The Walrus and the Warwolf

by Hugh Cook

  The weakest part of the cell was probably the door, which was made of metal bars. As Drake tested its strength - without much hope - a voice spoke from the cell directly opposite his.

  'It's you, isn't it?' said the black-bearded voice.

  'No,' said Drake. 'It's someone else altogether.'

  'I knew it was you!' said Atsimo Andranovory. 'I'm going to rip you limb to limb.'

  As the boozy thug was locked away well out of reach, this threat made little impression on Drake, who responded by faking a laugh.

  'Thrown off the Walrus, were you?' he said. 'Slagger Mulps finally found what you were made of, did he?'

  'Aaagh,' said Andranovory, hawking, then spitting in Drake's direction. 'Mulps and me, we had a difference, yes. But nothing like the difference he's got with you. Traitor!'

  'What's this traitor business?' said Drake, sounding hurt.

  'You betrayed us on Burntos, didn't you? That's why the woman was gone from her room. That's why the soldiers jumped us.'

  'The soldiers jumped one of us,' said Drake. 'One of us who was drunk, aye, and noisy with it. If I'd betrayed us to Burntos, the soldiers would have sought for more than one.'

  'Nara zabara jok' said Andranovory.

  And spat once more in Drake's direction. Drake replied in kind.

  Five days, five lean meals and several spitting competitions later, both Drake and Andranovory were hauled from their cells. They were dragged into the daylight and brought before a dour man who wore red rope-soled shoes, red robes and a red turban. He was as black as Jon Arabin. Unless Drake was much mistaken, this was Abousir Belench, whom he had seen on occasion on the Greaters.

  'Aaagh,' said Andranovory, hawking and spitting. 'Abou', man! Good to see you!'

  'An'vory,' said Abousir Belench, without much pleasure. 'I'd hoped for better. Still, I'm short-handed. Who is the little one?'

  'I see no little one,' said Drake, looking around, 'but if you want to know who I am, I'm Drake Douay, a hero-survivor of storm, wreck, voyage and disaster.'

  'The lucky gambler, is that who you are?' said Abousir Belench.

  'The very one!' said Drake.

  'He's a traitor!' said Andranovory. 'He betrayed the Walrus to - to Burntos. We were stopping there for water and such when he—'

  'An'vory, that's nothing to me,' said Abousir Belench. 'I've a ship unmanned by battle. I can take the both of you if you'll both swear loyal - and swear to leave any differences between you unsettled till you get to the Greaters.'

  'Done,' said Drake, quickly.

  'Done,' said Andranovory, with some reluctance.

  And both swore loyal to Abousir Belench, captain of the good ship Jade. Belench then paid their release price to the harbour guard of Narba, and, by evening, they were at sea once more, heading for the Greaters.

  So much for Drake's hopes of returning to Drangsturm! Every league was taking him further from the Castle of Controlling Power and the fair Zanya Kliedervaust.

  He began to make elaborate plans for combining the recapture of Stokos with the winning of the lady Zanya. Perhaps King Tor could be persuaded to send some ships to Drangsturm to hire a few thousand Landguard soldiers from the wizards. They'd make good mercenaries, surely.

  A brilliant idea! Landguard mercenaries, plus Orfus pirates, plus Menator's men, plus King Tor himself and the loyal subjects who would doubtless rally to his standard - with such a force they'd overrun Stokos with no trouble at all.

  The only difficult bit would be kidnapping Zanya while negotiations were underway for hiring mercenaries . . .

  With such schemes, Drake kept his spirits high as the Jade cruised north.

  Abousir Belench was a moody, brooding man given to outbreaks of appalling anger. He was, moreover, a puritan of sorts. He liked men who worked hard, ate little and drank nothing. Drake Douay pleased this hard taskmaster, particularly since he was invariably sober. But Atsimo Andranovory had managed to scrounge enough liquor to get himself drunk five times before bad weather struck the Jade just south of the Greaters.

  With the weather making the approaches to the Greaters impossible, Abousir Belench, wary of the dangers of the coast of Chorst, strove westward, out into the waters of the Central Ocean. In the storm-fight which followed, Andranovory disgraced himself by drinking himself legless.

  By the time the bad-weather winds had blown themselves to nothing, the Jade was lost, far from the nearest landfall horizon. To get his bearings, Belench sailed east against contrary winds, eventually making landfall on the coast of Estar, just south of the Hollern River.

  By then, food was low, so Belench led a raiding party ashore. They returned to the ship with four sheep and two goats - and found Andranovory drunk again.

  'You useless piece of fart-arse offal!' said Belench. 'To think I paid money to buy you out of Narba!'

  'Aaagh, I'm sick with the sight of the traitor,' said Andranovory. 'That's what's driving me to drink.'

  'If it's Drake Douay you're talking of, why, he's a better man than you are any day of the year,' said Belench.

  Thus started an argument of epic dimensions, which led to a brawl, which led to Abousir Belench marooning Andranovory on the coast of Estar. Drake, who still resented the way An'vory had strung him up by the heels so long ago, felt no pity at all for the hapless drunk - not even when the man broke down weeping as his comrades sailed away.

  Abousir Belench sailed the Jade to Chastity Bay on Island Anvil, most northerly of the Greaters. There she was moored in a gigantic sea-cave, where work on overhauling her began. Drake, who wished urgently to return to Knock to report to King Tor, obtained a release from his oath of service to Belench, and took passage to the Inner Sleeve on a sealing boat.

  The night before the sealing boat reached the Inner Sleeve, she rafted up with two pirate fishing boats which had lately come from there. The crews spent the evening drinking octopus gin, gambling, wrist-wrestling, boasting and gossiping.

  The Walrus, it seemed, had reached the Inner Sleeve with a Neversh aboard. The poor brute had died of thirst and hunger just a few days after arriving at the Greaters -but it had lived long enough to impress Lord Menator mightily.

  Menator had announced that he was 'giving earnest consideration' to making Slagger Mulps an admiral in his imperial fleet.

  In response, Jon Arabin had declared that he would duplicate the feat which Slagger Mulps had accomplished. He would sail to the terror-lands of the Deep South, capture a monster of the Swarms and bring it to Knock for Menator's inspection. Even now, the Warwolf was being readied for the expedition.

  'What news of King Tor?' said Drake. 'The ogre? He lives aboard ship in the Inner Sleeve as always.'

  'So we've not yet invaded Stokos,' said Drake.

  'Who thinks to conquer Stokos overnight? We'll be years gaining the place, if we gain it ever.'

  Years! Drake did not like the sound of that at all.

  The next day, his sealing boat entered the Inner Sleeve, where lay three ships only.

  One was the Walrus, which seemed to be deserted. The second was the Warwolf, from which came sounds of hammering. The third ship was the Tarik. Drake found King Tor still living aboard the Tarik in a hold roofed by a tarpaulin.

  'So you're back,' said Tor, without much enthusiasm, when Drake reported.

  The ogre had toothache, constipation and a bad migraine - hence his enthusiasm for life was diminished.

  'Yes,' said Drake, a little hurt at such a cold reception. 'Do you want to hear where I've been? What I've done?'

  'Whatever your tale, it can't make me feel worse than I do,'said Tor. 'So tell.'

  Whereupon Drake launched into an account of his deeds and doings which was one part of fact to twenty parts of fiction. Then asked after his brother Heth.

  'Your brother,' said Tor, 'has gone on a raiding expedition to Stokos. We don't expect him back for twenty days. Meanwhile ... I believe the one they call the Walrus has a proposition to make to you.'

  'That
's interesting,' said Drake. 'Maybe he wants to reward me for defending his retreat from Burntos.'

  'Maybe he does,' said Tor blandly. 'You'll find him, I believe, in the Ironbar.'

  'The Ironbar?' said Drake, blankly.

  'It' s a new place, only open for twenty days. It' s at the top of the Thousand Stairs, wherever that is. They say there used to be a brothel up there, the Drumroll.'

  'Oh, that place!' said Drake.' Yes, I know how to find it!'

  And off he went, climbing the Thousand Stairs which wound their way up through the rock in utter darkness. Once he bumped into a raving madman who was suffering from delirium tremens, and twice he stepped on bodies which felt more than a little dead.

  At last Drake won through to the Ironbar, a pirate tavern occupying a monstrous cavern set high in the cliffs of Knock. Gaunt daylight breathed in through a cavemouth which gaped to a killing drop free-falling to the wave-wrinkled sea.

  When Drake entered the Ironbar, there were half a dozen groups of pirates lounging back in the comfort of bean-bags, drinking, gambling, talking or sleeping. Most had been there for half a dozen days or more already. At the back of the cave, a bare-breasted whore was dancing to the slovenly music of a drunken trombonist. Closer to the daylight, some gamblers were feeding rats to a spider the size of a wolf which occupied a cage of gleaming copper.

  Drake looked around for the Walrus. But Slagger Mulps saw him first.

  'Aaagh,' said the Walrus. 'So here you are! Brought your blood with you, have you, in payment for treachery?'

  'Treachery!' said Drake, cursing himself for being so stupid as to have ventured to the Ironbar without a weapon. 'What's this treachery you speak of? I shared every risk of your voyage, aye. Then risked my life to cover your retreat when we were attacked on a certain island I could name.'

  'I'll name it, no problem,' said the Walrus. 'The island was Burntos, where we provisioned after capturing the Neversh in the terror-lands. Aye. Then you tempted us into a little raiding on the side - and betrayed us to the soldiers of the place. You gut-knot sprogling brat!'

  'That's fighting talk!' said Drake, measuring the distance to the door to the Thousand Stairs.

  'Aye, it is,' said the Walrus. 'And you've brought no weapon. Well - have this one.'

  So saying, the Walrus took the sword worn by Simp Fiche, one of the half-dozen cronies gathered around him, and tossed it through the air to Drake, who caught it by the hilt. The weapon balanced nicely in his hand.

  'You still talk of treason, then?' said Drake.

  He slipped a third of Simp Fiche's blade into a crack in the cavern floor then applied pressure. The blade was battle-worthy: it did not break.

  'I talk the truth,' said the Walrus, gripping the hilt of his own blade with his two-thumbed fist.

  'You'll talk apology,' said Drake, who doubted he would survive for long in the Teeth if he got labelled as a traitor, 'or our blades will talk death.'

  'Oho!' said the Walrus, his green beard shaking as he laughed. 'Death! That's a big word for a little boy. Do you mean it as a challenge?'

  T do,' said Drake, his voice harsh and hard, like hammer against anvil. Now he was armed, he had no need to run. Mulps, from the sound of him, had been drinking. Drake should be able to kill him easily enough, if it came to a fight.

  'Withdraw your challenge,' said the Walrus. 'Withdraw it, aye, then cut off four of your fingers as punishment for treachery. Do that, and we'll forget about the past.'

  'Four fingers!' said Drake. 'You must be mad, man! The challenge stands!'

  'Then I,' said Ish Ulpin, rising to his feet, T will champion the Walrus in this matter.'

  As Ish Ulpin rose, Slagger Mulps sat down, smiling.

  'What's this?' said Drake, alarmed. 'Is friend Walrus scared to meet me, man to man?'

  'You're not worth his time,' said Ish Ulpin.

  And, drawing his blade, he strode toward Drake Douay, intent on a kill. Drake hurled Simp Fiche's sword at Ish Ulpin and fled, descending the Thousand Stairs with a speed nothing short of amazing.

  He was still breathless by the time he gained the deck of the Tarik, where he reported his plight to King Tor.

  'You ran away!' roared King Tor. 'You disgusting little coward!'

  'Man,' said Drake, 'you don't understand! Ish Ulpin's a killer, aye, fought for years in Chi'ash-lan, killed fifty men as a gladiator, I've heard the stories!'

  'I'm not a man,' said Tor, 'so don't address me as such. I'm an ogre. And proud of it. And I'll tell you this - it'll be an ogre my daughter marries, not a man. I've had my doubts about you for a long time. Now they're confirmed. You disgusting cowardly little bit of scuttling vomit! Get out of here before I crush you spineless!'

  Drake, in terror, quit the Tarik, running so fast he almost became airborne. Tor hurled abuse - then hurled a water-cask. The barrel hit the raw-rock flanks of the Inner Sleeve just above Drake's head, exploding into a shower of wood and water. Drake ducked into the nearest tunnel, ran deep into the shadows then cowered there panting, as shaken as a rat pursued by a pack of hunting dogs.

  'Man!' muttered Drake. 'This is but rough!'

  How had things gone so wrong so fast? He had returned to Knock expecting to be welcomed as a hero - expecting to claim his share of the glory of the capture of a Neversh by the Walrus, to win the acclaim of brave men and bold, and to have his rights to King Tor's daughter and the throne of Stokos generously confirmed.

  Instead - well, it looked like he'd be lucky to get off the island alive.

  What's my options?

  He could run, stealing a boat if need be. In which case Ish Ulpin would eventually hunt him down and kill him, unless he left the Greaters. He could take service with Lord Menator. But that hard-nosed warlord might perhaps hand him over to Tor or the Walrus, as a gift.

  Heth, Heth, I wish you were here.

  But Drake's brother Heth was far away, in Stokos or elsewhere. He had to handle this one on his own. He soon saw he had only two chances of sure survival - to leave the

  Greaters entirely or to find a pirate captain to shelter him.

  I'll not leave. The game of power, that's played out here. If I want a share of Stokos, I've got to stay. Aye. Throat it out to the finish. We'll conquer the island soon enough. Aye. I want to be in on that, if just for the fun of slicing up Gouda Muck.

  As for pirate captains . . .

  Abousir Belench might have me. Or maybe not. What do I know about him and the Walrus? Is it kisses or knives? I don't know, man. Maybe they're lovers from way back. Or maybe at war to the knife. Man, if Belench proves a friend of the Walrus. . . no, I can't risk it.

  But Arabin . . . aye, there's no love between him and Mulps. They're in it to the death. So that's my chance. Old Jon, yes, he was plenty angry before. But - fresh hate of the Walrus! That'll charm Jon for certain, I'm sure of it

  Having thought such optimistic thoughts, Drake ventured back to the Inner Sleeve, and slipped aboard the Warwolf. He found himself face to face with Jon Disaster.

  'Why, Drake, man!' said Disaster, clapping him on the back, clearly delighted to see him. 'It's been a long time!'

  'Just a voyage or so,' said Drake. 'Not that long at all, though much has happened. Where's Arabin?'

  'Why, the man's in his cabin, staring out charts and such. We sail for the south tomorrow.'

  'Monster-hunting?' said Drake.

  'Aye,' said Disaster, all enthusiasm. 'Slagger Mulps got a monster from the terror-lands, so we can too. If the Walrus can make admiral, let's have the Warwolf make admiral too.'

  'Why so much love for Arabin's ambition?' said Drake.

  'It's the treasure I'm thinking of, man,' said Disaster. 'An admiral's share, oh, that's rich for certain. If we go on conquest with Warwolf as admiral, we're sure for a cut of the loot. So we're more than ready to run the risk.'

  'And so am I,' said Drake warmly. T wish to pledge my life again to the noble Warwolf, aye, and go on quests of high adventure with this ship and
her noble crew.'

  'Aaagh, and your farts sing sweetly too!' said Jon Disaster, with a laugh. 'But - Drake, man. Seriously. The Warwolf's a mighty proud man. Don't you understand that? When Arabin spoke against Menator's wars of conquest and you spoke for - he took that mighty hard.'

  'So maybe he'll rip me sideways,' said Drake. 'And maybe not. It's a risk I'll dare.'

  And Drake dared himself as far as Jon Arabin's cabin, where the Warwolf, stony faced, listened to his explanation of his plight.

  'So you see,' concluded Drake, having spoken more honestly than was his wont, T need help, man, I need help bad. I can't face Ish Ulpin. That brute's a killer. The Walrus, oh, I could take him drunk - aye, maybe even sober. But Ish Ulpin? Never!'

  'What do you expect me to do for you?' said Jon Arabin in a voice hard as thrice-baked sea-biscuit.

  'Why, take me to sea with you, that's all I ask,' said Drake. 'A fair share of work, risk, suffering terrible, fear formidable and—'

  'And nothing,' said Jon Arabin. 'I'll have nothing to do with you. I've made that plain already.'

  'But you're my captain, man!'

  'No longer,' said Arabin. 'You're the man who spoke against me when the pirates met in conference. You're the cook's boy who hoped to make me a servant of sorts if you came to power on Stokos.'

  'Man,' said Drake, unhappily, 'if I remember right, I wanted to make you lord of all my seapower.'

  'A servant,' repeated Arabin.

  'But you're chasing a position of the same sort under Menator,' said Drake. 'Yet you hate the man, if I'm a judge of hates. But since Mulps may be admiral, you must be admiral too, aye, nothing else will serve. Well, then - if it's good enough for you to be admiral under Menator, then why not under me?'

  Drake had failed to remember that nothing will make an angry man more furious than a touch of logic which threatens to destroy the legitimacy of his rage. Jon Arabin came to his feet with a roar - and Drake, wisely, fled yet again.

  He'll cool down. Aye. Then come to reason. But it'll take time. And the Warwolf sails tomorrow! I've got to win time, man. I've got to be with old Arabin when his temper cools. Aye. So that means. . .