The Passage of Kings

by Anant V Goswami

  “Cook Dollus gave me the egg for being a good helper-boy. It was the only egg he gave me since we left Ferryport ,” tears of anger welled up in Morgyn’s eyes as he stared at Leon with his big brown-black eyes.

  “Tis more than yeh’ deserve,” Leon said with a mouth full of egg, “but if yeh’ want it so much, then here yeh’ go,” Leon spat the egg out, as white gooey chunks flew from his mouth and spattered on the floor.

  “Yeh’ can lick it off. Or clean it afterward,” he sniggered.

  Morgyn stared at Leon for a few heartbeats and then turned his head.

  All for my Ma.

  “Stop toying with the lad. He is ten and thirteen, and alone at sea with the likes of you. Something terrible must have happened at his home, for him to board this wretched ship. What was it, boy? Where are your Ma and Pa?” a burly man with tattoos on his face, who Morgyn had never seen before, asked in a friendly tone, something Morgyn was not used to hearing on the Sailing Miser. Morgyn did not reply, but kept staring out into the sea, his food untouched.

  “Pa must have run away with a serving wench, while Ma spread her legs for a handsome knight, or maybe for teh’ king himself. I hear me some rumors that the king of Indius is a pretty lad. King Olver is it? Be happy lad, I would’ve smiled ear to ear if me mother was fucking the king,” said Leon.

  I would love to carve that smile for you with a knife.

  “No, you shitstain, everything in this world does not start and end with fucking,” another sailor with broken teeth and a stone for his right eye joined them.

  “Aye, it does, Maddy. Yeh’ was born because your Pa fucked your Ma, and yeh’ will die when life fucks yeh’. See, everything does start and end with fucking.”

  Maddy ignored Leon’s profound knowledge of life and said, “the boy is here because his father is locked up in a dungeon in Wildemere for not paying taxes, like most o’ the farmers o’ Indius, ain’t that right, boy?”

  Morgyn nodded his head.

  “Yeh’ don’t say? Has King Olver turned a leaf? A rotten leaf, that is?” Leon said as he leaned back and took the support of the railing, picking bits of egg from his teeth.

  “King Olver no longer rules Indius. He has gone into the Endless Forest, along with the other kings of the four kingdoms,” said the tattooed man.

  “Why is that?” asked Leon.

  “You must be living under a rock if you don’t know that,” said Maddy with surprise.

  “More like under a girl’s skirt,” the snigger was back.

  “To find a cure for the White Curse. The Wizard-Gods have sent a hint or something.”

  “Why would teh’ Wizard-Gods send hints teh’ cure something they made? Won’t they just end it by their own self, eh? Me says it’s all horseshit. Me says the kings of teh’ four kingdoms have found themselves teh’ way out of the Endless Forest, with all sorts o’ gold and silver and fancy bracelets at teh’ other end, while the common folk dies o’ hunger and all sorts o’ curses.”

  Morgyn stood listening to their talk. He did not care for woods with no end and curses with no cure. The only end he was searching for was an end to his Ma’s misery. He had been practicing with his wooden sword, slashing and thrusting at an invisible enemy, when the soldiers had burst into their hut, pikes in hand and shields on their back. His father had pleaded with them, promised to pay the taxes after the next harvest, but the soldiers had paid no heed, and dragged him outside, where a knight in a helm and plate armor, sitting atop a big chestnut destrier had asked him a few questions. Morgyn could not hear what his father had said, but whatever it was, the knight must not have liked it, for he commanded the soldiers to tie his legs with a rope, while the other end was looped around the horse’s body. His mother had shielded his eyes with her hand at that moment, but he could still hear her sobs, and his father’s cries and the crowd’s murmurs. He had not seen his father since then, and his mother had not stopped weeping blood.

  “Who sits teh’ Black throne then?” Leon inquired.

  “Lord Krastin. A devil of a fellow, that old man. Says King Olver sold the city to the Harduinian princess, and now he rules as the Steward, waiting for Olver to return so he can hold a trial,” said the tattooed man, draining the bowl with the lentil soup in one gulp.

  “I would sell me soul for that Harduinian girl. Saw her only once, when I went teh’ East Shade, looking for a ship teh’ sail with. I saw her trotting down teh’ street, looking all royal and, what do yeh’ call it, magic stick? Nah, maj…estic, yes, majestic on her white mare and smelling like lavender. Never did I see a face prettier than hers. Even under all them clothes, I could see she had them round ripe breasts. Had teh’ hide me hardness from the onlookers. Thank teh’ Vizarins for cloaks, eh?”

  I bet my Ma is prettier.

  “We are losing the shore!” the barrelman perched atop the crow’s nest on the main mast shouted, “Turn to starboard!”

  “Turn to starboard,” someone else shouted from the forecastle.

  “Turning to starboard,” the helmsman shouted from the stern, turning the wheel with urgency.

  Morgyn looked toward the shore, a fast disappearing landmass lined with trees and hills on the starboard side, becoming smaller and smaller as the ship sailed forward. On the port side, hugging the horizon where the sea met the sky, Morgyn noticed clusters of dark grey clouds, slowly encroaching upon the blue of the sky, threatening rain and storm.

  “We do not want to lose the shore in a storm, lads,” Maddy shouted as he held on to the railing, while the ship began changing its course.

  An old saying often used by the folk in his village echoed in his head, The ship sails, as long as the shore sails with it, the ship sinks when the serpent slithers beneath it.

  Morgyn held on to the railing as well, as the masts above him creaked and swayed, and the floor slanted. Empty barrels made of oak rolled from one end of the ship to the other, while the crew was trying to stop the barrels filled with rum from tumbling and emptying themselves all over the floor, which Morgyn would have to clean.

  “Yeh’ know why they call it teh’ Serpent Sea, boy?” Leon stood beside Morgyn, clutching the wooden railing for dear life.

  Morgyn did not answer.

  “You don’t, do yeh’? Of course, yeh’ don’t. Well, lemme tell yeh’. Yeh’ see, teh’ scriptures speak of this kingdom, Azgun. This was a very bad kingdom, oh yes, did all sorts of evil things, but very powerful as well. See, it was teh’ kingdom that started the Great War. You must know about teh’ Great War surely? Of course, yeh’ do,” Leon continued without waiting for Morgyn’s answer, “but they lost teh’ Great War, and teh’ Wizard-Gods made them go away, yes, their king, their army, even the Wizard-God they worshipped, they banished them across the Serpent Sea, and teh’ make sure teh’ don’t come back, they created a Serpent, yeh’ know what a Serpent is, don’t yeh’? A snake, with the face of a dragon. And since then, any ship that tries teh’ cross the Serpent Sea, gets eaten by the snake. Well, not all, not the ones that sail with the shore in sight.”

  Morgyn turned to look at the shore. This time, he had to really squint his eyes and focus to see it.

  Why is it disappearing?

  “Why are these fools not turning the ship?” said Maddy in a panic-stricken voice.

  “ They are, don’t yeh’ see the helmsman on the wheel? Tis the wind. We are going against it.”

  At that moment, the doors to the captain’s quarters burst open, and out walked the portly, overweight captain, wearing a long linen overtunic, with golden threadwork at the collar and sleeves, along with black woolen breeches and leather boots tied up till his knee. A heavy silver medallion hung from his chubby neck, and his long wispy mustache fell till about his chest.

  “You maggots want to get killed? Why is my ship sailing the wrong way? Where is Derik?” the captain bellowed.

  “I am at the wheel captain, but the wretched ship won’t turn quick enough. The winds are very strong,” said Derik, struggling
with the wheel, his long muscular arms glistening with sweat as he put all his strength in maneuvering the ship.

  “Aye, that’s what they are supposed to be at sea. Strong and fierce, unlike you lot,” the captain climbed the aftcastle and approached the stern, where Derik the helmsman had almost surrendered to the gusts of mind which were now intensifying rapidly.

  Morgyn tilted his head and gazed skywards. The black clouds were almost upon them, and they had brought along a friend; a thick blanket of fog approaching from the port side, threatening to engulf the trading galley within its wispy belly.

  “We have lost the shore!” the barrelman shouted, “the sea has surrounded us. It stretches as far as the eye can see. Gods have mercy on us!”

  Morgyn wanted to pray as well. Not because he feared death, but because he feared not being able to go back to his Ma. However, he did not know any prayers. All he knew about the Vizarin of Indius was that he was called Erdoher, and he had the face of a horse and the body of a man. He had seen his statues in the small spherical stone temple with the conical roof, but while his Ma and Pa would pray, standing before the golden statue, a stick of incense in their hand, Morgyn would stare at the thousands of candles that burned in small marble alcoves lining the walls of the temple, and at the massive brazier suspended from the apex of the golden roof, its flames making the golden paint sparkle and shine with a life of its own.

  The Calypsian captain had now taken over from Derik, and he soon realized that there was nothing he could do to turn the ship around. His feathery mustache swayed and danced in the wind, and beads of sweat shone on his bald head, as he too turned the wheel hopelessly from left to right in a circular motion, but the Sailing Misery had suddenly become rebellious, not paying any heed to the commands of its captain, disregarding the movements of the rudder, coursing through the water, sailing farther from the shore of Indius.

  And then the fog was upon them.

  It was difficult to tell whether the ship plunged into the wispy fingers of the fog, or whether the fingers extended and grasped the ship in its fist. Whatever the case, Morgyn could not see anything around him except slow drifting wisps of smoke and the grey clouds above.

  But he could hear.

  The captain was still screaming orders, but it seemed as if the crew had stopped caring. Soon, the shrill, squeaky voice of the captain was drowned by screams. Large, burly men, with bearded faces and menacing eyes, were screaming like girls chased by bandits. Morgyn could not see what was making the men scream. All he could see was the ashen face of Leon, still clutching the railing beside him, looking bewildered and as clueless as a dog searching for his bone.

  A man came running out of the fog, his eyes wide in horror, his face smeared with blood, and he was heading straight toward Morgyn, but just when he thought the man would crash into him, he changed his course, jumped over the railing and fell into the sea with a loud splash.

  And soon the splashes were all around Morgyn.

  They are abandoning ship.

  This was when Morgyn felt the first pangs of fear.

  But what is it? Should I jump as well?

  His heart was beating fast in his frail, bony chest. His breaths were coming in quick succession, and a deadly chill was all around him.

  Soon, he started making out faint outlines in the fog. A shape like an arm of a huge giant was thrashing and tossing about, rising and falling behind the veil of smoke that hid its true identity.

  Morgyn wanted to scream.

  Morgyn wanted to run.

  But all Morgyn could do was watch as the face of a dragon appeared out of the fog.

  He was blue, and he was big. The fin that crowned his head was golden, and so were his eyes. Small droplets of water were sliding down his scaly body and dripping into the sea, as he reared his head and opened his mouth. The teeth were already red with bits of human flesh dangling from the corners. Morgyn saw the captain’s head lodged between two teeth, like chunks of egg stuck in Leon’s mouth.

  The namesake of the Serpent Sea had found the Sailing Misery, and Leon, who stood directly before him, rooted to the spot, piss dripping from the folds of his breeches. But this time he had no cloak to hide it.

  Leon opened his mouth to scream, and the Serpent did the same.

  A high-pitched earsplitting sound escaped Leon’s throat, while gusts of hot air escaped the Serpent’s.

  Before Leon could close his mouth, the Serpent closed his. The snake’s jaw snapped shut, catching Leon’s head in between, ripping his torso from his lower body.

  Morgyn saw the serpent chew the sailor until he was nothing but juice and pulp, and that is when he decided he had seen enough. Morgyn began to run, not caring where he was running to. He could still hear the Serpent behind him, but he did not dare look back. The deck of the ship seemed never-ending as the boy closed his eyes and started to pray to Erdoher. He stumbled on a leg missing a torso, and fell to the ground, face to face beside a torso missing legs. Blood mixed with sea water covered the upper deck, along with knotted intestines and disfigured corpses. The Serpent had been hungry.

  Morgyn tried to lift himself off the ground, but before he could stand on his feet, the Serpent slithered on deck and coiled around the mainmast, snapping the wooden structure in half. Morgyn tried to get out of the way but was too late. The mast fell sideways, groaning and creaking as it crashed like a watchtower destroyed by a trebuchet, part of its bottom half landing on Morgyn’s feet, trapping him below its considerable mass.

  Morgyn heard a snap, and then felt the pain. The scream that left his throat was louder than Leon’s as he lost all control over his legs. Through the blurry vision caused by thick drops of tears swimming in his eyes, he saw the tattooed man rush out of nowhere and grab him by his armpits, as he began pulling him from beneath the rubble of the mainmast.

  “Be brave, boy,” he heard the man whisper in his ear.

  “Here, give this to my Ma. Find her and give it to her,” Morgyn fished a handful of copper coins from a pouch dangling from his waist, “she lives in a village called Krakenhill, near Wildemere. Dorthy, her name is Dorthy.”

  Morgyn felt his eyelids become heavy, and the pain in his legs begin to subside.

  Is this death? I wish I could see my Ma one last time.

  The tattooed man pushed the coins away, “You ain’t dying, lad. At least not yet. Your leg is broken, that’s all. Come, the Serpent seems to have had his fill, look, he has forgotten us.”

  Morgyn was in no condition to look at anything. He was fighting hard just to keep his eyes open. He thought he would never be able to open them again if he closed them now.

  “You are almost free, just a lit...” the man could not complete his sentence as the Serpent tore through the gunwale behind him and carried him away in his mouth. Morgyn looked on with half closed eyes as the beast disappeared into the depths of the sea, his flaring nostrils and golden eyes with black slits being the first to go underwater, followed by his scaly body with golden fins lining the spine, all the way to his tail, which was the last part to vanish beneath the choppy waters.

  Morgyn closed his eyes.

  Colorful spheres of light danced before his eyes, moving back and forth in a haphazard manner. Sounds died away, and feelings left him as he felt his body go numb. Gradually, like fallen leaves flowing down a river, he felt life leave his body. And just before death claimed him, a surge of energy coursed through his body, sending ripples of strength from his broken feet to his head, and his eyes fluttered open.

  The golden eyes of the Serpent were staring at him. His face inches from his body. Morgyn stared right back, unflinching. For the second time in the day, Morgyn saw the Serpent open his mouth, teeth ready to dig deep into the pale ashy skin of the bony boy.

  I should have stayed dead.

  Morgyn closed his eyes in anticipation.

  Please Erdoher, keep my body numb. I don’t want to feel the pain.

  The attack never came. Morgyn opened his eyes a
nd saw wings spread out before him, gigantic reg wings spanning the breadth of the deck, and for one moment, Morgyn thought it was the Serpent that had grown wings. But it was not, for it was something else. Something no one had ever told Morgyn existed in the realm of Aerdon. No sea had been named after it; no tales were told concerning its existence. It was just a creature imagined by nursemaids and storytellers to enthrall young minds. It was a creature much like the Serpent, but more majestic and less hideous to look at. It had the same face as the Serpent, but its skin was bathed in red and orange, blue and black. Instead of fins, it had two small horns, curved into a tiny circle, and atop its back, sat a man in black steel armor from head to toe.

  It is a dragon. Erdoher has sent a dragon to protect me.

  The Serpent turned and snapped at the dragon, which was hovering a few feet above the deck, its massive wings flapping with lazy elegance. The dragon evaded the snapping teeth of the water snake and flew higher into the air. The Serpent, annoyed and irritated at not being able to reach the hovering creature, thrashed his tail against the mizzenmast, which snapped just like the mainmast and came crashing down into the sea, sending waves of water over the gunwale.

  The dragon and the rider hovered calmly over the sea, while the Serpent thrashed about wildly. It was only for a moment that the Serpent halted its frenzied movements, and it was only a moment that the dragon needed. The dragon puffed out smoke from its nostrils, and the rider unsheathed a sword longer and broader than a man grown. This time, it was the dragon that slowly opened its mouth, while the rider raised the sword over his head. Flaming fire, like arrows dipped in oil and set ablaze, shot from within the fiery depths of the red dragon, raining down blazing misery on the Serpent. The hard-scaly skin of the Serpent, thought to be as tough as the mountains of Zaeyos, caught fire like silken curtains near a flaming brazier, as the rider plunged his sword deep in the flesh of the sea monster.