by Simon Archer
The three all nodded and steeled themselves as I started slowly unlocking the magic chains that bound the mirror and the intelligence that waited within it. A faint whispering began once the first lock was off and grew louder with the second. At the third lock’s removal, the voice came.
“You are back,” it mused.
“I am,” I said and glanced at Adra. She gave me a single nod.
“You are not alone,” the voice continued as I unlocked the fourth chain. “What do you desire?”
Without answering, I reached and undid the fifth and last lock. A wave of nausea went through me, but I swallowed and forced the feeling down. Adra remained impassive as did Ligeia, but Mary made a sour face and smacked her lips. I switched to a prybar and jammed it beneath the edge of the crate’s lid, jimmying it up with minimal effort. Once the wood was free, the four of us reached out and lifted it away to reveal a smooth, obsidian surface set in a frame of pitted iron. As described in the manifest, it was a black mirror.
“What are you?” Adra asked suddenly, and I felt a quiet surge of power from her.
“It is a trap,” Ligeia spoke before the mirror’s spirit did.
The oily voice chuckled. It spoke in all our heads, now, I suspected. “How right you are, child of song.” The feel of attention shifted and focused on Adra then. “I am a trap and a gate, spiritcaller. Would you reach within me and see what you might glean?”
“Perhaps,” she replied. “What use are you?”
I smirked faintly to myself. This was the tuskless shaman’s element. To her, the mirror was nothing more than a bodiless spirit inhabiting an object, and really, that was all the thing truly was. When I thought of it that way, it became a bit less fearsome. Not a thing to be underestimated, maybe, but certainly less intimidating than it had been.
There was a feeling of mental pressure, though, a whispered undertone that wanted me to place my hand on the flat surface and claim the thing as my own. The others had to feel it too.
“I am a gate to the invisible world,” the mirror replied. “A processor and a jailer of souls. Misfortune surrounds me, and not even death will free one who claims me, though they will wield power unrivaled.”
“Why in the hells would Layne want this thing?” Mary exclaimed.
“Power,” Adra replied. “I have heard enough, Splitter of Skulls. Cover it up once more, and seal it away. We must keep it from the hands that seek it.”
“I can win your war,” the mirror hissed as I lifted the lid of the crate from the floor and set it back into place. “I can tell you secrets that will gain you the world.”
I hammered the nails back home, one after one, without speaking. Once the top was in place, Mary and Ligeia helped me replace the chains and lock them, one by one, without a word. We ignored the continued entreaties of the thing until it trailed off into whispers and then silence.
“It is right, you know,” Adra said. “That relic could win your war with ease, Splitter of Skulls.”
“Sometimes,” I said, “the way a battle is fought is more important than the victory itself.”
“Hah!” the shamaness exclaimed. “Well said!”
“Aye,” Mary grumbled and scowled. “Do any of the rest of you feel as if you need a bath to wash away the touch of that thing?”
“You cannot bathe your mind,” Ligeia observed.
“I can think of things to do to help me forget,” the little witch asserted. “What next?”
“The skull, I think,” I said.
Adra nodded and focused on the skull, where it sat in a box in a locked cabinet. “Be wary. I must wake it up.”
We all nodded, and I said, “Go ahead.”
The shamaness whispered and began a slow, shuffling dance, swaying back and forth as she clapped out a regular rhythm that sounded much like a heartbeat. We all felt, rather than heard, the spirit in the skull stir and examine us. Then, as quick as it appeared, it returned to quiescence.
Adra stopped and clapped her hands together, then turned back to the rest of us and shrugged. “It will respond only to Tabitha, or so it says. ‘I will speak to my blood, or not at all.’”
“Then we leave it up to her,” I said. “I ain’t about to make that choice for anyone.”
16
Either the dwarves had worked quickly, or we’d been down in the hold longer than I’d expected, but the new wheel was in place when the four of us emerged onto the deck. The sky above was even darker than it had been, and I could feel a storm brewing.
Ligeia gave me a kiss and smiled with her lips pressed together, “I am proud of you, my Captain,” she said with a wink of her second eyelid.
“For what, I know not,” I murmured and returned the smile.
“You know.” She laughed softly. “I will be beside your ship with the King Narwhal.”
“Go, lass. Even cold as it is, I know ye prefer the water, but if ye need warmin’...” My voice trailed off, but I knew she caught my meaning.
“Perhaps every evening,” the siren purred. Then, in a flash, she hopped up onto the rail and dove smoothly overboard into the frigid water. The great, pale shape of the giant narwhal dove under as well after an explosive exhalation of air and water from its blowhole.
“You two are so cute together,” Mary observed. “Not as cute as you and me but pretty damned cute.”
Adra gave us a puzzled look, then shook her head. “I am going to rest.” Without another word, she drifted off in the direction of my cabin.
Mary and I headed over to where Tabitha Binx sat on the stairs leading up to the aftcastle deck.
“How’d it go?” she asked, looking up at us.
“Well enough, I reckon,” I said.
“The skull wouldn’t talk to us,” Mary added.
“What about the mirror, then?” Tabitha asked.
I shook my head. “Nothin’ I’d use, even against Layne.”
Mary drifted over and sat beside the feline woman on the stairs. Tabitha flicked an ear, and her tail twitched as she studied me. “That bad, aye?”
“If I’m to truly win an’ prove myself the better man, I can’t resort to that bastard’s methods, can I?” I grumbled. Some part of me did want to claim the mirror, but I couldn’t. There was no way that I’d stoop to that sort of thing.
Not unless I must to free the Archipelago.
Even then, though, I wouldn’t do it lightly.
Mary and Tabitha both stared at me when I opened my eyes. “So, what about the skull?” the Ailur woman asked. “Just sat silent, did it?”
“Actually,” Mary answered diplomatically, “Adra said that it told her something before it went quiet again.”
“What did it say?” Tabitha asked. Curious as any cat. “Surely, she told ye.”
“I will speak with my blood,” I quoted, “or not at all.”
“Godsdamn it,” Tabitha swore. “It’ll only speak with me, won’t it?”
“Looks that way,” I said with a shrug, “but ye ain’t to feel like it is somethin’ ye have to do. I’ll throw the damned thing overboard, no matter how bloody valuable it is.”
She closed her eyes and leaned tiredly against Mary. “Aye, Cap’n,” Tabitha said with a twitch of her tail. “But what if ‘tis somethin’ I need to do?”
“Then, I reckon I won’t be able to stop ye, will I?” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and scowling.
Mary looked up at me and stifled a giggle, then Tabitha did the same.
“What?” I demanded crossly.
“Ye look pompous as a commodore.” The feline grinned broadly.
“An admiral, I’d say,” Mary added.
“Oh, aye!”
“Laugh it up,” I said, “after ye move aside. I need to get this tub goin’ again.”
We were still becalmed mostly, except for a faint, freezing zephyr that teased through the rigging and tickled my skin. Up above the ship, though, the Gale waited, looming like a thunderhead. The women scooted apart to make room for m
e to stomp up the stairs and take my place at the helm.
“All hands!” I roared. “Up anchor an’ raise sails! We be on the hunt once more!”
The crew set to their tasks with a gusto that belied the battle we’d just fought. Pride surged in my heart as I watched, and I grinned fiercely as I cast my will up to the elemental.
“You ready?”
“Yes,” was all the answer it gave.
Once the anchor was raised and the sails were up, I raised one arm, then dropped it to point ahead. The Gale gathered itself, then poured itself into our sails, filling them and setting the rigging to humming in mere moments. The Hullbreaker fairly leaped ahead, nearly sending the deck crew and the two women on the stairs sprawling as she accelerated from a near standstill to her maximum speed in a span of minutes.
The masts and spars creaked as the ship plunged towards the distant ice, her ramming prow cutting through the waves like a razor-sharp axe. The new wheel felt a bit rough under my burned hands, but it was more than good enough. Like my beloved ship, it was perfect.
Tabitha and Mary bade me good-bye and headed below after a short while, and I let my mind drift while I opened my senses to the water and wind. We were close to the frozen fields of the northern sea and likely would start having to break our way through in a couple more days. Between the ram and the King Narwhal, though, I suspected we’d have little problem reaching the ice-locked isle that Sturmgar had written of.
I wondered what the dwarven ship would be like. Was she big or small? Could I walk her halls without squeezing? I’d have to ask Bord about that. There was no way I could captain a ship that I couldn’t easily move about in. I wasn’t even sure how much repair the vessel would need, though our hold was full of what Bord thought might be useful in getting the Sea Hammer sailing again, or was it steaming?
I mulled over that for a bit as the sun set and the moon rose. The world grew dark as the faint light above the clouds diffused to almost nothing before it reached the water. The burgeoning storm fell behind us, which pleased me. I had no real desire to pilot us through a full-fledged north sea storm at the speeds the elemental carried us.
Once again, I wondered how feasible it would be to make The Hullbreaker fly and not just lift a bit like I’d done once before. The idea both excited me and made me nervous. It was something to try when we weren’t in a race against time and weather to save the free towns from Admiral Layne and The Pale Horse.
A shadow drifted up to me and paused.
“What d’ye need, Rhianne?” I asked.
“Why do you suspect I need anything, Captain?” the undead witch asked. The green flame that burned in her one empty eye-socket illuminated half of her face in an eerie light.
“Because why else would ye be out o’ the lab an’ walkin’ the deck?” I countered. “Ain’t like ye made much effort to know me or any o’ the crew outside o’ Mary an’ Ember.”
“I really do not mean any of you harm,” she said, turning her face away. “I just find it painful to associate with the living.”
“Aside from other witches.” I continued to watch her, my eyes hooded a bit by my heavy brow.
“Aye,” she sighed, “aside from other witches.” Rhianne turned her gaze back to me once more. “Did you awaken the Black Mirror?”
I saw no point in lying. “Aye, we did. ‘Twas one of the less useful things I’ve ever done in my life.”
“Really?” The undead witch gave a faint snort of amusement. “An ancient artifact of untold power and you consider awakening it one of the less useful things you’ve ever done? Amazing.”
“Some things come with too high a price,” I explained. “Given my choice, I’d shatter the damned thing and scatter the shards across the world in the deepest spots I can find.”
“Not even you can break it, I fear,” she said softly.
“I suspected as much,” I said with a shrug. “I’ll just keep it locked away, ‘til the idiots that want it manage to aggravate me enough to give it to them.”
“That is an unusual philosophy,” Rhianne observed.
I let out a chuckle. “Ye ain’t familiar with orcish gift-givin’ are ye?”
“I’m afraid not. My education has been sorely lacking in that respect.” There was both a note of sarcasm and a significant touch of curiosity in her voice.
“If someone’s annoyed one o’ us about somethin’ long enough, we might be inclined to give it over to them,” I explained. “Though they might not survive the impact if ye ken my meaning.”
She was silent for a long moment, then a soft laugh broke past her lips, and her shoulders shook as it grew. I grinned, then chuckled along with the strange, undead woman that shared my deck, until she finally lapsed back into quiet.
“Oh, my,” she murmured. “I definitely see why Mary Night finds you so fascinating, Captain Skullsplitter. You are far more complex than I expected.”
“Ye didn’t figure that from the fact I managed to kill Commodore Arde twice?” I wanted to know.
Rhianne shook her head. “No, actually. I took you for a brute. Yet you spared me, took my witchbond, then somehow convinced Mary to accept me into a coven with her and Ember Spark.”
She arched the brow above her greenflame eye. “In addition, you somehow managed to capture an Imperial town, then turn it to your cause just by being you. The free towns seem to look up to and respect you, and your crew is loyal to a fault.” The witch looked down for a moment, then turned to face me. “Now, I’ve seen your power as a shaman, a warrior, and a leader, and I have to admit that I’ve come to respect you. If any man, or any orc, could lay low Admiral Layne, it’s you.”
It was my turn to be silent for a while as I mulled over her words. Finally, I simply said, “Thank ye, lass.”
“You have a hard sea to sail, Captain,” Rhianne said. “I do not expect your victory to be easy, only that should you hold true to your course, you will triumph.”
“Be ye a foreseer, lass?” I asked, giving her a sidelong look.
“Nay, Captain. Just a witch who can see the writing upon the wall. For Lack to attack you directly means that the Admiral has exerted his command and forced the sorcerer to take action that he otherwise would not.” She smiled then, the glow of her burning eye turning the expression into a sinister grimace. “Layne fears you now, more than anything. He will do anything to stop you. Especially since you hold the two keys to his ultimate success.”
Mary and the Black Mirror. Somehow, Layne and his witches and sorcerers could use the two to imbue life in The Pale Horse. That was a terror that I would not allow to happen, no matter what. I would protect my little witch with my last breath and beyond. If I had to come back as a demon-ridden shade at the helm of a ship of the dead, then I would.
But first, I would use the mirror.
That thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I fought back a growl. Was the thing still influencing my thoughts? It was hard to say, really. I would do anything to protect Mary, Ligeia, Tabitha, and Adra. They were my strength and my weakness and the only things that would cause me to forsake my honor. I wouldn’t sacrifice anyone else that trusted me, but I would give myself, and I knew from my shamanic teachings that self-sacrifice brought the strongest results.
Hopefully, though, it wouldn’t come to that.
“Your thoughts have taken a dark turn, Captain,” Rhianne observed, breaking the spell of my brooding thoughts.
“Aye, lass,” I admitted. Once again, there was no denying the truth of the matter. “Confident I might be, but wars be not won with just that.”
“Wise, too,” she said with a faint smirk.
I snorted. “If only that were true. Were I truly wise, I doubt this would be my path.”
“If it were not you, Bardak Skullsplitter,” the witch purred, “then who would it be?”
I had no answer to that. Layne and the Admiralty had worked their will on the Archipelago for years, intimidating the free towns while not actually hurting them.
It was profitable to let them be mostly.
In that time, though, no one had ever thought to turn the tide against the Imperials. It had taken a serious change of circumstance even for me to start down my current path. Perhaps the witch was right, and this was my only path to walk. I wasn’t a firm believer in the concept of destiny or fate, no orc really was. We looked to the spirits and the ancestors for advice and guidance that showed us where we needed to go, what our path would be.
I went from warrior to sailor to captain to pirate to shaman, all in the span of maybe twenty years, but it wasn’t until now that I understood how the changes I’d gone through had been guided. A faint grin tugged at my lips, and I chuckled softly. Even the ancestors wanted me to be the greatest pirate in the Archipelago, and I wasn’t about to fight their will on that one.
For a while after that, Rhianne and I stood in silence as the night passed by. I held our course while the Gale drove us at breakneck speed towards the frozen sea. In the cold wastes, my destiny, OUR destiny, waited in the form of an ancient dwarven ironclad, and I couldn’t wait to reach it.
17
Tabitha
“Fine,” I exclaimed. “I’ll bloody do it, long as ye promise to do everything ye can if it all goes tits up.”
“Come on, Tabitha,” Mary said. “Do you really think we’d leave you swinging?”
I stuck my tongue out at the witch in a moment of petulance. “It ain’t yer soul on the line.”
“Ye don’t have to do it,” Bardak threw in. “We don’t be needin’ the help of a long-dead wizard, no matter what ye might think.”
“There’s more than that to it.” I leaned against the Captain’s desk and resisted the urge to sweep all his charts and whatnot onto the floor with my tail. Instead, it curled around my hip and dangled, the end twitching to and fro as the only real sign of my agitation.
I’d come to the decision that I’d speak with Kurle’s Skull and see why the damned thing would only speak with the old cat’s own bloodline. The idea of blanking out like I had during the expedition into the sea’s eye actually frightened me, but I wasn’t about to be seen as a coward.
