by Rob J. Hayes
“Nothing worth a shit ever is,” Keelin growled. “Let’s move out. Kebble has the lead.”
Elaina fell in beside Smithe. The man had been quiet for a while now, and that was unlike him. It was more than just quiet, though – Smithe had a haunted look in his eyes.
“You hear that, Cap?” he said, his eyes darting about as they walked past the first tree into the close, damp forest.
Elaina listened. She heard the sound of boots on earth and twigs. She heard the chirping of insects and the call of birds. She heard the wind stirring branches and leaves, and she heard the gentle slosh of the sea washing the beach away.
“Hear what, Smithe?”
“The whispers,” he said. “Angry voices, like… like they don’t want us here.”
“Right.” Elaina took a deep breath. “So, what’s with your man Kebble? Seems he knows a bit about this place.”
Smithe hacked at a branch that had had no intention of getting in his way. The brief act of violence seemed to embolden him a little.
“He thinks he’s immortal. Real smug about it too. Acts like it’s nothin’. Smug fuck-piece. Says he’s even tried to get himself killed. Like being immortal is a bad thing. Dumb bastard. I’d be captain if I were immortal. Sure as hell wouldn’t be in this forest with all its fucking whispering.”
Elaina almost laughed. Smithe was considering the possibility of immortality, and the furthest he could set his sights was still captain of a ship. Simple men had simple desires, and Smithe appeared to be deranged as well as simple. The trees were most certainly not whispering at them all to leave. The spirits, however, were another matter altogether.
Chapter 33 - The Phoenix
Two days into their expedition and Aimi was fairly certain they were going round in circles. Kebble claimed to be leading them to HwoyonDo, but he didn’t seem enthusiastic about the responsibility, and Aimi wondered whether he would soon lead them right back to the beach.
The forest was hot and damp and full of biting insects and other things that had far bigger teeth. Each night was a horror that started with a chorus of animal calls and ended in haunting wails and titanic roars that ripped through the forest like a wind, bringing the smell of death and decay. Each night Keelin set three watches, and each night Aimi found herself sitting at least two of them, wishing sleep would claim her. Her tremulous feelings were only made worse by Elaina Black’s apparent ease with the situation. In fact, Captain Black seemed to be the only one in the entire expedition who wasn’t worried by the forest.
Aimi knew something was wrong as soon as she was awake. Keelin was kneeling above her, his hand on her shoulder and his eyes darting around the forest. It was long past her watch, and the near-pitch darkness told her the sun had yet to rise.
“Feather is missing,” Keelin whispered. He gave Aimi’s shoulder a quick squeeze and stood.
Aimi lifted her head and looked around. The whole camp was in a state of disarray as some folk struggled to rise and wake up properly while others grasped swords and stared about in fear. Kebble had his rifle readied, but couldn’t seem to find a target. Elaina was squatting down on her haunches, staring upwards at the canopy.
“Perhaps he’s taking a shit?” said Smithe, with a yawn and a look that said he wasn’t best pleased about being woken up.
“That’s what I thought when I got up for the watch,” Bronson said. “That was a fair while back. Don’t know anyone who shits for that long.”
“Fremen takes his bloody time about it,” Smithe growled. “Likes to read a book while he hangs his arse over the ship.”
“We need to look for him,” Aimi said.
Judging by the looks sent her way, her statement was not well received. Not a single member of the expedition, not even Keelin, jumped at the prospect of forming a search party for their valued crewmate.
“First light ain’t too far off,” Elaina said, still staring upwards. “It’d be safer to wait.”
“What if he’s out there, hurt?” Aimi said.
“In this light we could walk right by him and not notice,” Elaina said. “Not to mention, we can’t see all the other dangers.”
“We can’t just leave him.”
“I don’t wanna go out there in the dark,” Elaina’s quartermaster put in.
“What if whatever got Feather is just waitin’ for us too?” Jolan said, his voice quivering.
“He’s right,” Jotin jumped in. “It’s a bloody trap, is what it is.”
“Enough,” Keelin growled, his voice quiet but full of command. Everyone stopped talking, and Aimi could hear the chitter of insects and the sound of something heavy moving through the leaf litter.
“Feather?” Keelin shouted. The noise almost seemed to echo around them. No answer floated back, and Aimi could hear nothing but the unseen wildlife and the crackling of their fire. It wasn’t strictly cold enough to warrant a fire, but not a single member of the expedition had wanted to bed down for the night without the light, and there was plenty of fuel to be found.
After a while Keelin gave a weary sigh. “Elaina is right. It’s too dangerous to go out in the dark, and we might walk right by Feather. We’ll wait until first light, and we’ll search for the boy then. Chances are he just got scared and decided to run back to the ship.”
Aimi knew a lie when she heard one. Feather could be called many things, but coward wasn’t one of them. All the same, it seemed to satisfy everyone else, and she wagered some of them needed to think Feather had simply run off.
They spent most of the morning searching in groups of three, only to find no sign of Feather. Elaina said she’d found a trail that quickly ran cold and could easily have belonged to one of the search party. As the sun drew near its zenith, Keelin called a halt to the search, stating they needed to move on while there was still enough light to make good progress. Aimi hoped Feather was alright, but there was a pit in her stomach that said otherwise.
Chapter 34 - King’s Justice
“Aye, that’s a fuckin’ lot o’ ships,” Daimen said with a whistle.
Captain Rothin Wulfden winced at the curse. He was stout with a belly like an ale barrel and more knowledge of the sea than almost any man Daimen had met. The captain was also a horrendous bore who deplored the use of foul language and chastised anyone who practised it. Unfortunately for the captain, Daimen was too old to care much about what he thought.
“Thirty-eight so far,” Wulfden said pompously, near bursting with pride. “Most are fully seaworthy – some are waiting for repairs.”
“What about the fuckin’ crew?” Daimen said. “Fully loaded, are they?”
The good captain fell silent and scratched at his belly.
“Ah, that’d explain it then,” Daimen said with a grin. “With this many ships you’re sure to sail on in an’ crush the bloody pirates like the undisciplined fucks that they are. Not so easy to do when ya can’t even crew ya ships.”
“We lost a lot of men in the last attack. Well-trained sailors are not so easy to come by, and the soldiers we send must be taught to fight on unstable footing.”
Daimen laughed. “Sea legs and sea gut, hardest things for the land dwellers to learn, eh?”
“Indeed. Sarth will soon be sending more ships and more men to help. We expect to sail into the Pirate Isles with over fifty fully manned ships. I’d like to see your Drake Morrass repel those numbers.”
“Ah, stop with the ‘my Drake Morrass’, will ya? I’m one of you now, got me a pardon to prove it.” It was mostly the truth. Daimen had a provisional pardon and a provisional deed to a lucrative spot of land in the south. Whether or not the king signed those documents was conditional on Daimen leading them to and helping them wipe out the pirates of the isles.
“Indeed,” said Captain Wulfden, sounding anything but trusting.
The sad truth of the matter was that the good captain and his officers were as much Daimen’s gaolers as they were his superiors. Rarely did Daimen find himself out of their watchful sight, and rarely wh
ile in their sight did he find himself feeling like a free man. Though they’d never believe him, the captain and his men had no need to be so strict. Daimen wouldn’t flee even if the opportunity should present itself, and the way Land’s End was locked down, he couldn’t see an opportunity anywhere on the horizon.
He’d had plenty of time to think about his situation while he was locked up, and he’d come to the conclusion that the king was telling the truth. Drake would sacrifice anything to achieve his goals, even an entire town. The good folk of the isles were better off without a treacherous cur like that, just as they were better off without Tanner Black. And Daimen would be happy to help remove them, given the hefty reward that had been laid out in front of him.
“We should be under way before the new moon,” Captain Wulfden continued as he gazed out across his fleet. It wasn’t technically his fleet yet, but everyone with an ounce of say in the matter was pushing for the captain to be made admiral.
“So soon?” Daimen said. “Fuck me, a storm is coming.”
The captain ground his teeth and scratched at his belly again. “The less time we give the pirates to prepare, the better. Your intelligence had best be right, Poole. I have the authorisation to execute you on the spot if you attempt a ruse.”
It wasn’t the first time the captain had made that threat, and Daimen would have put good money on it not being the last.
He opened his mouth to defend himself, only to be interrupted by a loud belch followed by a number of profound apologies from a man in a faded green suit that looked as though its better days were many years behind it.
“I do apologise, gentlefellows,” the man slurred with a grin that showed at least one missing tooth. The smell of alcohol wafted off him so strongly Daimen suspected he bathed in booze. “I appear to have lost my purse. Could any of… you… How many of you are there? I count one, two, three, six, seven.”
There were four of them, and apart from Daimen they were all dressed in their finest naval uniforms. Only the most dedicated of drunks would attempt to squeeze a bit out of the sailors.
“Could I borrow a bit or two? Just enough to get to an inn, I swear,” the man slurred, staggering a little.
“The docks were meant to be cleared of vagrants, Barrows,” Captain Wulfden growled, doing his very best to ignore the drunkard swaying back and forth in front of him. “Have him thrown in gaol.”
“Whoa now.” The drunkard stumbled back a step and fell on his arse in a muddy puddle. With a groan, the man got his hands beneath him and lurched back to his feet. “It’s not my bloody fault I’m here. It’s yours. I was out on shoe… schuuure… shore leave when you all just closed the port. My ship packed up and fucked off before you locked them down, and they went and left me here. Now, my good sir, I do not have much in the way of skills or talents. I do, however, know my way around a ship. Or at least bits of one. The good bits, mind, not the bilge.”
“Just get him out of my sight,” said the captain. “Let him bother the rest of the good folk and leave us be.”
Two of Captain Wulfden’s officers moved forwards to escort the drunkard away, forcibly if necessary. The men looked loathe to touch the poor fellow, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave of his own accord.
“I can sail,” he slurred as he was dragged away. “No? How about a bit? A copper?”
“Damned vagrant sailors are everywhere,” Wulfden hissed. He bit his lip, but Daimen had heard the curse and grinned at him.
“Well, it is ya own damned fault, Captain. Ya shut down the largest port in these here Five Kingdoms. Those vagrants got nowhere to go until it opens up for trade again, eh?”
Wulfden shot Daimen an icy glare.
“Right y’are. Damned vagrants all over the fucking place. Quite right.”
The captain muttered something under his breath. “Now, where was I. Oh, yes. I have the authority to execute you, Poole.”
“So ya keep reminding me. Honestly, I think it’s putting a real strain on our relationship, mate.”
Captain Wulfden let slip an ugly smile. “Do not think you are the only traitor we have in the pirate ranks.”
Daimen paused. He didn’t want to play into the captain’s hand, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Who?”
Chapter 35 - Starry Dawn
Elaina looked down at the empty bed roll. All of Bronson’s supplies were still packed away in his sack, and there was no sign of a struggle. He was simply gone, as though he’d woken and walked away without so much as a sound. Not even the watch had heard or seen the big man leave the camp.
“We should go,” Jotin said, chewing on his lip. He’d already made his mouth bloody, but it didn’t seem to stop the fool. “Get back to the ship before any more of us go missing.”
“We are closer to the city than we are to the ship,” Kebble said as he knelt down on the opposite side of the bed roll to Elaina and poked around in the leaf litter. “Very close now.”
“What?” Jotin’s voice had risen to one drop from panic. “How do you know?”
Kebble pointed at a rock to his left. Jotin glanced at the small boulder and then away; the idiot hadn’t even seen the markings on it.
“It’s a fucking rock, Kebble.”
“It is a marker,” Kebble said. “And it says we are within a day’s walk of HwoyonDo. The city should be safer than the forest.” The lie was plain on his face. Whatever waited for them in HwoyonDo was anything but safe. More intriguing to Elaina was how Kebble knew what waited for them.
“Folk say you’re immortal,” she said quietly.
Kebble nodded.
“So if I stab you, you won’t die?”
Kebble smiled. “It is more likely you will miss.”
“I don’t miss.”
“Then try. I would welcome the death. But you would likely trip and miss, or the captain would catch your hand in time, or lightning would rip from the sky and strike you. I assure you, Captain Black, I can be killed. Just nothing and no one has managed it yet. I am cursed with life.”
Elaina picked up a colourful beetle and squeezed it a little, then released it. It flew away on shimmering wings. “Does Keelin believe you?”
“I believe he is starting to.”
Elaina glanced at Keelin, who was pacing back and forth at the edge of the firelight, staring out into the receding darkness. When she looked back, she found Kebble watching her intently.
“Spirits in this place are angry,” Elaina said. “I can feel their rage.”
“Can you?”
“Spend enough time among spirits, you learn to pick up on the way they feel,” she said, thinking of the forests on the Isle of Goats. “Funny thing is, they’re angry at you.”
“They have every right to be. I created them.”
Keelin was still pacing. Jotin was busy crying to his brother. The others in the camp were either trying to get back to sleep or watching the shrinking darkness with nervous head twitches. Kebble smiled at Elaina and nodded.
“You may ask your questions, Captain Black.”
“Just one, really. What the fuck?”
“Spirits gather in places of great pain or joy. Often you may find them at sites of heroic or villainous deeds. Most people cannot see or hear them – they only know that something is there. But the spirits can see us. Some spirits are malevolent, while others are simply playful. The spirits here are definitely more malevolent.”
“I know,” Elaina hissed. “I know all of this. I’ve been seeing the bloody things most of my life. They infest the Isle of Goats and drag the unwary into the forest, and there they keep them. Pretty sure my ma and da see them too, but I ain’t exactly ever discussed it with them. What did you mean when you said you created the spirits here?”
“Exactly what I said. I created them when I brought down the Empire.”
“Pack up,” Keelin growled. “We’re leaving.”
Elaina realised the first rays of sunlight were beginning to peek through the canopy. She
knew Keelin was eager to not waste another day like they had searching for the boy, Feather. Bronson was gone, and the sooner they accepted that and moved on, the sooner they would get to HwoyonDo.
Once the camp was packed and the contents of Bronson’s pack divvied out between those that remained, they set off. Kebble led the way, and Elaina pushed past Keelin and Jotin to walk next to the marksman.
“How’d ya do it?” she said as she hacked at a vine stretching out in front of her. She believed Kebble’s wild claim, and her curiosity was driving her to find out how the man had accomplished it. “You some sort of sorcerer? Like a witch?”
“No,” Kebble said with a laugh. “I was born the second son of a patronless scholar who lived in the common section of HwoyonDo. We had next to nothing as we grew up. My father worked for whoever would hire him, most often criminals requesting forgeries. The one thing we did have was access to the great library. All those with a scholarly licence were afforded entrance, and as a scholar’s son, so was I.”
Kebble stopped and brushed some dirt away from a rock embedded in the ground. A smile spread across his face, twisting his moustache into an odd shape.
“Closer than I thought. We may have been able to complete our journey yesterday.” He set off again on a slightly different course, and Elaina hurried to catch up, the others oblivious of the tale he was telling her.
“I learned at a ferocious rate, devouring every book, scroll, and scrap of parchment I could find. I studied astronomy, religion, science, magic. I learned to predict the weather based on signs any fool could see and feel. I learned alchemy, and how to apply it to the arts of healing and destruction both. I learned everything a book could teach me, including the subtleties of court behaviour.
“My reputation grew along with my knowledge, and soon the Neotromo asked me to become one of his advisors.”
“Neotromo?”
“Chief magistrate of arcane studies. A powerful sorcerer, and second in authority to the Emperor himself. Therein lay my first mistake. I wasn’t happy being advisor to the second most powerful man in the Empire. Growing up with nothing makes some men desire little, others it makes desire everything.
