SWNOVELS Chapter 9: Tarrick Dargast
A fleet of Larmar ships was approaching the northern border of the sea. Tarrick had told Timnar Tossed back then that it was not worth landing at the tonnebeard fishing town, that it was better to send the fleet north at once, as agreed, and then advance to Forsholden on foot. Even so, no one could have imagined that dragons would appear.
Tarrick had long looked after Nulara’s last surviving relative, Suljan Tossed, a fourteen years old teenager whose parents had died many years ago. Despite the slight difference in age, Suljan was Nulare’s nephew. The young man had dark blond hair and light blue eyes, while Tarrick, a middle-aged larmarian, was a brunette with greenish eyes, a huge straight nose and a slight scar on his cheek.
“Well done,” Tarrick praised Suljan. The teenager showed him how he learned to tie different knots perfectly. Tarrick checked the knots for strength while the boy knitted new ones. The man was promoted to the rank of resier, the highest officer rank in the navy, roughly equivalent to an admiral. And Tarrick appropriated this title to himself, with the help of the boy, since there were no longer those in the fleet who could command him. And the boy respected Tarrick, and was the only representative of the nobility on the ship, and was rightfully considered as the yarlantan of the Larmar Islands.
“Resier Tarrick, we are at the maximum distance,” said the huge, bearded larmarian, who rarely took off his chainmail, though it was impractical to wear it on a ship in this heat.
“Drop the anchors,” Tarrick ordered.
“Yes, resier, it will be done!” with these words, the larmarian shouted the order, and the sound went from ship to ship.
It was a clear, sunny day, with no dragons in sight. About four-fifths of larmarians had died because Timnar Tossed was impatient to find out if his tonnebeard friends had come out to Forsholden or maybe they needed a ride?! Tarrick was very angry. He thought about how many larmarians had been destroyed by dragons on the islands themselves, that the Larmar Islands can rightfully be called the ghost islands from now on.
Sailing in a boat, seeing the approaching shore, Tarrick wondered, hoping that the snunorfs, together with the tonnebeards, had figured out how to destroy the dragons, and were also making plans for a military offensive against the azdairiks with their horrible ashklahars, that looked like earthly giant wolves.
When he and Timnar sailed from the Larmar Islands, the fleet consisted of thirty-two ships, including one cargo ship filled with provisions. Instead of sending many larmarians by boats, Timnar decided to land himself with the small army and greet his old dwarf friends, giving the Larmar sailors plenty of drink for the last time, soaked in the smell of tenliash and fish... Then, out of thirty-two ships, nineteen remained. Despite the terrible losses, it should have been a good sign, since were nineteen left, because nineteen is the sacred number of the larmarians. But the gods did not think so, and another storm covered them, and exactly a dozen ships remained. However, Tarrick was able to deliver these twelve ships here, to the northern coast, although there was no port or bay, he knew, like any larmarians, that in this part of the sea the water was calm.
Tarrick took only one boat and take with him reliable companions, whom he did not know before leaving the islands. Of course, he left the boy on the ship, although Suljan resisted very much, got angry and tried to argue that he could cope with any difficulties. Resier took five companions with him, four men and one young woman. These were Leslie Bertlen, a young archer, she was an impeccable shooter, she could hit a small fish floating on the surface of the water, Pastinar Bruckoist, a big bearded larmarian, the one who wore chainmail, constantly sharpened his huge axe, because he loved axes. Friedribert Bonielhock is a young larmarian, an experienced fighter, a brunette with brown eyes, Henriker Gainroix is an elderly larmarian with grey hair, he knew various spells, was often silent and looked gloomy, or maybe time itself had imprinted a scowl on his face, Renfdir Bjorskarson is a handsome blond, young and fast snunorf warrior, unlike Pastinar, Renfdir doesn’t like wearing metal armor.
They were approaching a forest of frostorels. Frostorels grew in the south of Norvinoria and the north of Farderland, sometimes reaching one hundred and forty feet in height, but more often trees were about sixty feet high. Frostorels very much resembled earth pines, but unlike the earth trees, at night their needle-like leaves began to glow white, blinking, flashing, creating bizarre night patterns as if thousands of lines were moving, drawing geometric abstract pictures.
Silenta was almost at its zenith, and a group of six pilgrims pulled the boat out onto the sand and headed into the forest.