LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  “Should we go that route?” Akkeri asked. “Barbarian ships aren’t allowed in those waters. What if someone sinks us, or worse, turns us back.”

  “Speaking of sinking, you two ever learn how to swim?” Talon asked.

  To his dismay, Jahsin and Akkeri shared an apprehensive glance.

  “Well, we’re gonna have to remedy that. As far as our route, I say we cut across the strait. Who knows how far it stretches by Shierdonian reckoning? Going west we would have to make a wide berth to be sure we’re not in forbidden waters. I say we make a run across the strait. We can go under cover of darkness, maybe during the new moon.”

  “Good idea,” said Akkeri.

  “Good weather, and a new moon? Might be a tall order if we’re to leave before Freista. You seen how bad the Sumar storms can be,” said Jahsin.

  “We’re gonna have to hope for a bit of luck,” said Talon, earning himself a raised brow from Jahsin.

  “If there is one thing you have, Tal, it’s luck.”

  A few days later Talon and Akkeri were assigned to one of the fishing ships to collect seaweed. Majhree gave them two pots each to fill with water and seaweed as they had planned. The old healer thought the plan brilliant and played her part perfectly. The fishermen sounded doubts about the need to gather the seaweed without letting it touch the air, and Majhree bombarded them with made-up medical jargon—since there was no real reason—until they waved their hands in surrender. When they asked why they could not just gather from the shores, she told them seamen such as them should be embarrassed to admit they didn’t know the reason already. In the end, Majhree secured the work detail and left many confused and slightly embarrassed-looking fishermen in her wake.

  Talon and Akkeri set out before the sun came up, having been told by Majhree that if the sun beat them to the docks they would be left on shore. Jahsin filled in for Talon in the mines, and Talon promised he would make it up to him.

  “Nonsense,” he had said. “We’re a team.”

  They reached the docks along the northwestern coast of Timber Wolf territory before the sun came up. A Vaka that Talon had never met before strode up to them. He had the weathered, golden brown skin of a sailor, and bright blue eyes. Blond hair was tied off in a long tail running down his back. A long curved hook with a wicked point had replaced his left hand. He would have been handsome, but the tattoos entwined around his face created a fierce look like that of a black wolf.

  “You two the ones gathering the seaweed?” he asked in a voice that struck Talon as oddly kind.

  “Yes, Vaka…” Talon began.

  “Vaka Bjorn, Captain of Icebite,” he said, indicating the big fishing Skuta at the end of a long pier.

  “Yes, Vaka Bjorn,” Talon finished properly.

  Many boats were setting out that morning, most being small two-man keiprs. Larger ships were there also, and one giant whaler. The barbarians had survived many brutal winters due to an abundance of whale blubber.

  “We set out shortly,” said Vaka Bjorn, looking to the sun. “The water’s going to be rough this morning. Stay aft rail and out the way. We get to deep enough waters, we’ll put you out in a keipr. The stuff Mahjree speaks of floats just below the surface of the deepwater. From there, you collect your weed.”

  “Yes, Vaka Bjorn,” they said in unison and followed him onto the ship.

  Talon took in the magnificent sight of the big, winglike sails and wondered what he had gotten himself into. Ropes and rigging hung everywhere, and he had no idea what any of it was for. Gazing up absently, he bumped into a Skomm fisherman with a big tattoo of a bear on his chest. Talon bounced off the man and fell to the deck as if he had run into a mast.

  “Outta the way, Throwback!” he yelled with a glare over his shoulder. Though Talon should have been used to it by now, he couldn’t get over how some Skomm acted like they were better than others. Akkeri helped Talon to his feet, and they made their way carefully through the maze of sailors running about busily, some tying knots and securing lines and others letting loose smaller sails set about the twin masts. Talon was overwhelmed but reminded himself that they only had to use one sail. They would need a mast and rudder, however, which hadn’t really occurred to him before. The task of building and sailing a functional raft began to seem much more difficult than first imagined.

  The sun broke over the horizon to the east, and Vaka Bjorn began barking orders to the Skomm sailors. Oars were set to water and the lines were drawn. A drumming began below deck, and the rowers started a steady pace that would bring them out to sea. Talon tried to keep up with everything happening on the ship, but it was impossible. He shared a wide-eyed look with Akkeri and absorbed what he could.

  Vaka Bjorn seemed a good captain, though Talon had no one to compare him to. He found himself liking the man despite himself. He seemed different from any Vaka Talon had ever known. While they had always glared at him as if he were a bug, Bjorn had an easy way about him and showed no judgment in his eyes. Maybe it was a brilliant ruse; he couldn’t be sure. He thought perhaps that was just the man’s way. But once he saw how he lit a fire under his crewmen’s arses, he dismissed the idea. Vaka Bjorn could scream commands and insults with the best of them, and his curses were like poetry, though never vulgar. He called the crewmen sea urchins, scallywags, old ladies, and Bikkjas, but never did he utter the names Throwback or Draugr.

  “Quit staring at Bjorn; he’s going to get suspicious,” said Akkeri in a low whisper beside him at the rail.

  “You ever met a Vaka who acts that way?” he asked.

  Akkeri shrugged. “How do you mean?”

  “I don’t know; he seems…different. The way he looked at us, the way he spoke. That whip at his hip doesn’t look like it’s ever been used.”

  “Maybe it’s new,” she replied.

  “I don’t think so.”

  The men on the ropes swung around like monkeys from jungle stories, tying off this rope, untying that one. The big sails opened and quickly filled and bulged with the blustering wind. The boat lurched forward and steadied into a faster pace. Talon’s stomach became weak. He hoped he wouldn’t get sick and ruin the whole plan. Akkeri noticed and rubbed his back.

  “Don’t fight the movement of the waters,” she suggested.

  “I’m not,” said Talon.

  One of the crewmen noticed her gesture and sneered at them from high up on the mast. Talon shrugged her arm off his back and she looked at him strangely.

  “Up there,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t let on we’re more than friends. We don’t need more attention than we already got.”

  Akkeri blushed and turned her big smile away from spying eyes to gaze after the frothing waters left in the boat’s wake. She looked embarrassed. Talon realized then what he had said. The crewman who had taken notice was still leering at them; only now his eyes fell upon Akkeri’s backside. Talon felt a flush of anger and joined her before he gave away his feelings.

  Soon the sails were drawn back and the anchor was lowered. The rowers came up from below deck and helped the other crewmen with the big nets. Talon marveled at the crew’s speed and precision. Vaka Bjorn never stopped with his bellowed commands. Even when there seemed nothing left to do, he made something up. The nets were set in the water and the sails were lowered once more. As they sailed to the north, Talon saw the many wooden floaters painted white with a big black V and marveled at the operation.

  Ten such nets were placed by noon, and the crew took their lunch. Talon and Akkeri sat on the wide aft rail and ate what food they had brought. The sun was warm and the breeze pleasant. They were out far enough that they could see no land in any direction, and with the sun so high, he had no idea which way was north.

  “Wouldn’t be hard to lose your way out here,” he said as he chewed his bread.

  “We won’t be out this far,” said Akkeri.

  “Won’t we? How far out do you have to go to lose the shore?”

  “I’m not sur
e, but we will have the stars to guide us,” said Akkeri.

  “If we have good weather,” he reminded her.

  If they had no stars to guide them, and no light shone upon either coast, they might easily sail in the wrong direction.

  Later that night they carried their seaweed back to the Skomm village and went straight to the hut. Jahsin was there waiting for them, looking anxious.

  “We learned what we could about sails…” Talon began, then he noticed Jahsin’s expression. “What is it?” he asked, suddenly worried.

  “Chief. I think I found him.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHIEF

  KRELLR WARG, HE SHALL hunt with the assassin.

  —Gretzen Spiritbone, 4979

  Under cover of darkness, Talon, Jahsin, and Akkeri snuck to the outskirts of Timber Wolf Village. Jahsin led them to one of the pens that held the wolves. The wooden pens—nearly twenty feet long and half as wide—were each attached to a bigger Hus. Talon searched the pens from afar, but Chief was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where did you see him?” Talon whispered as they peered beyond the tree line.

  “In that one. I’m telling you, he looked just like you described,” said Jahsin.

  Talon strained to make out Chief among the others. None had the right markings. One was nearly pure black, and the others either too brown or too white. A circular window on the wall facing them caught his attention.

  “I’m going to get a better look,” Talon told them.

  “Be careful,” Akkeri said, worried.

  “I will.”

  Talon made sure no one was about and hunched down as he scrambled for the closest tent. He knelt down beside it and listened. Laughter warned him someone was coming, and he ducked back just as two Vald went walking by. Their voices and heavy footfalls faded in the distance, and Talon scrambled to the next in line. A dog began barking from inside the tent, causing Talon to jump with a start. He looked around frantically as the animal carried on.

  “Who’s there, then?” a voice called from inside.

  Talon hurried to the side of the Hus that held the wolves and ducked down below the window. He eyed the tent with the barking dog, hoping they wouldn’t come out to investigate. From inside a gruff voice yelled, “Shut your yapper, Blacktooth!” followed by a quick yelp.

  Talon looked around one last time and peeked his head over the sill. The window was cloudy, but the inside of the Hus was brightly lit. . Loud, taunting voices issued from within. He saw no one to the front of the Hus. On the opposite wall hung thick chains and wicked looking muzzles. To the left, two big Vald with catchpoles in their hands yelled and carried on. The object of their taunting turned out to be a mangy wolf.

  Chief.

  The ropes at the ends of the catchpoles bit tight around his neck. A Skomm man sat cowering in the far corner, and the Vald taunted Chief to attack him. They poked and prodded him with sticks until they had worked the wolf up into a snapping frenzy.

  Chief appeared starved. The outline of his ribs showed clearly against his fur, and his coat was so dirty and matted that Talon had not recognized him at first. Why the Vald treated the tribe’s spirit animal so badly was beyond him.

  “Get him, you worthless wolf!” one of the giant Vald yelled and jabbed him hard in the side.

  Talon needed to do something, but his mind went blank. He couldn’t take on one of the Vald let alone both of them. They jabbed at Chief’s flanks and egged him on. He snapped and snarled but could do nothing to free himself. With the catchpoles they steered him closer to the Skomm man in the corner who cried and begged for his life. The Vald just laughed and spat curses at him as they jabbed Chief all the harder.

  “No, Chief,” Talon whispered against the glass.

  The man in the corner shook with fear and tried unsuccessfully to press himself farther into the corner.

  “Drepa, drepa, kill him!” one of the Vald yelled.

  “Kill the filthy Draugr or I’ll feed you to the boars,” said the other as he began whipping him with a long rod.

  Chief yelped and tried desperately to get away, but the catchpoles afforded him no freedom. He managed to get his jaws around the end of one of the poles and bit at it viciously.

  “Now he shows some spirit,” one of the Vald laughed.

  The two barbarians moved behind a high wall and closed a gate separating them from Chief and the man in the corner. They pulled on the ropes at their end of the poles and the nooses came lose. Once free of the catchpoles, Chief slammed against the high wall trying to get at the Vald. They laughed and prodded him through the boards.

  “Drepa, drepa!” they urged him on. “You so damned hungry; eat the Throwback!”

  Chief set his sights on the man in the corner who whined and kicked at the dirt floor trying to back farther still against the walls. The wolf stalked back and forth, growling low in his throat with his head down and his piercing eyes locked on his prey. Chief lunged forward and went for the man’s neck.

  “No, Chief!” Talon yelled and slapped at the glass.

  “What are you doing?” Jahsin grabbed him and Talon jumped, startled. “C’mon, hurry; they’re coming!”

  Talon reluctantly followed Jahsin as he sprinted for the tree line. The Vald called out behind them as they ducked down in the underbrush next to Akkeri.

  “Who’s out there?” one yelled.

  The three friends kept their heads down and began to crawl backward through the soggy foliage. Talon dared a peek; the two Vald searched the ground with torches.

  “They are going to be able to follow our tracks in this mud. Take Akkeri back to the village; I‘ll head them off.” he told Jahsin.

  “Thanks, Knight in Shining Armor, but I can take care of myself,” she muttered.

  “I have to help him,” said Talon, looking back at the Hus.

  “You’ll be no help to him if you’re dead. Please, Talon,” Akkeri pleaded.

  She led them at a fast sprint through the forest beside the Vald village, and soon they reached a small meandering brook. They splashed into the cold water and followed the brook for nearly half an hour before carefully climbing out onto stones and fallen trees to hide their tracks. Talon thought of nothing but Chief attacking the Skomm villager. The Vald were trying to turn him into one of their hunting wolves, like the ones who had eaten the dead during the Kelda Agaeti slaughter. He couldn’t bear to think of Chief in that way. The timber wolf had always been gentle and well-tempered. Talon hardly recognized the killer they were turning him into.

  The three of them got to the Skomm village and tried not to act suspicious when one of the Vaka rode by on his horse. Talon worried that their wet boots and pants told of their guilt, but the Vaka paid them no mind. They reached the hut and Talon breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him.

  “I have to get him out of there,” he told them as he began pacing in the small hut.

  Jahsin sat on his bed looking overwhelmed. Akkeri offered Talon a sympathetic smile. He told them what he witnessed through the window, and they offered reassuring words. But Talon was not placated by their sympathies. If they didn’t do something soon, Chief would become an unrecognizable killer.

  “I feel for you, Tal, but how we suppose to free Chief? You said so yourself: they’re turnin’ him into a killer,” said Jahsin.

  “I said they’re trying,” Talon corrected him with a scowl.

  “All right, they’re trying. But even if we could free him, where would we keep him? He goes missing, they’ll search for him here first; you can bet on it. So we can’t keep him, and he can’t live in the wild if you raised him since he was a pup,” said Jahsin.

  “I don’t know,” Talon replied, as helpless as ever. “But I would rather set him free to take his chances in the wild than see him turned into some…monster.”

  “We can’t bring him with us if we don’t get the raft ready in time,” said Akkeri, reminding them of their priorities.

  She an
d Talon told Jahsin what they had learned of sails from watching the fishermen on Vaka Bjorn’s ship, Icebite. Where and how they would get one had still not been determined. The sails on Icebite had been huge, even the smallest one too big for a little raft.

  Jahsin had spent the day chopping poles for the Vald tents and had managed to hide one of the long pieces. They figured if he saved one piece every so often, they would have enough to make a good-sized raft come time to leave. Finding the rope they would need to secure the beams proved harder than expected. Jahsin had inquired to many of his contacts in the underground market. They said all available rope was nabbed by the sailors as soon as it was made. One of his contacts had made promises, no doubt spurred by Jahsin’s offer to pay double.

  The Skomm were not allowed any sort of coin or real wealth unless they be Vaka. They handled all the trade supplying the Vald with what they needed from the mainland.

  Rather than use money, the Skomm bartered with each other for what they needed. Jahsin had offered to pay double the price for the rope, which in this case meant two baskets full of apothecary supplies. Talon feared the means of payment would give them away as the buyers; however, Akkeri assured him there were dozens of healers like Majhree in the large Skomm village; the Vaka’s love of the whip demanded many healers.

  Ingredients for healing salves were in high demand. Aside from the Skomm healers, Vald healers, mystics, shamans, and witch doctors also depended on gatherers like Talon and Akkeri to supply them with what they needed for their rituals and spells. There were also a number of secret witch doctors and the like among the Skomm. The mystical practice was a crime punishable by death; still many of the Skomm—mostly women—took the risk due to the wealth and power to be acquired. These practitioners usually partnered with Vaka, who turned a blind eye for a steep cut of the profits and kept them safe.

  “We could get the rope from Vaka Bjorn!” said Talon.

  Jahsin and Akkeri were locked in a heated debate about what sails might be made of.