Magic, Sorcery and Witchcraft

by Stas Borodin

  The stranger’s face was obscured by shadows, but the very sound of his voice gave me the chills.

  “Who’s there, Bevid?” another voice boomed. This one was a hundred times more terrifying. Right away I imagined a savage-looking giant with a wooden leg and an eye patch. It must be the captain.

  “Looking for you, sir,” said Bevid. “More of your bastards, I suppose.”

  “Bring them here!” The walkway trembled under our feet from such a roar. “Gonna take a look whether there is a family resemblance.”

  Ice and I looked at each other.

  “Damn, Master Aydiola knows how to pick friends,” Ice growled. “Remember my words, pal, we gonna be scrubbing this deck for the next few months…”

  Bevid threw our bags carelessly over the rail. “Welcome aboard, kids!”

  I looked around. The deck was fairly wide, five metres at least. The boards were scraped white, and neatly coiled ropes and folded canvas were stacked along the parados. Along the rails I saw a few scorpions and ballistas covered by sailcloth.

  “Go to the stern,” Bevid nodded. “Captain’s there.”

  This Bevid fella looked like a real sea wolf. He had a shock of jet-black hair, a thin pomaded moustache and an old scar running down his cheek and disappearing under the collar of his blue uniform shirt. He had a red sash around his considerable waist and a short sword in a worn leather scabbard. The seaman went barefoot; I couldn’t even imagine a boot that could accommodate such a monstrous feet.

  “Have you seen his flippers?” Ice giggled in my ear. “Just like a seal’s! No wonder he became a sailor!”

  On the stern we saw a frail-looking elderly man sitting under an awning. A folding table in front of him was covered with neatly stacked coins. A bone abacus quietly clacked as his long gnarled finger deftly threw coloured beads from side to side.

  “Excuse me, where can we find the captain?” I asked.

  The man continued to count.

  “Are you deaf?” Ice raised his voice. “He said we’re looking for the captain!”

  “You found him!” The deck shook under our feet from his mighty roar.

  The old man put the abacus aside, folded his hands on his belly, and leaned back squinting.

  “The scammers from last week were of better quality, I must say,” he winced. “These two suck. Maybe they are yours, eh, Bevid?”

  Bevid rubbed his calloused palms, producing a sound like a plane rasping over a splintery board.

  “I knew a pretty redhead once”—the sailor winked at Ice—“too bad I don’t remember her name …”

  “We are no bastards.” Ice sounded embarrassed. “Mark, give him the letter, quickly!”

  I nodded and quickly placed the letter on the table in front of the captain.

  “What is it?” He squinted suspiciously. “I have to warn you, lads, you’re getting no money from me.”

  “And we were told that we were expected here,” I sighed. “There must be some misunderstanding.”

  The captain glanced at the seal and his face changed immediately. He grabbed the letter, beaming like a small sun. “Thank Orvad, you finally arrived!” He jumped to his feet, almost turning the table. Stacks of coins began to tremble and topple. Gold pieces clinked, jumping onto the deck. Ice and I were ready to go after them, but the captain stopped us with a wave of his hand. “I beg you, don’t bother.” He pointed to the chairs standing in the shade of the awning. “Sit down, my friends, and please excuse our rudeness!”

  We took our seats, warily eying our unpredictable host.

  “So happy to meet you, gentlemen.” The old man shook our hands vigorously. “Captain Gormant – at your service.”

  “Ayssived,” muttered Ice. “You can call me Ice.”

  “Marcus Grimm.” I bowed. “Mark will be fine.”

  “Master Ayssived.” The captain grinned, unwilling to part with my friend’s hand. “I never dreamed of getting a first-rank wizard and his apprentice on my humble ship. With your help, our enterprise will finally bear fruit!”

  Wild-eyed, Ice stared at the captain, and then he looked at me. “I think you are mistaken,” he began. “My friend and I—”

  “No, no mistake,” said the captain, waving the letter. “You were appointed to my ship. Look, The Punisher! Captain Gormant! It’s all here!”

  He put the letter under our noses. “I knew Master Aydiola would keep his promise.”

  We stared at the sprawling wizard’s signature and his personal seal.

  “Dear Gormant,” said the letter. “I am sending you, as promised, two of my best pupils – Ayssived of Antraga, wizard of first rank and his assistant, Marcus Grimm. Although they may not look much, I want to assure you they are very formidable and wise beyond their years. I wish you good luck and seven feet under the keel. Your friend, Aydiola Glef.”

  This was funny and unexpected. Ice swelled with importance, shoving the letter away and stretching his long legs under the table.

  “Just can’t get used to the fact that I’m already a full-blown wizard,” he chuckled. “You see, the ink on my patent is still fresh…”

  “Very, very fresh,” I nodded seriously.

  “To Annuvir with the patent! You got Aydiola’s recommendation, that’s all that matters.” the captain smiled. “It’s a great honour for us!”

  “Likewise,” I said, furtively poking the freshly baked wizard in the ribs. “Isn’t it, teacher?”

  Ice deflated like a punctured balloon. “Yes of course! A great honour! You have such a big ship, captain! A real monster!”

  Master Gormant brightened. “Have you ever sailed on a pentera, boys? Well, I can promise you a lot of new experiences. You gonna see her in action pretty soon and then you’ll find out why we call her Punisher!”

  “In action?” Ice squeaked and his cheerful expression turned sour. I guessed he wasn’t a big fan of naval warfare.

  “Of course.” The captain nodded with pride. He took a rolled map out of an open chest, brushed away the remaining coins, and spread it in front of us.

  “The sailing season has just begun and pretty soon these waters will be swarming with pirates. Our task is to find their bases and destroy as many pirate ships as we can.”

  The captain smiled, looking at his personal wizard. “Without your help”—he ran his finger along the jagged shoreline—“it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  Ice’s face puckered, as if he was sucking a lemon. “Happy to be of service…”

  At that moment I saw through Master Aydiola’s plan. He probably thought that my very presence would bring luck to the whole enterprise.

  “Can we borrow your map?” I asked.

  The captain nodded vigorously.

  “Once we’re on the open sea we’ll tell you where to go.”

  Captain Gormant stood up and shook our hands. His fingers were thin like fish-bones, but his grip was as strong as iron. “You could stay here under my awning, boys. It’s gonna be a hot day.” He looked up at the sky. “Breakfast will be served as soon as we leave the port. Now, please excuse me, I have a warship to run.”

  “Have you gone mad?” Ice hissed once we were alone. “I know nothing about navigation. What do we do now?”

  “Just wish us luck!” I said. “We’re gonna need it!”

  Chapter 7

  Captain Gormant took the rudder, overseeing a dozen small rowing boats pushing the pentera away from the pier. At Bevid’s command, two hundred and fifty oars foamed the water in sync and our ship slowly moved forward. Ice and I were standing at the prow, listening to the loud hiss of the ram splitting the turquoise waves. My lips tasted of sea salt, the sun shone in my eyes, and the wind was playing with my hair. The smell of the sea was intoxicating. I wanted to climb the highest mast and cry for joy.

  A couple of minutes later, we saw the magnificent panorama of the city, witnessed only by the indifferent fishermen and lucky sea travellers. Hundreds of ships crowded at the stone pier
s, forest of masts and rigging, coloured sails, all kinds of flags and pennants. All of this moved, tilted, and swayed as the port breathed like a huge living being, and above it all, the white city walls.

  Mighty squat towers and small graceful turrets decorated with shining spires climbed up the hills encircling the city. Beyond the city walls I saw the slated roofs of cathedrals, the walls of palaces and the tall arches of the aqueducts. Only the belfries of the majestic Orvad’s Temple were missing, just an ugly soot-covered hole between the buildings.

  I held my gaze on the beautiful building of the Academy. I wanted to believe that Master Aydiola was watching us depart too, and probably even waving goodbye. I waved towards the coast, just in case.

  For a while we sailed through the passage between the high stone walls that protected the harbour. Two hundred and fifty oars sliced the water as one, pushing the ship forward. We easily outpaced the unwieldy traders towed toward the sea-gates by scores of small rowing boats.

  Laughing marines climbed from the cargo hold onto the deck. They took off their heavy armour, leaving only weightless white tunics. The thin fabric fluttered behind their backs just like wings, and I thought that they looked very much like a noisy flock of careless seagulls.

  With my feet I felt a measured beat of drums deep beneath the deck. Heavy and monotonous like the pounding of a huge living heart.

  “How do you like our beauty?” Bevid asked. He stood leaning on a prow-beast, chin forward, eyes narrowed, wild hair fluttering in the wind, bristling moustache defying all the elements.

  “She’s amazing!” I said. “It seems that she’s flying, barely touching the water!”

  “Well, we made this show just for you two,” Bevid grinned. “Usually we don’t strain our oarsmen without need. Once in the open sea, we’ll set the sail and give them a well-deserved rest.”

  Soon, the stone walls were behind us, and we passed under the menacing flamethrower’s pipes protruding from the sides of two massive guard towers.

  A few more oarstrokes and The Punisher broke into the open sea. The captain shouted something unintelligible; Bevid whistled, gesturing with his open palms. The oars on the left board hung in mid-air, dripping water. Suddenly they reversed their direction, striking the water once again. The huge ship turned on the spot and sailed smoothly along the shore.

  Bevid barked a new command, and half of the oars disappeared immediately, drawn into the ship’s hull from both sides.

  “Let’s go,” the first mate said when the manoeuvre was complete. “The captain awaits you.”

  I laid the map on the table, holding its corners down with heavy books. Ice took a chair and nodded.

  “My apprentice will choose what course should be taken,” he said. “Of us two he possesses the most remarkable intuition.”

  I took just one look at the jagged shoreline, at hundreds of islands, bays and straits, and suddenly felt myself helpless. My most remarkable intuition remained silent.

  “Can you show me where the trade routes are?” I said. “And, if possible, mark them for me on the map.”

  The captain and his first mate leaned over the table.

  “The fact is,” Captain Gormant sighed, “this map isn’t very accurate. It shows only the largest islands, those with water sources or permanent dwellings. There are hundreds more, not worthy of mentioning.”

  “Exactly,” Bevid confirmed. “Any piece of rock where you can get the ship out of the water for the night can be used as a hiding place.”

  “We trade with many islands,” continued the captain. “These are the main trade routes.” His pencil left a faint mark connecting the islands together. “Mino, Artera, Piles and Gonkor. Mino sells wine and marble, Artera sells fine fabrics, Piles has got grain, Gonkor sells oil, hemp and leather. The closest to us is Artera. Gonkor and Piles are the farthest. Island Anki is located a little farther away, but the voyage takes twice the time with traders visiting every major port on their way.”

  “I see these routes joining together.” I poked the map with my finger.

  “Yes, the traders usually bunch up, forming small fleets on their way to Paara.”

  “Very wise. And where is the most dangerous place?” I asked.

  “Here, on the way to Itar.” Bevid outlined the area with his finger. “But no one is safe in the open sea. The pirates make fleets of their own and rob the merchants even in plain view of Paara.”

  “Not only the merchants,” Captain Gormant added. “They plunder farms and coastal settlements as well. They take provisions, water, slaves. It is impossible to guess where they’ll strike next time.”

  “So the most dangerous area is here,” I said. “And this one is the most tempting?”

  “Good guess.” Bevid cracked his knuckles. “Some ships are loaded beyond their capacities and move like lazy sows. These rich merchants can afford to employ whole fleets of Itar’s warships, and their chances of reaching Paara unscathed are much higher.”

  “Understood,” I nodded. “Now tell us how you find the pirates. The sea is vast and you have but one warship.”

  “We have spies.” Bevid lowered his voice. “We pay people who know how to listen. Sometimes it works, sometimes not.”

  “Actually,” Captain Gormant sighed, “any local fisherman can be a pirate. They make teams of their own or get hired by some infamous pirate captain. After the raid they disperse just like a fog, returning to their previous occupations.”

  I looked at the map and for some reason could not take my eyes off a tiny piece of land called Porsk.

  “What about this place?” I asked, pointing at the island.

  “Nothing good,” Bevid spat. “It was inhabited once, but a hundred years ago it was swept clean by a terrible plague. Since then no one has dared venture there. Not us, not traders, not pirates.”

  “Right!” I perked up, tracing the pencil lines with my finger. “Just take a look how close it is to all the trade routes.”

  “Have you missed the plague part, boy?” Bevid grinned. “People avoid this island for a reason. For a damn good reason! If one man gets sick, the whole crew is doomed. There ain’t no cure.”

  “Your tale is a hundred years old, right?” said Ice. “According to Master Gviatuk’s treatise on diseases, no plague can exist without a carrier. The epidemic kills itself when the last carrier dies.”

  “What if the plague was caused by some local pathogenic miasma?” said the captain. “It might still linger there.”

  “That’s hardly the case.” Ice shook his head. “No one would settle on such an island. There is nothing to fear, my friends, a hundred years of quarantine is more than enough.”

  “We should go and check this island out,” I said decisively. “We can watch it from afar if you want. No need to barge in right away.”

  “Sounds like a plan!” Captain Gormant looked relieved.

  “With all due respect, my dear wizards, I must object—” began Bevid.

  “Do you have a better proposal?” snapped the captain. “I thought not.”

  The first mate looked at the captain disapprovingly. “The crew will be unhappy. Very unhappy.”

  ✽✽✽

  The crewmen scaled the mast nimbly and lowered a big rectangular sail. Pale blue cloth fluttered, catching the wind.

  The long oars were out of the water and neatly stacked in the middle of the ship. Laughing oarsmen filled the upper deck, making it crowded like a village square on market day. The men were strong and deeply tanned. Their long arms were well muscled and their wide chests thick as barrels. For starters they relieved themselves, shooting sparkling yellow arcs overboard, and then they formed a long winding line to the pots filled with steaming porridge and open wine amphorae.

  “You have such a huge crew!” said Ice, swallowing a mouthful of sour diluted wine.

  “You have no idea,” muttered Bevid. “I have a hundred more on the lower decks. Rapists, pimps, murderers, arsonists – you name it. Paara’s magistra
te provides me with the worst scum possible.”

  “And do you ever let them out too?” It was my turn to be surprised. “How do you deal with such a lot?”

  “Easily,” the first mate said. “They are all chained down below to damn benches. For them the only way out is overboard in a stone-filled sack.”

  “Everyone should have the opportunity to atone for their crimes,” said the captain. “Remember that, and don’t forget to feed them as well.”

  “I’m no jailer,” said Bevid. “And my ship is no prison!”

  The first mate left, muttering something under his breath.

  “He is a good man,” the captain grinned. “And a faithful friend, once you find a way to win his trust.”

  The oarsmen sat along the bulwarks, hiding from the scorching sun in the shadow cast by the shrouded scorpions and ballistae. I heard merry clinking of spoons on copper plates, laughter and snatches of coarse jokes.

  “Damn, they look happy,” Ice said. “I think it’s unnatural. They must be mad from all this heat and hard rowing!”

  “Not at all.” The captain looked amused. “We use oars only in battle or when the sail can catch no wind. My oarsmen are free and well-paid men. Almost a family. Take my Bevid, for example, he was an oarsman once as well.”

  “What about the slaves?” Ice raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you afraid they could break free and kill you all?”

  Captain Gormant shook his head. “Why would I? I trust my men.” The captain nodded at the laughing crowd. “I trust them with my life.”

  It was a beautiful day, and I didn’t want to think about the bad things. White wispy clouds slowly drifted across the blue sky and the shadowy silhouettes of the islands loomed far in the distance. Squinting against the sun, all of a sudden I felt drowsy. I went back to the awning and curled up in the captain’s striped hammock.

  From up there I could see the whole upper deck. I saw Bevid laughing and slapping some sailor’s tattooed back. I saw rolling dice; I saw tiny silver fishes jumping out of the water and flying next to the ship, gliding on their scarlet fin-wings. My eyes slowly closed, and for the first time in many days, I fell into a restful sleep.