by Chogan Swan
The deck emptied with a flurry of bodies rushing to pick up jobs left off. Sails fluttered as the ship came about and men scrambled to haul on lines and brace them for the tug of the wind. The ship surged ahead on her new tack.
Kane chuckled; they were a good crew¬—at least when someone was watching.
Maclury turned back to Kane and Alaina. “So, what do the two of you do besides fight?” he asked, still annoyed.
“Smith,” Alaina said.
Maclury raised an eyebrow. “Any good?”
Alaina held out her arm to display the protective braces that covered her forearm—knowing better than to display her sword.
Maclury examined the brace and his eyes widened. “Your assistant is on the quarterdeck mending armor.” He turned to Kane. “You?”
“I'm a bard, but my instrument is gone.”
“No it's not, but music is all well-and-good after supper. What can you do during the day?”
“Oh, whatever comes to hand,” Kane said.
Maclury snorted and turned to Alaina. “Can he do honest work?”
Alaina wrinkled her brow. “There were rumors,” she admitted.
“Humph, we'll sort this out later,” Maclury said. “Hungry?”
Kane smiled. Alaina looked interested. They hadn't eaten since.... How long had he been out? His head still swam.
“There should be something left from lunch, I'm hungry too.” Maclury said, heading toward the door of the galley.
There was something to eat; standard sea fare: fish and rice with dried fruit. The taste was... edible—just. Halfway through the meal, Kane declared, “I shall cook.”
Maclury looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eye. “If you can cook a decent meal,” said the captain, “you can have pay-and-a-half.”
~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~
Seahold was on a rocky peninsula several leagues south of Arod's keep. Off the starboard bow, Kane could just make out the location of the end of the cliffs where he and Seth had fought the icewyrm. It seemed like ages past to Kane. Now he was back full circle, and Seth was who-knows-where, doing who-knows-what.
Maclury didn't want to enter the harbor against the wind; it made it too hard to maneuver through the shoals. So, they were still at sea, beating up the coast to come far enough upwind of their harbor. Seahold was really two harbors, one on each side of where the fishing village had been before the depredations of the pirates had forced the fisher folk inland. He hoped the pirates wouldn't block both harbors at once.
The plan was to slip into the southern harbor before dawn. Maclury seemed confident in his knowledge of the waters and his chances, but Kane wondered why he was so determined to get to Seahold. Even if running the blockade raised his profits, the chances were high he could lose it all. It could be even more difficult getting out of the port. It wasn't the hardheaded business deal he’d have expected from Red-Dog Maclury, and that nagged at him. Most of the time, people weren't hard for him to figure out.
Maclury was checking the two catapults that framed the foredeck. The spring-powered engines could fire small incendiaries. Not very safe to handle, but an accurate shot could do incredible damage to an opposing ship. Also, the arsenal held other missiles for wrecking sails, rigging and planks.
Maclury was inspecting the winch and cable system, the touchy part of the machinery. If it failed, you might find a fire on your own decks.
Kane sat on the deck, leaned against the railing and waited.
Without looking up, Maclury grunted. “What's it?”
“You don't strike me as a man who would take senseless risks for a questionable profit.”
“Ah,” said Maclury, “are you questioning the profit then, or the sense?”
“I'm curious by nature.”
Maclury turned from the catapult to give him an appraising stare. “I have an agreement with a customer. I said I'd make this delivery, and I'm not going to let the Creator forsworn pirates or Mogvorn himself stop me while I can still sail a ship.”
“Mogvorn,” Kane said. “But he's just a myth from that old northern folk legend, the sorcerer Abra the Shining drove into the sea.”
“That's right, but Abra the Shortsighted should’ve pursued the matter a bit longer,” said Maclury in a dry tone. “The sea has dark places too, and when Mogvorn returned from the depths, he still had his power. He withdrew north for a time, but now his darkness moves again. The men of Eastern Dragonsmere remember Mogvorn and his Black Hand lackies.”
Kane pondered. So, the Black Hand he’d declared personal war on had a backer and a longer history. It wasn't encouraging. Abra was said to have been the strongest power Evelon had known, and he'd had the support of the Nephal. The situation was worse than he’d ever thought. But, what it came down to was—why were you involved in the first place? Not—were you likely to win? Maclury confiding his allegiance was a sign of trust uncommon in this war. When betrayal, torture and deceit were the strongest weapons of your enemy, you learn to be careful or die.
Kane was involved to his eyeteeth and had been before the Hand had murdered his brother. He looked at Maclury. “Who is your agreement with?”
Maclury stood; his eyes narrowed to blue slivers in the sun, and Kane could read nothing from them. Maclury judged people by their reactions, and now he had the advantage. “The king there, Arod,” he replied as he scanned the bard's face. Maclury grinned. “You know him. You like him, and you've dealt with him in the past,” he said.
Kane took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said, “it's the little things that go right that give you hope. I'll tell you after supper.”
Maclury gave one of his rare smiles. Meals were something to look forward to these days. Kane knew the recipes for thousands of dishes served in king's halls in scores of lands. With the trained memory of a bard, he’d never forgotten one worth remembering.
Chapter 5 (Pirates)
Kane was grilling forty pounds of shark fillets with herbs and ground citrus peel when the alarm whistle sounded from the lookout, signaling—ship sighted. Above decks, pounding feet drummed and Maclury shouted, “Where away?”
Kane snorted in exasperation and lowered the grill a touch closer to the glowing coals. There would be some time before anything happened, but it was better not to fight hungry, if it came to that. Hungry fighters lacked stamina. He’d only need to finish cooking three-fourths of the meal though. Maclury wouldn't want the crew so full they couldn't move.
Uric, his kitchen help, thumped down the ramp from the upper decks. “Sir, the lookout has spotted a pirate.”
“Yes, I heard,” Kane said. “Here, Uric, turn these when the juice starts to rise on this side. Don't let them dry out; we’ll need our energy for something besides chewing over-cooked shark. I'm going to take a look above, back in a moment, most likely.” He slapped the spatula into Uric's hand and darted up the ramp.
Above deck, crewmembers swarmed over the rigging as the ship prepared to come about and run with the wind. Maclury barked out orders that the crew flung themselves around the ship to fulfill before the captain looked their way again. For now, they were more afraid of displeasing him than running afoul of the pirates.
Alaina perched in the lookout on the highest mast, marking the position of the other vessel. She’d taken to spending her off hours in the lookout, since she enjoyed watching the sea, and there was little blacksmithing at the moment. The pile of work the ship's smith had been laboring through had vanished.
The crew teased her for chasing after the captain's bonus, but Kane knew her time on the mast had nothing to do with money. It gave her time to herself. Like Kane, the sight of the wind on the waves called to her heart like an old memory brushing the edges of her dreams. The sea pierced deep into the hearts of those with island blood.
She noticed Kane on the deck below and waved to him. Action always cheered her. Kane suspected she hoped the pirate ship would catch them. Bandits never got very close to Raydcliffe, but they tried. Alaina had led many patrols
into skirmishes with the bandits that came too close to the valley. The villagers hadn’t had many casualties since Alaina had taken command of the border guards three years ago. The bandits—though—had.
Kane sensed his cousin's mood and frowned. Alaina enjoyed fighting; Kane would rather outsmart an opponent than come to blows. After all, what else was a mind for?
He searched the deck for Maclury. The captain was supervising the placement of ammunition next to the catapults.
“Supper in half-an-hour Captain?”
“On deck,” Maclury replied.
“Right,” Kane turned to go below, back to the shark….
Maybe some ground pepper.
~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~
Maclury gripped the railing and leaned over the bowsprit. They ran with the steady northwest wind, leaving the topsail down to keep a lower profile.
The shadow of the mast stretched into the east, fading with the red and gold on the water as dusk sped across the sea. The ship surged forward, leaving the tops of the swells with a leap and a splash like an eager dolphin. Sea salt spray caressed his face, releasing its perfume as the ship sped for the coast. They rode on the wind's crest; air whispered over his shoulder as they matched speed with her.
An hour passed.
Soon the land darkened and disappeared. Stars spangled the sky. The moon would not appear tonight. A slow traveler, it took a week to shine and a week to traverse the back of the world, leaving only the stars' blazing banner to light the sky.
“Half-sail,” Maclury called. The sound of hurrying feet and lines rolling through pulleys accompanied their drop in speed. The ship was battle-ready, the catapults staffed by teams of two. Missiles were stacked to hand. Buckets of water pulled from the sea had soaked the roofs of the cabins and the decks in case of fire. He'd ordered all lights covered.
He’d taken every precaution imaginable. Now he prayed none of it would be necessary. The sail spotted earlier had dropped away behind them, out-distanced like a fat hound chasing a fox. The faint swish of waves on rock drifted to his ears, and he ordered the helmsman to unlash the rudder and be ready for orders. He leaned against the railing and peered into the murk.
Two shadows appeared by his side. He glanced around to see Kane and Alaina standing nearbye, having a quiet conversation in a language he didn't recognize. Maclury turned back to the ocean. Over the years, he’d become adept at winding through the rocky coasts at night, and he knew every reef and shoal along this stretch of coast...
Out of the murk on the port side, appeared a tall ship with a wreath of human skulls fastened to the base of a massive, iron-shod ram.
Pirates.
Breathless, he watched as his ship skimmed past the ram then the hawsers that anchored the other ship. For a moment, it seemed they might slip past, unnoticed in the dark, but then both ships lurched. He breathed an oath as shouts came from the other ship. They’d struck the pirate's anchor lines and now they were snarled like a fly in a web.
The pirate's lone guard came around the corner from the other side of the cabins. He saw Maclury and shouted. His yelling stopped as Alaina's arrow found his throat. Maclury didn't look behind him, but he thanked her in his mind.
From the way his ship lurched, Maclury could tell the other ship's lines had snagged his rudder, and it wasn't likely to come free on its own. There was only one thing to do.
“Drop sail! All hands to port and board!” he bellowed and leapt over the rail to the other deck. Behind him, he heard two thumps as Alaina and Kane followed then more thumps as the crew came after them. Maclury ripped out his swords, one long the other short, after the manner of his country. The main hatchway opened, spilling light onto the deck. In a savage rush, he ran at the door and thrust into the opening with his long sword. A half-dressed man, clutching an axe, fell back with a grunt as Maclury's blade took him below the sternum, jarring against his spine and knocking him down the steps.
A charging bull of a hillman with a shield replaced him, battering past Maclury's blades and onto the deck. Maclury ducked a wild swing from his ax as Kane slipped behind the man and cut him down before his eyes adjusted to the dark.
Then the deck was boiling with pirates, leaping on Maclury's men from the cabin roof, climbing through emergency hatches.
They’d made a fast recovery from their surprise. A black-bearded giant stood outlined against the stars, straddling the peak of the roof, shouting orders to his men. Somehow, the giant saw, or felt, Alaina draw her bow and leapt backwards as an arrow whizzed past his head, but he didn't stop shouting orders. The pirates rallied, and it was soon obvious they had the advantage in numbers, though they’d lost several in the first few minutes of confusion.
As the pirates fought to gather into a group, Maclury shouted, “Draw when clear!” and a number of pirates dropped to the decks; some to duck, and others because arrows had found them. The odds looked about even now.
Another flight of arrows found marks, and more fell. A squat hillman and a pale-skinned Tyr-Gothian both crumpled to the deck.
“At them, you sons of caks!” the black-bearded captain shouted. “Do you all want to be skewered?”
That was the end of any order to the battle.
Maclury felt a pair of shoulders brace against his back then he was too busy parrying and lunging to even wonder who. He caught a glimpse of Alaina whirling and slashing so fast she seemed to blur as she cut a path through the struggle. She aimed towards the huge captain who fought two of Maclury's men amid a ring of bodies.
~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~
Alaina caught the last pirate between her and the giant with a stop thrust to his sword arm; and finished with her dagger in his throat. Then, she turned to assess their captain. The big man seemed to fight without effort, flicking two heavy broad swords in defense and attack with deft wrist movements, but the strokes landed like sledgehammer blows.
“Back off,” she snapped to the crew members struggling against him.
They stepped away. “Careful with this one, smith,” said one of them. “He's got tricks disguised as tricks.”
Alaina sheathed her dagger and changed her grip on her kryllsword. The pirate captain remained motionless. Alaina flicked her eyes from point to point on his stance. She listened for his breath. It was quiet and even. His eyes were shadowed, but they glinted, reflecting the red light from the open hatchway to the cabin.
Behind Alaina, the sounds of fighting faded, from a clamor of blades and curses to isolated flurries of sword-on-sword and moans from the wounded.
The smell of blood cut through the salt air.
The shadowed figure of the captain remained like a dark statue, but a voice like a far-off thunder came from his throat. “Your smell is familiar.”
Alaina started.
She hadn’t noticed him testing the air. “I have met your kinsman in battle. He overcame some of us with his burning sword, but he did not live. You're the smith now then? You should stick to your trade, metal-pounder. My trade is death. Are you an Island slut? You smell like one, but I'll taste you to make sure.”
Puzzled, Alaina went to high blade position and waited. “Stop blathering and come die, man.”
“Man? Man? If I were just a man, I would blather. Your sword screams at you and you do not even hear.” With a derisive laugh, the captain slid from the shadow of the cabin in an impossibly quick lunge that carried him past Alaina's guard.
Without thinking, she twisted away. The blade clinked off her chain and slid from her leather jerkin. Her counter did not even come close, so startled was she at the man's speed. As the captain withdrew from the lunge, he slid sideways, coming across Alaina's parrying blade. She felt a cold fire as the edge ran over her forearm and through her glove. She ignored the stinging of her arm and the warm trickle of blood on her wrist. The pirate lifted his sword to his mouth and tasted the edge.
“The blood of the islands is still sweet,” he giggled, deep in his throat.
The sound made
Alaina's flesh tighten. She shuddered. “You will die,” she grated past a jaw that trembled in rage. A strange, numbing fear flooded over her in dark, chilling waves.
“You will know despair, little metal-pounder. Your kinsman could not kill me, even with the burning sword your father made him.” The big man's eyes flickered red. “I pulled out his lung, and he had no breath to scream as he died, and you will beat me? I'm twice as strong now.”
Alaina bit off a gasp. Now she knew what “kin” it meant. Too late she sensed the thrumming of her sword. Rage and terror grabbed her, shook her as the dark knowledge fell on her mind. He was a baal in man-guise. She charged. “Foul thing,” she screamed, slashing her blade slantwise as she spun into a sequence meant to finish with a cut taking off the head and right arm. She knew she was moving too slow for the maneuver to succeed as she turned, but—in her rage—she refused to stop. Before she finished the pass, a glittering arc from above passed through the giant's head in a vertical line that fell apart, leaking gory corruption.
Kane wiped his sword on a rag and dropped from the roof of the cabin to the deck, taking care to avoid the huge body.
“Use poles and push that body into the water, now,” he ordered the on looking crew.
Alaina stood, shocked and shivering as the rage and fear melted. Kane approached and touched her arm.
“That was the reaction it wanted from you. It makes you more vulnerable to its control.”
The crew, using oars and poles from the deck shoved the body of the giant baal—already smoking—into the sea. It splashed, a foul steam poured up from the churning water.
With a sob, she grabbed him for support. Kane wrapped his arms around her and held her until she stopped shivering.
“It lied, you know,” Kane said. “All the baal who touched Kilan were destroyed. It may have been near at hand, but it had no part in killing him. The covenant's mark was on my brother. The creator watches. It's time you came to terms with that—time for you to trust.”
