by DB King
They walked together down the main wide highway that curved like a backbone through the sprawling body of the rapidly improving slums. Everywhere they saw signs of progress. As they approached the edge of the docklands, the steady wind off the sea blew in their faces.
The closer they got to the docks, the more people joined them, until they were just three members of a large crowd that was heading toward the docks. Apparently, the news of the mysterious ship’s arrival interested everyone. Folk were flocking to the docklands, and there was a festival atmosphere in the air.
Abruptly, they exited the slums and found themselves standing in a crowded, bustling, open space, with the clean white flagstones of the docklands stretching out below their feet in every direction. Marcus smiled and breathed deep. This was where he’d grown up, an orphan street urchin tearing up and down the busy docks, running errands, thieving, fighting, and generally getting into scrapes. He had been plucked from the docklands by the thieves’ guild and trained by them, but he’d never lost his love of the docks.
Kraken City’s docklands were the beating heart of the city. Kraken Island rose like a mountainous wedge from the sea, and the northeast coast—the low end of the wedge—was the only part where the coast was not girt with high sea cliffs. From end to end, this sea-level coastline was a hive of activity, forming the built-up area that the denizens called the docklands.
Here at the center of the docklands were two enormous wharves. They were called the King’s Dock and the Queen’s Dock, despite the fact that Kraken City had known neither king nor queen in all of its known history. These were the wharves where the biggest and most respectable merchant ships docked. Stretching away on both sides of these major docks, smaller wharves and jetties crowded against each other, with all manner of small craft moored up to them.
The docklands were always alive and buzzing with rumor, trade, and activity. Crews from distant lands moored here and sold their goods, and others came to buy. There were orks from the Gronwold dressed in amber and furs, selling the finest hides and the strongest leather, and beautiful items carved from walrus ivory. Teams of bearded dwarves who had traveled from their northern realms with shiploads of fine iron, bronze, and copper from their northern mines could be seen trading for the Gronwold timber they needed to reinforce their mineshafts. Sun Islanders came from the south with spices, teas, and bolts of fine cloth. From the Kingdom of Doran, men with armed guards in shining armor traded wool, barrels of hops for the brewing of beer, and kegs of the finest wheat flour.
Goods from all over the known world could be found here in Kraken City, and here in the docklands the trade never stopped.
“There she is!” Marcus heard someone cry. “They’re just docking up now!”
Marcus looked over and saw that the crowd was all flowing toward the ship that they had been looking for. In the moment of stepping onto the docks and taking in the sights, he’d almost forgotten their mission, but the sight of the ship recalled it to him.
The vessel was called the Maiden’s Hope. She was a big, sleek Sun Islander trade galley, made large and sturdy enough to handle the treacherous southern passage from the Isles of the Sun to Kraken City. There seemed nothing particularly unusual about it at first sight—Sun Islander ships often stopped here—but rumors had abounded for the whole time the ship had been quarantined in the bay. People said that the king of the Isles of the Sun had come to visit, or that the ship was bringing some unusual trade goods, or even that they had come bringing some news from the south that would cause Kraken City to go to war.
The rumors grew more outrageous and baseless with every retelling, but there was no doubt that the ship was carrying some unexpected surprise. The city guard formed a mail clad line in front of the Maiden’s Hope as she lowered her gangway to the docks. People cheered as the captain appeared. He was a big Sun Islander with a long, pointed black beard. His eyes were bright, and wrinkled at the edges with years of smiling. His hair was coal-black and gleamed in the sun.
With him came two guards in black mail, with Sun Islander katanas like Dirk’s at their sides. They were armed and armored, but like their captain they smiled at the assembled crowds.
From behind the captain, three new figures mounted the gangway and walked toward the docks. The crowd hushed for a moment in surprise, but quickly started cheering and clapping again.
“They’re Akhians!” Anja said in surprise. “The people from the land of Akhi never come this far north! What could this mean?”
The Kraken City folk were clearly impressed with the appearance of the Akhians. Akhi was a land far to the south of Kraken City, and many weeks’ journey south even of the Isles of the Sun. It was said to be a desert land, unbearably hot, where the folk buried their dead in great stone tombs and had great reverence for their ancestors and the rituals surrounding the dead. Sometimes, a Kraken City delegation would travel to Akhi, seeking to establish a trade route, but the seas were treacherous and the Akhians were not seafaring people. Their land was rich in gold and jewels, and the enormous river delta around which their cities clustered provided enough viable farmland to support their population.
They had enemies, too, it was said, other great kingdoms that lived even further to the south, but the people of Kraken City knew nothing about them. The world was wide, and though Kraken City’s trading port drew a great deal of trade from all around, all knew that there was more of the world out there than they had ever mapped or explored.
The Akhian group were four in number, three men and a woman. Two of the men were young, tall and well built, dressed as warriors in bright armor of linked plates that left their upper arms and chests bare, but covered their shoulders and their forearms. They carried short, leaf-bladed swords at their belts. Their skin was dark as onyx and gleamed like their gold armor, and their hair was as dark as their skins and cut close to their heads.
The woman was about the same age as the young men, and dressed in similar style. She had a full chest plate and bare arms, a short skirt of bronze ring mail, and carried a spear with a bronze tip in the shape of a teardrop, but her hair was long and knotted, hanging down her back in a heavy plait.
All three gleamed in the sunlight. Golden inlays traced along their bronze armor in the shape of flowers and twisting vines. Blue crystal was used liberally throughout their gear, glowing as they stood looking down on the crowd.
The fourth member of their party was an elderly man. He was not dressed in armor, but in a simple robe of dark blue wool. He leaned on a staff, and his beard was as snow-white as the cloud of hair on his head. He looked ancient, and yet he stood tall and gazed around him with bright, interested eyes. The woman took his arm as they followed the captain of the ship down the gangway onto the docks.
Marcus moved through the crowd toward the line of guards, and the people moved out of his way.
“That’s Marcus,” he heard someone whisper. “The dungeon master.”
“Marcus of the Underway!” another added. “That’s him, alright!”
They pried their gaze from the Akhians and stared at Marcus. Most smiled at him, but some looked at him fearfully.
When Marcus got the line of guards, the men glowered at him. Several of their number had been hired to fight against Marcus during the battle, and had died for their trouble. Beyond their line, the harbormaster, a small, officious clerk called Evo, was greeting the Sun Islander captain and the Akhian group with many words and overblown gestures. The Sun Islander nodded patiently, the smile never leaving his face, but he was scanning the crowd as he did.
Eventually, Evo the harbormaster was obliged to stop speaking for a moment and catch his breath. The captain of the Maiden’s Hope leaned in and spoke to him quietly, and harbormaster Evo stepped back, looking surprised. But then one of the harbormaster’s aides took his arm, spoke in his ear, and pointed straight at Marcus.
Evo’s eyes scanned the crowd in the direction that his aide was pointing. His eyes found Marcus and rested on him. H
is expression was carefully neutral. The aide scurried over and pushed between the two guards, and stood in front of Marcus. He looked up at Marcus and tilted his head to one side.
“You are Marcus of the Underway?” he said.
“I am,” Marcus said cautiously.
“Come through, please,” the aide said. “Your companions may come with you. The harbormaster wishes to speak with you.”
The city guard didn’t look happy about it, but they parted to let Marcus through. This was unexpected. He’d never met Evo the harbormaster before, and had no idea what this could be about. As the crowd saw him approach the little delegation, they clapped and cheered.
“Well?” Marcus asked as he approached. “You wished to speak with me?”
The harbormaster looked at a loss and gestured to the Sun Islander captain. He took a breath, but before he could speak, the taller of the two young Akhian warriors stepped forward and extended a hand.
“Marcus,” he said, his voice smooth and courteous as a trained diplomat. Marcus took his hand and the man shook with him firmly. “My name is Amun, and this is my brother Atep.” He gestured at the other young man, who nodded to Marcus, then he gestured to his other companions, the old man and the warrior maiden, who bowed their heads in greeting. “With our wise man Jacob and our battle-sister Isa, we have travelled a long way to find you. And we have an urgent message for you but perhaps…” Amun glanced meaningfully at the harbormaster and his hangers on, and the Sun Islander captain immediately took his meaning.
“Shall we go aboard my ship to talk?” he offered.
Marcus glanced at his companions. They both nodded agreement, but Isa, the warrior maiden, spoke up. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ve been at sea for weeks and would much prefer to go somewhere on land to talk, if you don’t mind.”
They all chuckled, and the others nodded.
“I’ll leave you to it,” the captain said. “I still have to oversee the unloading of my cargo before I can rest. I recommend the inn named Home Port, if it’s still there.”
“It certainly is,” Marcus said with a smile. “Come with me, we’ll go there and take a private room. We can eat, and you can tell me your message and the tale of how you came to be here.”
“I’ll be glad to do so,” Amun said quietly. “The message is urgent, though I do not understand it myself. But whatever it means, I know this—the Corsair is coming, and when he comes, he will be looking for you.”
Chapter 14
The Home Port inn was one of the biggest and most respectable places in the docklands. It was a large, imposing building four stories high, with covered balconies on the upper floors where patrons could sit and eat in privacy, and with a great view of the ships in the King’s and the Queen’s docks.
Marcus ordered a private balcony room and a generous meal, and he brought Amun and Isa with him up to the table. Jacob, the elder, pleaded weariness and Atep went with him to see to his needs.
Ben, Anja, Marcus, sat together with Amun and Isa around a big table, and food was brought to them on silver platters. There was roasted fowl and steamed vegetables, a salad of fresh greens, and bowls of preserved fruits. Fresh bread and yellow butter arrived alongside two pitchers of ale, and the Akhians set to with relish. They had eaten nothing but ship’s rations for weeks.
Amun wanted to deliver his message immediately, but Marcus put him off. “Eat first,” he said. “The message can wait a few more minutes.”
When the travelers had sated their appetite, they sat back and servants came to clear away the empty dishes.
“Now,” Marcus said, “tell us your story. What’s happened to you, and how did you know my name?”
Isa and Amun looked at each other. The young man began his story. “We left the land of Akhi some weeks ago, in a trading vessel loaded with gold and silver, onyx and other gemstones. We were ambassadors, bound for Kraken City’s great port. Our new king desires that trade routes should be established to the north, and we were the first envoys.”
Marcus looked at the young man’s elaborate armor and jeweled inlays. “You certainly seem to be rich in desirable trade goods,” he said politely. “What went wrong?”
He shook his head sadly. “We had a crew of fifty sailors and twenty warriors. We got as far as the Isles of the Sun without incident, and we stopped there to take on fresh water and to deliver messages to their rulers with the goal of establishing trade there. They were welcoming to us, but they said that we should head north to Kraken City with our goods, as indeed we intended. After a day or two, we set out north again. That was when our troubles began.”
Isa took up the tale. Her voice was light and musical where Amun’s had been deep and earthy. Her eyes flashed with emotion as she spoke. “It’s as Amun says. We traveled north, but on our second night out from the Isles of the Sun we were met with a storm. It was the middle of the night, but the captain had spied land off to the west during the day, so he went in that direction. We avoided the storm, riding on its edges, but suddenly a ship appeared from the direction of the land. It was a black ship, with black hull and sails, and it bore down on us with terrifying speed, sailing against the wind. We were attacked.”
“Pirates?” Marcus asked.
“Pirates,” Isa confirmed. “But they were like no pirates we have ever known before. The crew were… raging, like wild beasts. They looked like men, but they behaved like crazed animals. They tore the warriors and the crew apart and… feasted on them.”
She shuddered and fell silent, and Amun spoke again. “Yes, it was a massacre,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’ve seen many battles. Our warriors had no chance. The ship was taken, and the pirate captain came. He was not like the rest. He carried a staff with a blazing red crystal fixed to the top of it, and he was able to control his insane crew. Blood washed our decks, and he walked through it, his boots dripping with the gore as he approached the last survivors. We had managed to get one of the small escape boats unhitched and we’d gotten Elder Jacob into it, but the captain stopped us. He asked us where we were bound, and when we told him, he laughed. He said, ‘you can be my messengers, then. I will take your ship, but you can go free in the little boat if you will deliver my message.’ We had no choice but to agree.”
“This captain,” Anja broke in, “what was he like?”
“He was tall,” Amun said, “with dark eyes and a pointed beard. He carried a curved cutlass and his coat was as red as the gore that splattered our decks. His teeth were pointed, sharp, like the teeth of an animal. I’ve never seen anything like him.”
Marcus glanced at his companions. He remembered the figure from his dream, the lord of a dark island, his gleaming black eyes and his sharp, shining teeth. “Well, what was the message?” he said, but his heart sank and he felt he knew what it was going to be.
“The captain—the Corsair, he called himself—told us to find Marcus of the Underway, and tell him this message.”
They all waited in tense silence. Amun fixed Marcus with his keen eyes. “The Corsair said, ‘Tell him his time is coming. Tell him he will not keep what is his for long. Tell him that I shall have my prize.’”
The rest of the Akhians’ story was swiftly told. They had set out in the little boat, heading back in the direction of the Isles of the Sun, but they had been blown off course by the winds. After drifting for a day, they had been picked up by the Maiden’s Hope, on its way to Kraken City. The captain, when he heard their story, had asked if any of them had been bitten or scratched by the Corsair’s crew. When they replied that they hadn’t, the captain had been relieved, but he had insisted that they wait two weeks before they dock up at Kraken City. Though they had pressed him, he had refused to tell them why.
“If you meet this Marcus,” the Sun Islander captain had said, “he will no doubt be able to explain. For my part, I will say no more.”
When the two weeks had passed, they had waited a day for a favorable wind and docked.
&n
bsp; “Now,” Amun said, “we ask you to tell us what has happened here. We were lucky to escape with our lives, though I don’t think the Corsair truly expected us to survive the crossing in that little boat. But now we are here, will you tell us what he is, and who you are, and what is the meaning of this strange message?”
“He’s a vampire,” Anja said with certainty. “A magical being that feeds on blood. What his crew are, I don’t know. I suspect… but I won’t say more now. The Sun Islanders know more about vampires than they let on. If a normal person is bitten or scratched by the nails of a vampire, he will turn into one if he’s left alive. That’s why the captain wanted to quarantine you before docking, to give you a chance to turn if you were going to.”
The Akhians looked shaken. “Jacob said something of the kind,” Amun said. “He is wise and learned in ancient legends—no doubt he has heard of such things in his long life. But what is this treasure you have that the Corsair seeks? He said, ‘I will have my prize.’ Tell us, Marcus, what is the Corsair’s prize?”
Marcus sighed. “The Corsair can only mean one thing.” He looked at them, his face grim and his voice sombre. “The prize he seeks, it’s…”
Everyone leaned in, their chairs creaking as Marcus’s words drew them in.
Finally, Marcus finished. “He’s after my power to create and build the mighty dungeons of evolution.”
Evening fell on Kraken City. In an alleyway in a quiet, little-known section of the slum district, a masked and hooded figure crouched on the roof of a building. His cloak was wrapped around him, his hood thrown up to cast a shadow over his face. Under the cloak, he carried his weapons—an ornate mace decorated with a fat green crystal, a graceful sword, a silver dagger in an ornate sheath. Marcus of the Underway, Marcus the dungeon master, Marcus, the reincarnated Eloran of legend, was going back to his roots.
