A Tale That Dawned [Book 4 of Selvina's Tale series]

Chapter 14: The Captain and the Huntsman

Artemian spat on the boardwalk in spite. There, five hundred yards away were the Noyran frigates and ships of the line, their broadside cannons pointed directly at Our Lady's port, silent but ready. As long as the blockade remained in place there would be no ships leaving the city.

There was a great gathering at the port as fishermen took their chances at casting their nets in the wide expanse of open water between land and the blockade. Sometimes the Noyran captains were generous but some days they used the fishermen as training targets. Artemian remembered one day how one fisherman lost his ship from a well-placed cannon round not fifty yards from the pier he had launched from. The Noyran naval force wasn't known to be grand and massive but clearly it was skilled nonetheless.

"There's talks of Swordenish raids along the coast," muttered an old man standing nearby.

His elderly friend nodded and said in his breathy voice, "Them northerners got tired of waitin', I'm guessin'. They always did like to rape and pillage, them heathens."

The first man shook his balding head. "Aye, and I've got a feeling it won't be long when they come here."

His friend sniffed derisively. "Pff, let 'em come! What in the Abyss is there to take 'ere?"

Artemian glanced around at the thick forest of masts belonging to the anchored and moored ships of all sizes and sorts, frozen in place and unable to unfurl their multitude of sails. Gulls perched in the hundreds, complaining and bickering. Mixed with the cool autumn air was the scent of salty spray, seeming fresher than usual. With so few fishermen returning with catches, or heading out in the first place, the port was mostly bereft of its usual foul, fishy scent. If there was one thing to be grateful for concerning the blockade, it was that.

As for battling it, there were few warships in port thus there was no hope of breaking the blockade from within. Fireships could be fashioned from any vessel but the Noyran sailors had proven their skill with cannons and any flaming ship sent toward them would be sunk in moments. Our Lady's only hope was for a diplomatic victory or aid from outside.

Artemian found himself reluctantly hoping that Frollo achieved a victory diplomatically. He had cleverly thought of selling some of the riches that once belonged to the Great Cathedral of Our Lady and using them to bribe enemy captains. Not all captains were so easily swayed but those that wanted to add weight to their coin purses had been gracious enough to offer some food and supplies to the crippled city. It had all been done at night and in secret but Artemian had watched it happen several times. The food and supplies were then sold, for a rather hefty price, the next morning to whomever could afford them. This often meant the peasants and commonfolk benefited little or not at all.

Artemian felt his stomach twist painfully at the realization that he was now one of the poor. He had been a hero to them and had taken advantage of their praise as selfishly as he possibly could but now he was no one. One failed hunt was all it took to bring down years of success.

How fickle-minded people are, he thought with a snarl.

The Noyran appeared to be in a generous mood today and some of the fishermen were able to cast their nets out into the water. Whether they caught anything was another story but at least now they had a chance. With no cannon fire imminent, the crowd began to slowly disperse.

Artemian remained, desperately trying to think of a way to escape the blockade. He could perhaps leave the city and steal a boat elsewhere but he needed a ship to sail to Skull Island, especially if it was surrounded by a perpetual hurricane, as said the rumors. No tiny fishing boat would do and the only ships to be found were in ports and harbors, all of which were blockaded.