The Warrior's Tale

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  When I awoke, I was aboard the ship and we were at full sail, skimming across the seas under a brisk wind. I was in Gamelan's small cabin, and when I opened my eyes he was dusting my brow with a cloth dipped in a sweet-smelling healing powder.

  He smiled when he sensed my eyes fluttering open. 'Ah, you are with us again, my friend,' he said. 'How do you feel?'

  I started to rise, but my limbs were so weak I gave it up. 'I feel like I just lost three falls out of three,' I said. 'But that's to be expected, I suppose. Being new to the conjuring arts, and all. A few more hours' rest will put me right.'

  'I should hope so,' the wizard chortled. 'You've already slept for nearly a week.'

  Stunned, I groaned up to a sitting position. 'A week? How could you let me stay here so long? By Te-Date, there's things to do. Plans to be laid. Training to—'

  Gamelan's continuing laughter made me cut short my babbling. 'They just don't make Evocators like they used to,' he said. 'Why, in my youth we acolytes were expected to preside over a Blessing before breakfast, and heal half a hundred before the bell rang us to tenth-hour abasements.'

  'Stuff a batskin muff in it, wizard,' I growled.

  Gamelan turned serious. 'I must admit you frightened me with your extemporaneous bit of future-casting. Calling on oracles can be quite dangerous, especially for an ignorant beginner.'

  I shrugged. 'It worked, didn't it? The gods were kind enough to point our way home. We sail west, to find Orissa.'

  Gamelan shook his head. 'Not necessarily,' he said.

  'Listen here,' I said, a little hot. 'The vision clearly showed us sailing west.'

  'Obviously, I couldn't see the vision you conjured up,' Gamelan answered. 'But although I'm blind, my hearing is quite sound, thank you very much. And I clearly heard you ask in which direction our destinies lay. You said nothing at all about finding Orissa. In fact, I know of no spell that would accomplish such a thing. If there were, I would have had you conjuring up a map or two long ago.'

  In a weaker voice I asked: 'Then west is not the way home?'

  'Who can say?' Gamelan answered. 'Perhaps our fates and our wishes coincide. Perhaps by sailing west - which we know, broadly speaking, is the opposite direction from Orissa - we'll meet someone who knows the way. Or, perhaps we'll encounter some swift current, or passage, that will carry us home.'

  'Then I accomplished nothing,' I said, feeling a total dolt and failure.

  'Oh, but that is certainly not so,' Gamelan protested. 'The others made the same mistake you did. Or, at least believed your interpretation of the vision. Everyone is convinced you showed them the way. No sooner had I ordered you carried back to my cabin, than your legates gathered with Cholla Yi and his officers and it was decided to strike west at once.'

  Hastily, I rose up from the bunk. They'd stripped me when they'd put me to bed and I was wearing nothing but a frown. 'Where are my clothes?' I demanded. 'I must stop the fleet at once! We could very well be going the wrong way!'

  Gamelan grabbed my arm and pulled me back. 'Don't be foolish,' he hissed. 'You have succeeded more than we could have ever dreamed. The fleet is overflowing with confidence, a commodity in short supply these last days. You've put steel in their spines, Rali, and hope in their hearts.'

  'But, it's a lie!' I protested.

  'Only you and I know that,' the wizard said. 'And perhaps it isn't a lie after all. Only the gods know the course we're set on. It may end happily. One thing I know for certain, if you tell them the truth they'll hate you for it. Things will be even worse than before. And if that should happen, there's no chance at all that we'll ever find our way home again.'

  I sank back on the bunk, pulling a blanket about me, for I suddenly felt very cold. 'What should I do?' I moaned.

  'Do nothing,' Gamelan said. 'Just keep a smile on your lips and if asked, lie again. And keep on lying. If fortune blesses us, the lie may yet meet the truth.'

  I was well enough to leave my sickbed the following day. Everyone greeted me with such huge enthusiasm, fawning, making sure I had the best morsel of whatever food we had, or rushing to do my slightest bidding, that I felt a complete scoundrel. But I did as Gamelan advised, and only smiled and choked out modest remarks regarding my renewed status as heroine to all. Whenever necessary I shored up the falsehood I'd created back on the dismal isle.

  It got easier as the days went by, because we were the sudden recipients of good luck. Every day was sunny and the winds fair. Our little fleet leaped over the waves, chasing the sun into the most marvellous sunsets anyone had seen in their lifetime. The sea teemed with more fish than we could eat. And the day I arose we encountered an island entirely populated by enormous birds - nearly half as tall again as Polillo - that were not only wingless but so dumb they let you approach and club them down without protest. Their drumsticks were enormous and tasty, and the white meat of their breasts better than any delicate fowl I'd ever nibbled. We filled our meat casks with their flesh - both smoked and brined. We found sweet water on that island that rivalled any liquor we'd ever drunk. We emptied the sulphurous stuff we'd collected on the geyser island, scrubbed the barrels and filled them all to the brim.

  So good was our luck during those days, that it became the norm -the expected. I guess childishness is at the heart of all our natures. Set the most sumptuous banquet before us, and we will marvel at it, revel in the myriad tastes in almost sexual ecstasy. But serve that same banquet every day, and soon we'll begin whining: 'What's this? Honeyed humming bird tongue - againV And so it was with my fellow adventurers. The wind was the best any sailor could hope for, but Captain Stryker complained it was so constant he never had time to repair the sails. Duban the rowing master griped that his charges were getting soft. The quartermasters were upset that the rat population had increased because our holds were full of fresh food, Ismet worried that the soldiers were exercising with such enthusiasm they might become overtrained, and my officers fretted something must be amiss because it was not possible for morale to be as good as it seemed.

  I did not fall prey to this weakness, but it was not because I am any less petty than my sisters and brothers, but because I knew all was false to begin with.

  Then the winds died; and with them our luck.

  Eleven

  The Demon and His Favourite

  ON THE DAY our luck vanished, I awoke just after dawn with a blinding headache. It was hot for such an early hour and I felt short of breath. The air was thick, syrupy. It had an odour of damp things, old things and things long in death or slow in dying. I heard the sails being lowered and stowed. Duban cursed his rowers onto their benches. The drum sounded - increasing the pressure on my throbbing temples - and there was a shudder as the ship pulled slowly forward. It moved with difficulty, as if the water had turned to mud and I heard things rasping along the sides. I groaned up and stumbled into my clothes. As I passed Polillo's hammock to go up on deck I heard a piteous moan - I was not the only sufferer that dreaded morning.

  A bizarre scene awaited me above decks. The light was a murky yellow that blurred detail; our shadows seemed bloated and indistinct. The rowers, working to a slow drumbeat, grunted at their task, rising completely off their benches with each stroke, then digging in hard with their heels as they muscled the oars through the water. Despite their labours, the ship only inched along.

  The trouble was apparent. The ship - nay, the entire fleet - was mired in a vast waste of kelp. On other ships I could see men dangling from the sides on ropes, cutting away fleshy vines that'd snared them. Captain Stryker was gathering a similar work party as I approached to ask what had gone amiss.

  'It's not my fault,' he growled, surprising me that he thought there was anything to defend. 'I said there was gonna be a squall last night, an' Klisura agreed, but would th' admiral listen to th' likes of us? Me, who's got so many years in th' salt you could stuff me in a brine barrel and sell me for provisions? Why, I was a sailin' master before that damned Phocas was a wet spot on his father's
prong, if you'll be beggin' my pardon, Captain Antero. But th' admiral, he just listens to that ignorant son of a Lycanthian whore. Pays no mind when I says we oughta heave to, drop our sea anchors and wait'll she's done.'

  The squall had awakened me during the night, but it hadn't seemed too fierce. Actually, it soothed me and I'd been easily coaxed back to sleep by the slow rolling of the ship, while listening to the sounds of the falling rain and hissing seas. As I listened to Stryker I remembered earlier days when the smallest chop sent the landlubbers among us running to spew our guts over the rail. I nearly laughed, covered with a cough, then put on my best Concern-For-My-Fellow-Officer visage.

  'You saw danger in the storm, I gather?' I asked.

  'Any fool could'a seen it,' Stryker said. Wasn't th' strength of th' winds that troubled me, but th' visibility. Rain was fallin' thicker'n my oldest wife's curses when I'm late from th' tavern. An' it was th' blackest night I'd seen since I was a lad just gone raidin' off th' Pepper Coast. I was fearful we'd lose each other in th' blow, or worse, come up against some reef in th' dark. Best thing to do, I signalled th' admiral, was wait it out and take new bearings in th' morning. But Phocas was all for makin' time, an' Cholla Yi agreed. Time to get where, I ask you? Don't even know where we're goin'! Anyways, we stuck together okay, although I had to practically mutiny to get 'em to hang out lanterns so's we could see each other. Then th' wind quit quicker'n a whore hauls in her tits when she sees you got an empty purse. Ain't been a breath of wind since. But that's not so bad. What's bad is what we got ourselves tangled into.'

  He waved at the kelp forest, so thick that in places you couldn't see water, but only a slow rising and falling as waves passed underneath.

  'Never seen a thing like it,' he said. 'Not this size and this thick! But I've heard tales. Oh, yes, I've heard things that'd get your heart movin' right sprightly.'

  'I'm sure you have, Captain Stryker,' I said. 'But I hope you keep those tales to yourself until we're out of this. No sense frightening people unnecessarily.'

  'If we do get out,' Stryker said darkly.

  I paid no mind to his gloomy words. He was only trying to add drama to the wrong that had been done him and what had come of Cholla Yi ignoring his sensible advice.

  'We'll be all right,' he said, relenting to reveal his true thoughts. 'Just need us another good blow and we'll be out and smellin' sweet.'

  But we didn't get another good blow. Not a breath of air stirred that day, or the next, or for many a day to follow. And it was hot. By the gods who forsook us yet again, it was hot. The yellow haze that cloaked us only seemed to intensify that heat, making us feel we were simmering at the bottom of a soup kettle. Meanwhile, the kelp prison tightened about us. We found what seemed to be a channel leading out, cut our way to it, then muscled each ship into the passage. But that channel, instead of carrying us out, led us into a maze of deadends and narrows that curved back on themselves, and others that went deeper and deeper into that tangle. We had no choice but to go on, for no sooner had we hacked a passage and rowed through it, than it closed behind us, with the kelp quickly tangling itself again.

  I cast the bones each day, but they had returned to the stultifying sameness as before. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how I cast them, the identical pattern showed up again and again. And that pattern, Gamelan had taught, showed no change in our near future. As the crew laboured in the awful heat, dragging us foot by foot through the watery forest, Gamelan and I tried every trick the old wizard knew to raise a wind.

  We got out the magical wind bags that had been brought along for just this purpose. They were the best Gamelan and his assistant Evocators could create before we left Lycanth. Much magical talent had gone into them, but all for naught. Each time I performed the ceremony and recited the words to call forth the winds, when the bag was opened only a hot, foul-smelling gas escaped. Gamelan worried over this, saying a spell must have been cast over this immense sargasso to assure no wind could ever disturb its horrible symmetry.

  The deeper we drew into it, however, the more it changed. What had first appeared like a gently rolling plain, soon proved a false perception. Once in the canals, the seaweed piled higher and higher, in places forming banks that reached half the height of a ship's mast. The kelp branches were tumbled into all kinds of odd shapes. Some appeared to be the turrets of a fleshy, brown-toned castle. Others took on the images of people, or beasts. I passed one I swore looked like a woman's torso growing out of a rearing mare's body. Astride that mare was a young woman, breasts heaving, tresses flying, as if she and her steed were moving at speed. Polillo said I was only seeing such things because I'd been too long without a lover. I laughed, but secretly worried she was right.

  A week into our struggle we broke into a channel whose current moved more swifdy. It was still a leisurely pace, to be sure, but to see any motion at all in this swamp was a cheery sight. The joy, however, was short-lived. It was Santh - old Pillow Nose, himself - who ended it. One minute I was conversing with Stryker, the next we were running forward, beckoned by Santh's hoarse cry. We had to push our way through a knot of crewmen to reach him at the bow, where he stood pale and jabbering nonsense.

  'What is it, man?' Stryker said.

  But Santh was too hysterical to respond. 'May th' gods forgive me,' he wailed. 'I've been such a villain all me life, but no man deserves t' die like this!'

  Stryker grabbed him roughly by the shirt front. 'Quit blubberin', you fool,' he barked. 'You ain't dead. And you ain't got no cause to fear it.'

  Santh recovered enough to jab a shaking finger to his right. 'Look, Captain,' he cried. 'Look!'

  We peered in the direction he pointed. I saw something greyish-white poking through the kelp forest. As I recognized it with a jolt, I heard Stryker suck in a fearful breath.

  'By Te-Date, we're in for it now,' he harshed.

  We were looking at the picked-clean bones of a human skeleton. A small crab scuttled out of an empty eye socket, waved its claws about, then scurried back inside. I looked closer and saw the rotting rags of the man's clothing scattered about. Just to one side was what appeared to be a belaying pin.

  'Th' poor whore's son,' Stryker muttered, pitying his fellow mariner. He turned back to Santh and the others. 'Get your arses back to your duties, lads,' he snarled. 'There's no lesson to be learned here, 'cept what's plain as that sack of puddin' Santh calls a nose.' He pointed at the skeleton. 'There's a lad what didn't listen to his cap'n's orders. And his ship had to sail without him, leavin' his bones for th' crabs to sup on.'

  He harangued them some more to get some spleen into them and they went back to work - looking nervously over their shoulders as they went about their business.

  'Well dealt with,' I said in praise.

  Stryker shook his head. 'I'm a lyin' shit, and they knows it,' he said. 'Weren't for th' conjurin' you did back on that island, there'd be no talkin' to 'em.' He shuddered. 'We knows th' gods be with us. We seen that right plain. But they ain't makin' it easy on us, Captain Antero. Not one bit, they ain't.'

  He moved on to keep watch on his men, leaving me to gnaw on my guilty knowledge that my vision had promised nothing. Our future might lie west, but only the gods knew how it would end - or when. At the moment that future might well be to have our bones picked by the low forms that scuttled about in our prison, just like the mariner we'd seen. I was about to seek out Gamelan for counsel when the uneasy peace was destroyed again. There was a shout from our lookout. I didn't need to be told what he'd seen, because no sooner had the cry burst from his lips than I saw for myself.

  Both banks had become an enormous charnel house. Countless skeletons - both of men and animals - littered the scene. Some were whole and still carried the remnants of clothes, others were hurled about, with their large bones burst open, as if cracked by scavengers for the marrow. Some of the crew wept, others spewed their guts over the sides, while the rest stood pale and mumbling prayers to whatever gods they hoped might rescue them f
rom such an end. As that horror burned itself into our dreams, the channel turned, spreading into a small lagoon, and an even greater terror was unveiled.

  The rotted hulks of ships of every age and nation spread out before us. Some were caught in the tangle by the edge of the lagoon, others jutted out of the kelp as far as the eye could see across the slow-rolling plain. Some of the ships were of recent design, but others were - even to my untutored eye - of great age and scabbed with centuries of time. The whole thing was a great graveyard of all the ships that had been lost without a trace since history's beginnings.

  Something made me duck and as I did so, a shadow passed over me. I heard a squeal of startled pain as an object struck a sailor behind me. I dropped to the deck and tuck-rolled back to my feet, drawing my sword as I rose, and dodging once again as a missile hurled past. A shrill chorus of battle-cries rent the air and scores of heavy objects crashed down. I saw skinny, naked figures swinging from the banks on kelp vines, brandishing all manner of weapons. A rusted spear was thrust at me, I brushed it aside and cut my attacker down, roaring for my Guardswomen to repel boarders.

  The deck swarmed with small brown figures with limbs so slender they looked as if you could snap them with two fingers. But they made up for size with fierceness and surprise. Many sailors went down under the first rush, but as my women smashed into our attackers, the crew rallied, clubbing with anything in their reach. I saw Corais and Gerasa - a superb bow-woman - shielded by an axe-swinging Polillo, fire arrow after arrow into our attackers. Three rushed at me. My left hand found my knife and I put my back against the mast as the three crowded in. The one on my left jabbed with a trident. With a quick blow of my sword, I cut it off at the haft, ducked forward and came up to slip my dagger between his ribs. It stuck as he fell, so I left it there and pivoted, making a two-handed slice at the axeman beside him. My blade bit deep, nearly cutting him in two. Blood spurted from his wound, blinding me. As I desperately yanked on my sword to pull it free, I felt the presence of the third man rushing forward. I dropped to my knees and he tripped over me. Before he could recover, I'd ripped my blade free and chopped blindly at him. It was a lucky stroke - lucky for me, at any rate - and it sliced through his kidney as he tried to roll away. He shrieked and before I'd clawed the gore from my eyes he was choking a death-rattle.