A Light Rises in a Dark World: Volume 3

Copyright 2017 © M.D. Boncher

Smashwords 2nd Edition

Book 1

Volume 3

Cover Design: Paganus

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

The information in this book is distributed on an as is basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

For the font of all good things and the light to this dark world: Jesus Christ.

Volume 3

25. Sailing Through Tangled Webs

I told you I had not made up my mind, Brother! the Kaptein blustered. There are certain realities tied to operating a steamknarr. First and foremost is that it must make a profit, or it ceases to go anywhere!

Brother Finn tried to reason with Kaptein Edvardsson again.

Every stop you make will be a chance for more trouble. Father Vidkunn dedicated this ship to his demonic master. It may be driven off for now, but not for long.

The Kaptein's face was stone. Only his ledger and steady losses mattered to him. Every time the danger was brought up, he showed the ledger item that would be affected. Brother Finn forced his fists to unclench with every rebuttal. The man had a price for every life, and every second of time in that book.

Do I have to show you the costs again? the Kaptein demanded, his voice sharp.

I have seen enough of how you can price your men's lives. Every life on this ship has a pile of silver Pennings attached to it in that book, save for your own!

That is cheap and mendacious! the Kaptein restrained his tongue before it went too far. Rash words and actions could destroy future profitability. It was time to chart a better course. Six days of costs and left to the mercy of others plagued him. By God, he was going to take back control. That meant the Heijl's Valor was going to be whipped like a rented ass and earn her costs back. This trip now made the entire season a net loss. If he could not offload cargo on time, next season would start in the hole and require him to spend from the ship's capital, which put everything at risk. If he could deliver at least one of his cargoes only a little late, there was hope at breaking even. A calm came over his mind as a notion occurred to him and brought with it dispassionate and clear thinking. He strangled a smile before it blossomed.

Perhaps there is a compromise here?

Brother Finn was not inclined to hear such avarice as he paced back and forth in the Kaptein's cabin. Realizing that he was only getting himself angrier, Brother Finn stopped.

You want to get to Tungloddr as fast as possible. I want to as well. We have two stops in the Brestoyane before we go to Tungloddr. We can do them both, and I will compromise in not taking on any new cargo as I normally would. Brother Finn frowned at the notion as he thought hard. He worried someone would get on ship when cargo was being moved.

That… his expression softened, bushy eyebrows rising up into big open arches, that could be acceptable.

Jah, well, you do not have a say in the matter, really. I feel it better to be magnanimous than completely pig headed, the Kaptein needled.

He had been bullied around more than enough. The calm waters in the western half of Lake Neezhoday had bolstered his confidence. Not only that, the repairs done by Ole Snekker, Herr Geroldsson and Steamwright Emilsson had been excellent. They were making a fifth more speed than he had hoped. Brother Finn did not rise to the bait.

Herr Stiansson has not been giving me the desire to strangle him today. I expect that also has something to do with it. Wonder if he is up to something, the Kaptein mulled out loud about the Kjentmann.

If you do not take on cargo, how do we make sure no one comes on?

My men will be the only ones unloading the ship onto the dock, and then the stuvare will take it from there. Of course, there might be an extra fee involved for doing business this way, but I am sure the Kyrkja will be willing to pay it. After all, it is not your own pocket the monies are coming from and they want you gone as soon as possible. Correct?

Jah, that is true. So no cargo on, and only your crew will offload.

You can watch the gangplank to make sure no one or nothing comes back aboard that was not here to start with.

The Kaptein sat back in his sumptuous chair. Brother Finn relaxed as well.

I am satisfied then.

I thought you would be. The Kaptein allowed himself a thin smile. He was getting everything he wanted, plus he would be wearing the fubrande down to a nub. The offload would easily take five hours of hard work, and the monk would be blamed. He also would be preventing any of the crew from slipping away while in port, guaranteeing he would not have to look for more crew till reaching Tungloddr. The man just did not know what kind of torment this crew was about to suffer, nor would he be prepared for how they would hate him for it.

Of course, I will need you to sign a contract about this in the name of the Kyrkja to accept the costs. Brother Finn felt a strange expression pass over his face. The idea of obligating the Kyrkja had an aspect of deep personal irony to it.

But of course, he agreed. We want everything proper after all.

As an astute study of faces and haggling, the Kaptein saw the sly smile before it vanished. It was the expression you got when the chance to harm an enemy without reprisal falls into your lap. In that instant, it was plain to the Kaptein that Brother Finn was going to put the screws to his personal enemies where it hurt dearest, right in the purse.

Kaptein Edvardsson felt the urge to celebrate this small victory. He stood and went to his liquor cabinet. It had been too long since he was master of a negotiation.

Do you drink, Brother?

Jah. What good Forsamling does not?

I happen to have some rare Aquavit. I thought it would be appropriate on this occasion to share a dram.

Brother Finn was surprised. Aquavit was rare, and usually only kept for special occasions. The spirit was considered a drink of the Hird and the wealthy.

That is very kind of you, Herre Kaptein.

The ship's master brought out two fine crystal glasses and a decanter of cut blue crystal. He poured the golden alcohol with practiced ease. Brother Finn took a glass carefully from Kaptein Edvardsson who leaned back against the desk, and smiled warmly.

Skol, he said.

Skol, Brother Finn responded in a soft voice. They sipped at the strong fennel drink and enjoyed the brief moment. The rhythmic splash of the paddlewheels and gentle rocking of the ship told them, that for the time being, all was well.

It was Second Nocturne when the Heijl's Valor pulled out of port after spending a grueling two days of the crew lumping cargo between the two ports. Exhaustion ruled the ship as the Kaptein drove everyone and everything to its breaking point. Brother Finn, who stood watch for both offloads, was also worn out. He could not remember the last time he pushed himself so hard. His time studying and in solitude had weakened his endurance. Whatever the physical labor did not wear down, the unusually hot sun and humidity of a late Fattigmannssumar cooked away. Two days of intense vigilance had burned the crew out. Whenever Brother Finn was not on watch, he prayed or managed a little fitful sleep with the thick air draining the replenishment out of it. The children had been irritable and whined incessantly, squabbling among themselves with petty disagreements.

The ship steamed to Tungloddr through the black hours before dawn in a non-stop, two day sprint. Anyone who could sleep did. Those who could not, envied them. A few brief thunder showers rolled along with them, more show than action. Little rain fell, a few gusts then a smattering of lightning. Stark and out of place on the glassy water that steamed in the chilling air, the sharp shatters of cliffs that crowned islands of the Brestoeyane stood like tombstones in a shorn field, glowing in the pale blue moonlight of the waning crescent moon. Dawn overtook the ship, coming in thick with fog. The watch changed, and the Baatsmann came to take over the kjentmann duties.

Bad fog today, but I think we will be fine. We are almost out, with clear sailing ahead, the Kjentmann said, rubbing his burning eyes. Herr Lennartsson nodded.

It has been many a year since I have seen weather act like this. As if Ogimaak Niiswad has decided to torment us, the Baatsmann growled.

Herr Stiansson grimaced at the thought.

You remember how-?

Jah. I do not need milk out of a rag, the Baatsmann snapped. His temper was still quick with lack of sleep.

Sound the whistle twice as often and make sure the watch has fire arrows ready. The Baatsmann glared at the pilot.

For a hrodinefr who cannot handle a simple storm, I think you should try not to mother your betters.

I do not want to wake up with water to my neck because you wrecked us.

Then stay on watch, and I will sleep for you! That tambakkji monk had us working like dogs for less money thanks to his silly fears.

I cannot. I am ready to fall asleep at the helm.

And you think I am much better off? You did not have to move freight, but just stood there! Less than four hours of sleep is not enough!

Quit arguing and do your duty, Baatsmann!

Jah, Herre! the Baatsmann mocked, turning his back on the Kjentmann, dismissing him with contempt. Too tired to argue with the older man, Herr Stiansson went back to his compartment with the rest of his watch. The whistle sounded a long low howl that rose to a quick hoot. He started counting out of instinct. No echo came, their course was clear. Herr Stiansson returned to his hammock among the snoring, aching men and fell asleep.

Breakfast was sparsely attended by either watch for most men chose sleep over food. Anja and Liesl helped Herr Torkelsson cook as had become their custom. No one came to morning mass. Brother Finn suspected that might happen for the anger of the men was not easily soothed and bordered on insolence.

The fog had cast its sullen spell. Even the children were subdued. Regular cries of the whistle sounded as they marked their passage. The bow watch threw out sounding lines with every blast which thankfully came back clean for they did not strike the bottom. The Baatsman compared the lodestone and sunstone to the chart and corrected course here and there.

Another whistle cut through the fog. Everyone on watch flew to the rails and peered into the soft billows straining to see a sharp outline. The Baatsmann blew the whistle in warning. Yes, another ship was close. The Kaptein came out on deck, still throwing on his clothes.

All hands on deck! Engines slow to one quarter! bellowed the Kaptein. The on-watch sjomenn rushed to the deck. Men jumped up from dead sleep. The engine's walking beams shuddered as the paddle wheel slowed against the water.

Ship off the port bow! a watchman shouted as a murky shape came out of the fog.

The Baatsmann sounded the whistle again. The other ship replied in kind. She was terrifyingly close and moving fast!

Turn her hard to starboard! the Kaptein ordered.

Herr Lennartsson obeyed and the ship banked as tight as her rudder would allow. The dark shape of another Steamknarr was getting sharper by the second as the distance closed. The Kjentmann came up, disoriented and clumsy, staggering to the helm drunk with sleep.

Kjentmann! Why were you not on watch? Is it not your watch?

No, Herre Kaptein. It is the Baatsmann's!

In this fog? I do not care! You should have informed me and stayed on watch with him!

The other ship was coming in on the Heijl's Valor's port bow and would spear her before the paddle wheel if nothing was done!

Turn back hard to port, Herr Lennartsson! the Kjentmann ordered.

No! Keep the course! the Kaptein roared, shocked that the Kjentmann would dare countermand his orders.

We must turn the other way or we will swing our stern into her! Herr Stiansson knew what the Kaptein did not. They were too close to each other and possibly would trade paddlewheels if they kept turning too hard. The other ship's Kjentmann panicked and rang her bell for collision while turning too hard. The watchmen fired burning signal arrows into the air in futile warning. Herr Stiansson shoved the Baatsmann off the wheel completely and swung it back the other way fast. The Heijl's Valor turned even slower as they lost speed. He had to get their stern out of the way or the ships would sideswipe.

What are you doing? cried the shocked Baatsmann.

Saving all our lives! Herr Stiansson shouted, furious with him and the Kaptein.

Stop! the Kaptein shouted.

Children! To this side! Grab hold of the rail! Brother Finn commanded. The children ran with squeals of fright. The other ship slid by, roaring at full power and turning hard. The Heijl's Valor, missing her port fender with its bow by what felt like inches, and now, turning hard the other way, she slid skillfully aside as the stern of the other ship narrowly missed her fender as well.

Curses flew between the ships, more profane than any the children had ever heard. Pent up frustration and