Reapers of Souls and Magic: A Rohrland Saga (The Rohrlands Saga Book 1)

by R. E. Fisher

  With a coldness that few on Falk Isle had ever experienced, On′risa wondered why he didn’t simply try and pull himself away from her dagger rather than trying to force her to extract it.

  “Nooooo…you’re short on the pitch, actually,” On′risa said as she twisted his head to her left, away from her blade, while increasing his pain as she toyed with him.

  She wriggled her blade within his throat and another quick gasp of pain, accompanied by the very brief and high-pitched sound of a vowel, escaped from his lips as she did. On′risa tilted her mask towards his lips as if listening, while she looked over his shoulder to see what his friends were going to do.

  “Nooo…still not quite correct,” she whispered. She tilted his head back further over his shoulders.

  Loudmouth dropped to his knees in agony, trying to still her hand that held the blade that was causing him so much pain.

  “That is then followed with what sounds like ‘ree-suh’…but that is close enough for a Da′inch,” she spat. She glared at his friends as she sliced his throat, cutting it open. A spray of crimson splashed across her black armor for her effort.

  On′risa’s escorts drew their weapons as Loudmouth’s friends reached for theirs; they quickly changed their minds and began scattering into the darkness. On′risa wiped her blade clean on Loudmouth’s shoulder and stepped around him. She left him to die kneeling on the street, trying to close the fatal wound with his hands.

  “Remember this, ‘me boy’os,’ the next time you see me coming down the street!” she threatened to those scurrying away.

  Her two escorts sheathed their weapons and bowed towards her as she looked back at them, ensuring that they were ready to proceed towards her meeting.

  The two looked at one another, grinning, as she began making her way towards her destiny. They would see her achieve her destiny or die trying to aid her in her quest. Both were filled with a pride they had never felt in their lifetimes.

  Whit, On′risa’s First Mate, already respected her—and now he was falling in love with her.

  ** The Black Moon **

  Mykal woke to flashes of sunlight reflecting off the water and into the cabin of his ship. Pushing back his long blonde locks while letting his green eyes adjust to the flickering sunlight that bounced across the bed he lay in. Ever cautious, he glanced about the room. He relaxed, seeing only his desk, which was covered with maps, his small bookshelf that held several books describing the cultures and beasts of the other continents, and the comforting planks that shaped the inside of his quarters. He saw no movement nor heard any sound other than the sea slapping at the timbers of the ship as it rocked on the tide. He noticed that the blue sheets of the bed had mussed and gathered at their feet again as they slept. He reached down and pulled the sheet back up to cover Indira and himself, then settled back onto his pillows, not wanting to wake her.

  Mykal turned his head towards the windows of his captain’s quarters while nestling himself deeper in his feather bed. The bed, suspended with ropes that stretched from the ceiling to the floor, swayed gently in the slow, early morning swells of the harbor. He lifted his arm behind his head, resting it in the muscular crook and looking through the glass out into the harbor. As he looked out, he saw the On′risa and the Crimson Crescent, their masts sitting empty and their anchors dropped. They had also arrived sometime during the dark hours, answering the call that had gone out to every ship’s mage. It had been a simple thing, the request. “Return to Falk Isle. Our safe haven is at risk.”

  Everyone knew that without keeping Falk Isle secure, there would be no refuge for any of them. Raiders were outlawed and hunted by everyone. The only outcome if caught was getting the “hemp halter.” I’ll take a sword to the chest before being hung by a rope! Mykal thought and grinned to himself. It ain’t easy being both predator and prey at the same time!

  He smiled and looked at his partner Indira as she slid her hand across his chest and one of her shapely long legs across both of his while she woke. It was a ritual with her, as though she wanted to make sure he was still hers. He had never hidden the fact from her that he always would be. He was a man of passions; he understood that about himself. It might be his downfall someday, but it would not be today, he thought.

  Today would be about finding out what was going on. There were going to be seventeen ships in this harbor. If the Equiosans, Rohrlanders, or—gods forbid—the Philanthian fleet showed up, it could be trouble. Whatever threat Sindkus had discovered, it had to be great.

  He hoped that The Gauntlet was doing its job. He liked that scurrilous dog, Capt. Swett. He had somehow managed to get that ship of his restored and then found a way to get the rest of the raiders to pay him to guard their coastlines! One has to admire that kind of savvy! He thought about the sheer power of The Gauntlet. It was a rammer, designed to punch holes through the hull of any opposing ship. No wonder he had lost so much booty to the bottom of the seas! They seemed to sink faster than he could retrieve it!

  “So who’s made it so far?” Indira asked him with her rough, yet still sultry morning voice.

  “I can see the On′risa and the Crescent. We’ll have to get up to see if the rest have made it in yet. The others you already know about.”

  “We’ve been here nearly a fortnight. How long do we have to wait?”

  “As long as is necessary. The moot only takes place once all the captains are present. You know that. But I heard the rest would be here today.”

  “I hate these things! I get so bored!” she said with mock petulance.

  Mykal laughed out loud at that. “The day you get bored with walking the booths and spending coin is the day that we scuttle this ship!”

  Indira grinned mischievously and reached up and pinched his nipple as she sat up, the sheet falling away from her body as she did. She quickly and lovingly traced one of the many scars on his chest, and then with a grin she twisted around and straddled her lover. She wrapped her arms behind his head as she leaned forward and kissed him deeply.

  Mykal returned her kiss and embrace, gently caressing the small of her back and realizing how lucky he was.

  ** The Bloody Eddies **

  Jaeger sat across from Kutter Kane in the galley, eating their morning rations in the dim light that emanated from a porthole above the side table. The odor of aged wooden planks and the smells of salt air and ham filled the small room. Taking a drink of his hot dark bean brew, Jaeger stared at him, noticing that the man ate with more gusto than even dwarves. Kutter’s yellow-and-blue kerchief was wrapped around his head to cover his missing eye. His brown leather tri-cornered hat was pulled tightly down to his eyebrows to help hold his bandana in place.

  “We’ve got plenty of stores, ya know,” Jaeger pointed out to him.

  “I know,” Kutter said through mouthfuls of biscuits and ham.

  “Then why ye be shovin’ it in likes we’s facin’ the hemp halter?”

  “Busy day, Cap’n! We got to be takin’ on freshwater, and well, you know the crews gonna be wantin’ to get to the taverns and such. We’s also got to move this treasure we took from that Equiosan trader, and then we got the moot...” Kutter said in his deep, aged voice, but Jaeger cut him off.

  “But what’s that got to do with throwin’ that grub down like it’s my dwarven ale?”

  “I’m nervous, Cap’n. We ain’t had no moot in a couple of years. Makin’ me nervous, what with Sindkus callin’ us all home!”

  “You ain’t goin’ to be doin’ no one no good if you make yourself sick. And I ain’t pickin’ up yer slack, so slow the hells down.”

  “Yes’n Cap’n,” he replied, still not slowing down.

  Shoving the rest of his breakfast into his mouth and swigging down the remainder of his morning cup of rum through his mouthful of food, he asked, “If’n the Cap’n be givin’ me pardon, I’ll be goin’ to take care of them things I told him about.”

  “Go ahead,” Jaeger said, smiling at his First Mate. “Be gone with ye.
Best be makin’ sure old Teresa gives us what that booty’s worth, else I’ll be havin’ serious words with her and her boys!”

  “Yes, Cap’n,” Kutter said as he slipped out of the galley.

  Jaeger leaned back and finished his breakfast, ignoring the crumbs of food that fell into his long beard as he contemplated what was expected of him at this moot. Kutter had told him that it was a simple thing. As captain of a raider—even a dwarvish captain—he and the other captains would have to take a vote on what to do about whatever it was that Sindkus needed to tell them. Jaeger had taken over this ship less than a year earlier, having killed its previous captain. He was also aware that although Captain Haw had some friends, he didn’t have many who would stand for him. What worried him was that even though the man wasn’t well-liked, there were many who had followed him and had volunteered to crew with him. The only thing that Jaeger could figure was that all most of the raiders did was go where they could get paid and chase their own perceptions of freedom. If Haw hadn’t tried to kill him, he’d still be Captain of the Bloody Eddies, but so be it. Fate had decided that Haw weren’t that good of a captain after all, he thought to himself. He’d have to make sure he was better than that.

  Jaeger leaned back and pulled out a pipe that one of the crew had given him out of his own share of the booty. Accompanied by a smile, he had told Jaeger that crews couldn’t respect a man who didn’t have any bad habits. So after showing him how to smoke a pipe, Jaeger had found that he rather enjoyed the process of it. He had taken to smoking one bowl after each meal, and he puffed on it when trying to keep up the morale of his crew.

  Jaeger liked the crew he had, and some liked him back. Yet he knew that it was still all about the treasures they captured. Jaeger had instituted a shares policy, whether dead or alive. He wanted his men to know that even if killed, their wives and kids would be getting what he had promised. It was the dwarven thing to do. His men loved him for that, and they rarely jumped from his ship to another. If they did, it was usually because they had brought the wrath of his crew upon themselves. Sometimes they convinced themselves that the gold was greater in another tunnel. Either way, Kutter had approved of the way he was running the ship and that meant a lot to Jaeger. Good First Mates could always find another ship, and Kutter had decided to stay aboard.

  A knock on the galley way interrupted his thoughts. He looked up through the cloud of ‘baccer smoke and saw that his friend, Flatforge, was looking to talk to him.

  “Sit down, lad,” Jaeger told him.

  “Thank ya, Cap’n.”

  “I told you boys, ya ain’t gotta be callin’ me that.”

  “Yeah, we do, Cap’n. It’s who you be now, and we all knows that. It’s also ‘cause we respect ya, sir. ‘Sides, I just came to tell ya the name I finally picked out.”

  “Really? I thought ya was sticking with Flatforge.”

  “Oh, no, sir; I seen you changed your name and the others did too, so I finally figured on what I like cause of that. ‘Sides, if I don’t change it, Silverbeard might get wind of that and I don’t want to be no reason he comes after ya,” Flatforge said, grabbing his long, white beard.

  “How’s that?” Jaeger asked.

  “Well, you changed your name from Thriftrock to Seaforge, so’s King Silverbeard won’t be trackin’ ya down. And that pup Blackanvil changed his to Anchorbeard, and then I was told to call Three-fingers Bluebeard, but his beard ain’t even blue!”

  “So what have ye chose, lad?” Jaeger asked, not showing the frustration he was starting to feel towards the old dwarf.

  “Well, since we be wanted outlaws and now we be on the seas and such, and I’m tellin’ ye I kind of like it, to be honest, Cap’n. I picked it based on the color of me old beard. You and the others can call me Saltbeard, cause my beard be all white and such.”

  “It fits ye, old man. It be a good choice. But now I need ya to be goin’ and findin’ Kutter. Help him get all that booty to Missus Teresa, so’s we can get the crew paid before we let them hit Divitown. Them boys got families to see.”

  “Yes, Cap’n,” Saltbeard said.

  ** The Sisters **

  Sharlotte stood on the sterncastle of her ship as it entered the harbor of Divitown. She loved the rise and fall of the ship and the mists of salt air that covered her as they sailed. The wind was blowing onshore, bringing them in on the morning tide. She watched as her crew scurried about securing lines, ensuring that the deck was clear while preparing to drop the rest of their sails.

  “Get someone up those ratlines and check on that pulley before we drop sail! I don’t want it binding up like it did when we captured that Rohrland trader a few days ago!” she shouted, knowing that she would see someone climbing the lines in moments. Between her brilliant red hair and fierce green eyes, her demeanor, and the four thin Kaloriadoran blades she wore, her crew ensured that they sprang into action at her every order. Running a tight ship doesn’t require friends; it requires obedience, she thought to herself.

  She looked back at the harbor as soon as she saw Kazine beginning to climb the ratlines to check that pulley. She counted and saw that the rest of the raider ships had already arrived, and each of them were flying their Blood and Blade flags.

  The bright yellow flag showed a segmented sword of blue with the tip colored in red. In the center of the sword, sewn atop the crossguard, was a red circle, the “eye of the raider.” When she had first seen the flag, she learned that the yellow background was telling all who saw it that the vessel sailed everywhere the sun shone over the high seas. The eye was there to tell everyone that the raiders watched for its victims and were ever vigilant. The bloody tip of the sword—well, that had a very clear meaning to any who saw the flag. Stand in our way and you die.

  She grinned awhile, remembering that many traders had actually soiled themselves as her ship had drawn near them, as her mages were prepared to sink them if they didn’t cooperate. She also realized that the royal navies would also adopt mages onto their ships. The only navy that carried mages was currently Philanthis; they were a cruel and bloody lot, so that did not surprise her. So far the rest hadn’t, and that gave them an advantage, even against heavily manned ships of war. Those leaders in Noli Deron had spent so many centuries alienating the mages that they could not convince the Master of Towers to support their need for mages. She had heard rumors that he would not force any mage to serve a king and had actually forbidden it within some of the realms that they had influence in. For him, the thought that mages could become beholden to governments was tantamount to self-destruction.

  It was one thing to rain arrows down upon one another while trying to grapple and board another ship. It was a completely different melody when a mage could rain down fire from the skies, combust timbers, or shred their sails to slow them down. Mages could also do any number of other horrible things while those on the ships had only a limited number of places to go for safety. They were all growing rich with this new tactic of theirs.

  She wasn’t sure about others, but she had begun seeing how Rohrland traders would sail from their harbors in packs with only one or two of the ships actually carrying any cargo of value. Upon seeing their yellow flag, they would diverge in different directions, forcing raiders to pick a ship to chase down. She had chosen unwisely a few times and had gone away empty-handed. It was one thing to risk hanging for coin; another for empty pockets.

  Sharlotte wondered if that had anything to do with what Sindkus had called the moot for.

  “Incredible, isn’t it?” Twyla remarked to her captain as she neared.

  “It could be, given the right circumstances.”

  “What do you mean?” the First Mate asked.

  “Take a look...seventeen raiders with crews who know how to fight and enjoy doing it. The smallest royal fleet, Equiosas, has only six warships. Their traders stay close to the shores and travel little outside their own. The elves limit their sails to the Zahnne Sea. That huge inland sea that connects those uncl
aimed mountains? They live in safety while letting the humans and their tribes shield them from orcs and ogres. Then who? Kaloriador? No, they couldn’t threaten us. That leaves only the Philanthians or Rohrland.”

  “So, we currently rule the seas. That’s a good thing,” Twyla replied.

  “For now. Never forget that. Sindkus sent out the call, but I am unaware of any fleet coming after us. They are not going to open their own harbors to invasion by coming after us. Noli Deron’s shipyards haven’t increased their shipbuilding; they keep plodding along building merchant ships.”

  “So that means somehow Philanthis is threatening us?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Sharlotte said.

  “Not really. What if your cousin raised the bounty on you even higher?”

  “King Deron? He hasn’t got the balls to do something himself. I doubt his treasurer would allow it. He’s already offering five thousand crowns for my head. That alone would buy him two fast ships.”

  “He does hate you.”

  “Well, he can get behind the others that feel the same,” Sharlotte said, crossing her arms.

  “If it’s a war the Philanthians want, who are we to stand against them? The Empress’s navy is massive.”

  “Compared to that,” Sharlotte said, pointing towards the other raiders, “yes...but against a real navy, I don’t think so. Besides, their ships are slow and lumbering. They pack them full of troops thinking that’s going to somehow give them an edge. I’ll keep this one, thank you.”

  Sharlotte paused, then added, “Everyone knows the Empress wants to expand her kingdom. She’s only biding her time to go after Kaloriador. She’s nowhere close to being ready to challenge my cousin, the elves, and the dwarves. Never happen, really. That leaves us or Kaloriador, I think.”