The Corsairs of Aethalia: A Thalassia novel

by Patrick McClafferty

  “Selene.” Anya’s tentative voice broke in. “Is there a God, Selene?”

  “We really don’t know, Anya. Maybe beyond the universal boundaries - who can tell? Possibly, someday, we will find out, children.”

  “So, we have done what we were supposed to, we delivered the package.” Jorse asked, bluntly.

  “Yes, Jorse. You are free to leave now. I’ve told you what you need to know - at this particular time. You now have more potential power than you can imagine, and I advise you use it wisely.”

  His smile was crooked. “Yes, Mother. Could you please tell some of this to your various Temples? I think that I’ll need their help over the next few years.” Jorse looked slowly at the ruin around him. “It was all a trick, wasn’t it? It was a trick to get us to merge.”

  “Yes, it was, Jorse, but both of you had to get to the point where your mutual love would almost demand merging, for the survival of the other.”

  Jorse brushed his black cloak and offered a hand to Anya; then and only then he turned to the Goddess. “Goodbye, Selene. I’m sure that you’ll be able to find me if you need me.” Without waiting for a reply, Jorse and Anya turned and walked toward the edge of the crater, where six Priestesses waited with their landau. Somewhere along the way, Anya slowly merged back into Jorse, so that only one person was to arrive at the carriage.

  Chapter 12

  The Dagfred and the Donner-kind sailed in close company across the moon drenched ocean of Thalesia. The moons Elysium and Medin turned the planet’s spidery rings to silver fire that scintillated in blue and white diamonds from wave-tops and seemed to race parallel with the two ships. The west wind drove them smoothly, and carried the sharp taste of warmer southern waters. To the left of the Donner-kind a silver fish broke the surface of the sparkling sea, spread wing-like fins and flew a hundred feet through the dark night air, before it dove back to its watery home. Cordage creaked softly, the warm water hissed against the hull. Jorse stood alone, and looked out over the limitless sea.

  The carriage had brought him down from the ruins of the Temple of Selene, weaving through crowds of terrified people all claiming that the end of days had arrived, to find his belongings already transferred from the Dagfred to the Donner-kind. Mister Idzy hurried him aboard and speedily pulled in the gangplank, explaining that he had been told, in no uncertain terms by six Priestesses and a score of mail clad soldiers that they would be prepared to weigh anchor the very moment Jorse Schwendau was on board. They barely had the time, he said in an irate tone, to get water and fresh fruit on board for the long voyage home. The ship had set sail immediately, and Jorse had been shown, somewhat unceremoniously, to the small cabin prepared for him in the stern of the ship. The captain’s cabin.

  Now he stood at the stern and watched the night and the ocean flow by, as he had watched it every night for the past two months. He missed Anya’s physical closeness.

  “That’s it!” Jorse growled aloud. It seemed that there was the shadow of the girl standing next to him. He was grinning widely, and he felt as he had that wild night in Aethalia with Lin.

 

  Anya was beginning to smile now, caught up in Jorse’s enthusiasm.

 

  He winked at the girl. He laughed aloud at Anya’s expression of horror. He was half way to Idzy’s small cabin on the port side of the Raider, when the masthead lookout caught their attention.

  “Port bow ahoy! Something in the water, sir. Somethin bloody big, sir, an she be headin our way!”

  From the bow he could see that the sinuous shape, three times as thick as a man and twice the length of the Donner-kind, swimming like a snake in water, in long serpentine undulations, with neck and head held high. Jorse rolled his eyes. Selene was tampering with things, again. Anya, he knew for a fact, was watching the scene through his eyes, and he found the thought strangely comforting.

  “Dagfred, this is Donner-kind.” He said the words quietly as if the other ship were beside him, and not a cable length away.

  “What can I do for you, Jorse?” Captain Svetla’s voice was calm.

  “Sea monster on your port bow, Captain. I just thought you ought to know.”

  “I heard yer lookout a few moments ago. He has a most penetrating voice.”

  Jorse chuckled. “He’s half deaf from cannon fire, so he overcompensates.”

  “How would you like to handle the sea monster?” She might have been talking about tea.

  “I’ll take the monster head-on. You make sure that you keep a good lookout, especially behind you.”

  “Behind us? Do you expect something?”

  “I don’t trust Selene. She’s up to something, again.”

  “Thank you, Jorse. You be careful out there, and don’t hesitate to call for help.”

  “Remember the temple back in Lom?” He had actually been trying to forget it.

  “Never mind. You can handle yourself.”

  “Take care, my friend.”

  “You too.” She was gone.

  Jorse turned to talk with Radoslaw, the gunner. “Mister Radoslaw, I think we will handle this beastie the same way we handled the Dreadnought. Do you have any objections?”

  The weathered man rubbed his beard and studied the huge shape sliding toward them. “No objection at all, sir.” He was grinning. “Ees all yers.”

  “In that case, Mister Radoslaw, please load the cannon, the same way as before.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Mister Idzy had only taken three steps up the short ladder that led to the fo’c’s’le, when the lookout called down.

  “Cap’n, there be a monster to the ...”

  There was a rending crash on the port side and the whole ship shook. Jorse was knocked off his feet, as were the majority of the crewmen. He sat up, rubbing a livid bruise on his forehead.

  Anya fumed impotently at Jorse’s injury. Then she began to get mad. If it hadn’t been for his knowledge of Anya’s history, he would have never known what she was saying - the language was so obscure. As it was, the physiological and theological implications of her curses were staggering and he winced.

  “Ahh, Cap’n, don’t ye think that it be a little dangerous for ye te be up here?” Idzy sounded worried.

  Jorse pushed the man back down the ladder, and stuffed Radoslaw right after him. “Don’t worry about me, gentlemen. Worry about yourselves. I’ll stay up here and, ah, direct the fight. I’ll be quite safe - I think.” He pushed the men physically off the small forward deck.

  In the meantime, one of the sea monsters, off the port side of the ship and slightly astern, was preparing to attack again, and his eyes lit up. A foot thick bolt of lightning struck the snake, then another, and then a third. The monster started to spasm and then smoke.

  He stopped as the smell of frying snake quickly covered the ship.

  Anya’s voice shouted in his mind. He turned and, without replying, picked up a glowing taper from the deck, and touched it to the fuse-hole of the cannon. The gun crashed and Jorse released the fireball he had just created, launching it directly at the sea serpent that was only a half cable from the ship now, and closing fast. The results were spectacular, to say the least. The beast simply exploded. Jorse expected to be hurled to the deck, but there was nothing. Not a quiver of air moved around him. The
shadowy form of Anya was standing beside him, staring with a sort of grim satisfaction at the smoking water where Jorse’s monster had been only moments before. Surrounding the both of them was a glowing shield of air. He reached out, tentatively, and tapped the shield with a knuckle. It rang like a struck bell.

  “Dearest, if it’s all right, could you make this shield thing go away? The men might want to talk to me; after all, I am the captain.”

  Anya’s sigh was one of pure mortification. “Oh, if you insist.” The shield vanished and the look of stoic suffering turned to a grin and Anya giggled, sounding again like a normal teenage girl. “That was fun—too bad we had to stop.” She looked over the side, at the chunks of burned snake floating in the water. “We did pretty well.”

  “We did indeed.” In the distance Jorse could see three other serpents heading for the horizon as fast as they could go. “Very well.”

  “Cap’n, we got arselves a problem.” Mister Idzy was peeking over the edge of the fo’c’s’le deck, and the relief was evident when he saw Jorse standing calmly, hands behind his back as if the things that had happened were simply an everyday occurrence. “Looks like the beastie that hit are port side stove in some planks. We’re leakin a bit, and we’d better find us a port to put in to before long. Things could be shaky if’n we get arselves a good blow.”

  Jorse nodded, thinking quickly. “Mister Idzy, how far are we to the River Klarr?”

  “Bout two er three days sailin, sir, with this fair wind.” Idzy replied, frowning.

  “And if I remember right.” Jorse said with a sly smile. “The city of Altai is about another three days upriver.”

  “Why...?” The First Mate began, then he stopped and laughed. “Ahhh, I sees now. Three days o sailin to this eer river, then even if there be a storm we can drop anchor or put in te shore. Since Altai is the capitol of Aion, we’ll be sure to find dockyards.” He grinned. “Good call, lad. I’ll have the men get the sweeps ready in the case we have to do some paddlin upriver.”

  “Sweeps?” Jorse’s face was a mask of surprise. “We have sweeps?”

  “Aye.” Idzy’s grin was broad now. “Didn’t Cap’n Jolenta ever tell ye about em?” He paused, and a sad look crossed his face. “No, I suppose she never had the chance.”

  Jorse put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “She was a good captain and a good friend, Mister Idzy. Now, if you would, take us to the River Klarr.”

  “Aye, sir. Will the Dagfred be following astern, or leadin?”

  Jorse knew what he had to do—and he didn’t like it a bit. “The Dagfred will NOT be joining us, Mister Idzy. She will be continuing on to Rakiura.”

  “Do yer trust Cap’n Svetla that much, sir. I know she be yer friend, but...”

  “I’d trust Captain Svetla with my life, Mister Idzy. We share a special sort of bond.”

  Idzy coughed, and Jorse could have sworn he reddened. “I’m not talking about sex, Mister Idzy. Think brother-sister, or mother-son.”

  “Oh,,, OH!” The First Mate definitely reddened. “Sorry, sir, I didn mean no... I’ll go check the charts, sir.” He turned and immediately began to shout at crewmen.

  Jorse looked at the retreating back, and the first thought that came to his mind was “Men!” He wondered who the thought really came from, Anya or Selene? This was all getting very confusing.

  Anya was waiting for him in the small cabin, sitting in the dark on the edge of the bed. She knew what he needed, and her hand crept into his.

  “Captain Svetla, I need to talk with you for a minute.” The dark of the cabin seemed to absorb his words as he spoke them.

  “What can I do for you, Jorse? I see your ship turning for the coast, so I assume you have some damage. Would you like us to lead or follow?”

  “Neither, Captain. I would like you to continue on to Rakiura and sell the cargo, like we discussed. When you’ve finished there, head for Prangli. Count Gorthenal’s wife Elsbeth can probably tell you where Lin and the Evening Bird are right now, and you can hook up with her. Say...” He seemed to be having trouble getting it out. “Give my love to Dala, when you see her. She will be staying with the Count.”

  The silence from the Dagfred stretched on and on. “Why, Jorse?” A note of hurt crept into the older woman’s voice. The question was simple. The answer was not.

  “I’m getting off the Donner-kind in Altai, Captain. They will be going on without us when repairs have been completed.”

  “Jorse, we’ve known each other for a long time. My first name is Janica. It’s really not too hard to remember. Hearing Captain this and Captain that is getting tedious.” Jorse frowned. He could almost, almost hear Selene’s influence in his friend’s voice. The dialect had certainly disappeared, that was for sure.

  “Thank you, Janica. I’ll remember.”

  “Now what is this all about?”

  “I’m quitting. Anya and I are walking out—if we can. We are going to be spending some time on dry land, before we wander back to the Eastern Alliance area.” He could almost hear her sigh.

  “As you wish, Jorse. Give my love to Anya, and stay in touch. Remember to be careful. I can’t come to your rescue from a thousand leagues away.” The connection broke.

  ~~~

  Ochre. The looming turreted castle, the massive fortified walls of the city, the buildings with their strange towers, and the very air itself were various shade of ochre. Yellow-brown and dusty. Ugly. The Donner-kind slipped into the five mile wide bowl shaped harbor, dug by the hands of slaves some said, to drop anchor in the shallow muddy water, in a spot indicated by cloth swaddled men in the small guard boat. The sun was a hammer that pounded the sailors, and the very act of thinking seemed difficult in the oppressive heat. The pennant hung limply from the mainmast. Even the air felt - melted. Mister Idzy wasted no time in having the men rig brightly striped awnings over the deck. Across the harbor other boat traffic seemed to crawl, and a haze hung over the port smelling of dates and dust and camel dung. The great ochre colored beasts seemed to be everywhere, carrying people, bales of trade goods and pulling carts. Jorse briefly reconsidered his idea of leaving the ship, then decided that one port was as good or bad as another; Altai it would be.

  “Mister Idzy, could I speak to you a moment?” Jorse called to the First Mate from his position under the low shade at the end of the quarterdeck. Jorse could feel his sweat trickle down the middle of his back.

  The First Mate came up and knuckled his forehead, in a rough salute. “Aye, sir?” His dark hair was plastered to his head with his sweat.

  Jorse noticed other sailors watching, so he raised his voice a bit, to make sure there was no mistake. “Mister Idzy. I will be leaving the ship here. You will therefore assume the duties of Captain, with appropriate pay.” Pay was always an important word to all Corsairs. “After the Donner-kind has been repaired I would like you to take her to Prangli and turn the thirty cannons over to my Uncle, Count Mirek Gorthenal. The Dagfred will have left your pay for her half of the cargo in his care. After that I would recommend that you join with Evening Bird or Dagfred. I will only require two things of you; any ship that you capture will from then on fly my house flag, and if I choose to return, will be subject to my orders. Second, ten percent of your profits are mine, and will be turned over to Count Gorthenal in Prangli. His accountants will verify your accuracy. The rest of the profits are yours. Yours, and your crew’s, that is.” On the deck Jorse could see a seaman grinning. Idzy looked stunned.

  “But, sir, ye can’t...”

  “Yes I can, Mister Idzy. Please have a boat prepared for me. I will be leaving directly.” Jorse grinned and swatted the big man’s shoulder. “I didn’t take too much money. You have more than enough to grant a little shore leave with pay, if you wish. It will start things out on the right foot with the crew.”

  “Aye, sir.” He gave Jorse a level look. “She’s still yer ship, whatere ye say. All ye need to do is to find us, an she’s yers agin. I’ve enjoyed servin under ye, sir
, and would enjoy te do it agin. Yer plain lucky.”

  For some strange reason Jorse found that he was choked up, and Anya’s comforting hand on his back helped him regain his composure. “Thank you, Idzy. It means more to me than you can possibly imagine.” The small gig bumped the side of the Raider ship. “I think that’s my ride.” He shook his former First Mate’s hand. “Goodbye, Mister Idzy.” Jorse thought it was strange watching the Donner-kind grow smaller behind them. The ship had been his home for years, and now... all was uncertainty. The feeling was both terrifying and exhilarating.

  When all was said and done, Jorse wasn’t sad to leave the tight confines of the Donner-kind, for a while anyway, and the Lion of the Desert was a decent enough inn, located only a short distance away from the bustling noisy pier. High and vaulted ceilings graced the main room, and the ever-present fire crackling in the stone hearth filled one entire wall. Heavy slotted shutters were closed in thick walls to block the hot afternoon sunlight, and as a result, bathed the room in a golden twilight glow. Substantial tables were scattered about the room and showed many years of harsh use, but they were clean and the oil lamps on each sparkled in the firelight. A heavy scent of garlic and turmeric hung in the air like a culinary fog.

  “Innkeeper!” Jorse rang a small ceramic bell sitting on the counter just inside the front door.

  A small, plump man with a large bulbous nose walked up to the counter and peered at Jorse through thick glasses. His eyes grew large as he took in his fine clothes and the stelwood sword, and he tried to smooth nonexistent wrinkles out of his immaculate white apron. “My Lord. You honor my humble establishment with your...”

  “I’m off the ship in the harbor. I am NOT a lord. Save the fancy talk for those who appreciate it. Now, tell me, where can I buy a couple of horses? They do sell horses here, don’t they?”

  “Oh, yes, My Lord. We have many fine horses for sale in Altai, however, they are expensive. Only a Lord could afford a horse.”