‘My breeches!’ Trafyn darted over to collect his pants and pulled them on.
Garzik looked for his breeches, spotted them and did likewise. Then they both got down to work. Garzik’s skin had grown mottled with cold, but the scrubbing soon warmed him. He concentrated on the action of scrubbing to distance himself from the pain of his missing ear.
‘You spoke Merofynian all the time. What were you doing?’ Trafyn demanded under his breath. ‘Spying for Rolencia?’
‘Many Rolencians speak Merofynian.’
‘Like a noble?’
Garzik shrugged.
‘You were sent to spy –’
‘I saw my father killed before they knocked me out. For the first couple of days I didn’t know who I was. No-one sent me.’ It was a self-appointed task.
‘I don’t believe you. When we get out of this, I’m going to tell my father. You’ll be executed!’
‘Who says we’ll get out of this?’ Garzik countered, even though he had every intention of making it back to Rolencia. Baiting Trafyn helped distract him from the throbbing pain.
‘My father’s Lord Travany. He’ll gladly pay my ransom. Just as soon as I can make myself understood, I’ll –’
He grunted in pain as a passing Utlander kicked him in the ribs and said something that might have been Less talking, more working.
Garzik thought he recognised a couple of the words. He definitely recognised the voice, as the ache where his ear had been became more intense. One-ear leered down at them. Garzik looked away quickly
Unlike Trafyn, who sat on his heels to rub his ribs and complain. ‘I shouldn’t be scrubbing decks. I’m the son of a lord. I –’
‘Shut up,’ Garzik hissed and tossed the second scrubbing brush into his lap. Trafyn caught it automatically. ‘Don’t talk back. That one’s crazy. He cut off my ear and threatened to eat it.’
Trafyn looked up in horror.
One-ear grinned and licked his lips. Without another word, the squire went back to work.
Garzik glanced to the surgeon’s sword and dagger. A man like One-ear shouldn’t have them. The Utlander saw the direction of his gaze and caressed the sword’s hilt.
‘Jost,’ Strong-arm called him away.
It was only as one-eared Jost walked off that Garzik realised the Utlander had understood enough Merofynian to get the gist of what he’d said.
Or had he gestured to his missing ear? He couldn’t remember now.
At least the work had warmed him. But even after his run-in with One-ear, he was hungry. He suspected the Utlanders would not treat their slaves well. According to Captain Blackwing, life was brutal on the scattered Utland Isles.
He felt a pang of loss. In some ways, that quiet, firm man-at-arms had been more of a father to him than his own father, who had been over sixty when he was born.
To think, he’d gone from lord’s son, to captive of war, to Merofynian seven-year-slave, to this... an Utland slave. Surely, he could sink no lower.
As Trafyn bemoaned their bad luck, Garzik asked himself what Orrade would do. His brother would not sink into self-pity. No, he’d be watching, learning his enemy’s strengths and weaknesses, learning their language. Orrade would be ready to seize any opportunity to escape.
So that’s what Garzik would do.
MIDMORNING, TWO DAYS later they spotted a patch of jagged rocks, skirted by foaming sea. Several dark specks circled high above the rocks.
‘A wyvern eyrie,’ Garzik guessed, even though he had only ever heard of them.
No sane sailor went near a wyvern eyrie, especially in spring. They were past midwinter, but not into breeding season yet. This time of year the saltwater wyverns would be sluggish, conserving their strength. Blessed, or cursed, with an affinity for power, these beasts were smarter than ordinary animals, hence the circling lookouts.
Garzik studied the direction of travel. ‘Why would the captain take his ship into danger?’
‘What?’ Trafyn had been staring dully at his toes, as he huddled out of the wind.
‘See.’ Garzik pointed. ‘A wyvern eyrie.’
Trafyn sprang to his feet and sighted along his arm. He took a step back. ‘The captain’s mad. We’ll all be killed.’
Garzik ignored him; the Utlanders had lowered the merchant vessel’s sails and strapped the wheel. Now the ship wallowed in the wave troughs.
With some shouted words that sounded like encouragement, the original Utland ship changed course. It pulled away, but kept Garzik’s ship in sight.
A rough voice called to Garzik and Trafyn. Garzik turned, but not fast enough as Jost clipped him over his head and grabbed him along with Trafyn. Eyes stinging with pain, Garzik blinked to clear his vision. The one-eared Utlander led them over to Strong-arm, who stood next to the main mast holding a rope.
Trafyn tried to hang back.
Jost thrust him forward into Strong-arm’s chest. The big Utlander shoved Trafyn up against the far side of the mast.
‘What are you doing?’ Garzik asked, rising voice betraying his fear.
No-one answered him. Instead, Jost shoved him until his back was pressed to this side of the mast and, between them, Jost and Strong-arm quickly bound them to the mast.
Once that was done, Jost left and Strong-arm tugged at the binding over Garzik’s missing ear, removing it with a flourish. It stung something awful as the padding peeled away. Had it started bleeding again?
Blinking back tears of pain, Garzik discovered that almost all the Utlanders had left the deck. He spotted them watching through the windows of the captain’s cabin. Out of that cabin came Captain Strutter. Barefoot and bare-chested, wearing nothing but his breeches, he was armed only with a dagger and sword.
Squawking made Garzik strain to peer around the mast in the other direction. Jost had brought two chickens up from the store. With a practiced flick, he chopped off their heads, swinging them by their legs so that their blood sprayed across the deck.
‘What is he doing?’ Trafyn’s voice was high and breathy with panic.
Garzik didn’t answer. Looking up, he spotted a wyvern circling far above. They had excellent eyesight and sense of smell.
Leaving the chicken carcasses, Jost retreated to the cabin.
Strong-arm looked up, said something to the new captain.
Strutter grinned, slapped him on the back and sent him off.
‘Tell me he’s not going to try to kill a wyvern on his own?’ Trafyn muttered.
‘Didn’t you notice the captain of the other ship wore a wyvern cloak and there were wyvern teeth woven into his beard?’ Garzik asked. ‘I’m guessing it’s a rite of passage, and we’re bait.’
At this Trafyn shouted, pleading to be set free. He tugged and strained on the ropes, making the bindings constrict around Garzik.
Meanwhile, Captain Strutter, armed only with his dagger and sword, retreated to crouch under the steep steps to the rear deck.
‘Shut up, you’ll attract a wyvern,’ Garzik warned. ‘Shut up, I tell you.’
But Trafyn was beyond reason.
Garzik glanced to the Utlanders in the cabin. They nudged each other, much entertained by Trafyn’s antics.
Garzik wanted to thump the squire.
Where was that Wyvern? He looked up. No sign of it. Perhaps...
A downbeat of air, then a thump as something heavy hit the deck. Trafyn went utterly silent, except for his ragged breathing.
Garzik tried to peer around the mast to the other side of the deck. A long scaled tail came into view. It curled delicately, reminding him of a cat investigating something. He heard snuffling and a low growl. He smelled... serpent.
Looking the other way, he saw the Utlanders watching through the windows, utterly transfixed. Captain Strutter came out from under the steps, moving silently on bare feet.
How was he going to tackle the wyvern? Their scales deflected blades. Their weak spots were the throat, under the jaw and in the joints where the limbs met the body.
A whimper came from Trafyn.
Garzik did not blame the squire. Even on the other side of the mast, he was terrified.
Straining against the ropes, he tried to peer around the far side of the mast and was in time to see the tail disappear and the tip of a half-open wing appear, growing closer. The wyvern had noticed Trafyn.
No sound but for the wind whistling through the ropes.
Garzik strained to hear.
Trafyn screamed once, sharply.
Garzik tried to see around the mast. He could hear Trafyn whispering over and over. ‘Kill it, kill it.’
The beast howled.
The tail whipped past Garzik’s face, caught him a blow across the chest, scales tearing through his shirt and drawing blood. He was already pressed back as far as he could go against the mast.
The wyvern came rolling past, writhing as it tried to dislodge Strutter from its back. When this ploy failed, the wyvern sprang to its feet with agility of a cat, rather than the lizard it resembled.
Despite this, Strutter clung one-handed to the beast’s back. How...
He clung to his dagger, which was buried hilt-deep where the wyvern’s shoulder met its neck, but it wasn’t enough to kill it.
Wings flexing and contracting, tail lashing, the wyvern threw back its head and screamed in frustration. This was exactly what Strutter was waiting for. He swung the sword around, driving it through the wyvern’s thick neck from one side to the other, then pulled the blade forward, taking out the beast’s throat.
Hot blood sprayed the deck, sprayed Garzik, hitting his eyes, landing in his open, gasping mouth. He shuddered and spat, trying to rid himself of the Affinity that the beast’s blood carried.
As for the wyvern, its cry ended in a gargle of bubbling blood. Strutter held on, riding the beast as it bled out, then stepping off its back like he was dismounting from a horse.
His cocky expression astounded Garzik. It had been a planned attack. Sure there had been danger, but the Utland captain knew what he was doing.
Strutter’s crew poured out of the cabin, cheering and shouting his name. Rusan, Rusan, Rusan!
Strong-arm clapped Captain Rusan on the back and they hugged, laughing. Seeing them together, reminded Garzik of Byren and Orrade, warrior brothers, one big and the other thin and wiry. Only their positions were reversed, with the smaller one being the leader.
Amongst the Utlanders, who valued strength, Captain Rusan had to have more than brute strength to keep them in line, and now he’d proven it by killing the wyvern.
The Utlanders broke open the wine, laughing and congratulating Rusan. Meanwhile, Garzik and Trafyn were untied and directed to help in the butchering. Trafyn shook so badly, he was useless.
Garzik had butchered enough beasts, Affinity or otherwise, to know what needed to be done, and he assisted the four Utlanders. Soon they were elbow deep in gore.
All the while, he kept waiting for someone to settle the beast’s Affinity, but no one came forward to do this.
Back home, if Affinity beasts came down from the mountains and terrorised his father’s people, they were hunted and killed. When this happened, one of the family’s priests said the words to return the beasts’ innate power to the earth.
Here, the Utlanders skinned the wyvern, plucked its teeth from its jaws, cut prime chunks from its body and set about sawing the horns from its skull. It was an adult male with broad horns set on a bony brow ridge, so this was no easy task.
As he worked, Garzik kept his face turned away and tried not to inhale, but he knew he had to be absorbing Affinity through his skin, even if he couldn’t feel it.
He’d been tested as a child and had proven blind to Affinity. Just as well, if he’d had innate Affinity he would have been sent to serve the abbey. According to King Rolen, a kinship for power left the bearer open to evil.
Garzik wasn’t sure if exposure to power could trigger Affinity. Maybe you had to be susceptible. He had heard stories of people developing Affinity later in life, and having to leave their families, but didn’t know what triggered it.
Now that he thought about it, there was a lot he didn’t know.
But he did know this much – unadulterated Affinity affected people, even if they were blind to it. The Utlanders had all gone a little crazed as they whooped and shouted, dancing about the deck. Even he felt light headed and excited for no reason.
Well, not for no reason. He had survived the wyvern attack. The thought made him laugh and he stopped himself immediately. Cheeks hot, he glanced around, but no one was looking at him. In fact, everyone behaved the same way, laughing and carrying on as if they were drunk.
At some point, the second ship had returned and Strong-arm went to the side to toss prized cuts of wyvern across to the other deck.
By evening, the meat was cooked and the Utlanders passed seared, bloody chunks around. They tore into it, grease dripping down their chins, and Garzik’s stomach grumbled fiercely.
One Utlander appeared to be retelling the story of Captain Rusan’s triumph, complete with actions, while another accompanied him with music.
‘They’re eating meat tainted with Affinity,’ Trafyn muttered. ‘Don’t they know any better?’
Garzik recalled something Byren’s old nurse had said, something about people who ate unclean Affinity meat and how it showed in their faces. Maybe the Utlanders weren’t really a different type of people. Maybe they only looked different because their food was tainted with Affinity and that was what gave them the witchy look around the eyes.
Strong-arm sauntered over, said something that was half jest, half mocking, and tossed them a bone with enough meat on it to make a decent meal.
‘Bet you he’s thanking us for being bait,’ Garzik muttered.
Trafyn snorted and folded his arms as he turned his face away.
Garzik kicked the meat far from them before he could be tempted.
Strong-arm shook his head, shrugged and returned to his place by Strutter’s side.
The meat remained on the deck. Garzik was so hungry. That meat smelled better than anything he’d ever eaten. But neither he nor Trafyn moved to touch it.
‘Eh, Olbin?’ one of the Utlanders called.
Strong-arm turned.
The Utlander said something, gesturing to the meat then to Garzik and Trafyn
The big Utlander, Olbin, said something.
They all laughed uproariously. Garzik’s face burned.
‘If they think I’m going to eat unclean Affinity meat...’ Trafyn muttered. ‘We could never go home.’
‘I don’t think one meal would make a difference,’ Garzik said. ‘I think it has to be eaten repeatedly to cause the changes you see in the Utlanders.’
Trafyn glanced to him.
He met the squire’s eyes.
Trafyn crawled over and retrieved the bone. He returned to Garzik’s side, teeth tearing into the meat.
This close the smell made Garzik’s stomach knot with hunger. Before he could weaken, two Utlanders came towards them bringing wine.
Garzik swore softly under his breath. They’d been left alone the last couple of nights, sleeping together for warmth because the crazy Utlanders slept on deck, under their furs when there were perfectly good cabins with braziers.
Trafyn made a panicky sound under his breath.
‘Drink lots of wine,’ Garzik advised, planning to take his own advice. ‘Pass out.’
One thing could be said for the Utlanders, they were generous with the wine. This time he kept his wits about him. It wasn’t just him and Trafyn who were used this way. And it wasn’t everyone who joined in. And, when one of the other lads had had enough, they left him alone.
For the Utlanders, it was just part of ship life.
Chapter Nine
FOR DAYS, THE two ships searched the trade routes, on the lookout for lone merchant ships journeying between the twin isles of Rolencia and Merofynia or their more distant neighbour, Ostron Isle.
Se
veral times they spotted sails. Each time Captain Rusan studied their prey through the farseer. Each time the two ships slipped away, hiding below the horizon, accompanied by grumbling from the Utland sailors.
‘Why don’t they attack?’ Trafyn complained. ‘Maybe we could escape.’
‘They’re not going to attack a convoy protected by sea-hounds. They’re not going to attack unless they have a good chance of success. Captain Rusan’s no fool.’
Trafyn narrowed his eyes. ‘You almost sound like you admire him!’
Garzik shook his head, but if he was honest, he did admire Rusan and Olbin. They made a good team. Like Byren and Orrade. That didn’t mean he liked them.
Dusk, three days later, the lookout spotted a lone Merofynian merchant ship unlucky enough, or foolish enough, to be caught without an escort. To disguise the Utland vessel’s distinctive sail profile the raiders approached at dusk from the direction of the setting sun and manoeuvred their original vessel behind the captured Merofynian vessel.
The Merofynian ship made no attempt to escape and no preparation for battle. If anything they were pleased to see another of their countrymen on the dangerous sea. Safety in numbers.
‘Filthy Utland savages,’ Trafyn muttered. He glanced about wildly. ‘How can I warn them?’
‘You won’t have to. Every ship carries a farseer. Captain Rusan’s trusting to the twilight to hide his crew, but soon the other captain will recognise his sailors for Utlanders,’ Garzik said. ‘It’s only a matter of time.’
And it was, but by the time the other ship realised the merchant vessel was not manned by Merofynians, the two Utland ships were too close to avoid. Even as their prey hoisted more sail and tried to escape, the Utlanders cheered and jeered, and their sleek hunting vessel gave pursuit.
Without warning, Jost grabbed Garzik and Trafyn, dragged them to the main mast and tied them up. Jost laughed at Trafyn’s expression. As the two Utland ships closed in, the Utland chanting and thud of weapons on shields made Garzik’s stomach knot with fear.
The King's Man (The Chronicles of King Rolen's Kin) Page 9
