by M. J. Sewall
One of the women said, “Only small villages, some mountain tribes that have always kept to themselves. Aspora is yours, Cayne. You beheaded all of the major families; their remaining bodies will be loyal through fear.”
“Not all,” said Cayne, fists on the map table.
“Those two have fled,” said the second woman. “If they don't die in their small boat, no kingdom will take them in. They have no coin and nothing to trade with to even enter the canal.”
The third woman said, “Stop worrying about those two, they are alone in the large world. Focus instead on our deal. We helped you take Aspora, you help us attack the Kingdom of the Thirteen.”
“And their allies,” added the first woman, pointing to a circle on the map, an area of the sea outside the Kingdom of the Thirteen.
“It is too soon. If we leave with our large force, I will not be here to crush any uprising. I am the first man to take Aspora since ancient times.”
“And only with proof that you can attack other kingdoms with success, will you stay in power,” said the oldest of the three, “don't forget Kletus, your king of old, the one that made Aspora. He even brought Thure to their knees and ruled here the rest of his life. Cayne, you are that King now.”
The other woman said, “It must be now. The boy kings are weaker than ever. They are divided at the palace. Gordon is off to the Outlands; Mantuan is busy trying to stop an uprising of their own people.”
“We only have three airships,” insisted Cayne, making his point once again.
“Three Extatumm airships that make theirs look like toys.”
Cayne pressed, “Your airships still have the same weakness, don't they? That small problem of exploding from the sky?”
The eldest said, “Don't speak of weakness. Extatumm is still stronger than any kingdom. We have the future on our side. The Kingdom of the Thirteen is crumbling. The cowards surprised us at Thure. They knew more than we thought, but no spies will betray us again. We won't underestimate them again. We will destroy them.”
Cayne stared at them, “So it's personal.”
“Our father TrTorrin's death will be avenged, yes. But we will also be starting a new age, continuing his legacy.”
Cayne smiled, “As long as you keep your ideas out of my lands. You can convince other fools to declare themselves equals, or whatever lies you want to spread, but when I get back, I will be crowned King of all Aspora. It will be a new age for us all.”
“As agreed.” the youngest woman smiled. “and don't worry so much about their fleet of airships. We have special plans for them.”
“And any allies they might call to aid them,” added the third woman. TrTorrin's daughters smiled at Cayne.
“Let's stop talking and do it,” Cayne declared, pushing all his pieces forward on the table, “We leave at first light to invade the Kingdom of the Thirteen.”
Chapter 24: Fight or Die
Gordon woke up to a brick smashing into his head. Upon rubbing his forehead, he realized it was just a massive headache. He was laying on a wooden bench that was barely long enough for him; his legs were hanging off the end. Swiveling, he carefully brought himself to a sitting position.
His head throbbed as he looked around his small prison. It was just big enough for the bench and a bucket in the corner. It was empty besides that, and the room smelled of waste and rot. The bars were too close together to escape and were locked tight by a heavy lock.
Gordon looked to the other prison rooms that faced his across a narrow hallway, “Mother!” he shouted.
“Ugggh. Gordon don't shout. My head feels like it will pop off,” Ellice said as she sat up on her own bench.
“I wish mine would fall off,” said Aline from another barred room. “anything to stop this thumping.”
Ellice said, “Thank the gods we are all alive.”
“Is it just us in these cells?” Gordon said, trying to see into the other small rooms.
“Yes,” answered Aline. “The other three are empty. I guess we're the honored guests. I'll kill that sea lord next time I see him.”
Ellice held her head, “I'm so sorry about Harlow. I shouldn't have trusted him.”
Gordon replied, “You didn't know he was working with Sea Lords.”
“Everyone knows Harlow works with us,” said Loyce as he walked down the narrow aisle created by the space between the two rows of barred rooms, “except you simple minded Thirteeners. Always thinking the best of people. You never see things as they really are.”
Aline was at the bars, grabbing for the man. “Why don't you come closer, so we can have a little private chat.”
Loyce laughed, “So fierce! I am going to make a lot of money with you, little girl.”
Aline said nothing, and just kept staring into Loyce's eyes.
Loyce turned on his charm. “Sorry about giving you something to make you sleep. I promise you were not touched while you slept, other than to get you into these cells. I didn't think you would come willingly to my little island.”
“What island?” asked Ellice.
“It's had a few names over its history, but now it's called Loyce's Island. Not very imaginative, I know. But everyone gets the point that I own it.”
“What do you want with us? Ransom?” asked Ellice.
“Oh, haven't you guessed?” Loyce seemed disappointed, “Hmm, I suppose you fine honest folk haven't heard of my little business here. I want you to fight.”
“Fight what?” asked Gordon.
“You may not have heard of Loyce's Island. But some folks call it Fight Island,” he clarified.
“I should have guessed,” said Ellice.
“You monster,” hissed Aline.
“Oh, so you have heard of it,” said Loyce.
“Fight Island?” asked Gordon.
Aline answered, “It's a gambling island.”
Loyce interrupted, “Not the best way to sell the idea, little girl. It's so much more than that! Men and women from all over the world come here to make wagers. We have games you can wager on, but they mostly come for the dog fights, spider fights, chickens, just put a name to it and we have tried it. Of course, most come for the fights of men. Even more come for the women's fights.” He stared back at Aline.
Ellice asked, “And if we don't fight?”
“I can't make you fight, it's true. But I promise your opponent will fight you.”
Gordon asked, “What do we get for fighting?”
Loyce laughed. “You get to live, of course. Also, the more opponents you beat, the more privileges you get - better rooms, hot water, better food. The champions almost live like Sea Lords themselves. Well…” he considered, “…that's not true. Maybe like slaves of Sea Lords. But happy slaves, all the same.”
“So, they live like filthy liars, like you?” spat Aline through the bars.
Loyce took only a step closer, “I like you so much. I can't wait for your first fight.” He turned to Gordon, “Oh, and that healing bag of yours is in a safe place. When you need it, just call. We want our fighters strong, so take care of yourselves. We will feed you well. Your first fight is in the morning.”
Before anyone could argue, he was gone.
Ellice said, “Apparently anger is good for headaches. Mine is much better.”
Aline replied, “Mine will be better when I run my knife through his belly.”
“All in good time, Aline,” said Ellice. “I can't stop them from taking us to fight. But we all need to be very observant. Watch everything: how many men does he have? How they are posted, are they relaxed? Alert? Also, where our weapons might be – or any weapons we can use. With luck, we can find our escape after the first fight.”
Gordon said, “I won't kill anyone, mother.”
“Most likely all the fighters are regular people like us, those stolen out of their lives. But if things go badly… son, you may have to,” said Ellice, a look of deep worry clouding her face.
The food came and they ate well, as prom
ised. There was no reason to taint their food now, so they enjoyed what they could. Gordon used his supplies to balance his blood when he needed them. Then they took them back to wherever they were keeping them. They got blankets and slept a hard night on the benches. Just before morning, Gordon had a dream.
He was high over the sea, but he wasn't in any airship.
Gordon saw the fingers rising from the sea, along with the ships crushed in its palm. The mystic from Trunculin's trial was there, standing on a finger. He stared at Gordon and didn't blink, only pointed behind him, and Gordon was flying past him. He flew through the air and realized he was a shadow fin. He looked at his large wings as he dove toward a vast jungle. He saw a clearing of the trees, but the opening was covered with what looked like giant spider webs.
He wasn't in control of his own Jhalgon body, more of a passenger living inside it. The Jhalgon dove, but not for the webs. He, or it, went around and dove into the sea, just outside the vast forest. It was dark, and he couldn't see anything. Then he was suddenly out of the water, flying up a cliff wall and a stone tower stood by the edge. A human skeleton stood on it and even thought it was only bone, it began bleeding.
Gordon woke with a start, the lock on his cell opening. He was glad to shake off the disturbing dream. One by one they were taken to fight. Their guards were two large men he recognized from the ship. He didn't try to fight them, they were too big. Plus, he had no weapons. They led him through a series of tunnels, lit from above by daylight streaming in. We are underground.
He could hear the crowds before he saw them. Gordon was led to a metal gate, much like his prison room door. They opened it and shoved him in. The crowd went wild with cheers and boos as they locked the gate behind him. The floor was sand in the circular room covered with a dome of finely woven interlocking wooden bars. The walls were smooth stone except for small slots. He could tell he was underground for sure now, in a round pit. That meant that their cells were undergrounds too, explaining the reason they were so dark and damp.
That meant the only way out, was up.
The wooden dome above flexed as men yelled and cursed at him, pulling and pushing on the bars. The round fighting ring towered over him at least five men high. The people above crowded the barred dome, all staring down at him. The daylight kept long hours in this part of the world, and he felt the heat of the day, even in the pit. As Gordon studied the openings of the wooden bars, he saw no way out. Even if he could climb up somehow, they interlocked too closely for him to climb through.
A man walked up the wooden dome until he was on the top, swaying gently with the flexible wood. It was his stage of sorts, the man shouting above the noisy crowd, “This is a special fight today, good friends! This is no ordinary boy. This is the King-for-a-day Gordon from the Kingdom of the Thirteen, hero from the battle of Thure!”
Boos were heard, but a few cheers too. It was obvious that more than a few doubted who he really was. Gordon looked at the small openings all around the smooth walls, also too narrow get through. He wasn't sure what the slit-like openings were for.
“That's right, a real high and mighty king. And for his first fight, the high-class king will fight…” the other gate opened opposite him. A boy a little older than Gordon was pushed in, “…a lowly kitchen boy!”
The kitchen boy was terrified, even though he was older than Gordon. They both looked around the ring and then at each other. Gordon was glad there were no weapons in the ring; at least they were just supposed to beat on each other.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
“That's right, good friends, the poor fighting the rich! And for such a special fight, odds are doubled!” The men roared their approval. “Bets all in? Yes? Good! Now fight!” boomed the announcer, directing his command to the two boys.
The crowds roared, and the kitchen boy seemed more scared of the crowds hovering above than the boy he was to fight. Gordon got a little closer and said, “We don't have to hurt each other, let's just put on a good show and then we go back to our cells.”
The boy said, “They… they said it was to the death.”
Gordon looked at his own fists, “It's going to take a lot of punching for one of us to kill the other.”
The boy nodded his head and raised his fists weakly.
A strange sound bounced around the ring, metal on stone. They looked around again, and two shortknives slid down the slots, landing on the sand.
“Don't just stand there! Fight!” said the announcer.
The boy was a few inches taller than Gordon, more muscular. He picked up the shortknife and looked at Gordon, almost embarrassed, asking with his eyes what they should do next. Gordon picked up his own knife, shrugging, and they reluctantly circled each other. The kitchen boy was sweating so much he kept wiping his brow and blinking. Gordon had been training every day for half a year will all types of weapons. He wouldn't hurt this boy, so he thought of four different ways he could disarm him.
The crowd was continuously screaming, “fight!” like a song with only one word. It was nearly deafening. The boy ran at Gordon, jabbing with his knife. Gordon stepped aside at the last moment and let the boy fall to the ground, tripping over his own feet. The boy doesn't even know how to balance himself. Gordon feared the boy would fall on his own knife by accident. But he got back on his feet quickly and rushed at Gordon again.
Gordon was able to twist his body, using his foot to connect with the boy's privates, but not before Gordon felt the sting of the boy's blade. The boy doubled over in pain. Gordon touched the line of blood on his face. It was just a scratch, so Gordon quickly twisted the boy's wrist, and grabbed his knife away.
“Sorry,” Gordon said as he twisted one of the boy's arms behind him, and in his other hand, put the two knives to the boy's throat, whispering, “don't worry, I won't hurt you.”
The crowd howled. Gordon stood up and threw both knives to the far side of the ring. He stood up, still holding the boy's arm behind him. Looking toward the announcer, he raised his head and shouted “I won't kill…”
An arrow appeared in the kitchen boy's chest.
“No!” Gordon shouted and scanned the crowd above. He spotted the man with the arrow gun, and another on the opposite side of the ring. He let go of the boy's arm and laid him on the sand. He looked to the arrow, barely any blood around the shaft, and looked into the boy's face. It was too late. The arrow had gone straight through his heart and stopped it. The boy closed his eyes and went limp on the sand.
“This high and arrogant boy king is too good to play by our rules!” The crowd roared. “Well, those that break the rules must answer to a champion!” said the announcer.
The crowd cheered even louder. Gordon heard the metal clang of the gate at the far side of the ring. Cheers were mixed with laughter as the champion walked out of the shadows. He was bare-chested and clearly powerful. But Gordon was more concerned with the man's face.
It was Brenddel, and he looked very angry.
Chapter 25: Dead Weight
The secondman Tolan stood at the railing of the lead airship, wind swirling around his face on the open-air deck. The other two airships followed in formation, cutting a triangle pattern over the sea. He had helped in the search for Brenddel. He was sorry that Brenddel had such an empty, pointless death. But that won't happen to me. He would be ready for the battles ahead.
He scanned the seascape for signs of Harlow's ship. His long spyglass worked over the horizon, scanning in a practiced pattern. He would find him. An hour later, he did. As they got closer, he could see the damage. Fire had obviously ravaged the vessel. The sails were gone, so were most of the riggings. Only the masts were visible rising from the deck, a charred hint of what they had been. Tolan was surprised the ship was still above water.
They descended the airship, hovering near the wreckage, but out of range of any weapons, just in case Harlow had turned less than friendly, or in case the ship was controlled by Sea Lords. Men could be seen on deck and Tolan spo
tted some of the guards they had sent on the mission, mixed in with Harlow's men.
Tolan shouted to the deck, “Harlow! I'm roping down with my men. My weapons are aimed and ready. Is it safe to board?”
“It's safe,” Harlow yelled, waving his arms. They moved the airship over the remains of Harlow's ship. The men onboard looked exhausted, not dangerous. Tolan and two men roped down to the deck. Everywhere was twisted, charred wood. Harlow came to meet them. He looked ancient and beaten. His nose looked broken.
Despite being distinctly worse off than when he left their kingdom, Harlow still ambled to them, greeted them with his gruffness. He was still master of his own ship. “About time. I wasn't sure Ellice got a bird off in time.”
“We got the message. I came as fast as I could. What happened here? Where are your passengers?” asked Tolan, scanning the deck.
“Gone. Taken by the Sea Lord Loyce and his filthy crew. They thought they would sink us with fire, but I know how to save my ship from anything. Been stuck with no sails before.”
“I see. It's amazing you survived. A fire on the open sea.”
Harlow nodded, “I lost a lot of men. Only a handful left now, but we saved the ship, thanks to help from your soldiers. They're good men.”
“Yes. Very loyal to Brenddel and Mantuan. Where do I look next? Will this Loyce hurt Gordon and the others?” asked Tolan.
“I don't think so,” said Harlow, “He probably realized who they are. He knows how valuable that can be.”
“So, he'll try to trade them for coin?”
“Maybe,” the old man reasoned. “But he might just use them for the fights.”
“What do you mean?” asked Tolan.
“Loyce has an island off the outer ring of the Outlands.”
Tolan seemed hopeful, “Island? It is heavily guarded?”
“Yes and no. He has a large crew. But there are no stone forts or heavy weapons. More of a pleasure island. Gamblers go there to see the fights.”
