by Stas Borodin
Captain Gormant’s ceremonial armour was shining, the plume on his steel helm hanging limp, and his left hand resting on a thick leather-bound tome.
“Today we bid farewell to our fallen brothers,” he said. “They were the bravest among us, worthy to take a seat at Orvad’s high table. Their feat will be the stuff of legends and their descendants will marvel at their ancestors’ courage!”
The captain touched each corpse and each doll with his book. Then he drew his sword and pointed it at the setting sun.
“It’s a long road ahead of you, brothers,” he said. “Go now, before it gets dark!”
The whole world was stained crimson. The men’s faces turned into solemn copper masks. The deck and masts became blood-red. Every word uttered by the captain filled our hearts with pride for our fallen comrades.
The sailors solemnly lowered a long board into the water, dipping its end into the glittering path leading to the sun. The five rag dolls slipped down first, followed by a loud “Hurrah!”
Then the lower-deck oarsmen were sent along, but this time without much ado.
We stood in silence, looking at the sun disappearing behind the horizon. Once the first star blinked in the sky, Captain Gormant cleared his throat. “Their souls are far away already,” he said. “Let’s get back to the business of mortals.”
The sailors livened up, forming a circle around the mast, which was adorned by a swinging noose. A team of heavily armed marines dragged the bound would-be killer from the cargo hold.
Finally we were able to see his gaunt blood-smeared face.
“Look,” Ice pointed to the student’s branded forehead. “He was stripped of his Gift by the Seal of Rothe!”
I saw a barely healed scar in a shape of an eight-pointed star. The student looked up at the noose, winced and sniffed through his broken nose.
“You have committed the most hideous crime of all,” declared Bevid, looking down at the kneeling offender. “You tried to take the life of your friend and your fellow shipmate. For this you cannot be forgiven, and there will be no mercy.”
“He’s no friend of mine!” hissed Hlir. “Aspeni was my only friend in this bucket of filth!”
Bevid frowned. “By the laws of the sea,” he continued, “you are sentenced to death. The esteemed wizards and the crew of The Punisher are the witnesses.”
“These two impostors? They are no wizards!” Hlir groaned. “Aspeni and I were the real ones! Hang them! Do you hear me? You should hang them – not me!”
Bevid hit the student with his foot. Hlir fell on the deck, gurgling and spitting bloody saliva.
“Proceed,” commanded the captain.
The marines seized the sentenced and threw the noose around his neck.
“Heave ho!” yelled Bevid.
The sailors pulled the rope and dragged the student to the top of the mast. He hung there for a while, performing his hanged-man dance. Soon it was over. Hlir’s body went limp, his bare feet dripping wet.
“They should have tied his legs and let him piss beforehand,” whispered Ice. “I told you, it’s a gross death.”
I sighed. The road that Aspeni and Hlir had chosen was paved with hatred, lies and betrayal. That road could lead only to the realm of Mistar and nowhere else.
✽✽✽
The stars above the night sea were unusually bright. It was dead calm, and silence descended upon the whole world. The only sounds I could hear were the breathing of sleeping sailors and the gentle clicking of the astrolabe in Captain Gormant’s hands.
“We have drifted far to the south,” he said in a hushed voice. “Calm is commonplace in these parts. The merchants with their heavily loaded ships sometimes drift for weeks, waiting for a favourable wind.”
“Good thing we have oars,” I said.
“Yes, our boys will be happy to stretch their arms,” Captain Gormant agreed. “They are too tense. That goddamned monster …”
We fell silent, remembering the terrible unblinking eyes and writhing tentacles.
“Some of the greenhorns may try to slip away in the next port,” Bevid chuckled. “We’ll spend a couple of nights on the water.”
“Good thing not many of them know how to swim,” said the captain.
“But why? Only a handful saw the beast with their own eyes.” I was puzzled.
“Yeah, and you should hear the stories they tell,” grinned Bevid. “Imagination, as you know, can create monsters way scarier than they really are!”
“At least our marines are completely devoid of imagination,” nodded the captain. “I even saw them cook pieces of tentacle and argue about its taste.”
I couldn’t help but look at the dark figure hanging from the mast.
“We’ll take it down tomorrow morning.” The captain noticed my anxiety. “Did you know him well?”
“Not really,” I said sadly. “Back at the Academy he was one of the senior students. One of the best, I’ve heard …”
“Only wimps fall for Mistar!” Bevid snorted. “Fools and cowards! Like this one here!”
The corpse rotated slightly, and the moonlight illuminated its terrible grinning face.
“That’s not true,” I said, remembering the priest who with incredible energy and ingenuity had pursued us to the very gates of Paara. “Sometimes even the best of us fall for Mistar. And the worst thing is that they believe in their cause whole-heartedly, just as we believe in ours.”
“You are right, Master Wizard,” said the captain. “Too bad they speak a different language and would never understand us.”
At dawn, as promised, Hlir’s corpse was thrown overboard. The Punisher lifted anchor, and in unison two hundred and fifty oars foamed the sea surface, propelling the ship forward.
“Temna is two days away,” said Bevid, looking at the map. “We will replenish our supplies and take a new course towards Porsk, Suz, Dekos, Dom and Ingar.”
It was getting hotter with each passing hour. When the sun reached its zenith, the heat became unbearable. The upper deck was so sizzling hot it was almost impossible to tread barefoot. Captain Gormant and his first mate were forced to put on some funny-looking shoes with wooden soles and cover their heads with white turbans made of thick fabric.
Sailors poured bucket after bucket of sea water on the deck, but it evaporated in a matter of minutes. Copper and metal parts hissed, turning water drops into steam.
“It’s about time to mount the fans.” Captain Gormant wiped his sweaty face with a shirtsleeve. “A few more minutes and our oarsmen will be cooked!”
The marines reluctantly left their canopies, and with yelping and curses danced across the desk to the stern shed. For two hours they were busy assembling some intricate contraption made of countless wooden parts, metal gears and chains. Bevid supervised the process, shouting orders and waving a brush coated with sticky fat.
“Put more grease on the axles,” he shouted. “I want to hear no creaking!”
Soon the fans were assembled and attached to the blades then lowered into the water. A steady humming came from under the deck. The oarsmen cheered enthusiastically.
“Go down, boys,” advised Bevid. “It will be much cooler there.”
Ice and I were already stripped down to our sweat-soaked loincloths. The air was stale and hot, thick and coarse like a dusty old blanket.
“It doesn’t look like fun,” Ice moaned. “I’m already half-baked.”
“In that case you have nothing to lose,” I said. “Are you with me?”
The big curved blades at the entrance to the rowing deck were spinning fast, creating a flow of fresh air. Dozens of sprinklers quietly hissed, spraying seawater on steaming glistening bodies.
“Looks like a sweat room,” said Ice.
“It will be freezing in no time, Master Wizard,” one of the rowers grinned. “But you can work my oar to keep yourself warm!”
The oarsmen roared with laughter.
It turned out the sailor was right. A few minutes later, w
e were shivering from cold sitting with our bare asses on the wet bench. With our teeth chattering, we retreated to the upper deck to get some sun and to hear the news.
“Look,” Bevid pointed to the horizon. “Looks like a column of smoke.”
“Smoke it is,” the captain nodded. “Let’s see what is burning.”
Under sail our speed was about eight knots, but if there was a need the pentera could make twenty or more using its oars. The oars hit the water with a force, and the ship flew forward like an arrow, cutting the mirror-like surface with its shining ram.
“Marines, get ready!” shouted Bevid.
The sergeant blew the whistle. The soldiers poured onto the deck and started to put their armour on.
Ice and I stared at the pillar of smoke, which was getting closer with each passing minute. The drum below the deck sounded just like my heart, fast and determined.
“Smells like a fight!” Ice blurted out. “What do we do?”
“Stay put, Master Wizards,” ordered Bevid. “You fight magic and monsters, so leave the mere mortals to us.”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” agreed Ice and pulled me to the stern. “Come along, pal, unless you’re desperate to witness some violence and bloodshed.”
Meanwhile, the marines, already in full battle gear, hurriedly uncovered scorpions and ballistae preparing for a boarding.
A few minutes later, we saw a small island, barely rising above the water. The island was no more than a hundred metres in diameter, with gently sloping sandy beaches, covered with rotting seaweed and sun-bleached shrubs.
Just above the tide line the remains of a ship still smouldered. A little further away we saw a gutted campfire and pile of corpses.
“Lower the boat!” ordered the captain. “Ten marines with me.”
“Captain! Please, take me with you,” I yelled, rushing forward. “You may need my help.”
“Well,” Captain Gormant hesitated only a second, “your help is always welcome, Master Wizard.”
Ice gave me a sour look.
“I’ll be watching you!” he squeaked. “From up here!”
The oars had barely touched the water and the sand rustled under the boat’s keel. We jumped overboard and ran through the shallows to the shore, armoured soldiers with shields and swords in front, the captain and I half a step behind.
“It’s a merchant,” reported the sergeant. “Looks like one of Artera’s.”
Blackened ribs against the brilliant sky were the crushed remains of a slender fifty-oared galley.
“Could be,” the captain agreed. “They travel light, selling only precious fabrics and gems. It was a fine ship once, able to outrun any pursuer…”
“They were caught in their sleep.” The sergeant pointed. “Their ship was ashore, so this time there was no escape.”
The dead bodies were scattered around the campfire. Many had been killed in their sleep, throats cut and hearts pierced. Some of them were completely naked, stripped of clothes and all valuables.
Nearby I saw an upturned coffee pot, trampled papers and cheap cutlery.
“Eight butchered by the fire,” reported the sergeant. “The rest tried to fight back.”
More bodies were piled up a few paces away from the camp. Cut open and mutilated, knifes and spears still clutched in cold fingers. I accidentally stepped on a severed arm. Its master was lying thirty paces away all spiked with arrows.
“Judging by the tracks,” I said, carefully examining the footprints in the sand, “they came from the other side of the island. About thirty fighting men, maybe less.”
“Merchants,” snorted the sergeant. “Ever so careless!”
“They felt safe,” said the captain. “What danger would you expect on this tiny island in the middle of nowhere?”
“Captain,” shouted one of the soldiers, “we found a survivor!”
We quickly crossed the island. The soldiers formed a semicircle around a shapeless sand-covered figure wriggling and hissing on the ground.
“Take him to the beach,” ordered the captain. “He needs a cold bath!”
The soldiers grabbed the squirming merchant and threw him into the water. The man jumped up, gasping and spitting. A small knife flashed in his hand.
“Dogs!” he cried. “You won’t take me alive!”
He raised his blade high, intending to take his own life, but one of the soldiers threw a stone, knocking the weapon from his dirty hand.
“Would you calm down? We came to help,” snapped the captain. “Pull yourself together and tell us what happened here.”
Finally realizing who we were, the merchant’s trembling arms went limp, and he flopped right into the water.
The soldiers lifted the man and dragged him to the shore.
“Damn! It’s a girl!” whistled one of marines. “Just look at those tits!”
The girl recoiled, baring her white teeth. Her face was concealed by wet hair, and her ruined clothes looked like the hide of some strange animal.
“Great,” snorted the captain. “Now we have a girl!”
Cautiously, I offered her my flask. The girl snatched it and emptied it in several greedy gulps. The rest of the water she poured on her face and threw her long hair back.
“Oh my, she’s a pretty one!” said one of the soldiers. “You got lucky, babe!”
The girl was really pretty, with dark skin and almond-shaped eyes. She lifted her chin proudly, looking at the marines crowded round her.
“Lucky?” She had a low, almost masculine voice. “My family just got killed, and you call me lucky?”
The soldiers stepped back, letting the captain through.
“Tell us how you managed to survive,” he said. “Everybody is curious.”
There was an almost painful silence.
“Simple,” the girl replied, frowning. “I dug myself into the sand while the pirates were busy murdering my family.”
The marines murmured angrily.
“They struck at night?” asked the sergeant.
“Just before dawn,” the girl nodded. “Yesterday we saw this island and decided to take refuge from the approaching storm.”
“They saw it too,” the captain sighed. “All this damned ordeal was just a coincidence.”
“No, it wasn’t.” The girl bit her lip. “The omens were ill. The fortune teller told us about the danger. We should have heeded her warnings!”
“Bullshit!” the sergeant exploded. “You could blame Fate, you could blame the gods, you could blame whoever you want, but in the end, only mortals are responsible for all this shit! Damn pirates! We gonna find them and we gonna hang them all! Am I right, Master Wizard?”
The girl turned to me and dropped the flask. “Are you a real wizard?” Her eyes went wide.
“Only an apprentice,” I smiled. “The real wizard is on this ship.”
She jumped to her feet and looked at The Punisher.
“So huge it is!” she gasped.
Chapter 9
We buried the corpses in the shade of the ship’s blackened skeleton. The layer of sand was so thin it barely covered the bodies. Captain Gormant said a short prayer and without much delay we left for Artera.
We promised the girl to get her home safely, hoping to gain more information about the assailants on the way.
“One thing I know for sure – someone sold them out,” said Bevid. “Poor bastards were doomed from the very beginning.”
“It is nearly impossible to track down such a fast ship once it leaves the harbour,” the captain said. “They must have known everything. What cargo you were carrying and what route you were taking.”
“We are not stupid,” the girl retorted. “Everything was kept secret. My father knows how to run his business.”
“He knew,” Ice corrected her. “One careless word is enough to get everyone killed.”
The girl buried her face in a handkerchief and started to sob once again. Then she began to tell her story.
Ne
la was the daughter of Toras, the owner of The Swallow and one of Artera’s most prominent merchants. He was getting old and tired of endless journeys between the Thousand Islands. It was time to retire and pass the whole enterprise to his two sons and daughter. For two years the three of them were inseparable, doing everything together, eating, sleeping, travelling, learning the secrets of the craft, and getting acquainted with numerous partners and countless resellers. Nela had liked this kind of life; she was always good with coin and numbers, even better than her older brothers, Nikostos and Edros…
I squeezed her wet fingers and promised to find the murderers. She nodded, wiping her eyes. I looked aside, feeling uneasy. Once again I had given a promise I could not possibly keep…
✽✽✽
Two days later, we reached Artera. Along the way, we were helped by a tailwind, so our oarsmen had a good rest. Ice entertained Nela with fire tricks, Bevid and I watching them from the stern.
“Artera!” cried the first mate, pointing at a barely visible dot on the horizon. “It’s Temna,” he explained to me. “The great sleeping volcano.”
A couple of dozen warships guarded the entrance to the port. Not as powerful as our pentera, but more than able to chase away any pirate ship bold enough to approach the island. We moored nearby, and the captain immediately sent a messenger to invite the triremes’ captains to dinner.
“Etiquette requires it,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can escort Nela home and explore the city.”
“I should be their guide,” volunteered Bevid, twisting the points of his moustache. “I’ll show them all the hot spots and introduce them to the local flora and fauna.”
“I have no objections,” said Ice; he was always ready to get acquainted with the flora and fauna.
The snow-capped peak of the volcano towered high above the city. It blocked half the sky, glittering and sparkling in the rays of the setting sun.
“Amazing sight, isn’t it?” said Bevid, looking up. “Once in my youth I climbed to the very summit!”
“You don’t say!” said Ice. “To the very summit?”
Bevid smirked. “There is a rock up there with my name on it. You are welcome to check it yourself if you doubt my words.”
