by David Dickie
Grim wavered for a moment. Alan had to have some information he wasn’t sharing, or he wouldn’t know that he needed a thief. But it was a ticket out of town exactly when he needed it. And good coin for a job where he could refuse if the risk was too high. It seemed like the gods of the dice might be scything the wheat for him after all. He glanced at Lug. “What about your friend the talker? He part of this little expedition?”
Lug watched him impassively. Alan nodded. “Lug is my bodyguard. He goes where I go.”
Grim said, “Well, as it happens I’m packed anyway.” He tipped his head toward Lug, “And I’ve always had a weakness for the chatty types. I find your terms acceptable. When do we leave?”
“Now,” said Alan.
Chapter Four
A lot of people complained about the mid-watch, but Ohi enjoyed the quiet, dark period before dawn, the feeling that a new day was about to unfold. Wressel was full this evening, Belladurn already past its larger brother, and the light from the two moons made the sea a dark, frothy blanket under the keel of the free trader, the Venture. Ohi sighed contentedly. Running before a southwest wind, the Venture cut cleanly through the water at just over twenty knots.
The Venture, too, promised a new day, the first Freehold ship of its kind. Its design, borrowing from Stangri and Elvish lines, was a work of art, or maybe of love. It was funded, designed, and built by people who were smart and hardworking. People with an unquenchable thirst for freedom that regular citizens of Kethem lacked. They had pooled their money and resources, forming a community outside the Kethem-ruling Holder hierarchy. Communities that had come to be called Freeholds. Consolidating their resources gave them the ability to pursue larger dreams, things only a Hold or a Hold consortium could have funded in the past.
The Venture was one such dream. Proof that Holders, clinging to old ways, did not own an exclusive option on intelligence or creativity. It had been a risky venture—hence the name of the ship—to convince the Bythe shipyards to agree to build her. But in the end, the Freeholders had a ship that was more than state of the art—it was a statement of what Freeholds were capable of, the first ship of its size that was independently owned, a ship where many of the crew were not hired help, but co-owners.
A ship that outshined everything else in its class.
This was the Venture’s third run to Struford in just over two weeks, moving freight at the same rate as a heavy merchant, but the individual loads coming and going at three times the speed. The Holder ships also required a costly Storm Bull priest or priestess on board to focus winds into the sail, an expense the Venture did not have. They were already turning away customers because people were willing to pay a premium for speed. While he wasn't that good with the books, Ohi figured they had to be pulling in twice what the slower Holder ships were doing. Money in the coffers for the investors, bonuses for the crew, even those who were not members of the Freehold. He had even been told Bradford Hold wanted to license the design for the next generation of their merchant ships. That implicit respect was worth more than any coin he could name.
Ohi wandered by the front of the fo’c’sle, enjoying the salty breeze. Three passengers were there, odd given the sun was a long way from peeking over the horizon. But then, they were odd passengers. Grimalkin, Alan and Lug. Ohi tried to avoid eye contact with Alan. He had quickly discovered that to do otherwise was to ask for an unending stream of questions about things large and small. He gave a short nod to the three of them. He moved by without speaking, heading for the stairs up to the fo’c’sle, when the door in front of him banged open. Two other passengers came out. He only remembered their first names, Fayyaad and Rotan.
Rotan waved and said, “We pulling in soon?” Rotan was a Holder, a Silver Ring.
Ohi gave him a deferential bow and replied, “A couple of hours, my lord.” The Venture might be giving freeholders more respect, but that didn’t mean an equal footing. And while you only had to “my lord” a Gold Ring, it never hurt to be polite.
“Please, call me Rotan.” The Holder pronounced it “row-tan” with an emphasis on the “row.” “Holder, non-Holder, it means little in Pranan, and it’s good to be reminded of that during the trip.”
Fayyaad was obviously taking Rotan at his word and treating him as if he were a regular citizen, because he broke in and said, “Couple of hours? Great, great. Love the ship and all, but I for one will be happy to be back on dry land.” He looked out over the dark sea. “Don’t like not being able to see the shore.” Ohi thought that was a little odd. Fayyaad had moved around the ship with a cat-footed grace that took years at sea to acquire, and he seemed to know the rhythms of shipboard life. Although knowing the sea didn’t mean you liked sailing on it, Ohi supposed.
Ohi laughed. “Well, if it was daytime, you could probably climb up to the crow’s nest and see the coastline, but we will be in Struford’s harbor about the time the sun is rising.”
Fayyaad shuddered. “No, thank you. Like heights less than I like the sea.”
Ohi shrugged. “You won’t have long to wait, either of you. I have to finish my rounds. I’ll swing back afterward.”
Rotan and Fayyaad nodded. Ohi climbed the stairs and walked across the fo’c’sle to the forward pulpit. Everything seemed in order. He leaned back and took a few minutes to enjoy the breeze in his face, the sea shining in the light of the moons. Then he sighed and stood straight, about to turn and head back. Instead, he paused and peered forward again. There was something… odd. It took a few moments, but he finally realized the stars along the horizon were missing. In fact, while he watched, more blinked out, as if they were approaching a black wall that was looming higher and higher over them. Which made no sense.
He was new to the good ship Venture… everyone was… but not new to the sea, and the commands came easily to him. He called out loudly enough for everyone above decks to hear him. “Bosun, trim the sails. Helm, steady. Mister Alvaraz, wake the Captain, and with due respect, please have him join me on the deck.” The mid-watch was not as well manned as the other watches, but he had trained these people, and they knew their jobs. The boat was slowing a few seconds later. Within a couple of minutes, Captain Jehen had joined him, albeit while yawning and buttoning up his overcoat. The yawning ended before Ohi could say a word.
“Rudder amidships,” the Captain mumbled, eyes sweeping back and forth over the dark mass that was now blocking half the sky.
“Rudder amidships,” Ohi called more loudly, then added, “Captain has the conn, I retain the deck,” telling everyone that the Captain was steering the ship while he retained overall responsibility for the ship’s safety. The Captain looked at him with approval. Then all eyes went forward as they hit… a fog bank. The lanterns on all sides were suddenly wreathed in an ethereal glow; even sound became muffled instantly.
“Damnedest thing,” said the Captain. “Unseasonable for this kind of pea soup.”
Ohi agreed. “Bosun, fog signal,” he yelled loudly enough to carry through the thick mist. “Lookout, keep an eye.”
The chances of another boat being nearby were slim, but there was no point in ignoring caution. The fog bell started its normal cadence, ring-ring, ring, ring-ring, over and over again. And then, faintly, Ohi heard the same sound. An echo? Off of what? The sound continued, and grew louder.
“Ship ho!” yelled the lookout from the crow’s nest. Moments later, Ohi could see red and white lights ahead. No green lights. That meant they were looking at a ship perpendicular to their course, heading to their right.
“Helm, hard to starboard,” called the Captain, not mumbling this time, and the Venture turned quickly to match the other ship’s course.
The Captain took out a small, flat stone, concentrated for a moment, then spoke in a magically amplified voice, “Ship, identify yourself!”
After a moment, the call was returned. “Kethem light warship Hediro’s Wrath... and you?”
Ohi started to relax for a moment, then realized the Captain
had not, which made him more nervous than he had been before. In the meantime, they were now close enough to the Wrath that, even with the fog, the moonlight made its outlines clear. The Wrath did indeed have the raked look of a frigate, the smaller Kethem military ships that were fast, maneuverable and heavily armed. They were on a close to parallel course, approaching each other slowly.
“Free Trader Venture,” replied the Captain. He was about to say something else when things suddenly unraveled.
“Land ho!” yelled the lookout, a note of panic in his voice.
Ohi flashed from irritation … they were nowhere near land… to concern… that note of panic touched something in him that said this fog was not natural… to shocked amazement as he saw the dark outline on the far side of the Hediro’s Wrath that could only be a cliff, much too large to be anything else. His mind struggled to catch up—they could not be that far off course.
Shimmering lines of heat beams and the crackling flash and thunder of lightning bolts leapt from the darkness, raking the Hediro’s Wrath from stem to stern. In that glare, Ohi realized the mass wasn’t land, it was a ship, a black ship so large that four Kethem heavy warships end to end would not equal its length. A ship too large to exist.
“Sea anchor away!” screamed Captain Jehen, his magically augmented voice deafening, “Drop the sails!”
The Hediro’s Wrath attempted counter-fire, the flash of spells from battle mages or artificer’s weapons leaping up sporadically from different locations on the deck. It was pathetic in the face of the maelstrom unleashed against them, but Ohi couldn’t help but appreciate the discipline of the crew. The flashes of light unleased by both sides, reflected off the dense fog, deepened the mystery of the thing because he could see, quite plainly, round tubes of metal protruding from the side of the black vessel, tubes whose purpose he couldn’t even guess at. Then the tubes spoke in a rolling thunder and flash of fire and smoke unlike anything he’d seen before.
The Venture suddenly shuddered like it had run aground, and he was knocked off his feet, sprawling on the deck. He could see the Venture’s mast toppling, crashing somewhere in the back of the ship. He glanced over and saw half of Captain Jehen, the stomach and legs. The rest of him was gone. Less gruesome, but just as odd, some kind of metal chain with balls at the end was embedded in the deck inches from Ohi’s head, sunk into the Venture like a blacksmith had hammered it into the wood for a week.
Ohi struggled to his feet, ears ringing, trying to make sense of it all. Damage was apparent along the entire length of the Venture, although he noted with relief that the protruding fo’c’sle had shielded the passengers. With luck, they should be unharmed. The crew who had been on the higher portions of the Venture had not fared as well. He couldn’t see anyone else moving.
Ohi looked over the water. The Hediro’s Wrath was on fire, and the black ship was closing enough to allow people to board her. The Wrath’s sails were down, like the Venture’s. In the light of the fire he could see two figures struggling to uncover something on the back of the Wrath that glinted like polished quartz.
Where the heat beams had been shimmers and the lightning bolts dazzling flashes, the beam that suddenly came from the quartz crystal was so bright it mimicked daylight, a harsh blue daylight that almost blinded him. But he could see the beam tear into the black ship in an arc, an arc that left burning embers and smoke everywhere it touched. And something else, it seemed… sudden explosions like the ones from the dark ships’ tubes, but less directed, erupted from several points.
The Venture was still closing on the Wrath. Ohi didn’t know whether the first or second mates were still alive, but he knew the Venture was not a warship, and this was definitely not a place it should be. The masts might be down, but his ship had some tricks left.
“Helmsman, hard starboard,” Ohi screamed, hoping he could be heard over the secondary explosions… and that the helmsman was still alive. “Engineman, engage the engines, flank speed.”
The Venture slowly, agonizingly, began to turn away from the raging battle, and he could hear the high-pitched whine of the paveravis. Ohi didn’t pretend to understand how they worked, but he knew the paveravis were poor copies of the magical engines elves used to power their ships, thrusters that would push the ship forward at a steady five knots regardless of wind conditions. To be used sparingly, as they had a limited life span, but Ohi thanked all the Gods that the Venture had them now.
Then, in his bones, he felt the engine’s clear tone shift. A billowing plane of fire appeared connected to three points: one on the black ship, one on the Wrath’s crystal weapon, and one in the back of the Venture. Suddenly the rear of the Venture exploded and ripped free of the rest of the ship, while the Wrath suddenly just came apart as if all the separate pieces that made it up had never been joined together. The black ship spun around impossibly fast, billowing fire and smoke.
Ohi didn’t even have a chance to order people to abandon ship. The bow end of the Venture rolled over, tossing him into the ocean.
Around him, Ohi could sense more than see others in the water, everyone desperately trying to find some flotsam to grab onto. Some piece of the Venture came close enough, and Ohi dragged himself onto it, legs dangling into the water, still stunned. The black ship was pulling away, clearly severely damaged but still seaworthy. Of the Wrath, he could see nothing.
Someone tugged hard on his leg. The bit of Venture he was hanging onto was barely large enough for one, but he tried to turn around to help the person get a hold. There was no one there. No one, and to his horror, Ohi realized there was no leg. Just billowing red in the water starting from the stump below his knee. He wondered, dimly, if he’d lost it in the battle, or if there were sharks in the water.
Things went black.
Chapter Five
Grimalkin had been trying to draw a deep breath when he felt the Venture capsizing, knowing there was no place to go but the sea. He hadn’t quite finished when he hit water. When he hit, he hit hard. Water was supposed to be soft but Grim swore he’d dropped out of windows onto solid ground that was softer. He went under half-dazed from the blow, choking on the sea water, but adrenaline and a finely honed sense of self-preservation had his body moving, clawing for the surface without thinking about it. He was sputtering when he broke through to the air, coughing out the sea water that had made it into his lungs. But he was alive, and that’s what counted.
The sun wasn’t up yet, but there were floating bits of the Venture and the Hediro’s Wrath on fire, lighting everything in a flickering red and orange light that brought back childhood stories of misbehaving children getting carted off to a hell plane. Grim saw Lug, who was trying to keep a struggling Alan afloat while having a hard time keeping himself on the surface. Grim realized Lug had been wearing his sword and short-sword combo and probably still had them strapped on. He swam over. “Alan! Alan, stop struggling. I’m going to grab you, let Lug ditch his weapons. Just relax, we’ll keep you from going under!”
Alan stopped his thrashing, either taking Grim’s words to heart or from exhaustion, and Lug let Grim get him in a lifesaver’s hold. He flashed Grim a look of thanks, which, from Lug, was high praise indeed. Lug disappeared under the water for a moment, then bobbed back up, clearly having an easier time of it. Grim could have wept. Grim had appraised Lug’s weapons, the finest steel you could purchase in Kethem, and they had to be worth at least several thousand rimmi. Now they were bound for the inky depths of the Lanotalis sea.
Lug swam back to take Alan, who clearly couldn’t swim. Grim turned him over happily enough. He needed to conserve his strength for his own survival. Then something went zipping a few feet over his head. Grim spun around in a panic, fearing the black ship had returned and intended to make sure there were no survivors. He saw nothing, although with the sun not yet over the horizon, visibility was dropping rapidly as the few burning segments of the two ships sank lower into the water, putting out the fires. A motion to the left caught his eye. This t
ime he saw the source: a seagull, skimming the surface, zipping back and forth in a methodical fashion. It flew out of his sight quickly, but then he heard it, the bird emitting an urgent cry that seemed to be coming from a single point.
Grim turned to Lug. “This way!” he cried, and swam in the direction of the sound. The seagull had been moving with purpose, and Grim had an inexplicable feeling its purpose was to help them. He heard Lug behind him. Despite carrying Alan’s weight, he seemed to be keeping up. Grim dodged a few pieces of flotsam and one body, then out of the darkness saw a rounded shape appear before him. In the dim light of the dying fires, it looked like the back of a sea serpent gliding through the water. But then the bird called out again. Grim saw it sitting in the center of the lump. A bird would not sit on a sea creature’s back. Grim looked more carefully, and realized it was one of the two small rowboats that had been tied down on the sides of the Venture. The row boat was upside down but floating. A few moments later they reached it. Alan let go of Lug and grabbed the side like he would never let go.
