The next few days after the funeral were mostly quiet. The most exciting thing that happened was an illness that spread through the whole ship, making everyone sick and causing most of them to throw up. Kinker got so ill that he almost thought he was going to die, but luckily he recovered, thanks to the combined efforts of Telka and his medical expertise and Bifor and what little healing magic he knew. No one else died, either, thankfully.
Yet the sickness did nothing to halt their progress. Kinker even began to think it might be smooth sailing from here on out. That is, until about a week after leaving Ikadori Island, when the fishing crew hauled in something very different from the fish they usually caught.
It was right before dinner, when the fishing crew was hauling the trawl out of the ocean for the final time that day. It was heavier than usual, however, so heavy in fact that they had to call in help from a few other sailors to get it on the ship. Kinker assumed that meant they had caught more fish than usual, so he was more than a little surprised when he saw, lying among the usual thirty pounds or so fish they caught, a full-grown, adult male aquarian.
The aquarian looked like an eel, with a long, thin, smooth body and a head to match. His limbs were equally as thin and he had a tattoo on his chest that resembled a rose with an arrow sticking out of it. He didn't look like any of the aquarians aboard the crew and was so still that for a moment everyone thought he was dead.
Then his eyes opened, an odd gurgling noise came from his throat, and he leaped to his feet. The fishing crew and the other sailors who helped haul in dinner stepped back because the aquarian looked crazy. His eyes were crossed and his body was shaking and jittery, like he was high on sugar. Kinker believed they could defend themselves if they had to, but that didn't mean he wasn't afraid of the crazy aquarian.
And then, without warning, the eel-like aquarian turned, ran over to the railing, and launched himself back into the ocean. The sailors rushed to the railing and looked over the side, but he was no longer visible in the water and seemed to have disappeared entirely.
“What was that all about?” said Jenur, pushing away from the railing and looking at the others in confusion. “Seriously, the guy didn't even try to attack us.”
“I don't know,” said Kinker. “Gino? Magnisa? Do you know him?”
Gino shook his head. “Why would we? We've never seen anyone like him before; right, Maggy?”
“Right,” said Magnisa. “Maybe there was another ship around here that he fell off of. Doesn't explain why he jumped off when he saw us, though.”
“I bet he was scared,” said Deddio. “We don't look much better than pirates, after all. Sadly, I doubt he'll last very long out there on his own, considering how dangerous these seas are.”
“The southern seas aren't that dangerous,” said Jenur, folding her arms. “At least not so far. I'd say the northern seas are more dangerous, when you consider that we lost most of the fleet back there. So far, we've lost what, four or five sailors? Not much compared to what we lost up north.”
“It will get worse before this is all over,” Deddio insisted. “I don't know what awaits us ahead, but it will be even worse than mysterious jungles.”
“You're a bundle of joy, Ded,” said Jenur. “You know that?”
Before Deddio could respond, Kinker turned away from the stern and said, “Enough arguing, you two. Whoever that aquarian was, we still have to prepare dinner for the rest of the crew. I'm sure everyone is starving for the same old crap we serve day in and day out.”
-
Back on Carnag, Malock never liked wine or beer or any sort of alcoholic drink. Yes, he often drank in accordance with the expectations of royalty, but even the best wine always left a bad taste in his mouth. He was not one to judge people who enjoyed it. He simply didn't like it, which was why he had refused to take even one sip of wine from any of his personal store during the entire voyage.
As to why he brought along alcohol in the first place, well, much of it was used for medical purposes. Doctor Telka often used the alcohol to treat wounds. Malock was careful to let Telka use only as much as the doctor needed, however, because he didn't want to run out of it. He wanted to keep a little on hand in case he ever needed it.
Despite Malock's dislike of wine, not for the first time since departing Ikadori Island, he poured himself a tall glass of wine from one of his wine bottles. He was not sure what brand the wine was, as the bottle's label had been ripped off at some point and he wasn't enough of a wine connoisseur to tell purely from taste. All he knew was that he needed it.
He wasn't sure how many glasses he had poured himself over the last week. He lost count every time he lost consciousness from drink, which was often, and so had decided not to keep track anymore. He suspected that the number, whatever it was, would depress him even more than he already was.
Not depressed, Malock thought. Confused.
His mind was still reeling from his encounter with the Loner God. Northern and southern gods, the Treaty, the Godly War ... thinking about all of this made his head hurt. It contradicted everything he had ever been taught about the gods, about the history of the world, and so it caused him conflict in his heart as well as his head.
That was why he had spent almost all week in his stateroom. He was still processing everything he had been told, trying to decide what was true and what wasn't. He had even told Vashnas to stay away. He knew he needed her more than ever, but at the same time he didn't want her anywhere near him at the moment.
In particular, Malock worried incessantly over the identity of the other chosen one among his group. Who was it? Why were they keeping their chosen status a secret? Which god had placed them on the ship? Why had the god done that? And what did the Loner God mean when he said, 'Politics as usual'? Were Malock and his crew simple pawns in a game played by the gods? Was there something deeper going on than any of them realized?
To drown out these unpleasant thoughts, Malock had taken to drinking, and drinking hard. He was aware of the dangers of drinking, especially aboard a ship like the Iron Wind. Nonetheless, he knew of no other way to calm his nerves and to clear away the doubts and questions in his mind. All he wanted now was bliss ... pure, ignorant bliss, like the kind enjoyed by the imbeciles that roamed the streets just outside of the Hall of Carnag, the ones Malock had often seen and pitied growing up.
A sharp knock at the door to his stateroom snapped him out of his stupor. Malock looked up and shouted, in a slurred voice, “Go away. I'm busy making plans to invade the Kingdom of ... of, um, somewhere.”
The door opened anyway and Vashnas entered, looking concerned. Malock pointed at her with his wineglass, accidentally sloshing some wine onto the map on his desk, and said, “This is a secret meeting. I'm the only one allowed. Go away.”
Vashnas shook her head. “No way, Mal. You've been in here by yourself for too long. I want to know what happened to you back on Ikadori Island. Whatever happened shook you up.”
Malock lay his head on the table because it hurt and he was tired. “You don't want to know what I learned, what I saw. Can't understand it.”
He heard her approach and then felt the cool touch of her hand on the side of his face.
“You can tell me,” said Vashnas. “I won't judge you, if you did something you regret. I won't even ask any questions. You can tell me the entire story from start to finish without any interruptions from me.”
Malock looked up at her through drunken eyes. It occurred to him that she was a member of the crew. And the Loner God did say that it had been one of Malock's crew who was a Chosen One as well ...
He rejected the implications immediately. No. Vashnas would never betray him or hold secrets from him. She was a true friend and lover, through and through. His skeptical side did ask why she forgot to mention the Loner God living on Ikadori Island, but he swiftly rejected that thought when he remembered Vashnas saying that she had not explored the island very much the last time she was there.
Malock sat
up, slowly, and leaned back in his rickety chair. His head pounding, he told Vashnas everything that he had seen, heard, and experienced back on Ikadori Island— from the Loner God's appearance to the origin of the gods. Vashnas listened, as she promised, without word or interruption, which made it easier for Malock to tell her all about it. It was still difficult, however, because his drunken lips constantly slurred words, and more than once he lost his train of thought, only to find it again with Vashnas's help. The only fact he omitted was the Loner God mentioning that there were multiple Chosen Ones in the crew, mostly because a small part of him, for some reason, didn't trust Vashnas. He did, however, mention a spy among the crew, but only one and he didn't know the spy's identity.
When he finished, Vashnas looked thoughtful, but not surprised. Malock didn't know whether that meant she believed the story or not. All he knew was that his headache was starting to go away, albeit very slowly.
“How very strange,” said Vashnas. “A god living by himself on an island; moreover a god who eats mortals. I am surprised you got away alive at all.”
Malock remembered the Loner God's wooden teeth, his lips streaked with blood, and shuddered. “The only reason ... only reason he let me live is because he thought this whole voyage was doomed. Didn't see the point in killing us when he could let everything play out to its gruesome end.”
“That's not good,” said Vashnas. “That's not good at all. We'll have to remain vigilant. If there is a spy in the crew, then we need to find them and root them out right away.”
Malock rubbed the back of his head, which no longer bled, thanks to a healing spell by Bifor. “Only problem is, I don't know who the ... uh ... who the spy is.”
“Do you have any ideas at all?” said Vashnas, taking a seat in the chair on the opposite side of his desk. “Any?”
Malock's first impulse was to say, Yes. You, but he didn't want to scare her off and was horrifed at himself for thinking that.
He simply said, “Like I said, no. Could be anyone. Maybe even me.”
Vashnas gently tried to take away the wine bottle. “Mal, I think the drink is starting to affect your thinking. I'll put this away and you can take a nap until you feel better. We won't reach the next island for another few days, so you have plenty of time to recover.”
Malock didn't let go of the bottle. “I don't ... no. You don't understand.”
Now Vashnas's gentle expression faltered slightly. “What don't I understand?”
“All of it,” said Malock, waving his free hand. “The southern gods, politics as usual, the spy, the Treaty, the War ... all of it. Aren't you the least bit, uh, concerned? It's all so paradigm-shattering. I don't know how I can ... how I can go on knowing this.”
Vashnas began to undo his grip on the bottle, finger by finger. “It's okay, Mal. You're strong. You can do this. You've made it this far after facing countless tragedy. We still have a long way to go before we reach World's End. You don't need to get yourself drunk out of your mind to finish the voyage.”
Malock was completely unconvinced by that argument and was going to have another go at it when the door swung open and Banika entered. Her hands twitched when she spotted Vashnas, perhaps because she still remembered being knocked out, but that was the only sign of emotion in the otherwise unreadable boatswain.
“Banika?” said Malock, briefly forgetting his argument with Vashnas. “What are you doing? Is there a problem?”
Banika nodded. “Yes, sir. We have completely stopped.”
Malock blinked. “Say that again.”
“We have completely stopped,” said Banika, this time slightly slower. “We aren't moving forward, backward, or in any direction at all. I guess you haven't noticed the stillness of the ship.”
Now that Banika mentioned it, the floor was awfully still. The world still spun for Malock, but he figured that was the drink's fault more than anything else.
“Who dropped the anchor?” Malock demanded in his most authoritative voice, although the effect was ruined by his slurring of the word anchor at the end of the sentence.
Banika shook her head. “The anchor is still weighed. We were stopped by ... well, I think it would be better if you saw for yourself. It's hard to explain.”
Malock stood up, letting go of the wine bottle as he did so, causing Vashnas to snatch it and stash it in a drawer in the desk. “Take me to it, then.”
-
Malock managed to make his way out of the stateroom without falling down too much, thanks to Banika's help. When he did, he noticed that the sails were no longer blowing in the wind and nearly the entire crew was assembled on both sides of the ship, looking down into the water and talking in an incoherent mess that Malock doubted he'd have understood even in his sober mind.
Banika led Malock over to starboard and pointed at the sea below. “There's the obstruction, Captain. That is why it was hard for me to explain.”
Malock leaned over the railing, remembering to grip them tightly so he wouldn't fall overside in his drunkenness, and peered into the water.
A thick, green moss covered the area around the Iron Wind for several feet in all directions. The moss ran up the body of the ship, so thick that it looked like solid ground. It was like two large, mossy hands had grown from the sea and grasped the ship, making Malock wonder if the Loner God's influence extended well beyond the borders of Ikadori Island.
“When did this happen?” said Malock, pulling back (with some difficulty) from the railing to look at Banika.
“Ten minutes ago,” said Banika. “It spontaneously grew out of nowhere. We're not sure where it came from.”
“Probably just a freak accident of nature or something,” said Malock. “Okay, send some of the aquarians to rip it off.”
“Already tried that, sir,” said Banika. “It just grew back.”
Malock swore loudly and said, “Then get Bifor on it. He's a freaking mage. He should be able to wave his wand and make the moss go poof.”
“It's not that easy,” said Bifor, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, twirling his wand in his hand. “Watch.”
Bifor pointed his wand at the moss scaling the side of the ship. The moss froze, but immediately was covered by another layer of moss, melting the ice.
“As best as I can tell, this is magic at work,” said Bifor. “That means someone is trying to stop us. Or rather, has succeeded in stopping us.”
“You mean like a ... like a ...” Malock struggled to think of the word. “Like a mage?”
Bifor nodded. “Yes. Though who it could be, I can't say.”
Malock was just about to tell Bifor to find out who it is when a loud shout made everyone jump. Another shout, followed by a loud thump, followed, and Malock realized it was coming from the center of the ship. He quickly made his way down the steps to the main deck, with Banika, Vashnas, and Bifor following, and stopped as soon as he spotted the source of the sound.
Lying face down on the deck, with a knife sticking out of his back, was Forl Mas, one of the sailors who had gone with Malock to Ikadori Island. His stillness, combined with the blood leaking out from the wound, told Malock all he needed to know about the sailor's fate.
Standing above Forl's corpse was someone Malock had never seen before but who he knew was not a member of the crew. She was an aquarian, clearly, her face resembling that of a crab's and she had two large crab claws in place of hands. A thick, cracked gray shell covered her body. A red bandanna was wrapped around her right arm, which was the only piece of clothing on her entire body.
By now nearly the entire crew was looking at her. Many of them looked ready to fight, although something about the confidence with which the crab aquarian stood in the midst of so many hostile faces kept Malock from ordering them to attack.
“Glad I got your attention,” said the aquarian. Her voice was very human-like, though the words were occasionally obscured by the odd chittering sound her teeth made. “Murder is always a good way to get attention from other people,
though I will admit that it's not always good attention.”
Malock stepped forward, trying not to look drunk, and said, “Who are you and where did you come from?”
The aquarian looked offended. “You mean you don't recognize Garnal Gray, Captain of the Gray Pirates? I am wanted all over the Northern Isles for my daring exploits and thefts. My bounty is about a million coins right now, which is a paltry sum in comparison to all of the loot that I and my gang have stolen over the years.”
Malock could not, for the life of him, recognize the name, so he leaned toward Banika to his left and muttered, “Is she telling the truth?”
Banika nodded. “Garnal Gray is indeed the notorious pirate leader of the Gray Pirates, the most infamous and longest-lasting pirate group in the history of piracy. Practically every member of her crew is wanted for some crime or another. Their collective bounty is ten million coins, last I checked.”
“As it should be,” said Garnal. “My crew and I have worked hard to earn our place as the best pirates in the history of Martir. Not even the legendary Varew the Black evaded capture as long as I have.”
“Still didn't answer how you got here,” said Malock. “Getting onto our ship without any of us noticing is quite the accomplishment.”
Garnal chuckled. “'Twas easy, my precious prince. I am an initiate of the Thief's Way, one of the best in all the Northern Isles. Even your mage didn't notice me sneak aboard.”
“Okay, now what's the Thief's Way?” said Malock, looking at Banika.
It was Bifor who answered. “The Thief's Way is a magical path that followers of Hollech, the God of Deception, Thieves, and Horses, often pursue. Initiates of the Thief's Way learn how to use magic to increase their stealth and, while not all initiates of that path are thieves, it has always been popular among the members of that morally dubious profession. Hence why it is called the Thief's Way.”
“They teach that at magic school?” said Malock in disbelief.
“Sort of,” said Bifor with a shrug. “When I was in the Academy, there was only one teacher of the Thief's Way, and he was constantly on the verge of being fired because everyone kept accusing him of stealing their things. He only ever had a handful of students at any one time and many of them dropped out before they graduated from his program because they couldn't handle the hate from everyone else.”
The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock Page 10
