Helga: Out of Hedgelands (Wood Cow Chronicles #1)

“Then all the gold, and the piece of Maggon Dragon’s tail, are mine,” Death said with a smile. “The bargain was that I would return half the gold to you if you were successful in making a deal with the Whale freighters—but, you were not successful.”


“Crinoo! You bilge-bathing, vomitous scoundrel!” Red Whale exploded. “You may be clever, but your trickery only proves that all the blood in your head is fly-swarming dung!”

“I think what it proves is that I win, you lose,” Death replied. “Now be happy that I show you mercy and let you keep your ship and crew. That’s a gift from your friends. We do hope you’ll call at our friendly harbor again someday.”

Red Whale and BorMane exchanged glances. No words were needed. In countless Ship’s Councils during Daring Dream’s voyage, their goal had been reaffirmed time and again. They would find the Outer Rings and return to Lord Farseeker with a full report in the shortest possible time. It was out of the question to wait four months at Slizzer—even if they wanted to!

“Mr. Fishbum,” Red Whale called to his mate waiting at the top of the gangway, “make Daring Dream ready to depart. We leave with the ebb tide.”

“Aye, Capt’n, she’ll be ready.” Fishbum responded.

“Look lively, mates!” Fishbum called out. “See to the rigging and stores!”

In high spirits, the crew gave three cheers to Captain Gumberpott and Daring Dream, and fell to their tasks.

“Where’r you bound?” Death inquired, just as Red Whale turned to board the ship.

“Back the way we came to catch what’s left of the Fair Temps,” Red Whale replied.

“The Fair Temps will be all blowed out for the season,” Death said. “You’ll be sailin’ straight into the path of the Ogress—and speaking as your special, personal friend, only a fool would sail those waters during Ogress season.”

“I prefer the danger I know, to the dangers I don’t,” Red Whale answered. “I’ve weathered many a storm, and prefer the company of a hurricane to friends such as you.”

Returning to the ship, Red Whale directed the preparations to depart. Some hours later, Daring Dream rode the falling tide out of the Crossports Slizzer harbor and set its prow northward to catch the Fair Temps. Riding a fresh breeze across easy seas, the spirits of the crew were high. Fifteen days after leaving Slizzer, the weather began to thicken and the skies turned gray and gloomy. Scudding along at full-sail, Red Whale searched the sky with his practiced weather-eye, suspecting that Daring Dream was heading into a heavy storm.

By the following day it was raining steadily and the seas became ugly. During the night, the rising screech of a gale-force wind combined with the pounding waves to drown out every other sound. The endless torrential rain, mixing with the flying spray from waves breaking across the ship, gave the effect of having no sky whatever above—as if Daring Dream had entered some twilight zone between drowning and drowned.

At the first sign of dangerous weather, Red Whale had ordered every stitch of sail to be taken in, furled and tightly lashed. It made no difference. The crew below decks, waist deep in water, working the pumps, heard nothing of the howling wind shredding the sails like tissue paper and carrying the masts away as if they were twigs.

Daring Dream, as sturdy a ship as was ever built, labored valiantly against the tremendous waves, taking on considerable water, but refusing to admit defeat. For two days and nights the crew bravely and feverishly worked the pumps. Lashed to the pumps to keep them from being tossed away from their posts by the pitching deck, the struggling crew managed to keep the water from rising beyond the bottom deck.

As the storm at last began to diminish, vivid flashes of lightning from the departing rain clouds revealed the fearful reality of the nearly-shattered ship. The heroic efforts of the weary crew had saved her, however, and with only 3 feet, 8 inches of water left in the hold, Red Whale ordered the pumping stopped and all hands to their bunks for an urgently needed rest.

Unable to sleep himself, Red Whale climbed over the wreckage to reach the main deck. Unseen in the darkness, he stepped into a gaping hole that had been opened in the deck. Stumbling forward, his arm slammed into the jagged remains of the mainmast. Stabbing pain momentarily took away his breath. Struggling to his feet and holding his injured arm tightly, Red Whale’s pain-narrowed eyes widened with the happy sight of Fishbum coming toward him.

“Looks desperate, Capt’n, and you look to be the worst of it yourself, sir,” Fishbum said as he reached Red Whale. “Come on with me, sir, you need some rest—let’s take a look at that arm n’ get some sleep.”

“My Mam always told me to work my head more than my seat,” Red Whale replied. “I can’t rest. We are in more danger now than during the storm—our water supply is ruined for sure and our food may be lost as well. We can’t sail or even use the oars because the stores and crates shifted in the storm and the oarports are blocked. No, the crew needs a few hours rest, but I must think how to save the ship.”





So There Are Beasts In This Waste!

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