one of them? Well, if you kill me, others will come looking for you, and your plot will be found!’ he shouted.

‘Keep your damned voice down you idiot. No, we’re not part of it.’

‘But you just said…’

‘What I said, I think you’ll find, was that you’re wrong. Actually, I can see where you got that thought from. Nevermind, I apologise for that but what I meant was, you’re wrong about their plan and I do emphasise their, because I have no part in it but I am trying to stop it.’

There was a loud thud from the other side of the door followed by the sounds of a scuffle. Silence ensued for a moment, followed by a trickle of red flowing under the door.

Winston wrenched it open, gun in hand to find a medium height man from the table standing over the large odious man from downstairs, who now had a knife protruding from his ribs.

‘You’re with him I presume,’ said Winston, unruffled, still pointing his pistol at the man.

‘Err, what?’ replied Wendon.

‘Don’t worry, he is with me. Wendon, get in here and drag that brute in with you.’

With no little effort, they got the stinking man inside and checking it was clear, they squeezed into the cramp and now malodorous room.

‘I believe I owe you an explanation,’ said Tavion diplomatically. Nodding his head at the corpse he suggested, ‘that man on the floor there is one of the enemy, unless I am sorely mistaken. In which case, I have no idea who he could be. However, he is most likely an underling of a group known as the Anarchists, but I think I should start from the beginning.’ he added, noting the Major’s expression.

 It took several hours to tell the whole story, and at one point, Winston went and fetched wine for the group to allow Tavion to lubricate his throat and carry on the tale.

When he finished speaking, Malachi was shaken.

‘If all that you say is true…Then, then, hell, what are we going to do?’

With steely eyes, Tavion pinned him to the chair.

‘You, soldier, need to warn the empire.’

‘Yes, yes you’re right. Damnit man, I will need to leave as soon as possible. If I ride now I can be in Greece in maybe two months.’

‘Ride? Don’t be ridiculous,’ Tavion scoffed, ‘you need to take ship west across and up the Red sea. Follow the Nile to the Mediterranean, and then up into Italy. Six weeks travel if you’re lucky.’

Malachi and Wendon both turned pale. Tavion laughed.

‘Ha, something we all have in common- an irrational fear of travelling over water. Regardless gentlemen, I am sure you will do so with stalwart hearts for the sake of Europe, and the Empire. No one else can do it. It is up to you.’

‘I can assure you it is not irrational, but you’re right. We must leave at once. Thank you for the information, it has been most.. enlightening,’ said Malachi emotively.

‘Don’t you want to try and verify what they’ve said, sir? asked Wendon passionately. After such an ordeal to capture the two, the idea of just letting them go so quickly seemed utterly counterintuitive. He was appalled.

‘No corporal. Look into their eyes. Hell, look at what has been happening around us, even this dead man on the floor. The signs are there if we but look.’

‘You’re right sir. I apologise for my outburst,’ replied Wendon.

‘No need for that private. It is always good to question what you know, but in this instance, we have to assume they are telling the truth as they know it.

Let us be off back to our residence to prepare. You shall go to the docks and find ship for us to take,’ ordered Malachi. ‘Farewell to you Octaviannus, and to you Winston. Good luck with finding these men. If you have word, send it ahead to Alexandria, to the consular offices. The consul there is a man I have known for many years, and trust well.’

‘Call me Tavion, and good luck to you as well. May you have fair winds and a swift passage.’

Malachi winced, but grasped hands with the man, and shook firmly, ‘I expect I shall see you again, so until then Tavion,’ and with that farewell, he marched out of the room with Wendon in tow.

 

Tavion had stayed in bed for the duration of the time they had been in his room, and as he heard them walking down the stairs to leave, he turned to Winston, and said, ‘Well, they were certainly a strange pair don’t you think?’

‘Indeed’ said Winston, thoughtfully.

‘Well, anyway, clean up this mess’ Tavion muttered, waving vaguely at the dead man. ‘In fact, bring in some incense as well, it smells ghastly in here.’ He yawned, ‘well, all that talking tired me out, I do believe I shall go back to bed,’ and he rolled over and went to sleep to the sound of Winston dragging the dead man down the hall to the next room along which they had also rented since Tavion was loath to share a bed with his butler.

~

Malachi flew through the rooms in a whirl of motion, fear and haste giving him wings as he packed everything for both he and Wendon. Well, everything he thought he might need. Soon, he was heading out the door bowed by the weight of the kit, but just before he left, he remembered Florian and decided to stop off and say goodbye to him afore they departed.

Unfortunately, upon explaining his plan to the captain, a sparkle had appeared in the man’s eyes, and he had ponderously regained his feet.

‘Well then’ he boomed in something akin to his old voice, taking Malachi by surprise, ‘when do we leave? Gaff, Arran, get in here. We are leaving now, by ship for Europe, and our destiny!’

The battle was over before it had begun, and within ten minutes, the four of them parted from the inn and begun once more the tramp over to the docks loaded down with equipment. The ex-captain steamed ahead showing more vitality than he had in days.

At the harbour, they soon found Wendon arguing stridently with a stout captain in front of a ship that looked ready to sail almost immediately.

Malachi pushed Wendon out of the way and addressed the man in his sternest tone, ‘my name is Major Tiberius Malachi of the British Empire, and I am commandeering your ship to travel west as fast as it is able.’

‘Darian, and that is simply not possible, as I have been telling your man here. I.. lost nearly half my crew not four days back, and I have only managed to get it up to thirty out of the forty I desire. I don’t even have a first mate! Some of the men I hired aren’t sailors either; just fresh-faced boys.

‘Excuse me,’ exclaimed a deep voice, ‘but did I hear you need a new first mate?’

‘Jesus Christ. Florian? Is that you Florian? It’s been years since I last saw you!’

The two men embraced warmly.

‘You know each other?’ asked Malachi.

‘Bloody right we do. We were both green hands on our first ship together. Not seen this old sea dog in going on ten years. Looking a bit thin I must admit. How is the Seafalcon? That was her name right? Beautiful ship that one,’ went on Darian cheerily.

‘Gone. Storm threw us against a cliff a week ago. Me and these two men here are the last of my crew, but hell, I’ll sail under you as your first man if you desire me. Seems fate brought me here- I can’t spit in her eye now.’

Darian looked at Florian with a keen eye for a moment, and then quickly made up his mind, ‘Aye. Aye, I could do that, and with you three aboard, that makes up for the number of able seamen I am short. We can sail as soon as you want. I have been ready to leave since yesterday, just trying to take on more men before I cast off.

‘Europe you say? Well, I’ve always wanted to sail the Mediterranean, and this old tug will get us there just fine. The old Blue Maiden will make that journey in four weeks or hell, I’ll give the captaincy to our friend Florian here.’

They laughed boisterously and Florian clapped Dorian’s shoulder.

The sun was shining, the wind was good, and in a shorter time than Malachi would have believed, they were out of the harbour and skimming across the open water. He stood at the bow of the ship with Wendon on the one side and Florian on the other.

‘Well ‘Chi, doesn’t life just have that way of working out after all,’ said Florian, grinning from ear-to-ear.

‘It does doesn’t it,’ was the reply he got.

‘The last week still haunts me, you know, but, it’s got less of a hold on me now. I am where I belong, on the waters, flying the sail high, and feeling the salt air and water on my cheeks.’

The men stood in contented silence for a long while, before Florian spoke again, ‘Anyway, I have to get back to work now. Captain Dorian- Lord that sounds strange to the ear- runs as tight a ship as I ever did.’

‘Do you not feel wrong, serving under another captain, rather than as one?’ blurted Wendon, reddening as he did.

With only the slightest of pauses, he responded hastily, ‘Nae matey. I am an old seafarer. I know I’ll have a ship of my own again sometime, and it will be hard at times, but Dorian is very respectful, and damn if it isn’t a pleasure to work with him again,’ he finished jovially, walking off.

Malachi cuffed Wendon over the back of the head, ‘Stupid b*****d. Asking Florian something like that. Where’s your tact?’

‘Sorry ‘Chi. Just sort of came out.’

‘Yeah, I know, but you’re young yet. I feel like this is going to be a good voyage. Enjoy it while you can Wendon, for I fear things are going to be getting a lot more serious when we reach our destination.

There’s a war going on, and though we might not be able to see it yet, it is there, and it is going to strike soon. We need to be ready for them, and we need to stop it before it begins or God only knows where it will end.’

 

Back in the city, Neraxes had watched the ship depart, relieved. It would take them at least two months to reach Europe, and even if they could convince someone important by then, there was no way they could mobilise to stop them once the war begun. It would begin though. Nothing could change that. In two days, the world would start to fray, and that was when they would take down Tavion. He had uncovered Malachi's plan within two days from Sinc, though how Sinc had found it out, he had no idea. He didn’t even want to know really. The point was, soon the soldiers protecting Tavion were going to vanish, and that was when they would kill him. The stupid Baon had disappeared or died, he wasn’t sure which, and cared even less. He had been a liability from the first anyway, and his dreadful stench made it hard to be in a room with him for long besides.

Laughing to himself, he strolled back to the city, whistling a jolly tune as he went.