Thongor Fights the Pirates of Tarakus

by Lin Carter

  “Ah, thank ye, lad!” he beamed. Redbeard glowered impatiently while Blay tossed the wine down his gullet and set the cup down with a sigh, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand.

  “Well?” the Redbeard rumbled. “Any word? Any news? You can’t have been out there all day without learning something, blast your fat guts!”

  “Gently, Cap’n, gently does it … ah, perhaps just a drop more of that wine, eh, lad? Good!”

  Growling, Barim watched while the fat old Kovian rogue drank off a second cup. And when at length the empty goblet rang against the oaken table, he repeated his query in an even louder tone.

  Blay settled back with a little smirk of satisfaction on his friendly features.

  “Well, now, Cap’n,” he began comfortably, “when I set out this morn’n’ I thought first to drop around The Black Galleon at the other end o’ the Street of the Sailmakers. See, when I were younger, I shipped once with a fellow name of Kurao, a Cadorna-man; we sailed under Cap’n Yarak the Hook—they called him th’ Hook on account of he lost his right hand once in a boardin’ party, and had a steel hook screwed into th’ stump just as handy as you please—”

  “Belay all this bilge, and get down to business, you fat Kovian bundle o’ blubber!” Redbeard roared.

  Blay shot him a hurt glance. “Aye, aye, Cap’n … now where was I when ye … oh, yes. Well! This fellow, Kurao, see, he’s a-sailin’ now aboard the Zangabal Queen, which be in port right now, or so I heerd tell yestereve … well, Kurao, as it turned out, heh, he was in port all right, but he warn’t in no condition to recognize an old pal like me, on account of he had taken aboard a mite too much brandy the night before … aye, aye, Cap’n, I’m gettin’ to it near about as fast as I can, but I got to work my way up to it, like …” Blay shut his eyes and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Now, where was I?”

  “This Kurao was dead drunk,” Charn Thovis said gravely.

  “Aye, that was it! Thank you, lad. Now, then. While I was in The Black Galleon, who should stroll in but me ol’ comrade Thurgan the One-Eyed, him what fought shoulder to shoulder with me that time we cut our way into the temple on Iophis Isle in the Southern Sea, and made off with the pearl eyes of the heathen idol, aye, and half the natives howling at our heels … well, ol’ One Eye has risen in the world a mite since we saw those grand times together. I happened to remember hearing from an ol’ sweetheart of mine, what I run into day afore yesterday at the Anchor and Cutlass, that he is now very close friends to Duranga Thool himself, you know, the chief lieutenant to old Red Wolf! Well, sez I, here’s the very chance I been lookin’ for … all I got to do is feed enough strong wine into me old pal One Eye an’ maybe I can squeeze the sailin’ plans out o’ him, if I be real sly like …

  He paused, smacking his lips thirstily, and glancing about at the wine bottle which stood behind Charn Thovis.

  “Well? Get on with it, man—speak up, can’t you?” Redbeard demanded irritably.

  Blay cleared his throat noisily.

  “Hakk-kaff! ’Scuse me, Cap’n … bit of a cold in me throat, I fear … tramping them windy streets all day, then gettin’ caught in the downpour like this … but goin’ on, wet boots an’ all … ah, lad, could ye kindly pour ol’ Blay another drop or two of that fine vintage there behind of you … just for medicinal purposes, you understand! Ah … that’s fine … well, then, just a bit more to finish off the bottle … ”

  He quaffed the red wine down thirstily while Redbeard sat, growling inarticulately and chewing on the inside of his cheeks. At length the fat man came up for air, blowing like a porpoise, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Ah, that feels better … now, just you let me see … where was—oh, yes! The sailin’ plans, old One Eye, get him drunk.-That was the scheme …”

  Captain Barim snorted loudly. “Yes, and a sillier scheme I have not heard till now. Why, any fool could see through you as through a just-cleaned windy-pane. So what happened?”

  “Ahem. I got the plan"

  Silence reigned for a moment. Barim Redbeard and Charn Thovis exchanged an incredulous stare.

  “You …?”

  Blay beamed and chuckled, his full girth jiggling, bristling dirks twinkling to the seismic waves of inward laughter.

  “Aye, Cap’n, worked like a charm, it did! Ol’ One Eye, well, he never had much of a head for wine, although he doesn’t dare admit it and swears he can drink half o’ Tarakus-city under the table. So I matched him drink fer drink, while we swapped old times together, an’ in no time I cracked him open like any egg, and he spilled his guts all over the floor, he did, danged if’n he didn’t …” Blay shook his huge red jowls, beaming and chuckling at the thought.

  “Blay, are you certain this Thurgan isn’t smarter than you give him credit for being, and didn’t know you were trying to get information out of him?” Charn Thovis asked anxiously.

  Blay wheezed good-humoredly, laid a fat red finger beside his bulbous nose, and winked portentously.

  “Not him, me lad! Nay, old Blay was cunning about it … got to talking about all the jolly swag we’d stowed belowdecks in our time, and makin’ guesses about the size of our share, when it came to dividin’ up the loot of Patangy, and the first thing I know, he’s daring me to guess when we sail… well, he was burstin’ with the news, so I just sat back and let him pour it out…”

  “Well, WHEN IS IT, you lubber?” Redbeard roared.

  “Termorrow dawn,” wheezed Blay.

  “Tomorrow? But—it can’t be!”

  “Oh, aye, Cap’n! Look ye, the way One Eye Thurgan puts it: ol’ Red Wolf has thrown over his plans o’ carryin’ off half the Sarks of the West, ’cause he’s afeered Karm Karvus has escaped alive and is going t’ bring the word to the Black Hawk, y’see … so the old plan is junked, an’ the new plan is t’ strike fast as lightnin’ before Patangy can get word and spring t’ arms, so termorrow dawn we sail … shippin’ orders will be brought to each Cap’n of th’ Coast tonight at midnight by messenger—”

  Swearing lustily and dragging on his greatcoat, Barim was on his feet roaring orders up the stairs to those of his weary and footsore crew as had already turned in.

  “Durgan! Roegir, blast yer indigo hide! Zend … Thangmar, all you lubbers—look alive, there, for the love o’ heaven!”

  Lean, leathery old Durgan, his dour face stamped with bewilderment, peered over the rail at the roaring captain below.

  “Wh-what’s the alarm, Cap’n!” he quavered.

  “The alarm is we sail in thirty minutes, so stir your bones, you one-eyed rogue! With dawn the fleet of Tarakus sails for a surprise attack on Patanga, and we had best be undersail to bring them the word … pray to Gorm and Shastadian we reach the City o’ Fire in time!”

  THEY went roaring and blustering out into the sleety cold, stamping and blowing and cursing lustily, the men grumbling at being torn, in some cases bodily, out of their snug warm beds, but Barim Redbeard was afire with eagerness to be gone. No time to rouse the slumbering landlord and fetch the kroters from the stable. Nothing would satisfy the Redbeard but they go running down the Street of the Pawnbrokers in full tilt, the door of the Skull and Crossbones swinging open and unlatched at their heels.

  Down to the docks they piled, slipping on the wet cobbles, shivering against the cold wet blasts of wind, while a crazy moon peered and leered at them with one mad eye glaring down through scudding wisps of flying cloud.

  Down the long stone quay they ran, Redbeard, swearing lustily, in the lead, his kerchief snapping in the wind, sea-spume on his fiery bush of whiskers, his great sea boots slapping the wet stone dock ringingly. Ahead the black hull of the Scimitar rode the choppy waters, sails furled and mooring lamps burning red and green and yellow.

  “Ahoy, the Scimitar!” the Redbeard bellowed. “Look alive on deck, you lubbers! Down with the ladder, mates, we sail now!”

  An astonished Zangabali, nightshirt flapping about his skinny shanks, peered down at them from the d
eck-rail.

  “That you, Cap’n?”

  “Of course it’s me, you lazy rogue, over the side with that rope ladder and rouse those slumbering dogs—we sail for Patanga on the instant! Move, you lubber, or I’ll scuttle ye and spread ye out for fish-bait—”

  “B-but, Cap’n, we can’t sail,” the Zangabali quavered.

  “And why not, tell me that? When Barim Redbeard says sail, then sail we do!”

  Leaning over the rail, the half-clad seaman pointed one bare arm.

  “The tower! Look at the signal-lamps! They closed the Sea Gate at sunset, Cap’n, we can’t get out o’ the harbor now!”

  Redbeard stifled a growled curse and turned, craning his neck, to blink up at the tall stone tower that lifted from the very end of the long rocky promontory, where white billows thundered in sheets of flying spray against black fangs of naked rock. Blue and yellow the signal lamps shone through the moonlit night … blue and yellow … and that meant the impregnable Sea Gates were closed for the night, and no ship could sail forth from the walled harbor of Tarakus.

  “Now, by the Eleven Scarlet Hells,” the Captain swore softly. Charn Thovis looked at him in puzzlement. “Barim—what is it? What do those lamps mean? Why can’t we set sail?”

  The Captain sighed heavily. “The harbor is enclosed in a great circle,” he groaned. “Half o’ this circle is the curve of the city waterfront … the rest o’ the harbor is sheltered by those stone breakwaters you see there, and there. There be only one open channel through which ships can make passage, and that cunning red dog, Kashtar, has built his Sea Gates there …”

  “What are these Sea Gates, then?” Charn Thovis persisted.

  “Great chains, lad, chains of massive bronze, with links that weigh half a ton each … four great chains across the mouth of the open way, locked to mighty rings bolted deep in the stone o’ the breakwater. When the chains are locked in place, the Sea Gates are closed, as they say … and ’twould take half an army to open them, for Kashtar has builded him twin citadels of stone one to either end of the breakwater, with a permanent garrison of a hundred or so warriors there, to guard the Sea Gates … far too many for a small crew such as we to fight our way through, even if we could somehow unlock the great chains … no, lad, I fear that crafty dog, Kashtar, has outsmarted us. Doubtless he thought there might be a spy or two among the Captains o’ the Coast, and in case any were willin’ to betray his plans to Patanga for red gold, he had the Sea Gates closed with sundown, so that not a single ship could sail… all right, mates, back to the Skull ’n’ Crossbones!”

  Charn Thovis swore feelingly, but there was nothing else to do. The weight of cold reason was on the side of Barim Redbeard.

  Old Blay peered out to sea, and snuffled a little, wiping his nose with one red hand.

  “Them poor folks back in Patangy,” he muttered soberly. “Sound asleep in they beds, trustin’ to the good men o’ the Scimitar to bring ’em warning in time, and to the Black Hawk, bless ’im, to foil the plot somehow … and now the first thing they’ll know of the invasion is when they wake up termorrow mornin’ an find the black ships of Tarakus in they harbor and the grinnin’ rogues of Tarakus battlin’ through they streets … ah, me!”

  Sighing gustily, the friendly old Kovian shook his head despairingly. One by one the men straggled back through the cold wet streets, to the inn and to their beds. And they found at the door of the Skull and Crossbones an officer of Kashtar Red Wolf bearing shipping orders. With dawn the Scimitar was to set sail in the last rank of the fleet and sail against Patanga.

  What chance had the City of the Flame, all unsuspecting that the assault was to be launched in mere hours? When the swords of the Corsair Kingdom went up against Patanga, what chance for freedom to survive in the World’s West?

  BOOK THREE

  AGAINST THE STORM

  “For this was the sin of the Gray Magicians of Nianga, that they in their folly and lust for power had transgressed the commandments of the Nineteen Gods … they had ventured beyond the limitations the Gods had set on the inquiries of man’s quest for knowledge and wisdom, and the hellish weapons their dark studies had created were as a stench and as an abomination in the nostrils of Heaven … wherefore were they smitten with the Divine Wrath and all their works were set at naught …”

  —The Great Book of Sharajsha the Wizard

  CHAPTER 10:

  YIAN OF CADORNA

  Thus with the aid of Father Gorm,

  There in the stronghold of the foe,

  He found a shelter from the storm

  While soldiers searched for him below …

  —The Tsargol Records

  THE slim figure, veiled in clinging silks, struggled under in his grasp. Suddenly, Karm Karvus stifled a gasp of astonishment. For his hands had encountered—not the hard muscles of a man—but the yielding softness of a woman! He snatched his hands away and stepped back.

  “Do you always enter a lady’s Chamber in so rude a manner, Prince of Tsargol?” the woman, or rather, the girl, demanded coolly. Rearranging her garments, she turned a face of astonishing beauty upon him. To his amazement, Karm Karvus saw that this was no painted and bedizened wineshop slut, no pirate chieftain’s wanton, but a young woman of birth and breeding and dignity.

  “Your pardon, my lady, I did not realize … but how is it that you know me?”

  She regarded him coolly; then, relenting a little, she smiled. “When half the city is being turned inside out to find a fugitive named Karm Karvus, it requires no special intelligence to assume that you are the man,” she said in a soft, husky voice. “Who else but a fugitive from Kashtar’s prisons would be clambering over the rooftops on such a foul night? But come, you have naught to fear from me—I, too, am a prisoner of the Red Wolf, Yian of Cadorna is my name. You are weary, cold, wet from the storm. Here is wine and meat, and a roaring fire. And I believe I can find you some dry garments—”

  Fumbling for some awkward words of gratitude, he relaxed in a chair by the fire, removing his rain-soaked boots and feeling the crackling warmth bake the fatigue and chill from his bones. As the girl, Yian of Cadorna, busied herself in tending to his needs, his gaze followed her curiously.

  She was young, surely no more than twenty, and slim and regal, with the clear golden skin of Cadorna, oblique dark eyes, almond-shaped, slightly tilted, sparkling like black jewels. Her hair was a torrent of heavy black silk that poured down her slim shoulders to her waist. She had a soft warm mouth, ripe for kissing, and beneath a complicated garment of thin clinging silken stuff, her body was lithe and supple and deliciously rounded.

  Cadorna, he knew, was westernmost of the Nine Cities. It lay beyond Kovia, up the outer curve of the continent, on the shores of the Southern Sea. The cities of the Gulf had little commerce with far Cadorna, but this; was due to its seclusion and remoteness, not to policy. For the Lord of Cadorna, Prince Kazan, was not unfriendly and had exchanged embassies with the court of Thongor. Now that he thought of it, Karm Karvus recalled that he had heard Prince Kazan had a young daughter … but what was she doing here, in the stronghold of the pirates of Tarakus?

  She must have read the question in his eyes, or perchance it was her woman’s gift of intuition. For when he thanked her for the strong red wine and the spiced meats she set before him, she explained her presence in the city.

  “I, too, was taken captive by the corsairs and am being held as a hostage against my father’s complicity with the demands of the sea wolves,” she said. In swift words she described how she had been sailing in her pleasure boat down the coast from Cadorna when her vessel had been attacked by the pirates. Her courtiers and attendants had all been slain resisting the boarding party and she herself had been carried back to Tarakus a prisoner. Karm Karvus listened in grim silence: it would seem that the plans of Kashtar were to seize a hostage from every royal, house of the West and use their persons to gain entry into each of the Nine Cities. He asked her if she knew of other such royal captives, b
ut the girl shook her head, the great bell of her shimmering black hair swinging entrancingly about her heart-shaped, elfin face.

  “Besides you and I, Kashtar has taken no other captives,” she said gravely. Then she smiled, her face lightening. “The Pirate King is having his difficulties with me,” she laughed. “I, too, tasted the rather rude hospitality of his foul and stinking dungeons for a time, but when Kashtar saw that the hardships I endured were only making my refusals to assist his schemes even more obdurate, he cunningly immured me here, in relative comfort, with ladies to attend to my wants. He hoped to soften me with a touch of luxury; later to threaten to return me to the dungeon cell if I continued to resist. But thus far I have held out”

  “Surely you are not left alone and unguarded?”

  She shook her head. “Indeed, no. While I have the privacy of these upper Chambers to myself, guards are stationed on the ground floor and it is impossible for me to leave the building. For they assume that a softly-reared Princess could never go climbing about the rooftops of the city, as you have been doing. However, as a matter of fact, I have been contemplating just that mode of escape, and was at the window just now, examining the terrain with just that in mind—when I saw you climbing towards my Chamber. I lit the lamp so that I could catch your attention. I had intended to let you in—but I had not expected you would come crashing through the panes uninvited!”

  The Tsargolian flushed. “Princess, I—”

  She laughed softly. “No need to apologize … a desperate man seeks any haven in the storm. But here, for a time at least, you are quite safe. The soldiers have already searched this building hours ago. But, come, what are your plans?”

  Karm Karvus frowned. He had been kept so busy merely eluding recapture that he had not had much leisure wherein to formulate any practical plan of escape from the city. Rather awkwardly, he was forced to admit as much. And here, it seemed, the girl was far ahead of him. For she had been busy during the long days of her captivity. From a low chest she removed sheets of heavy parchment and spread them out for his perusal.