The Warrior's Tale

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  'Will they have sighted us yet?' Corais's question was intended for Stryker, but Gamelan answered: 'They have. If not by sight, by castings. I have already felt the fingers of the Archon stretching out towards us.'

  Cholla Yi frowned when he saw a nearby sailor shiver - and the reaction wasn't from the breeze. Gamelan nodded understanding and we moved back along the storming bridge out of earshot.

  'How long until we're on them?' Polillo asked.

  Cholla Yi eyed the full mainsail and estimated the time from the distance the foremast's shadow had travelled on the deck since we'd gathered to watch the ships.

  'If the wind holds fair,' he said, 'and from the same quarter... and they keep their current course ... two, perhaps three days.'

  'If I was runnin' that fleet,' Stryker said, 'and knowin' a fight's for certain 'cause they can't outrun us, I'd be formin' my battle-line now - and manoeuvrin' for the weather gauge.'

  'As would I,' Cholla Yi said. 'But once a man starts running, it's hard to stop. Fear makes us all do strange things.'

  'Are you certain, Admiral,' Gamelan said, 'they are afraid? That they're running from ... rather than to ... something?'

  Cholla Yi began to snap a retort, then considered. He looked slightly worried and ran his fingers over his spikes. 'They are holding die same course, aren't they?' he said. 'And have been for some time.'

  'That was what I thought,' Gamelan said, 'though I'm hardly a seaman.'

  'Do you sense anything, Lord Gamelan?' Stryker asked.

  'Not as yet,' the wizard said. 'But I am spending most of my energy attempting to determine what battle spell or spells the Archon may be intending; and casting counterspells against them. I shall attempt, though, to see if there are any porous spaces I could slip an inquiry through.'

  He went back down the storming bridge, then to the main-deck and below to his cramped cabin.

  Polillo shook her head, i don't like warring against sorcerers and I wouldn't want to be Gamelan. Imagine an enemy you can't see, can't hear, can't slay with steel.'

  Corais put her arm around Polillo. 'Don't fret, sister. There's an Archon roasting away in some black hell who thought like that until Rali taught him different.' Polillo's mood changed and she grinned.

  Then words ran out and all of our eyes were held by those tiny dots, far out against the horizon.

  That night we entered strange seas. The sun sank, but the sky was still alight. As twilight died we could see the glow was coming from beyond the Archon's fleet. The light was red, as if there were some fire raging just over the horizon. I'd heard of phosphorescent seas and asked Stryker if this was the case.

  'I ain't ever heard of sea fire bright enough to light the whole sky,' he said.

  'What do you think it could be, then?' I asked.

  Stryker spit over the rail. 'I left off thinkin' when we started this voyage, Captain,' he said. 'Else, when we catch that black wizard, I'll be a foul hand on the tiller.'

  As the hours progressed, the light in the sky grew stronger and by midnight, when I forced myself to my hammock, I could see four distinct blazes in the sky.

  I shuddered awake before dawn, brought up by an awful stench and shouts from the deck. At first I thought we were under some sort of magical attack and rolled out of my hammock scrabbling for a sword. But it wasn't that at all. The air, the sea, the entire world stank like the mud and sulphur-baths outside Orissa that my father used to take us to when I was a girl. I hurried on deck, once again nearly skulling myself on that damnably low hatchway as I came up. I must have been the last to wake, because most of the ship's company was already there, crowding the ship's railing.

  The sun hadn't risen yet, but there was a thick, drowned yellowish light that let us see clearly. A brown haze covered the sea and even though we must've sailed leagues closer to the Lycanthians, their ships were still dots, half-hidden in the murk. But that wasn't the signal attraction everyone was gaping at. Land was in sight. Land of a sort, anyway; land that explained the stink and also that eerie glow in the night. I counted low mountain-tops, seemingly rising out of the sea itself - three, no five volcanoes aborning. From each of them rose a column of smoke and now and again, sparks and a dull flame. Corais and Polillo joined me, but said nothing.

  I saw Gamelan and Stryker on the quarterdeck, and climbed up to them. Both men looked drawn.

  'It looks,' I said to Gamelan, 'as if your thoughts were right about the Archon running for something.'

  Stryker chose to answer.' 'Pears so, Captain. Do yer 'spose they thinks there be shelter ahead? Or, mebbe friends to help them?' He scratched his head. 'Yer'd have to have skin made out of iron to live in these parts. So that don't make sense.'

  Gamelan broke in. 'But this region surely looks to be their goal,' he said. 'Our friends aren't blind, and would have changed course earlier if they thought they were sailing into a trap.'

  I remembered something Amalric had told me. 'My brother once said,' I offered, 'that the Symeon clan had voyaged into the west, but no one knew to what distance.'

  Gamelan stroked his beard. 'This far? With no navigational aides? I would think it more likely the seas remain as unknown to Nisou Symeon as to us, but the Archon has used his magic to peer ahead.'

  'I wish yer'd done the same with yer own arts,' Stryker half-whispered, 'and warned us of this gods-forsaken ocean.'

  Gamelan looked at the mercenary, his yellow eyes glowing. His tone was cold. 'As I said before, I have needed all my powers just to keep magical sight of the Archon and his ships. There have been many spells cast and sent wafting back on their wake intended to delude us onto another course, or even to make us give up in hopelessness. As for these eruptions... the greatest danger we face is being built right now, in the flagship that holds the Archon. Even now, as Symeon and his sailors are polishing their weapons for the battle, so the Archon is readying his spells.' Then his teeth gleamed through his beard, as he said: 'Concentrate on your duties, Captain, and I shall attend to mine.'

  Stryker quailed under the wizard's scorn. Then he recovered. 'Sorry to be speakin' out of turn, Lord Gamelan,' he said. Then he spun and went down the companionway to the main-deck.

  Gamelan said nothing, but only stared after him.

  'What spells do you sense we'll face?' Corais asked, breaking the tension.

  'I don't know precisely,' Gamelan said. 'But we can all take a hint by looking about us. Not only are we sailing strange seas, but the weather itself is worsening.'

  Indeed, we'd been so engrossed in watching the bellow and boil as these new mountains were aborning from the depths of the sea we'd paid small attention to anything else. The sun must've risen, but the sky was overcast and the clouds were grey, becoming black. The wind whipped against our helmet crests and armour. The seas themselves were long rollers, with great intervals between the waves, such as I had seen building on beaches at the mouth of Orissa's river during winter storms. We were occasionally taking water over the bow and the lookouts were crouched under the rails.

  'We should expect any sort of magic to be cast at us - confusion, despair, anything whatsoever,' Gamelan said. 'The Archon must either destroy us or so weaken us his flight can continue. Otherwise, he will die this day.'

  'There won't be any otherwise about it,' Polillo said firmly.

  Gamelan smiled approval. 'We should all curry such firmness as you have, Legate. Bear in mind that we have a great advantage - the Archon's soldiery are those soldiers and sailors who happened to be aboard Symeon's ships when they fled. Against them, the Guard is as keen as the blade you carry sheathed at your side.'

  Corais and Polillo acknowledged the compliment as no more than the Guards' due and left on their duties. Gamelan and I exchanged glances -I realized he spoke truth about our readiness for battle, but I also realized he'd not mentioned two greater truths - first about what might be in the Archon's trunks loaded from the sea-castle in

  Lycanth, and secondly that the Archon now appeared trapped. No warrior k
nows of an enemy more dangerous than one with his back against the wall.

  Two hours later the lookouts shouted alarm - we were sailing direcdy towards a reef line. Stryker issued orders to change course and for signal pennants to be hoisted to the rest of the ships. Then he shouted other orders, countermanding the first.

  'It ain't rocks,' he said. 'Or, leastways, not the sort that can sink yen'

  He gave no further explanation - and again the rails were crowded as we cut directly towards roiling seas. As we neared the reef, I jolted as I saw the rocks seemed to be rising and falling with the waves.

  Stryker ordered a sailor to fetch a dip-net, lowered it and brought up one of the rocks. It was nearly as big as his torso and Polillo was about to exclaim at the officer's great strength, which he'd never before shown. Before she could speak, Stryker took the rock from the net, turned and pitched it, one-handed, to her.

  Polillo gaped and ducked aside. The rock struck the deck with no more force than a cat jumping from its lady's lap. She picked up the stone and brought it to me. It weighed no more than a pillow.

  Stryker explained: 'Pumice, it's called. Comes from one of them volcanoes. I've seen it before - sailed through whole beds of it.' His expression turned wry. 'Course, that be just afore the volcano the stuff come from burst like a boil.'

  He looked ahead. Now the volcanic islands were closer and I could make out half a dozen of them. I wondered what would happen if one of those volcanoes did erupt before we closed with the Archon's ships. I decided that would be in the hands of the goddess and I made a brief prayer to Maranonia, hoping her reach extended to these burning seas.

  Later that day we sighted more debris: first trees drifting aimlessly, then clumps of brush that appeared to have been cast far from the land we still could see but the peaks of. It appeared that each peak belonged to a separate island. Then we saw signs of life - or what had once been life. We sighted a small boat being carried towards us on the current. I ordered a squad into armour and to the foredeck, with their bows strung. As we drew closer I saw the boat appeared to be a fishing craft and determined to capture the men on board and quiz

  them as to these strange seas. There were four of them and all were seated. I found it odd that none of them stood and waved, or attempted to steer away from our fleet; nor did they change course towards us, so we altered our own.

  We were within a spear's cast of the craft when I realized why these fishermen were so complacent - nothing on this earth would ever disturb them again. They half-sat, half-lay in the bottom of the boat, their heads turned to the heavens. They were dead, but I could see no mark of violence on them as we drew closer. The bodies appeared fresh, as if the men had died but recently - there was no sign of corruption or mummification.

  Just as their boat came under our bow, I did see one thing: their eyes were gone. Hollow, blood-caked sockets peered up, trying to pierce through the overcast to see towards the sun.

  'Gulls,' I heard a sailor say. 'That's the first thing the bastards go after. Sometimes... sometimes when a man's not even dead, but just too weak to fight them away.'

  I shuddered.

  The stench grew worse as we sailed on, still holding our course towards the volcanoes - as were the Archon's ships. At twilight I estimated we'd close with them the next day. I allowed myself the luxury of hoping I would have the honour of slaying Nisou Symeon myself. That would be the end of the Symeons and my family would be revenged for many wrongs - not the least of which was the imprisonment and torture of Amalric and later his attempted murder.

  The seas continued rough, their interval closer, and the wind had risen to a near gale so Cholla Yi signalled the fleet to reef sail.

  'Heavy seas'r a boon to ships like the Archon's,' Stryker told me. 'Galleys like ours can ride out most any storm, but they don't make a damn bit of headway. With no keel and shallow draft, we'll be sailin' as far sideways as for'ard with the wind blowin' like she is.' When he saw my concern, he added: 'Never fear, Captain. Tempest or calm, when tomorrow comes we'll have our chance at him for certain.'

  I ordered the Guard to quarter-alert for the night and posted a ready squad with the lookouts in the bow. I didn't think the Archon would turn and sail down on us for a night attack, but it would've been foolish not to be ready just the same.

  I was below-decks, going over my battle plans for a tenth or one hundredth time - a futile exercise every commander does until the first bowshot - when a cabin boy said Gamelan wanted me on deck. As I came up the companionway, I saw two sailors in quiet conversation at the rail, their backs towards me. I paused a minute, listening.

  'I'm damned,' the first was saying, 'if I'm not thinkin' I should've stayed in Jeypur and let the Watch take me. It would've been five years in the quarries ... I've known men who lived through that! Instead ...' he spat out to sea. 'First we're cheated of rights t' loot Lycanth t' go runnin' off on some boodess errand with naught but these sluts who pleasure themselves with spear butts and each other. And we're chasin' a magician who'll likely send us all screamin' to the fires on the morrow... an' even if we take him... even if we take him, I tell you, there's a long voyage back and those bastard Orissans'll still try to weasel out of our blood price.'

  'Now don't you think,' his mate said, 'th' admiral's not thought of that? Once th' bitches kill the Archon, an' we have hands on the gold his ships must be carryin'... don't you think there'll be some changes in th' plans? Also, don't be forgettin' there's supposedly some magic he's carryin' that'll surely be worth the sellin' to somebody ... hell, mebbe those wizards in th' Far Kingdoms'd be interested, if Pr no other reason than to make sure nobody else'll get ahold of it. Don't start your deathsong now, shipmate. By t'morrow, we'll all be fartin' through silk.'

  The first sailor grunted, but before he could respond, I clattered my sword sheath against the companionway rail, as if I were just coming on deck. Both men spun, saw me, and ducked aside. I said nothing, but thought there could well be two battles tomorrow, and vowed to have my soldiers ready for betrayal. Perhaps the sailors' words were just the wishful thinking of rogues, but I didn't doubt Cholla Yi indeed had alternate plans in his black heart if he could see a greater profit.

  It was easy to find Gamelan. He had a small tent set up on the deck, just ahead of the mainmast. Even above the sulphurous air I could smell incense from the four braziers, screened against the spray, set on each corner of the tent. He was in a dark mood when I entered. He sat cross-legged on a carpet spread on the bare deck. In front of him were his wand, some small vials and the five red-charactered knuckles that were his casting bones. Four perfumed tapers hung from silk ropes tied to the tent's roof. But what held my eye was the now-open ebony case, and the black jewel that had been the heart of an Archon.

  'I cast,' he announced without preamble, 'in an attempt to determine what the Archon plans for tomorrow. I can sense a spell using the same strange arts I felt before the final assault on Lycanth. But I have not the craft to determine just what it might be.'

  'Obviously it's directed against us,' I said.

  'Oddly, it isn't as yet. It is building, just as the storm is building. But it lacks focus. I do not know how to make an analogy to things of this world, but... perhaps it might be compared to a cyclone, gathering strength in the air, invisible, before it touches the earth. I wish I could look into the Archon's mind as easily as a village witch claims to peep into a suitor's heart.'

  'You wondered yesterday,' I asked, 'if perhaps the Archon had deliberately chosen this region for his last stand. Do you sense anything about that now?'

  'Yes... and no. I feel a black purpose, but I am not sure if this was his plan all along, or if he's merely seizing an opportunity. In either event, I can feel no sense of menace from whatever lies ahead, which would be the case if we were sailing into some sort of sorcerous ambush.' He shook his head in frustration. Then: 'But the reason I sent for you is I have learned the Archon sees you as his greatest enemy. He fears you.'

 
I made no protestations of false modesty. He damned well should have!

  'I suspect he intends to destroy you at the battle's onset,' Gamelan said. 'You and the sergeant who actually cut his brother's heart out. I have already summoned Sergeant Ismet and given her as much protection as possible. I think she will be under no greater jeopardy in the battle than any of us - which will be extreme, of course. You'll need a bit more of a shield. Here. Sit across from me.'

  I unslung my sword and slipped into a cross-legged stance as he'd ordered. Gamelan stretched out his bony hand and recited quietly:

  The hawk hunts high

  His prey is still

  The ferret moves not

  Her spoor is gone.

  When he was done, he said: 'I suspect the Archon might have divined that ferret spell I gave you before the last battle to make you my hunting beast, so I have lifted it.'

  I nodded thanks although, in my heart, I felt loss - Gamelan still didn't understand my family's affinity for those small determined hunters and how their spirits have aided us. Once this was over, I thought I'd ask him to cast another spell, one giving me blood kinship to the breed, perhaps.

  'One other thing might be of help,' he said. He took up a tiny golden sickle and laid it against the relict that had been the Archon's heart. 'Hold out your hands, palm up.' He touched the sickle to each wrist, just where my pulse beat blue. 'I have already prepared the herbs and cast the spells on this device.' Then he chanted:

  There are no songs to be sung,

  There are no words to be given.

  Blood to blood, Blood to blood.

  Let the blood of the man now slain

  Be a red mist,

  So the eyes of the man who yet lives

  Are clouded. Let his eye see,