Magic, Sorcery and Witchcraft: Book One of Marcus Grimm saga

by Stas Borodin

  Gradually, I fell asleep, and was awakened by Ice’s whisper. “Mark, you’re sleeping?”

  “Not any more,” I replied. “How are you?”

  “Pulled through.” Ice fell out of his hammock and lay down next to me on the deck. “Your stone saved me.”

  I felt his fingers pressing something into my palm. “Take it,” he whispered. “I don’t need it any more.”

  “Are you sure?” I tried to give the amulet back.

  “Yes-yes,” Ice shrank back. “Just take this goddamn thing away from me! I can’t use it. No-no! You know, it was … hard to describe … this force … Damn, it nearly tore me apart! You saw it yourself …”

  “But the stone healed your wounds,” I said. “It saved your life!”

  “Yeah.” Ice gently rubbed the pale spots covering his throat. “I can still taste ash in my mouth!”

  I put the amulet around my neck and hid it under my shirt.

  “No offence, buddy, but keep it away from me.” Ice rolled onto his back. “You know, it’s like giving a battle-axe to a little boy. He cannot lift it, he cannot use it. That kind of force should be used by real wizards, not by snot-nosed kids like you and me.”

  For a while we lay side by side in silence. At last, Ice got closer to me and whispered in my ear. “You know, this time it was different. Nothing like the battle with the sea monster.” He squeezed my hand, as if for support. “I felt their pain! The pain of people being killed by me! It was”—he shuddered—“It was terrible! But I wasn’t scared,” he said hastily. “Moreover, I liked it! I liked their fear, their pain, their hatred and despair. It was like that perverse pleasure you get when you realize that you’re doing something vile and disgusting but you cannot stop. When you want more and more, and you don’t give a shit about all the taboos and inhibitions!”

  Ice clung to my hand like a tick; I squeezed his hand in return.

  “You did what you must,” I reassured him. “You didn’t kill for pleasure.”

  “Only this time.” Ice shivered.

  Suddenly I heard a faint splash in the distance, as if someone had gently touched the water’s surface with a paddle.

  We jumped to our feet and stared into the darkness.

  “Hey, on The Punisher!” someone cried. “It’s Godmur Strick!”

  “Over here!” the watchman hissed. “And don’t make a noise, you dimwit!”

  The spy-lantern flickered, and the boat banged against the side of the pentera. The marine nimbly climbed the rope ladder and took a swig from a water flask.

  “Report first!” the captain ordered. “Drink later.”

  The soldier obediently lowered the flask.

  “They are no pirates,” he reported. “As soon as we were ashore we were hit by regular troops, sir. Mercenaries, most likely. All dressed in casual clothes, no uniforms, no banners. We were deceived, sir, and for this mistake we paid dearly—”

  “Mercs?” The captain frowned. “Dammit! What about Bevid?”

  “Alive and kicking, sir,” the soldier grinned. “I saw him throw a burly officer along with his horse and all its stuff into the sea.”

  The captain chuckled. “Dumb ass! What else do you have to report?”

  “That’s all, sir!” The soldier stood to attention. “The chain is in our hands. Master Bevid is ready to open a passage as soon as you give him the signal. Then he plans to cross the isthmus on foot and wait for you on the shore on the other side of the island.”

  “Understood.” The captain nodded. “Marines, to battle stations!”

  Like a shadow, the pentera slid past the black shores dotted with dozens of tiny lights, and a few moments later froze at the entrance to the harbour.

  The long glittering snake before us was rocking gently. The silence was almost palpable. We could hear the sentries talking on the shore; we could hear the rasping of their armour and neighing of their horses.

  “They seem so close,” Ice whispered. “It gives me the creeps!”

  I imagined a dozen catapults loaded with fireballs and ready to fire at any given moment. The picture was disturbing indeed.

  The spy-lantern aimed at the shore flickered once.

  “Get ready!” the captain ordered. “Wait for my command!”

  We heard a rasping of metal coming from the left bank. The chain shuddered and began to sink. Immediately, the right bank came alive. Light spheres flashed, spears of light pierced the darkness, looking for us.

  “Back!” the captain yelled. “Pull back!”

  I heard a loud popping sound and the sea in front of us turned to fire.

  The Punisher drifted back slowly, two hundred and fifty oars raised and ready for action. With awe, I watched the chain falling into the burning water.

  The cries on the right bank grew louder. On the other shore there were lights too. They were approaching Bevid’s position fast – too fast – while the chain slowly, link by link, continued to fall into the water.

  “Come on!” Ice whispered. “Faster! Faster!”

  I squeezed the railing with all my might, watching the door to our trap opening slowly.

  “A few more seconds and we are free,” I said.

  Suddenly, the chain jerked and stopped dead. We heard the sounds of battle coming from Bevid’s side. The clank of metal, war cries and neighing of horses.

  “They are being attacked!” Ice hissed.

  The chain shuddered and continued its descent.

  “They threw them back!” I exhaled with relief.

  “Forward!” the captain barked.

  The oars dug into the water with such violence that I was nearly knocked off my feet. The pentera surged forward like a prize horse.

  The sound of firing catapults came from the shore, and the air was filled with fiery serpents flying toward The Punisher.

  “Pour the water!” the captain ordered. His thunderous voice tore the night apart. “Prepare the fire extinguishers!”

  The pumps hissed, spraying salt water on the deck.

  “Mark, careful!” Ice yelled, yanking me back.

  A whirling missile drew a red line across the black sky and crushed into the mast above our heads. Drops of fiery rain hissed under our feet.

  “Make way!”

  The glass spheres of the fire extinguishers smashed against the deck and a thick orange foam rose waist high, choking the starting fire. There was a strong smell of rotten meat.

  “That’s disgusting!” Ice coughed.

  I heard the chain scratching against the pentera’s hull, but it couldn’t hold us any more. Another dozen oar strokes and we were finally free.

  I turned around and saw the water surface burning, missiles still falling and popping, turning the entrance to the harbour into Annuvir’s fiery gates.

  Bevid’s spy-light blinked on the beach. The pentera moved closer to the shore and we saw dark figures running toward us through the shallows. There were three runners chased by a dozen riders with lances at the ready.

  “Shoot them!” I screamed, grabbing the handles of a scorpion. The long heavy arrow struck a horse, tossing it aside like a rag doll. The lancer plunged into the sand head first.

  The crossbows and ballistae sang, sweeping away everything that moved. The remaining riders turned their horses and rushed back.

  Bevid and two remaining soldiers reached the pentera safely.

  “There is no one left,” the first mate muttered, wiping his bloodied face. “Only us.”

  The oars hit the water and The Punisher rushed into the open sea.

  ✽✽✽

  The closest island where we could get help was Bibl, but we headed straight to Kortas.

  “They have a whole fleet of warships there,” Captain Gormant explained to me. “We can blockade Porsk by tomorrow morning and sink every damn ship that dares to approach us or escape from the island.”

  “Can’t wait,” Bevid hissed, looking at his bloodstained bandages. “This was a suicide mission from the very beginnin
g. Once on the shore, we met fierce resistance and had to split our squad and fight our way through the island independently. I still can’t believe we made it!” His eyes were red and his right arm hung like a whip. “It was a wild fight, but my lads showed them a thing or two! My friend Patork laid his hands on an enormous two-handed sword and chopped pirates’ heads like cabbage!” Bevid smiled. “His younger brother Namer found a rusty man-tall anchor and twirled it above his head like a fucking windmill!”

  “We have heard about your exploits too, you old fool,” the captain muttered. “You are in no shape to play these games on a par with the young.”

  ✽✽✽

  The oarsmen pulled the oars all night while the rest of the crew was busy installing a new mast, patching the sails and mending the rigging.

  The sun rose above the horizon, and we finally caught a tailwind. The sails swelled and Paara’s triangular flag fluttered at the top of the mast.

  The captain sighed, his face haggard and his eyes sunken. He looked tired and grim. “I don’t know how to evaluate our venture,” he said. “Was it a success or a complete failure?”

  “Don’t worry too much,” I said. “We found the pirate base, and we destroyed most of their fleet. The invaders are trapped for the time being. I think we did well!”

  “Yeah, it was a great adventure!” Ice agreed.

  “I’m afraid it’s not over yet,” the captain said with a frown. “If those island troops belong to the king of Kortas, we’ll find ourselves in a very precarious position.”

  “Mangor the Third would never do such a thing.” Bevid shook his head. “I can’t imagine him dealing with the pirates.”

  “Kings are unpredictable folk,” Ice chuckled. “Take my dad, for example. One day he’s chasing some mountain bandits, swearing to kill every one of them, but next day he’s feasting with them in his palace. The kings can always find a better use for such people. Especially if they have enemies or some wealthy neighbours.”

  “I never met your esteemed father,” Bevid said, “but Mangor the Third is a man of honour.”

  “Nothing would tarnish your precious honour if no one knows about your involvement,” Ice snapped. “You can always put the blame on someone else.”

  ✽✽✽

  Kortas’s galleys intercepted us a few miles away from Bibl. They didn’t even bother to lower their red and black royal flags.

  “Well, what did I tell you?” Ice looked smug. “Kings can’t be trusted.”

  “They sent a bird,” Bevid nodded. “Very clever.”

  There were five ships in total. All brand new with shining rams and scary prow beasts. Their long graceful hulls were painted with red and black stripes, making them look like some enormous predatory insects. Sails folded, oars touching the water, the enemy was waiting, ready to pounce at any moment.

  “Ha! There is nothing to be afraid of!” Ice said spiritedly. “We’ll crush them like cockroaches!”

  “These so-called cockroaches have mighty sharp teeth,” the captain said. “They’ll crush our oars, and then our spines …”

  “But we have a real wizard on board,” Bevid said. “What do you say, Master Ayssived? Should we roast them or should we burn them?”

  Ice looked down. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m too exhausted to roast even a fly.”

  “Well, you should rest then, Master Wizard,” the captain said. “All hands to battle stations! Let’s show these assholes how Paarians fight!”

  The marines roared, putting on their helmets and unsheathing their swords.

  I took my place behind a scorpion. Ice joined me right away.

  “Could use your help here, Master Wizard.” I nodded at the barrel filled with five-foot-long arrows.

  “Aye aye, master apprentice,” he said with a grin. “I’m at your command!”

  Pipes sounded, oars foamed the water, and the enemy ships pulled back. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  “Bloody cowards!” Bevid yelled, shaking his spear. “Run, as fast as you can!”

  “Look!” the lookout yelled. “Look to the left!”

  I looked back and saw two huge penteras under Paarian flags appearing from behind the rocky island.

  “Thank gods!” the captain said with a breath of relief. “Those are The Hammer and The Anvil, the ships of Masters Penkaur and Modron!”

  Greeted by a loud cheer, the ships approached Punisher. Their sails were folded and gangways lowered.

  ✽✽✽

  Captains Modron and Penkaur were dressed in heavy gilded breastplates decorated with roaring lion heads. To me they looked like a real lions themselves. Their wavy red hair cascaded down their shoulders; their unkempt red beards reflected in their highly polished armour. Each captain was armed with a steel-spiked mace and a curved dagger in a gilded sheath.

  “Kortas’s dogs sunk our merchant not far from Samnor,” Captain Penkaur roared. “We were just returning from Itar and were mighty lucky to fish a few survivors out of the water.”

  “They told us everything,” Captain Modron said. “Every grim detail!”

  “We should go to Paara immediately,” Captain Gormant proposed. “Our hands are tied without an official declaration of war. Any action on our part could be presented as a provocation. And don’t forget about their allies! Tin and Atkandor are neutral still, but they will undoubtedly side with Kortas if they see us as a threat.”

  “A declaration of war is only a matter of time now.” Captain Penkaur waved dismissively. “Our birds are on their way.”

  “I have a proposal!” Captain Modron raised his armoured fist in front of his fellow captains’ noses. “Let’s not waste time and blockade Kortas immediately!”

  “That’ll be fun,” Captain Penkaur agreed.

  “Have you gone mad, boys? We are no match for the whole Kortas navy!” Bevid snorted. “They have a hundred ships at least!”

  “Wait a minute.” Captain Gormant squeezed Bevid’s shoulder. “Captain Modron is right. These bastards committed a crime and they can’t go unpunished.”

  “But what about the allies you mentioned earlier?” Bevid grinned.

  “The birds will reach Paara any time now, and war will be declared, but valuable time will be lost in vain.” Captain Gormant nodded, making a decision. “We’ll blockade Kortas now and wait for word from Paara.”

  Captain Gormant told our new allies about the pirate base on Porsk and about the troops stationed on the island.

  “I think,” Captain Modron roared, “they plan to take Rodar, to use it as a base for attack on Paara.”

  “But why Rodar?” Captain Penkaur scratched his head. “Bibl is much closer, just between Porsk and Kortas.”

  “Bibl is just a useless piece of rock,” Captain Modron said dismissively. “You don’t need an army to capture it, but Rodar is the key to all the sea routes leading to Paara.”

  “If you have it, you can blockade Paara easily,” Captain Gormant agreed. “Without Piles’ grain Paara will be starving in a matter of months.”

  Ice cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself. “I thought the Paarian fleet would be able to break such a blockade with ease.”

  Master Modron shrugged. “Blockade? Yes, for a while,” he grunted. “But it would take months to recapture the damned island once it’s lost. Without control over Rodar, all our efforts will be futile.”

  Bevid nodded. “Merchants are no fools; they’ll find other markets pretty quickly. Away from dangerous Paara.”

  I didn’t like the captain’s plan. The last time we had tried to storm a fortified island alone, we’d almost got ourselves killed. I was afraid that our stock of luck was running thin.

  I called Bevid aside, so we couldn’t be overheard.

  “This is reckless,” I said in a hushed voice. “Three ships against a whole fleet? Don’t say you support this madness!”

  “Our captain’s stubbornness is the stuff of legend,” Bevid chuckled. “But even it pales before the Red Beards of Ma
yhem! There’s no chance in the world they would listen to our objections.”

  “Then I’ll talk to them.” Ice stepped forward. “Don’t you worry; I know how to be convincing!”

  “Do you?” I looked at my friend sceptically. “Really?”

  Ice grabbed my sleeve. “Just watch me!” His face was hard and resolute. “This time I won’t let them decide for me. I won’t let them get us all killed!”

  “I admire your spirit,” Bevid said. “Good luck, Master Wizard! You’ll need it!”

  Ice turned on his heels and walked toward the captain’s awning.

  “Wait!” I said, but Ice couldn’t be stopped.

  “We’re not going to Kortas!” he barked, hands on hips, eyes flashing furiously.

  “Who said that?” Captain Modron grunted without looking back.

  “Me.” Ice tried to sound menacing.

  “We’re kinda busy, boys.” Captain Penkaur scratched his fiery beard with his mighty paw. “Shoo! We’ll play with you later.”

  “Do I have to repeat myself?” Ice turned purple with indignation. “We’re not going to Kortas! It’s suicide!”

  “The decision was taken unanimously, Master Wizards,” Captain Gormant sighed, spreading his hands. “Take it or leave it.”

  “Then I cancel this decision!” Ice snapped.

  This time the captains could not remain indifferent. They looked at us like we were some exotic beasts.

  “Old rascal! You didn’t tell us you had wizards on board,” Captain Modron chuckled.

  “I’m curious.” Captain Penkaur clicked his tongue. “What can they do apart from meddling in our affairs? Can they predict the weather or tell fortunes? Come on, speak up, boys, we won’t bite!”

  The captains laughed, elbowing each other.

  “May I present you our wizards.” Bevid solemnly stepped forward. “Marcus Grimm of Lieh and Ayssived the Monster Slayer!”

  “Slayer of what?” Captain Modron snorted. “Of monsters? Such a tall name for such short stuff!”

  The captains roared with laughter. Ice fumed, involuntarily clenching his small fists.