Part 10
Nahum jogged up to Balin's side, placed his right hand across his chest and bowed his head in the traditional fashion of a soldier to his commander. "General Balin, the last ship sailing past Artemis's Sacred Island left port this morning. There will not be another group of ships large enough to accommodate our entire force leaving this port for another three days."
"Then Jason still might be somewhere in this village. Quickly, Nahum, have the royal guard split into groups of three--" Nahum opened his mouth in protest. Balin stopped and grouchily snapped, "What is it, Nahum? Come on then, out with it! We do not have any time to waste! Knowing Jason, he still may find a way to the Isle without a real ship!" Hesitantly, Nahum spoke.
"I also managed to find out that King Jason and his companions were on the ship that set sail this morning." Balin yelled something in infuriated frustration as he slammed his fist against the table, upsetting the mug that rested there. Nahum glanced nervously around. The Corinthian troops were well used to Balin's temper, but the people in this peaceful little port were not. The last thing they needed was to offend one or more of the villagers. Luckily, the smacking sound on the table drowned out whatever Balin had said, and the villagers had not paid much attention to Balin's outburst.
Realizing his rudeness, the Corinthian general swiftly composed himself and addressed Nahum. "Take me to whoever you received this information from. Then go back to the troops and tell them to set up camp outside this village. Tell the men to begin training--for all we know, we will have to fight as soon as we step foot onto the Isle. I will be back by dusk. In the meanwhile, take command in my place."
"Whatever you say, General." Nahum led Balin out of the tavern and over to an inn. Nahum pointed out a tough, well-built, wind-burned, grizzly man sitting alone at a table. Beige teeth ripped the flesh from a pheasant leg. The man made grumbling noises as he chewed and swallowed. After Nahum left, rather hurriedly, Balin noted, the Corinthian head of guard slowly made his way over to the eating man. 'I don't blame Nahum for leaving so eagerly. This man is rather intimidating. He's seen his share of adventure, there is no mistaking that.'
Balin reached the man's table and stood for a few moments, expecting to be noticed. No recognition came, so Balin cleared his throat. The man abruptly stopped butchering his mean and glared up at Balin, who was further shaken. The sea-faring man's grey hair was limp from being incessantly whipped about by unruly winds and battered by splatters of salty foam. Most unnerving of all were his eyes, or should Balin say eye? A stormy blue orb on the left focused intently on Balin, looking up and down over every inch of the general. Noting each scar, however minimal, that adored Balin's skin. Every callous on Balin's hands and fingers--the scars and calluses telling the tales of the hardships in Balin's life. When the eyes finished roving over Balin, it displayed emotionless acceptance. All this time, the man's other yes had hung listlessly, staring off into space, fully useless. This eye was greener in hue than the other, this eye being the color of churning waves. The man grabbed his pheasant leg and continued to chew away as he mumbled at Balin.
"You the commanding officer of that boy who was in here earlier asking questions?"
"Yes," Balin stated confidently. His nervousness was washed away. He and this man had a common background--one of struggle, of hardship--of having to fight for your life more than once. The man's strange accent proved that he was also well-traveled.
"You want me to let you and your army hitch a ride on my fleet?" The man made no effort to hide the amusement in his voice. Balin did not blame him. From a seaman's perspective, the idea of letting a bunch of landlubbers, soldiers or not, hop on his ships for not apparent reason was laughable.
"Not all the way to Crete." Balin's voice was even and assured, but not haughty. "For only half a day. We merely request voyage to Artemis's Sacred Island."
"Artemis's Sacred Isle?" the man guffawed. "What business do a school of Corinthian soldiers have on the land-goddess's Isle?"
"Corinthian business." Balin stated dryly. The man grunted in acknowledgement.
"Wise, like I thought." The man extended a greasy hand. "The name is Nauticus, I'm the captain of the Kracken and the rest of her fleet." Balin grasped Nauticus's forearm in the warrior's fashion.
"General Balin, head of the Corinthian Royal Guard and the commander of this expedition."
"Royal Guard, 'uh? You must be after that young king of yours." Seeing Balin's semi-successful attempt to hind surprise, Nauticus explained. "I got ears, you know. And both of 'em work, not just one. King Jason and his friends left this morning on Captain Nemius's ship. They stayed at this very inn. The entire town's abuzz, I'm surprised that a man as experienced as yourself would not have heard something by now." When Balin did not answer, Nauticus continued. "How many men are we talking about?"
"I'd say around one hundred."
"One hundred men to retrieve a runaway king?"
"Jason has plunged headfirst into a rather sticky situation."
"Short, to the point, and doesn't give away too much information. You and I do see eye to eye, Balin. Alright, you and your men may tag along with my fleet and I when we depart for Crete in three days, and we will drop you off at Artemis's Island." Balin reached out and shook with Nauticus again.
"Corinth is in your debt, Captain Nauticus."
"I do not forsee the need to call you on that pledge, Balin, but I will keep it in mind." Balin nodded to Nauticus and left. As he lifted the meaty bone to his waiting mouth, Nauticus muttered, "everything is going according to your plan, my leige." A powerful voice whispered an answer to Nauticus in his head.
"Excellent. Then proceed with the plan."
"Yes, my leige."