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

Chapter 14: The Captain and the Huntsman

"Could you spare a copper, good sir?" a weak voice asked, shattering Artemian's thoughts.

The huntsman looked down in anger at a dirty, ragged, and foul-smelling excuse of a life, on its knees and begging. The thin beggar was little more than skin and bones and his eyes were sunken deep in his skull, making him rather frightening. Artemian noticed the pointed ears and spat in the man's face.

"There's your damned copper, you wretched, pathetic elf," he snarled. "Now get out of my face before I toss you into the bay. You might have enough meat on you to feed a minnow or two."

The elf shuffled away quickly, his head hung low and his legs dragging behind him.

Artemian had always wondered why there had been never been a great hunt to eradicate the world of elves. Their glorious and prosperous past was long over and now their only purpose in the world was to annoy fishermen and sailors. If any ever did manage to attain some money, it was quickly spent on alcohol or dreamfruit. They were a blight upon the world and brought nothing but shame and ugliness to any city or town they settled in. Ridding the world of them would only better it.

But, alas, there was no reward for a slain elf, only wasted effort.

A commotion down the boardwalk caught Artemian's ear and he casually strolled toward it, his eyes on the blockade. Two men were arguing over something and standing between them was a much shorter, stockier man sporting a magnificent, braided beard of oily black.

"For the last bloody time, Al, there isn't a force in this world that would get into that damned metal coffin held together by nothing but spit and prayers!" the tallest man said before stroking his long, bushy moustache. "I can wait until this war is over and so should you!"

The other, younger man sighed but argued back, "Listen, John, I understand you but I have been assured many times that the vessel is sound and secure."

"I wouldn't fight anything with it," the shorter man grumbled in a deep, gravelly voice. "She swims just fine, though."

"I bet she sinks just fine as well!" retorted the first man.

"Well," the shortest man said with a shrug. "It's kinda' what she's gotta do, lad."

Artemian raised an eyebrow in mixed interest and confusion. He wasn't entirely certain what kind of vessel they were speaking of but it appeared that an empty seat was forthcoming. His eyes staring at nothing in particular, he listened on.

"I am not going in that failure of a contraption, Allan, and that is final!" spat the tallest man, his finger jabbing the other man in the chest. "Why risk your life in it?"

"I'm not!" said the other. "The captain assures me that it's ready to sail, or sink, or swim or um—but anyhow, it is ready! He hasn't had a chance to truly test it with this blockade in the way but I trust him, John, and so should you."

"I do trust the good captain, Allan Quatermain, but I don't trust his machine." To the shorter man he said, "I am sorry, captain, but my seat will have to remain empty. I have made my decision." Without another word, he turned and left, his face red and his eyes flaring.

"No hard feelings, John Roxton," said the shorter man, who was apparently the captain. "Take yourself good care!"

Allan Quatermain sighed and rubbed his face in frustration. "I was certain I could convince him, captain. I'm sorry."

"Bah, don't be, lad," said the captain. "One empty seat won't stop us from going to that island of yours."

Artemian's eyes widened. Could it be? Out of all the islands in Faeryum could these two be heading to the exact same one he was needing to go to? Desperate for answers, he turned to face the two men.