BlackThorn

by DeWayne Kunkel

G’relg kept a tight grip on the tiller as they swung out to the southwest. He was studying the horizon with concern. Perhaps Dulrich had been right this appeared to be more than a small squall.

  The sun was up but very little of its light was piercing the thick veil of clouds above them. He wanted to go north back to Cythera but the storm stood in their path. He decided to ride the storm's wind and eventually circle around it. Bright flashes of light shone along the front, a testament to the storm’s fury.

  It was nearing noon and the weather had progressively gotten worse. The boat was being tossed about on waves as high as thirty feet. The wind was threatening to tear away the sail at any moment, and the freezing rain lashed down at them stinging their faces. Lightening flashed through the clouds accompanied by deafening peals of thunder.

  The men were getting angry with G’relg. It was his order that had them put to sea in the path of this storm. A massive foam capped wave washed over the vessel drenching them all with freezing water.

  One of the men had had enough, “Don’t be a fool G’relg!” He shouted over the roaring wind. “Turn back now and we may yet live to reach shore.”

  G’relg’s hand shot to his dagger, “Mind your tongue Shoffal, lest I cut it out.” He shouted back.

  “Damn it G’relg!” Shoffal cursed. “It will profit us nothing if we drown!”

  Dulrich stood using the ship's mast to steady himself against the pitching deck. “He is not alone,” he said glaring into G’relg’s eyes.

  “A bit of weather and the lot of you turn tail and run, little more than a pack of beaten dogs.” He grumbled, his voice betraying a hint of fear as well. This storm was the kind that would frighten the most seasoned sailor.

  “Turn the ship back,” Dulrich yelled.

  “That way leads to the very heart of this blow!” G’relg shouted.

  “Aye,” Dulrich nodded. “And the nearest land for miles. Turn her back or we turn her ourselves.”

  G’relg was no fool he could see that the men had their knives drawn and murder burned in their eyes. “Very well,” He conceded. “How many of you wish to spend an evening on an island full of revenants?" He asked seeking to play on their fears.

  “The vengeful spirits of the men we murdered are sure to be out for our hides. We are safe enough on the water but once we touch their land were doomed.” He could see his words were having an effect. Knives were returning to their sheaths. There wasn’t a man here who wanted to face the undead. He had gambled, playing on their fears and won.

  Dulrich looked at the men in disgust, “Are you men or children to be frightened by such talk?” The sheepish looks he got in response set aside any hopes he had of wresting power from G’relg. He sat down his hand upon his knife, he knew it was only a matter of time until G’relg would try and kill him.

  The ship sped before the wind the rigging threatening to break under the strain. The wind grew fierce its direction no longer steady. Waves washed over the sides frequently. Two men were lost when a large wave crashed down onto the deck. Sweeping them over the side into the dark water.

  It had grown so dark Casius could no longer tell where the sea ended and the sky began. The temperature plummeted and ice began to form on the lines.

  Casius clung to the rowing bench for all he was worth. The water threatened to drag him over the side with each crashing wave. His arms were growing numb with cold, his thin nightshirt offering little protection as it had been soaked completely through.

  One of the sailors tossed a leather cloak to him. It was old and filthy, smelling of urine. Casius was thankful nonetheless. He tried to thank the man but the sailor smacked him across the mouth.

  “Keep your gratitude to yourself,” The man said in disgust. “You’re worth nothing dead.”

  Casius wrapped the offending garment about himself. Trying not to think about the fleas and lice that must be teeming within it.

  With the coming of night the storm continued to grow stronger, becoming more violent by the hour. Its waves reached epic proportions; becoming rolling mountains of foam capped death.

  The tiller was suddenly torn free of its mountings, nearly pulling G’relg over the side with it. Without a rudder the vessel was now completely at the storm's mercy.

  They tried to use the oars but they were wrenched from their hands by the violent water. The sail finally gave in with a sharp ripping sound. It was shredded, flying from the spar in tatters, the canvas popping loudly.

  For two days the sea tossed the boat about mercilessly. The crew could do nothing but hang on for life. Exhausted and half-frozen they prayed to whatever gods they believed in to spare their lives.

  On the morning of the third day the boat's mast split in two. The broken end kicked out striking one of the Raider’s in the face, removing his head in a spray of bloody pulp. The thick timber fell overboard, tearing a gaping hole in the boat's side. Water began pouring into the craft, faster than they could bail.

  The boat was struck violently on its side by a powerful wave. The ship rolled hard over and for a moment it looked as if it would capsize.

  Casius clung to the bench, his grip reopening the gash on his palm. He ignored the pain and watched with morbid fascination as the dark blood washed over the wooden seat.

  G’relg was terrified. It appeared that the gods had forsaken them. The mighty Aikinor, god of the oceans was throwing his wrath at the helpless craft. He knew what he had to do. A sacrifice was needed to appease him. He drew his knife and his eyes locked with Casius’s. He saw hatred burning there. The boy actually had the nerve to hold his gaze.

  Casius tensed as G’relg pulled him to his feet by his collar. Standing with his legs braced against the rolling deck G’relg laid the knife across Casius's throat.

  “Aikinor hear me!” G’relg shouted at the storm. “With this life let your fury abate.”

  Casius knew he was about to die; He threw his head back with all the strength he could muster. His head struck G’relg soundly. He felt the man's teeth crumble with force of the blow. G’relg’s grip eased slightly and Casius threw the man aside. G’relg fell across the rowing seats, blood streaming from his broken nose. He spat out shards of teeth and tried to regain his feet.

  Casius leapt over the side. It would be better to drown than give the Raider the satisfaction of killing him. He hit the water and was shocked by how cold it was. The salt water burned in his wounds. Sputtering for air he reached the surface, and with powerful strokes he swam away from the floundering boat. It was only a few moments until he could no longer see the ship in the gloom.

  The waves carried him along. He gave up fighting their pull. Instead he focused his attention on staying above the churning froth. As he fought to stay alive a soft booming sound reached him over the roar of the wind.

  Casius’s heart leapt, a ray of hope giving him strength. It was the call of waves breaking upon a shore. He swam with renewed vigor letting the rumbling lead him.

  He tumbled down the face of a breaking wave and was violently slammed into the sandy bottom. As he clawed his way to the surface another breaker drove him back down.

  Battered and exhausted he staggered out of the crashing surf. He was on a small beach littered with debris. In the darkness to the northwest he could see the faint golden glow of lamplight.

  Casius wrapped his arms about himself the cold seeping into his weary muscles. The rain stung his flesh, numbing his face. He needed to find shelter and soon. Up the dunes he scrambled the long sea oats entangling his legs making him fall several times.

  Beyond the dunes he came upon a deeply rutted cart path. He sloughed through the mud towards the faint light. It brightened and faded as the rain fell in wind blown sheets.

  He passed several small buildings in the dark, from the smell he could tell they were used to house livestock. The light that drew his attention was coming from a window in a small wooden cottage. A crude fence constructed of driftwood surrounded it. Casius could see no gate in the darkness. He
ducked between the rails and crossed a muddy yard to the rickety porch.

  The windows of the cottage were shuttered against the storm. The wood was old and warped, through the cracks seeped the warm golden light flooding out onto the yard.

  Casius leaned against the doorjamb his ear pressed to the wood. From inside the cote he could hear the muted sounds of people speaking. An inviting smell of roasting pork drifted out from beneath the door. His stomach grumbled in protest it had been a long time since he had last eaten.

  Desperation overcoming his fear, he pounded on the door with his uninjured hand. The voices stopped and a shadow moved past the window dimming the light coming through the shutters.

  Casius waited but the door did not open. He pounded all the harder, shaking the door in its frame, and yet no answer came. He could no longer feel his feet and his cheeks burned hotly. He needed to get near a fire and soon. The only thing between him and warmth was the sturdy door.

  Trying the latch he found it locked. He wiggled it several times to no avail. “I need help!” He shouted, doubting anyone inside heard his call over the roaring wind. Stepping back he threw his full weight against the door. The lock snapped and he staggered into the bright light and warmth of the home.

  An elderly couple stood at the far side of the room. Their eyes were wide with fright. The heavyset man held a pitchfork before him. From the look in his eyes there would be little doubt that he would use it.

  “Be gone from my home, spirit!” He shouted waving the sharpened tines threateningly.

  The woman’s face relaxed and she looked at her husband with disapproval. “Carl,” She said sharply. “No spirit has come across our doorstep. It is only an injured boy.” She stepped out in front of her husband. “I am Winowa,” She said reassuringly. “And this oaf is my husband Carl. We will not harm you.”

  “Woman!” Carl snapped. “Step aside this instant!”

  “Carl, in the fifty years we have lived here you have never spoken to me in such a manner.” She gave him a look that made him flinch. “I will not have you start doing so now.”

  “You’ve never consorted with storm wrought spirits in that time.” Carl replied in a more congenial tone.

  “Carl Dunburrow, put that fork down this instant.” She grabbed the haft and pushed it aside, cutting him off as he started to reply; “No buts mind you. Unless you believe a spirit would stand there seeping blood onto my floor.”

  Carl lowered the weapon as he saw the blood dripping from Casius’s hand onto the polished wood. The boy was a mess his dark hair filled with sand and bits of sea grass. He wore a filthy leather cloak over a thin linen shirt that was stained with dried blood. A dark bruise surrounded a half-healed gash over his gray eyes. He was pale and frightened. He held his left hand cupped in an effort to catch the flowing blood.

  “You're damn lucky you picked our place, boy.” He said leaning the fork against the fireplace. “Most in these parts would have killed you, Bursting in here like you did.” He smiled revealing a mouth with few teeth. “Don’t just stand there dripping, come sit by the fire, while I see to that door.”

  Winowa took Casius by the arm and led him to hearth. He sat down heavily before the flames on a thick rug of woven wool. Casius could not remember a time when a fire had ever looked so inviting.

  Winowa placed a cup of hot tea into his shaking hands. “There now, you're safe here. Carl is a good man and will do you no harm.”

  Casius sipped from the cup, “Thank you.” He stammered through shivering lips.

  “Have you a name?” She asked.

  He nodded, “Casius.” His voice was cracked and hoarse. “Casius Rhaine of Kale.”

  “Kale,” Carl said, tying the door closed. “You’ve done a fair bit of traveling from Baln’s holdings.” Carl stopped he had turned and as Casius removed the soiled cloak he could see the angry red welts and torn cloth from G’relg's lash. “What the devil has happened to you?” he asked pulling a stool over to the fire.

  Casius looked into the dancing flames, his eyes growing moist as the all too traumatic memories came to mind. When he spoke it was in a voice torn by grief. “Raiders,” He said the word as if it were a poison. “They killed most of my people. Only a few of us were spared and taken aboard their ship, fated to become slaves upon Cythera.

  “A scarred man named G’relg led the raid. When the ship became damaged in the gale he sought to sacrifice me to Aikinor. I jumped ship and the sea drove me up onto the shore. From there I simply followed the light from your window.”

  Carl shook his head in amazement. “You’re damn lucky, Casius. The waters here are treacherous and filled with jagged rocks. The fact that you are alive at all is a miracle.” He patted Casius’s arm, “Though you may think differently now, one of the Gods was watching out for you.”

  Winowa set a bowl of water near the fire, “We need to get you some dry clothing and tend to those wounds. They will run with pus if we do nothing.”

  Carl nodded and went to the open doorway leading to a separate room. “I’ll see what I can find that will fit him.” he said over his shoulder. “He may want to eat a bit as well I’d wager.”

  Casius shook his head, “Warm and dry for now.” His stomach rumbled at the thought of food.

  Carl grunted at the sound. “Can’t say as I would have much of an appetite after going through what you have.” He stepped through the doorway disappearing into the room beyond.

  Casius handed Winowa the empty cup. “Where am I?” He asked.

  “You are in Lakarra,” Winowa answered refilling his cup. “Near the village of Ansell at the edge of the Copper hills.” She handed Casius the cup and examined the cut over his eye. “You can not remain here long I’m afraid. The Cytherans come here often and they will come looking for you.” She bound the wound on his hand with a clean cloth. “They never allow anyone to escape, this G’relg will hunt you down.”

  “Lakarra allows these Raiders on their shores?” Casius asked in disbelief.

  “Sadly yes,” Winowa nods. “Our King is cast from the same mold as their leader. He sees only profit and power from their relationship. The glitter of gold blinds him to the suffering of his people. They bring in their poison, Black Trumpet. Selling it to any who have the coin for it.”

  “ My being here places you in danger.” Casius began to stand “I must leave.”

  “Not tonight nor tomorrow. This storm will last that long at the least.” Carl said from the doorway. “Any raider ships out there,” He nods towards the ocean. “Will remain far off shore, and hopefully they wont survive this tempest.”

  Winowa helps him remove his shirt and gasps at the long cuts. “These will scar,” She gently applies an ointment to his back.

  Casius nods, “Those are the least of the scars I shall bear the rest of my days.”

  Winowa smiles sadly, “For you to say such a thing shows that there is hope. I see no hate or anger within you, only sorrow.”

  “My father once told me that a man is that which he chooses to be. It is the choices that we make today that shapes who we are yet to become.” Casius looked away uncomfortable beneath her gaze. “Should I feel hatred and seek revenge.” He shuddered at the thought. “I will not become akin to the men on that boat. G’relg’s lash will not make me change who I am.”

  Winowa smiled her eyes moist with sorrow. “That is good Casius, your father was a wise man.” Winowa patted his forearm in sympathy. “We had a son Casius, Peyetor was his name. When he was twenty a group of Raiders landed on our shore. They demanded our horse and cart, when he refused, they slew him.” She wiped the hint of tears from her eyes. “No one will dare resist them and there are a few in Ansell who would gladly turn you over to them for a pitiful few coins.”

  Carl handed Casius a small bundle of clothing. They were simple in design and smelled of cedar. Casius dressed while Winowa ladled out a bowl of steaming stew. The clothing was slightly big but they were clean and warm.

  Carl re
turned to his stool and stuffed a long stem pipe with tobacco. “Your safest bet will be to leave the coast and head inland.” He said lighting the pipe with a thin taper he had held into the fire. Puffs of rich smoke surrounded his head as he spoke. “You can move into one of the larger cities. There’s always work to be had and one more foreigner will draw no attention.”

  Casius nodded, he had not thought that far ahead. He had few options left and Carl’s suggestion at least offered him some hope for the future.

  “That’s it then,” Carl smiled exhaling a long stream of smoke. “When the storm passes I’ll take you to Graystone. It is a trek of three days, across the Copper hills. I have a nephew who lives there; he will see that you get off on the right foot.

  “Graystone is a large city, lying on the old trade road. It is far removed from any seaport and Raiders will not likely venture there. As safe a place as any I’d say.” Carl blew out a thick ring of smoke. “Do you have any skills?”

  “My father was Lord Baln’s Ship thane and he taught me much of his craft.” Casius answered around a mouthful of steaming stew.

  Carl frowned in thought. “Not much need for boat builders in Graystone,” he mused aloud. Then his eyes lit up as he had an idea, “Carpenter!” He nearly shouted pleased with himself for thinking of it. “Woodworking you know, how much different can it be, building a ship or a home.”

  Casius was less than enthusiastic. Boats, he knew but that was a far cry from what Carl was suggesting. “Your cousin, is he a carpenter?”

  Carl laughed, “No not him. He’s a merchant and scribe. Makes his living selling rare books to the nobles and writing up contracts and such.”

  Casius finished off the stew and handed the bowl to Winowa. “Thank you,” He said his stomach no longer aching. he was warm and full, and could not help yawning.

  Winowa handed him a thick blanket and a pillow of goose down. “Here,” she smiled. “You’re exhausted and need to rest.” She points to the back room. “Take the bed tonight.”

  Casius shook his head, “I can’t do that, and I’ll rest here instead, before the fire. You have done enough for me, I’ll not take your bed as well.”