Sorcery of a Queen

by Brian Naslund

  “What carved such a soft spot for lizard killers into Kerrigan’s heart?” Bershad asked.

  Goll smiled. “You ever meet her, you’ll understand. But a soft spot is accurate. She’s turned Naga Rock into the friendliest place a blue-barred face is likely to encounter. Makes for a perfect hideout to lay your head between reavings, too.”

  “Reavings,” Ashlyn repeated. “So, you are pirates?”

  “No,” Goll said quickly. “Corsairs.”

  Ashlyn frowned. “Pardon my ignorance, but what’s the difference?”

  Goll smiled. “See, now I believe you’re the queen of Almira from that question alone. Proof’s in the proper grammar and a polite tone. Both are in desperately short supply out here.”

  Felgor laughed. “A Lysterian wouldn’t know proper manners if they bit him on the cock.”

  “You reveal your ignorance, little man,” Goll growled. “Lysterians hold skill in etiquette, battle prowess, and lovemaking in equally high regard.”

  “Always thought you were a bunch of savages.”

  Goll spat. “That is the lie you clock fuckers tell yourselves to justify the massacre of our people.”

  “Oh, clock fuckers, is it? Where are those highly regarded manners now?”

  Goll crossed his arms. “They are reserved for people of honor who ask things politely. Balarians ravaged my homeland. Turned our bountiful valleys into blackened mud pits. My entire family was killed on the ends of Balarian blades.”

  “Well, I didn’t kill them,” Felgor protested. “I’ve never killed anyone.”

  “Really?” Bershad asked. “That can’t be right. All the shit we’ve been through.”

  “It’s true.”

  Bershad thought about that. “Huh. Weird.”

  “Returning to my politely asked question,” Ashlyn pressed.

  Goll turned to Ashlyn, face still twisted into a frothy rage. He swallowed. Calmed down. “Apologies, Queen. What question?”

  “What’s the difference between a pirate and a corsair?”

  “Well, you hear the word pirate, you think rape, pillage, murder. General nastiness. Corsairs are more professional. Now, we’ll deprive a loaded merchant ship of their cargo, have no doubt on that. And if that deprivation requires a bit o’ drawn steel and thumped heads, we’ll oblige. But in general, we get our business done without bloodshed. Just the looming threat of it, you know?” He grinned. “Shit, half the time, the ship’s cargo’s insured to hell and back so they don’t even put up a fight. You just have to toss the crew a little gold and the whole thing becomes a business transaction that’s pure profit for both parties.”

  “Kerrigan always says that mutually beneficial relationships last the longest,” Wendell added.

  Vash didn’t say anything. But he gave his son an approving nod.

  “I’m surprised by all of this,” Ashlyn said. “The inhabitants of this island do not have a reputation for tempered behavior, or scruples of any kind, for that matter. It might be your company works clean, but the stories about this place have to come from somewhere.”

  Goll’s grin disappeared. “Aye. There’s another outfit up north. But we have nothing to do with those bastards. They’re banished from Naga Rock for consorting with demons.”

  “Demons?” Ashlyn asked. “What do you mean?”

  “We don’t speak of it,” Vash growled.

  Everyone was quiet for a while. Bear fat crackled and hissed as it dropped into the fire.

  “All right,” Felgor said eventually. “So if Naga Rock is some comfy paradise, and the nasty outfit lives amongst the bears and the demons and the freezing rain, what the fuck are you three doing out here?”

  “Foraging,” Wendell said, when it became clear nobody else was going to respond. “We’re to gather as much meat as possible before winter. Kerrigan’s orders.”

  “Which makes no sense to me,” Goll said. “Last time I was in the cold room there was meat stacked to my chin.”

  “There’s plenty now,” Wendell said. “But it’ll be a different story come the middle of winter if we don’t stockpile. And there’s no time to go reaving again before the autumn storms.”

  Goll squinted at the boy. “Yeah, well. Bear meat tastes like shit.”

  “Regardless of the taste, we need it,” Vash said, looking at the carcass, which Goll and Wendell had stripped of meat and washed in the nearby lake to cool it off. “In fact, you should start salting, Wendell.”

  “Yeah, Dad,” Wendell said, moving to one of their traveling packs, which was filled to the brim with salt. Wendell started scooping out handfuls and rubbing it along the slabs of extra meat.

  “Surprised you’re able to throw that around with such abandon,” Bershad said.

  Salt wasn’t as rare or valuable as Gods Moss or dragon oil, but it wasn’t cheap, either. In Almira, a lot of wardens still got paid their monthly wages with a modest pouch of it.

  “We took a whole carrack of the stuff last spring,” Wendell explained. “But Kerrigan says we should try to conserve.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Goll said. “So our business here is pretty straightforward. Just some corsairs collecting our nuts before winter. Hunting and harvesting and salting shitty meat for the long winter.” He took a large gulp from his jug. “But I am thinking whatever brought you three to Ghost Moth Island is a lot more interesting.”

  “Yeah,” Felgor said. “We’re here to save the world.”

  Goll raised his eyebrows. Turned to Ashlyn. “This is true?”

  “That’s a bit of an oversimplification,” Ashlyn said, then took a breath. “A new kind of war is coming to Terra. One that isn’t fought from the land or the sea, but from the sky. We came to this island because, many years ago, this is where the technology for these new wars was created. So this is where we can find a way to fight it.”

  “Technology,” Goll repeated slowly. “Define this word. I don’t know it.”

  Ashlyn tilted her head. “It can mean a lot of things. Machinery. Tools. Weapons.” She hesitated. “But we’re primarily looking for preserved dragon parts. Hide. Bones.” She tugged on the sleeve covering her wrist. “Anything like that.”

  “Doesn’t sound familiar,” Vash said quickly.

  “But Dad, what about Simeon’s armor?” Wendell asked.

  “Quiet, boy. We do not speak of him.”

  “Fuck the tight grip you keep on your tongue,” Bershad cut in. “You and your kid would be bear shit if it wasn’t for me. Least you can do is let us hear what Wendell’s got to say.”

  Vash glared at Bershad. The fire crackled between them. Eventually, he gave his son a single, curt nod.

  “It happened before I was born, but I know the story,” Wendell said. “Kerrigan and Simeon founded the Naga Killer Corsair Company together. They discovered the island, then hired the crews and brought them out to start building the city and rescuing exiles. But they weren’t the only ones here. The demons live in the middle, behind the wall of bones. They came out of their hole that leads to the underworld, and made Simeon and Kerrigan an offer.”

  Bershad waited for Vash or Goll to correct the kid. Neither did.

  “Demons. You’re joking, right?”

  Goll shook his head. “They’re real. I’ve seen one.”

  Bershad decided to let the argument over whether demons were real or not sit.

  “What was the offer?” he asked.

  “The demons crave human flesh,” Wendell said, voice dipping to a whisper. “It’s their favorite thing to eat. So they told Kerrigan and Simeon that they would be rewarded if they brought people back to the island and gave them to the demons.” He swallowed. Glanced at his dad. “Kerrigan refused. But Simeon agreed.”

  “Evil bastard,” Goll muttered to himself.

  “What did he get in return?” Ashlyn asked.

  “The demons gave him a set of armor that they built in the underworld. It’s made from dragon scales, and even the best castle-forged steel snaps against i
t. Arrows crumple like stalks of wheat. He wears it when he raids ships. That’s why nobody can beat him. I heard he captured the crew of a Ghalamarian war frigate and took them back to the demons last year.”

  “Alone?” Bershad asked.

  Wendell shook his head. “There were others who made the pact. The demons gave them gifts, too. Crossbows that can fire twenty bolts in a row without being rewound.”

  Bershad glanced at Ashlyn, who was frowning. Deep in thought. “When was this pact made?” she asked.

  Wendell looked up at his dad, unsure.

  “Kerrigan and Simeon founded Naga Rock fifteen years ago,” Vash said. “The demons offered their pact around then.”

  “Then it wasn’t Osyrus,” she said. “He was in Balaria by then.”

  “Osyrus?” Goll asked. “Is that a type of demon?”

  “No.” Ashlyn sucked on her teeth, thinking. “Where is this bone wall?”

  “Crossing the bones is forbidden,” Vash said. “Kerrigan’s orders.”

  “She doesn’t have too many rules, but she’s real firm about that one,” Goll added. “No citizens of Naga Rock go beyond the bones.”

  “Good thing we’re not citizens of Naga Rock, then.” Bershad cracked his knuckles. “Where is it?”

  “Twenty-two leagues north-northwest,” Wendell replied.

  Vash glared at his son. “Why do you know that?”

  Wendell shrugged. “I go look at it sometimes.”

  “How many times have I told you to avoid the middle of the island?”

  “I don’t go up close or anything.”

  “It’s still dangerous. You—” Vash cut himself off. Blew out a frustrated breath. “We’ll speak of this later.”

  Vash turned to Bershad.

  “You heard the boy. Twenty-two leagues that way.” He waved into the darkness. “You want to get yourselves killed, be my guest. Take as much bear meat with you as you want.”

  Wendell scrunched up his face, thinking.

  “Problem is, there’s no direct path from here. Your best bet’s probably going around the lake and following the river on the far side till it gets you into a thick cedar forest, but that turns into ten leagues of nasty swamp that’ll bog you down.”

  “That swamp’s a bastard,” Goll said. “Uncas chased a boar in there last year and didn’t come out for three weeks. Had the most disgusting rash on his face I’ve ever seen when he finally returned. Was also crapping brown water for a month.”

  “We can’t afford to get lost in some swamp,” Bershad said. “Time’s a factor.”

  “Why?” Vash asked.

  “It just is.”

  “I can lead you through the swamp,” Wendell said. “I crossed it in two days last time. I know the way.”

  “No,” Vash said.

  “But—”

  “Out of the question.”

  Wendell stared at his feet.

  “If I don’t get what I need from this island and return to Papyria before the end of winter, people will die,” Ashlyn said.

  “How many people?” Goll asked. “Because a handful here and there isn’t such a big deal to us, being honest.”

  “Tens of thousands,” Ashlyn said. “Every country in Terra will suffer. Lysteria. Papyria. Almira.”

  Vash spat. “Balaria tried to invade Almira once before. Didn’t turn out so well for them.”

  “True. But thirty years ago, Balaria didn’t have an armada of flying ships made from dragon bones. They do now. And they’ve already used them to reduce half the cities in Almira to cinders. Glenlock and Umbrik’s Glade were both destroyed.”

  “The baron of Umbrik was a fucking prick,” Vash said.

  “Agreed,” Bershad said. “But the people of the Dainwood living in his city weren’t.”

  Vash crossed his arms, as if that would protect him from the validity of that comment. “If Balaria is tearing up Almira with dragonbone ships, what good can the three of you do all the way up here?”

  “As I said, this is where Osyrus Ward invented the skyships,” Ashlyn said. “Which makes it the same place I can learn how to destroy them.”

  Vash weighed that. “No. You’re spewing dragonshit. Ain’t no such thing as flying ships.”

  “You’re the ones telling us stories about demons tinkering on armor in the underworld,” Felgor pointed out. “If that’s true, what’s so far-fetched about a flying ship? After all, if a ten-ton Red Skull can fly, so can a ship.”

  He winked at Ashlyn.

  “I believe the queen,” Goll announced. “And if helping you will hurt those clock-toting dogs, then I will do it.” Goll glanced at Vash. “But I don’t know the way across the swamp,” he added.

  Wendell turned to his father, too. But Vash appeared resolute. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Aren’t you always the one who’s saying there’s a way of doing things?” Wendell asked. “They need our help.”

  Vash glared at his son—somehow managing to look annoyed and impressed at the same time. Then he glared at the fire. And lastly, he glared at Bershad and Ashlyn.

  “We’ll take you to the wall,” he said eventually. “No further.”

  Wendell’s face broke into a huge grin.

  “Will you tell some stories about dragonslaying along the way?” he asked.

  Bershad eyed the boy. “Maybe.”

  Vash tied off the last stitch of Goll’s arm. The Lysterian gave his injury a once-over, then took a long gulp of rum. Smacked his stomach happily. “Perhaps an opportunity will arise for me to pay my blood debt to Flawless along the way. I do not like carrying extra weight upon my honor.”

  Vash turned to the meat. Poked it with a callused finger. Grunted.

  “This is ready.”

  “About time,” Felgor said. “I’m starving.”

  Goll snatched Felgor’s wrist before he could reach the meat.

  “I paid my debt to you with the rum. You eat last, Balarian.”

  “Well, that hardly seems fair.”

  “It’s Goll’s Law.” He glared at Felgor. “And it will be respected. Clear?”

  “Clear,” Felgor said unhappily, leaning back as the others took their fill.

  But Bershad noticed the Balarian thief chewing on something long before Goll finally gave him a turn to eat.

  * * *

  Everyone woke up with the sun. Goll groaned about his arm. Felgor groaned about his hangover. They all gathered their gear and weapons. Then Goll press-ganged Felgor into helping him bury the salted bear meat.

  “No arguments, little man,” he said, when Felgor tried to squeeze out of the work. “You will pay for the liquor in your belly with labor.”

  “We covered this, that was for the Law of Proxy.”

  “The amount that you drank was excessive. Come with me.”

  They disappeared behind a bend in the lake to find a place where they could stash the surplus meat that was too heavy to take with them. The plan was for them to pick it up on their way back to Naga Rock.

  “So, what do you think of it all?” Bershad asked Ashlyn when they were alone.

  “Judging from their stories, we’ve come to the right place,” Ashlyn replied. “But I can’t suss out what all the talk of demons is about.”

  “Guess we’ll find out soon enough, once we get past this wall of bones.”

  “Yeah.” Ashlyn yawned, then secured her sleeve, hiding the dragon thread from sight. “I’m going to forage around a little.”

  “There’ll be plenty of bear meat.”

  “Twenty-two leagues through forest and swamp is going to take a while. I’m not eating bear meat for every meal.”

  “I liked it.”

  “Well, I like a little variety.” She smiled. “There’s a field of wild onions over there. Some mushrooms, too. I’ll be done before they are.”

  “You want me to go with you?”

  “Has your patience for foraging increased in the fourteen years you spent killing dragons?”

&n
bsp; “Not really.”

  “Then you can skip it.”

  She headed into the meadow. Bershad ambled over to the lake. Found Wendell making some final stitches on the bear’s hide, which he’d cut it into two matching cloaks.

  “You did all that in one night?” Bershad asked.

  Wendell shrugged. “It’s not that hard. And you and the queen will need them.” He looked up at Bershad. “I didn’t have enough for Felgor.”

  Bershad glanced around the lake. Everything was covered in hoarfrost, and while they’d passed the night without dying, Bershad had woken up shivering on three separate occasions and had to fuel the fire before getting to sleep again.

  “I’m grateful. Not used to places that get this cold.”

  “Dad doesn’t like the cold either. He grew up in the Dainwood where it’s always warm.”

  “So did I.”

  “Really?” The boy stopped sewing. “Have you ever seen a jaguar?”

  “Lots of them.” Bershad squinted. Paused. “Your father didn’t talk about me?”

  “He never talks about Almira.”

  “Can’t blame him on that front.”

  Wendell spent a few minutes focusing on his sewing.

  “Is killing a bear easier than killing a dragon?” he asked eventually.

  “Depends on the dragon.”

  Vash appeared from around a rocky boulder, tying up his pants as he walked.

  “You finished with those?” he asked his son.

  “Just about.”

  Vash inspected each cloak. Nodded once, but didn’t say anything.

  Bershad pulled the larger one over his shoulders. It still smelled of blood, but it staved off the morning chill.

  “Why don’t you take Ashe’s to her?” Bershad said to Wendell.

  “Really? Okay!”

  Wendell collected the bearskin, then trotted off to Ashlyn, who had already accrued a handful of onions from the meadow, but was picking more.

  “Thank you,” Bershad said to Vash. “For agreeing to help us last night.”

  “Didn’t do it for you,” he said. “Boy needs to learn how things are done. You kept us all from taking the long swim, so we’ll help you out. Simple as that.”