Garzik thought about it. ‘Ostronite is the trading tongue.’
‘Then I’ll learn it.’
‘While learning to read and write in your own tongue as well?’
The Utland captain shrugged. ‘Why not?’
Garzik grinned. Rusan was smart; maybe as smart as Garzik’s brother, Orrade. Thinking of his old life made Garzik’s stomach tighten with frustration. He should be helping Byren win back Rolencia, yet here he was, tutor to an Utland captain. But he hadn’t started out here.
He’d been a prisoner of war, a seven-year slave, sent to Merofynia to serve Lord Travany. He’d come a long way since the Utlanders captured Travany’s ship with its Rolencian war booty and made him their slave, but he was still no closer to going home.
‘Captain?’ Young Luvrenc tapped on the cabin door.
Rusan slipped off the window seat, lifted the lid and hid the book along with Garzik’s ink and nib. There was no desk. The cabin had been stripped right back to lighten the captured merchant ship.
‘What is it?’ Rusan called.
‘Lookout spotted sails.’
‘It better be a lone ship,’ Rusan muttered as he made for the door.
Since leaving their settlement, the Utlanders hadn’t made a capture. They’d seen plenty of ships returning from Rolencia laden with stolen riches, but they hadn’t dared attack, not when the merchant vessels were protected by sleek sea-hound ships, full of fierce fighting men.
Luvrenc fell into step with Garzik, hand on his sword hilt, witchy Utland eyes shining with excitement. ‘With any luck it’ll be a merchant ship travelling alone!’
As the newest crew member, he had yet to prove himself. Thirteen to Garzik’s fifteen, Luvrenc seemed even younger.
Luvrenc followed Garzik onto the high reardeck but he didn’t approach the captain and his half-brother.
Garzik did. He’d won his freedom and the brothers’ trust, helping to defend their settlement the night Captain Vultar and his renegades attacked.
Olbin handed Rusan the farseer. ‘I can’t spot the sails.’
Rusan braced his legs and lifted the farseer to his eyes as the stolen merchant ship plunged through the waves on a southern heading, timbers creaking, ropes singing. The wind stirred the captain’s long black hair and beard, rattling the wyvern teeth plaited through it.
The first time Garzik had seen a wyvern-cloaked Utland captain, he’d thought the man a barbarian. But after Rusan had single-handedly killed a wyvern to confirm his leadership of the captured ship, Garzik had understood what the Affinity beast trophies signified.
For all that Rusan was a captain and led nearly thirty men, he was younger than Byren. Troubled, Garzik fingered the hilt of his Utland short sword. Here he was, sworn to serve the Utland captain when he was already sworn to Byren.
His vow to Byren was of an earlier making; as soon as the opportunity arose, Garzik was going to betray Rusan and Olbin and go over to their enemy, the hot-landers.
‘See anything?’ Olbin asked.
‘Nothing.’ Rusan lowered the farseer with a grimace of frustration. Vultar and his renegades had stolen the settlement’s prized twin oracles and much-needed supplies. For the moment, Rusan could do nothing about the loss of the oracles, but he was desperate to replace their supplies. ‘The lookout’s imagining things.’
Olbin shook his head. ‘The men are getting restless.’
‘Would they rather I led them in a pointless attack and got them all killed?’
‘They’d rather you led them in a glorious attack and rewarded their bravery with riches. They don’t much care how you do it.’ Olbin grinned, then nudged Rusan. ‘Look at Wynn here, so eager to win a name for himself he can’t keep his hands off his blade!’
Garzik flushed. He was a fraud. He hadn’t even given them his real name. He’d been Wynn, short for Wyvern, ever since he’d woken and found himself captured by Merofynians. At first he hadn’t remembered his name; then, he’d been overcome with the shame of failing Byren.
The night the Merofynians had invaded, Byren had told him to light the warning beacon, but he’d been knocked out and captured. For a while he’d hoped to make up for his failure by spying, with the help of his fellow captive, Mitrovan. But the scribe had been sent to serve Lord Travany, while Garzik had remained on the ship to serve the surgeon. Then the ship had been captured and Rusan had claimed it for his own, taking him even further from Byren and his duty.
The man in the crow’s nest yelled again.
‘Not sails,’ Rusan said. ‘Sarres.’
Although Garzik had been quick to pick up the Utland tongue, this word was new to him and he looked to Olbin. The big Utlander slung an arm across his shoulders, guiding him to the starboard rail.
‘Sarres.’ He pointed behind the ship to a school of sleek silver fish. They skimmed the surface of the water, leaping into the air, wing-fins extended. ‘Affinity-blessed flying fish.’
Garzik gasped. ‘I’d heard tales, but never... They really do fly.’
‘They have wings.’ Rusan joined them. ‘But they’re not flying. They glide through the air, then drop back into the sea, build up speed and glide some more.’
Now that the sarres were closer, Garzik could see Rusan was right. He could also see... ‘They’re huge.’
‘Good eating, too.’ Olbin winked. ‘If you can catch them.’
The Utlanders didn’t settle Affinity beasts’ power before consuming their flesh. Garzik suspected this was the reason for their strange eyes, which contained a pale ring inside the iris. Other than this, they were the same as him and not a baser race, as he’d been taught.
Rusan’s crew cheered the Affinity fish.
‘They could easily overtake the ship. Why do they stay alongside us?’ Garzik asked. ‘Why do they leap out of the water? Surely it takes more effort than swimming?’
Olbin shrugged and glanced to Rusan.
‘They’re curious,’ the captain said, accepting his pipes from Luvrenc. ‘They like to play.’
Rusan began a high, fluting tune that seemed to follow the movements of the elegant, leaping sarres.
Garzik watched, entranced. Then he frowned. ‘Are they...’
‘Keeping time with the music?’ Olbin nodded.
‘Amazing.’ Garzik knew Affinity beasts were smarter than their mundane counterparts, but he had never thought of fish as being intelligent. Orrie would find this fascinating.
Yet again, Garzik was reminded that he lived a lie. And he did not even know if his brother and sister had survived the Merofynian invasion.
Luvrenc clutched Garzik’s arm. ‘Look!’
Several large creatures sped through the water towards the ship. Coming in at an angle, it looked like the predators would trap the sarres against the side of the vessel.
Rusan blew one shrill note and the sarres reacted. Garzik had thought them fast before; now they took off, easily outstripping the ship.
But not fast enough, as their pursuers put on a burst of speed. Garzik’s heart leapt as a sleek, rainbow skinned predator shot out of the water, taking one of the sarres in mid-flight, disappearing with it below the surface. ‘Was that—’
‘A scytalis? Yes.’ Rusan fingered his pipes. ‘They hunt like a pack of wolves.’
‘Sea serpents...’ Garzik had heard sailor’s tales of the Affinity beasts, with coats of iridescent scales. The scytalises were bigger than the biggest of the flying fish. And fast. Both hunter and prey had left the ship behind, but he could still see flashes of silver as the fish glided through the air. Only the old and slow would get eaten, leaving the fastest to survive and breed. ‘The sarres developed the ability to leap and glide to escape their predators.’
Olbin laughed. ‘Always watching, always thinking.’
But Rusan gave Garzik a thoughtful look, as he handed Luvrenc his pipes. ‘Back to work, Wynn.’
Garzik went down to the middeck, where the Utlanders returned to their tasks.
‘Get ove
r here,’ Jost snarled, as if Garzik was still a slave. He had made Garzik’s life miserable since the day the ship had been captured. On that day he’d sliced off Garzik’s ear to match his own missing ear.
Behind Jost, Trafyn watched with a malicious gleam in his eye. Lord Travany’s son, he’d been serving as Lord Neirn’s squire. He and Garzik had been enslaved together and suffered indignities Garzik would rather not remember. Driven by hunger, they had eaten unclean Affinity-tainted meat like Utlanders. But Trafyn was still a slave, having made no attempt to learn their captors’ language or earn their respect. The squire did as little work as possible, certain his father would ransom him.
‘Yes, you.’ Jost beckoned Garzik, then gestured to the ropes. ‘See that these are mended by the time I come back.’
He aimed a blow at Garzik, who ducked just enough to lessen the force of impact, but this didn’t satisfy Jost.
He gestured to Garzik’s Utlander jacket. Thigh-length and belted at the hips, it was made of goat’s wool, dyed red, with elaborate embroidery around the hem, sleeves and neck. It had been given to him the night the settlement accepted him. ‘Rusan might have declared you one of us, but he won’t be captain forever. So move when I tell you.’
As Garzik turned away, Jost shoved him so hard he collided with Trafyn.
The squire smirked. ‘Looks like being the captain’s joy-boy has some drawbacks.’
‘Looks like being a prick comes naturally to you,’ Garzik muttered, but he watched Jost’s retreating back. Was Rusan’s leadership in danger?
The one-eared Utlander said something to his companions, and they all glanced to Garzik and laughed.
Trafyn snorted. ‘Looks like you’ll be a joy-boy long after I’m—’
Garzik spun around, caught the front of Trafyn’s jerkin and pulled him close. ‘I was there the night we were captured. I know what went on. What still goes on.’
Shame and anger made Trafyn flush, and his eyes gleamed with unshed tears. Up this close, Garzik noticed the tell-tale pale circles around his pupils. The Utland marking in Trafyn’s eyes wasn’t visible from a distance, but the effect of eating Affinity contaminated meat had begun.
Garzik was so shocked he let Trafyn go.
Were his own eyes undergoing the same change? Would he be marked forever?
The squire straightened his ragged Merofynian jerkin, voice shaking. ‘At least I didn’t side with savages.’
‘And I didn’t kill a twelve-year-old boy.’
‘He was a renegade. They would have killed him anyway.’
Garzik frowned. Vultar had escaped on one of his ships, but the other had burned to the waterline, stranding some of his renegades. Rusan’s people had cut their throats.
‘You know I’m right. They’re savages!’
‘Shut up. Just... shut up.’ Garzik stalked across to the coiled ropes and knelt.
His fingers flew as he spliced the hemp fibres. Maybe he wasn’t as smart as Orrade, but he wasn’t slow, and he’d been quick to learn the ways of the sea. And maybe he had changed sides the night the renegades attacked, but he’d fought to protect the settlement’s women and children, and he hadn’t killed an unconscious boy to prove he was a man.
‘Why is it so cold?’ The squire hunched low to keep out of the wind. ‘It shouldn’t be this cold, this close to summer.’
Garzik said nothing.
‘These crazy Utlanders don’t seem to feel the cold.’
It was true. Enduring without complaint was a matter of pride with them. Scorning hot-land luxuries, the Utlanders slept on deck, wrapped in furs. In some ways, Garzik had more in common with Rusan and Olbin than with Trafyn.
‘We’re sailing south. Every day we draw closer to home.’ The squire lowered his voice. ‘You should tell them about my father. You know enough of their language now. Tell them he’ll pay well for my return.’
Garzik said nothing.
‘Tell them and I promise you’ll be rewarded. My father’s a powerful man. He’ll—’
‘Shut up about your father. Shut up and work.’
‘I’m not taking orders from you. At least I have a father.’
‘Shut up.’
‘Soon I’ll be home free, but you’ll be a savage sucking cock for the rest of your life,’ Trafyn sneered. ‘Utland lover!’
Garzik leapt for his throat, driving him backwards onto the deck. As they struggled, the Utlanders gathered around, shouting encouragement. Garzik had grown up wrestling with his older brother and Byren, and both of them had outclassed him in weight and strength.
By the time Olbin pulled him off Trafyn, Garzik was pleased to see that the squire was bruised and bleeding. Maybe Trafyn was right, and he was turning into a savage.
He didn’t care.
Olbin thumped Trafyn to silence his whining, then turned to Garzik. ‘What did Lazy-Legs do now?’
Garzik shook his head.
Olbin shrugged and thrust Trafyn towards the ropes. ‘Back to work, belongs-to-no-one.’
It was the Utland word for slave. It meant there was no one to avenge his death.
The squire staggered, then recovered his balance. He straightened his jerkin. They were not far from home, which seemed to embolden him. He lifted his chin, addressing the big Utlander as if he were a servant.
‘I’m Trafyn of Travantir Estate.’ He gestured to Garzik. ‘I’m tired of waiting. Tell them my father is Lord Travany, and he’ll give them gold for my release.’
Garzik was about to refuse, when he realised he might be able to escape during the exchange, so he struggled to convey the concept of ransom in the Utlanders’ tongue.
‘Trafyn of Travantir Estate?’ Olbin mocked the squire, speaking Merofynian parrot fashion. He glanced around, inviting the others to laugh. Nearly twenty raiders had gathered, eager for entertainment.
‘My word’s as good as gold,’ Trafyn insisted.
‘He is worth gold,’ Garzik translated.
‘I see no gold. I see a lazy hot-lander who thinks he’s better than us.’ And with that, Olbin grabbed Trafyn. Despite his size, the big Utlander was fast. ‘I see a belongs-to-no-one who needs to learn his place.’
Olbin hauled him to the side of the ship, Trafyn protesting indignantly, then desperately. Up near the foredeck cabins, Olbin tied a rope around the squire’s chest and dangled him over the side. Each time the ship cut into the wave Trafyn got a drenching, and each time the prow rose he screamed louder. Garzik didn’t blame him. He’d seen what those scytalises could do.
As the Utlanders laughed at the squire’s desperate cries, Garzik hardened his heart. Trafyn had brought this on himself.
Finally, Olbin hauled the squire up and dropped him onto the deck, where he huddled shivering and sobbing with fury.
‘Sail over the port bow!’ the lookout called.
Olbin ran up the steps to the reardeck to join the captain. Everyone waited, hoping.
A moment later, Olbin returned to the rail bellowing orders to raise more sail. Garzik felt the ship respond as she changed course. The Utlanders cheered, checked their weapons and boasted of their prowess in battle.
Garzik peered at the other ship’s silhouette, feeling sorry for the crew. When the Utlanders had captured Garzik’s ship, they’d put everyone but him, Trafyn and another squire to the sword.
Trafyn stumbled over, teeth chattering so badly he could hardly speak. ‘Y-you were n-no help.’
He looked so miserable, Garzik took pity on him. ‘Strip and find some dry clothes before you catch your death. I’ll finish the ropes.’
But Trafyn didn’t get a chance. Jost sent Vesnibor to grab the squire. Vesnibor was only a couple of years older than them, but those years had been spent raiding, as his scars and twice-broken nose attested. He dragged Trafyn to the mainmast and tied him up, jerking on the ropes with unnecessary force.
Garzik watched; the last time the crew had attacked a ship he’d been a slave, and they’d tied him to the mast along with Trafyn.
Vesnibor strode over to Garzik. They were the same height, yet somehow the raider still managed to loom. ‘If I had my way, you’d be tied up, too. Once a hot-lander, always a hot-lander.’
Vesnibor swaggered off to join Jost and his two half-brothers. The one-eared Utlander met Garzik’s eyes and spat.
Shame filled Garzik. If he escaped, it would confirm their opinion of him and undermine Rusan’s leadership.
But he had a duty to Byren. If Byren still lived.
The ship plunged through the waves, timbers groaning in protest. This was a flat-bellied merchant vessel, designed to carry cargo, not travel at great speed.
‘Fly the hot-landers’ flag,’ Rusan yelled from the reardeck. ‘When we get close, everyone out of sight. I’ll take the wheel.’ He adjusted the fit of his fancy Merofynian coat and everyone laughed.
Luvrenc raised the Merofynian flag, and Garzik’s heart sank. The other ship’s captain wouldn’t realise he was being attacked until it was too late. In fact, he would probably welcome another merchant ship. Safety in numbers.
But there was still a chance the merchant sailors might fight off the Utland raiders. Garzik fingered the hilt of his short sword, wondering if he should help the sailors. To be brutally pragmatic, there was no point helping them unless it looked like they would survive and he could escape with them.
‘Don’t tell me you’re going to kill your own people to win favour with a bunch of savages?’ Trafyn sneered. ‘Traitor.’
Garzik considered the squire. Lord Travany would be grateful to have his son back, especially if he didn’t need to pay a huge ransom. Mitrovan would be Lord Travany’s slave by now, and the scribe might have useful information for Garzik to pass along to Byren.
He edged closer to Trafyn. ‘This might be a good chance to escape. I’ll loosen the ropes. If the Rolencians look like they’re fighting off the attack, wriggle free and—’
‘I’m not going to risk my life. Not when I’m going to be ransomed.’
‘Wouldn’t your father prefer you to save yourself?’ Garzik glanced around to be sure no one was watching, and adjusted the ropes so that they would part easily. ‘Wouldn’t you like to save him the cost of your ransom?’
King Breaker Page 6
