by J. W. Webb
Rael watched Barin’s brig slip from his harbor. He shrugged indifference. So what, they had a head start? The trader would be his by nightfall. He noticed that one fellow still watched him from the stern, the others having gone below deck saving the big straw-headed Barin at the wheel. Rael saw the lone watcher raise a fist at him in hatred. He smiled in return sensing a challenge.
I’ll save you to last.
Rael reached down, grabbed hold of Roman’s severed head by the hair. Laughing hysterically he held it high before tossing it across the water to splosh and vanish in the choppy waves. The lone figure watched him in silence. Rael saluted him with his twin rapiers before turning to Pollomoi’s second.
“Get Cruel Cavan ready my ship,” Rael told him. “Have the crew await my arrival. I will personally accompany them in putting an end to this scum.”
An hour later The Black Serpent left the quayside at the head of thirty ships. Rael stood at the prow of his Serpent. Looking back, he raised a hand to acknowledge the city guard, whose spear points ensured those watching cheer loudly from the quay.
Rael had just emerged above deck after washing and changing his apparel. The Lord of Crenna was clad in matching black diamond-studded leather tunic and trousers.
He sported a silver blue headscarf, trimmed with pearls, and a broad scarlet sash girdled his waist. It was a trifle flamboyant, but then one must needs look the part. His cutthroat crew roared approval. Rael awarded them a lopsided grin. He was sort of happy. It felt good to be at sea again—as long as his headaches didn’t return.
Chapter 31: Loose Ends
Corin stood silently watching from the stern of Barin’s ship, his face resolute. He had locked eyes with the Assassin. Rael Hakkenon would not forget him. They would meet soon and Rael the cruel would die. He owed Roman that much.
Ariane joined him. The Queen said nothing, but her face was rouged by crying. She had wept openly when she saw her champion fall. The Queen seemed very young, almost a girl, not the survivor he’d become accustomed to.
“I will avenge him,” Corin vowed to her. “I swear to you, my longsword and sax won’t rest until I have sent the cursed soul of Rael Hakkenon back screaming to whatever shithole it surfaced from!”
Ariane didn’t respond, just looked up at him with those dark, sad eyes. Corin couldn’t stand it. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, and run his calloused hands through her hair. Instead he showed her his back, making briskly for the bow, his head clouded by a thousand doubts.
Ariane watched Corin’s awkward departure in silence, her face pale and lost.
You’re a bastard, Corin an Fol, walking away from me when I need you so much. Ariane shook her head and slammed her white knuckles hard into the rail. Turn around, damn you!
But he didn’t, so she cursed him again and went below.
Barin stood by Cogga at the wheel. With them was Zallerak. The bard had just emerged on deck. He alone hadn’t witnessed Roman’s fall. Corin joined them and ignored the bard. Instead he greeted Barin and Cogga. The three watched the Assassin’s sharks vacate the harbor and gather in pursuit behind them. The chase had begun again. No one on deck seemed to care.
Barin broke the silence. “How are you, lad?” Corin shrugged an answer. “My heart grieves for the loss of our friend,” Barin continued. “But Roman died well and sits amongst his forefather’s with head held high in honor.”
Corin nodded slowly.
Yeah. Maybe.
He glanced over at the bowsprit where the small huddled figure of Galed sat weeping amongst a large coil of rope. There was no sign of Cale. Corin assumed the boy had gone below deck, too.
“He was a brave man and a loyal friend,” Corin said to Barin after a long pause. He turned to the squire, who was looking at him in wretched silence “I shall avenge Roman, Galed,” Corin told him. “I have sworn to do so.”
“That won’t bring him back,” replied the squire, his eyes reddened with tears.
Barin nodded. “It’s a sad business,” he said. “I think, however, we have more immediate matters to deal with. Roman wouldn’t want us moping and lolling about like stranded seal cubs. Those sharks back there are among Rael Hakkenon’s prime raiders. They’re a deal swifter than those others we outran at Kashorn. And then there’s The Black Serpent. She’s in a class of her own.”
“Hakkenon’s flagship, think he’ll sail it himself?” Corin hoped he did so they could resume their recent courtesies.
“Aye, most likely, or else it’ll be the Serpent’s skipper, Cruel Cavan. That bastard’s second to none at sail craft. He alone the Assassin trusts. But I think we’ve pissed Rael off just enough to get him back on board again. They say he doesn’t sail much these days, preferring to lurk in that castle of his.”
“That was before Zallerak torched it.”
“There is that, too,” Barin rubbed his chin after searching for it through his beard.
“And there they are.” Cogga pointed back to the harbor now small with distance. He counted thirty dark sails perhaps an hour behind them. That was ignoring the three following their wake a mile to stern, gaining very slowly.
“Serpent’s said to be the fastest craft on the ocean,” Barin said, “and Cavan the canniest pilot. He’ll soon catch those other three up, us too if we don’t get some decent wind soon. Even if we do it’ll be a long run. They’re not likely to give up the chase this time. Not with himself on board.”
Bleyne joined them. The archer nodded when he heard Barin’s last comment. “The nearest three are gaining on us already,” he said calmly.
Barin nodded. “It will be tight, but once we get into deep water and pick up some good blow, we should be able to hold them off until nightfall. I hope,” he added with a wry smile.
Corin turned to Zallerak. The bard was still watching in silence and seemed lost in thought. “Can you aid us again, wizard?” Corin asked him.
“What, heh?” Zallerak looked hard at Corin “Aid you!” Zallerak snapped in irritation. “I have done little else since I happened upon your jovial acquaintance, Corin an Fol. And received small gratitude thus far, I might add.”
Zallerak’s expression softened. “I am not a tap, Corin. The use of sorcery, as you youngsters call it, has its price. That encounter at Kranek wore me out. I am not immune to fatigue.”
“Sorry I asked,” said Corin and turned away. “It’s just that if we get shafted, then you will too—unless you can fly, of course. But I am not sure that’s one of your skills?” Zallerak ignored him.
Corin shrugged and gazed astern. The nearest shark was almost upon them. Arrows sped over the water. Most dropped short, but one or two struck the deck.
“Luckily these pirates are crap archers, unlike the city guard” said Barin “The Assassin considers the bow a peasants weapon.” Bleyne raised an eyebrow at that. “But unless we get a helpful wind soon we’re buggered,” continued Barin, looking up at the sky and mouthing the word please.
“The next twenty minutes might prove challenging. I—” Barin stopped. He scratched his beard in sudden consternation. “Where the frig did she come from?”
Corin turned just in time to see the little girl, Urdei, blow him a kiss from the bowsprit. “Mind the rocks!” Urdei called across to them.
“Rocks? What rocks?” Barin gaped at the girl.
“Those rocks,” said Cogga, pointing to where a row of teeth-like islets showed just above the water. Corin didn’t understand why they hadn’t seen them before. They were making straight toward the bloody things. He suddenly had that nasty feeling something untoward was about to happen. He turned to glare at Urdei, but she’d disappeared from sight. So no change there.
And he wasn’t wrong, for when Barin swung the wheel and turned the brigantine, Corin noticed that the rocks turned with them. Corin frowned. Rocks shouldn’t do that. And then just at that choice moment, the kraken chose to reveal itself to them.
***
“So you let them get away?” Caswallon’s c
old eyes glared down at the tall man standing below.
“We were unlucky, milord. I—”
“I was informed you were reliable, Hagan, that you could be trusted for any task however challenging. Yet you stumble at the first fence and then have the gall to come creeping in here and ask for gold. Why shouldn’t I have you flayed, fed to my Groil or Gribble the Soilfin?”
“Because you know I’m useful.” Hagan shifted his feet. He hadn’t wanted to come here but needed to.
“Not lately.”
“And I know the brigand, Corin an Fol.”
“What is that to me?”
“Lord Perani told me you had an interest in such a one.”
Caswallon leaned back on the Glass Throne and sighed. He didn’t often come here, preferring his high tower, but it was a fine day outside and the sun filtering through the windows warmed his bones.
Aside Captain Hagan the palace was empty and eerie, his Groil standing guard outside. Caswallon had over two hundred of the creatures now, all primed and ready for his planned move against Kelwyn next month.
“May happen I do.” Caswallon tossed a wallet down on the floor at Hagan’s feet. “In any case he is one of the terrorists. I want them all dead, captain, all save Queen Ariane. But then you know that, don’t you?”
“Last I heard they were making for Crenna, milord.”
“Well, they’ve escaped,” said Caswallon. Hagan looked startled hearing that. Caswallon waved a hand. “They had help. It’s complicated. And the Assassin is in hot pursuit. Gribble arrived back half an hour ago with the news.”
“The Soilfin creature?” Hagan had glimpsed the foul goblin thing in a side room. It had winked at him whilst crunching on something unspeakable. He hadn’t lingered in the vicinity.
“The very same. At least I can rely on him to do a good job.” Caswallon’s dark gaze flicked at Hagan in contempt. The mercenary stood his ground and didn’t flinch. After a moment Caswallon relaxed his gaze. This Hagan had sand. Maybe he should reward the mercenary with a personal commission, providing he didn’t screw up again, of course. Caswallon waved a dismissive hand.
“The Assassin will most likely catch up with them at sea, but I want you as back up. This lot have an uncanny knack for avoiding my nets.”
“What would you have me do, milord?”
“Ride at speed down to Port Wind and Calprissa. You and your men need to cover both cities. If that little slattern does evade the Assassin, she’ll be making for one those ports. Don’t engage unless you have the advantage. They’re dangerous and I might need you for other contracts. Groil are useful but lack a certain initiative. Besides, once Ariane has landed, we can pick our place for ambush.
“And Corin an Fol?”
“Kill the bastard when you get the chance. But don’t do anything rash, Hagan.” Caswallon made a dismissive gesture. “Take the coin. There will be more when you return.”
“Milord.” Hagan reached down warily and plucked the wallet from the mosaic floor. He saluted Caswallon and made to turn.
“One last thing.”
“Milord?”
“Fail me again and I will feed you and your men to my new army. They’re always short of fresh meat. Now go, captain, and make haste south.”
Hagan saluted again and vacated the hall. “Bastard,” he muttered under his breath and then louder when he saw how tight Caswallon had been with his coin.
Borgil and the lads joined him in the tavern an hour later. Once informed, they made their way grumbling to the stables and got ready.
They left Kella City that afternoon. For his part Hagan wasn’t sorry.
***
Left to his thoughts, Caswallon folded his lean hands and took to gazing idly down from the throne. The Glass Throne, it would never seat a king again. Those days were over, thanks to him. Caswallon smiled his thin smile. He had done well, in the main.
The dragon’s visit had proved a shock, but he was over that. Things were in hand, his roof was repaired, the Queen and her fools would be dealt with shortly, and whoever aided them would be finished by Morak.
The Dog Lord had been quiet of late. Caswallon had tried to summon him but to no avail. But that happened now and then when the lines got blocked between here and limbo.
In any case everything was planned out meticulously. All that remained was trimming loose ends: the Queen, Kelthara City, and Duke Tomais of Morwella (missing and on the run). The two strongholds Point Keep and Car Carranis were still in the hands of his enemies, Starkhold and Halfdan. But they too would be dealt with by Leeth, so he didn’t have to worry there.
From his crystal, Caswallon had been watching the satisfying events over in Morwella earlier today. Vangaris had fallen. Bodies lay everywhere, but Caswallon, scrying, saw no evidence of the duke and his daughter among the well-born corpses lined up in neat rows outside the castle wall. He had specifically asked King Haal to kill every noble and assumed duke and daughter had fled the city as refugees.
No problem, his Groil would mop them up.
Perani had been out east holding a secret meeting with their new ally, the King of Leeth whose main force was camped along the river south of Vangaris harbor. The general had got back just in time to interview Hagan and inform Caswallon of a mutiny over in Kelthara. That city had always been trouble. Another job for Groil. That left just Ariane.
Caswallon leaned back in the throne and poured a large class of claret from the crystal decanter. He felt fairly content. He’d achieved most of his goals and was ready for the next stage, the invasion of Kelwyn and Raleen, Morwella having already fallen. Caswallon smiled again: By next year all Four Kingdoms would be his.
“Gribble, you there?”
“Never far away, Mr. Caswallon—unless I am far away, of course.” Gribble emerged dribbling, from the corridor outside. “Always happy to help.”
“Yes, yes. Go get Drol, Two-Heads, I need to speak with him.” The Soilfin departed and moments later returned with the huge shambling Groil.
“Gather a unit together,” Caswallon told Two-Heads. “Lead a foray east into Kelthara. Root out the trouble makers, and make your presence known in the city. I will not be gainsaid by upstart nobles.”
Kelthara had long been a thorn in Caswallon’s side. Most survivors from his recent pogrom had fled to that city. Kelthara was a nest of stewing malcontents he needed to pour hot water on fast. It was past time he cleared things up over there.
“Oh, and Drol.” Both heads gaped at him, the one on the right had its tongue lolling out. “Send a party north east. Duke Tomais of Morwella and his daughter are at large. They are harmless, but I’d sooner see them dead, if you take my meaning.” Two-Heads grunted and shambled away.
Caswallon sipped his wine. He remembered Lady Shallan, Tomais’s aloof daughter, Ariane’s cousin. Killing Shallan was yet another way to get at the Queen.
“What about me, Mr. Caswallon?” Gribble had that hurt, left out expression.
“Ah, I was just coming to that.” Caswallon smiled at the goblin whilst sipping his wine. “I’ve just the job for you, goblin.”
“I’m not a bloody goblin.”
“Yes you are, but I like you, so come on over and I’ll let you know my very special plans.”
“Do they involve eating?” Gribble enquired whilst hopping across to gaze hopeful up at the Glass Throne. You never knew your luck these days. Don’t ask don’t get.
***
Shallan gazed down at the fires raging through the city below. She wanted to ride back, sword in hand, kill the raiders single handed. She and her father had fled Vangaris several hours earlier. It felt like betrayal, but Duke Tomais had insisted.
“We need seek help!” he’d told her. “Forget Caswallon and Kelthaine. We’ll fare further south to Wynais or Raleen.”
“What of Vangaris, your city, and Morwella, your country, father?”
“It’s too late for both. Those who could fled this morning. As for the rest…” The duke’s fa
ce was ashen. He didn’t look well and the loss of his city had hit him hard. But they had no choice. Must survive, if only for Shallan’s sake. Tomais would have gladly perished alone in his library where his beloved Elenia passed away so very long ago.
Shallan didn’t understand him. His daughter tossed her haughty head and spurred the horse up the rise, her long chestnut hair wild and carefree in the wind and her rich velvet cloak billowing behind her. Tomais watched her crest the hill with bleak expression.
So beautiful, so headstrong, so like your mother.
The duke kicked his steed forward, following behind at a more leisurely pace, his heart heavy as a lodestone. They had a long, perilous journey ahead. Brigands and mercenaries were everywhere in these hills, and when they reached Kelthaine they’d have Caswallon’s spies to worry about—not to mention the Faen and other beings. Their journey would take them close to the Forest of Dreams, not a comforting thought. Best not dwell on it. The ride south to the Kelwynian border was through the wildest country. No time to tarry.
Evening found them far from the city. They set camp in a wood, ate dry beef, and dared not light a fire despite the bitter chill. Father and daughter took turn at watch. At some point Shallan slept despite the cold biting through her cloak and blanket. She dreamed…
Shallan walked the old wood again, through the creaking willows up toward the great oaks where the shrine showed dull between their knotty trunks. The Horned Man was waiting there, as she knew he would be.
Who are you?
“Your friend,” he said and turned away.
Wait…
The Horned Man stopped, his shadowy bulk framed by creaking trees.
Can’t you help us?
He turned slowly, gazed across at her with sad big eyes.
Perhaps. In the meantime heed my advice. Forget Wynais, child. Instead seek out the merchant’s villa in Raleen. Silon will help you if he can. But avoid the man called Corin an Fol. I see his shadow fading into yours…
