THE TRYPHON ODYSSEY (The Voyage Book 1)

by S. D. Howarth

  "How's Edouard? Dagmar pressed after Trevir petered out.

  "We're not sure. He hasn't regained consciousness. Big Mez thinks he's bleedin' inside. His shoulder's right puffy and nasty, Lady Carla reckoned when she checked his dressin' last."

  "After this bloody voyage, I'm thinking he was born accident prone," Dagmar said, setting his head back and closing his eyes to ease the pain. Lady Carla, was it now? Interesting, but irrelevant as things were. "How many have we left?" His stomach felt leaden, but he hurt too much to consider counting heads himself.

  "We have forty-one souls, excludin' the woman." Trevir's eyes were stony, his tone subdued. "I've not counted the old man either. He's a goner unless you've a healing priest in your pocket. Dorad's as bad, Hatch is unconscious, and the boy is damn worryin'. All we could do is wrap them up and that ain't with much."

  "Oh, if only—how are supplies? Have people drunk?" Dagmar's kaleidoscope of bruises scrunched together in the reflection in Trevir's eyes as the sunjammer's thoughts churned through what he should ask.

  "A little, we were waitin' 'til midday to conserve it. We've two drinkable barrels and a small pot of purifying powder we can use. The food got ruined in the trample, but we've two bushels of fruit and a decent sized crate of ham that Nadam lobbed across."

  Dagmar nodded and looked around at the dejected handful of Tryphon's crew and sighed. Somewhere, somehow, they remained lucky, but their numbers diminished and weakened. Soon there would be no-one left to enjoy fortune's blessing. He needed hope besides survival, but where the fuck would you find it?

  "Pass the water around for a few sips and a piece of fruit. I'll see what remains on the crystal. We may prolong this trip for a rescue, or to connect with the land Edouard suggested." He tried to smile, but the hollow feeling inside and their dread predicament denied the movement of any facial muscles. Trevir nodded, a faint mocking smile on his drawn visage as he turned and tapped Harcux.

  Harcux slept with both water butts either side of his feet and Rufus' cleaver between them. No-one seemed to argue, and Dagmar approved the initiative. He presumed Grimm and Merizus must have thought the same from the mood. It was an effort to move, but once he was up with Trevir's help, it was two steps to stagger, pressing his face into the dome, before he all but fell inside. He wheezed with pain and spat his mouth clear, but the familiar smell and seat were a reassurance.

  A shuffling of the tightly packed bodies allowed Grimm to hobble his way beside Dagmar, whose hands had the now familiar red glow from the crystal. It creased Grimm's fatigued face with bruises to rival what Dagmar presumed he appeared.

  "Is it workin', sir?" Grimm asked.

  "It's drained, and the plating feels battered with the hull banging, but will be usable once recharged. The cloud yonder will slow that if it comes this way. I flattened it on the wave, so we're stuck drifting and crawling today, sorry."

  "That's just what we need," Grimm pulled a face as his shoulder's slumped. Dagmar nodded; he imagined who appeared worse between Grimm, himself and Van Reiver, had been debated to pass the time. A contest he'd welcome losing. Giving them hope was on him, then. Dagmar smiled at Grimm and, grunting and huffing, pulled himself up to hunch his head clear of the dome. A few eyes looked his way, and that was enough to make him clear his throat.

  "Today we need to charge up, so everyone kip, there isn't anything we can do." Dagmar glanced aft, and Carla acknowledged the gaze with a wan smile. She had an arm around her father's shoulder, the rise of the old man's chest almost imperceptible under her hand. Her other arm was cradling Van Reiver's head, slumped in her lap with her fingers ruffling his dark tangled hair, her violet eyes far away.

  Grimm grunted, stirring, and Dagmar looked to him. "I'll have a snoop around later if my head stops thumping. If Edouard's correct, I might glimpse land."

  "That'd be a bollock-rousin' reassurance and no mistake. Can you do it now?" Grimm enquired with dawning hope, blazing life into the damped embers of fatigue.

  "Too woozy and sore. It's the problem with magic. You must concentrate perfectly, or things go wrong. Focus and skill are the keys to knowledge. My tutors dinned that one into us, night and day, for months on end. Depending on the spell, that can be spectacular if not disastrous as a few of us discovered. To be blunt, the best advice I ever had was, Don't fuck up, or you die a horrible death." Dagmar's felt his face twitch towards a smile, but like Tryphon never arrived. "I'm trying not to hurl, sorry."

  "Oh, shit. How can we help?" Grimm almost cracked a smile back.

  "I could do with a nibble beforehand. I appreciate we've little left, but doing the spell on something makes it safer and I can be out longer. We may need that."

  "We'll see what we can manage. Hadly and Valant can donate their nibble as well. Better rest, eh, sir?"

  "I plan to. Same goes for you, Cox'n, you look like I feel, and I don't have the words to describe that. I need you to supervise things while I'm away." Dagmar ignored Hadly. It seemed the best way to deal with the man, and he found little to be sympathetic to the man's predicament. They could untie him later if he behaved, or needed him.

  "I'll take the hint when you will." Grimm countered, a stubborn set to his mouth and shuffled back to his seat with Merizus. For once the serjeant slept, too tired to care, Dagmar thought. Was that why Grimm fretted?

  .*.*.

  The second noon came and went with the smaller, hotter sun. In contrast to the preceding days, both suns emerged in force during the afternoon to peel away the clouds. It pleased Dagmar by recharging the crystal while warming everyone, but the smell of packed humanity gradually drying was not pleasant. Dagmar napped, but by the time he awakened, the stink was as repressive as the sun searing down on his head. Glancing up at the yellower of the two suns, he guessed the direction they were heading in. He looked to his left to see Onvice huddled unconscious, the boy's head padded by a shirt. He touched a hand to the Cadet's throat and could feel a pulse beating. Vigorous, but erratic.

  His faint movement woke Seaman Lang, who squinted at Dagmar and waved a scarred, grubby finger at the boy. "The lad has a skull on him all right." The words seemed casual, but every minute the man's tall head twitched. It must have been going on for some time as those nearby ignored the mannerism.

  Dagmar snorted, struggling for a reply. He faded. Dagmar's vision doubled and feeling light-headed, he soon drifted off to the sensation of Lang covering him with a blanket as darkness sheathed the sunlight.

  .*.*.

  It was dark when Dagmar felt a hand shake his shoulder. Groaning, a searing brain-churning pulse behind his eyes, he felt his mouth mumble something incoherent about turds and privies before his brain caught up and clammed his lips shut. Brawny hands lifted him, and Seaman Copely hauled him upright. He was more direct than any question, and Dagmar was thankful for the extra few seconds recovery time. Once he had Dagmar's attention, he pointed aft, where Merizus stared through Bullsen's spyglass. Dagmar pushed alongside him, apologising twice to people he trampled. Merizus handed him the spyglass and leant close, whispering in Dagmar's ear, "Just off the larboard bow. Light. What do you want to do, sir?"

  "Do?" Dagmar grumbled, feeling groggy and battered. He blinked to clear his vision as a hand thrust—more than offered if Dagmar was forthright—the spyglass. It took a moment to detect the dim light. At first, he considered it a low-lying star, but the glow was wrong. A man-made orangey-yellow with little reflection suggested a fire. Habitation, help. Hope and danger. Saved or fucked—which? "No Edouard?" he asked.

  "He's still away with the faeries. We headin' to it, or away?" Merizus demanded. Risking insubordination, he snapped, "Come on, get on with it, sir!"

  Grimm coughed, and Dagmar imagined him giving Merizus a long look. Dagmar blinked, stung by the public rebuke. He masked his shock and bitterness with a second look, forcing unwilling eyes to focus and feeling both men staring at him. This second look at the shore was more telling for the sunjammer, more distinct. He could visualise
an inky silhouette of land under the distant glow. Tangible, not imagined. Interesting, maybe the current had been as suggested, wherever it had dragged them. Could they be this close to land?

  Dagmar turned to Merizus and returned the spyglass. "If I am not awake in five minutes, rouse me." He saw the serjeant flush in the crystal light, making his teeth and the white of his red-rimmed eyes stand out. The sunjammer added matter-of-fact. "Use your head. There are many ways to investigate. Some are faster than running over and having a bloody gawp!" He heard Hadly snigger, then grunt.

  .*.*.

  The cox'n knew he shouldn't laugh, but the giggles kept returning until he bit down hard on his thumb, relishing the white-hot stab of pain. Dagmar left the Marine looking so dumbstruck at the put-down, Grimm had to turn away and stare over the side and study the other horizon. Seek tranquillity with the sea. A moment of mercy, not the bowel-loosening unadulterated terror of her wrath. His humour faded a minute later as he spotted something dark and sinewy shimmering under the hull and disappear beneath the next roller. Sea serpent? Grimm glanced around, as much at the faces in the moonlight as at the sea. In a further moment of introspection, he kept the vision to himself. He must be further gone than he thought. They all were.

  .*.*.

  Dagmar took several deep breaths as he concentrated. With a heavier wrench than usual, he clawed his spirit from his exhausted body through force of will and circled their drifting boat as he rose to a reasonable line of sight. Zooming over the tossing waves, he could see that light came from a small island on the tip of a narrow peninsula that jutted far into the Tuvala Sea with a shingle cove on the side that broke from the land. A small grass-tufted hillock defined the faceted angles and clumps of bare rock, with a single crooked elderly tree near the humped summit.

  On a low branch, around shoulder level, sat a cloaked humanoid, with a lantern flame in a peculiar transparent cone-like shell, twice the size of a human head. From the cut of material and slight form, Dagmar suspected it to be a woman. Edging closer as cautiously as he dared with the terrain, he neared the glowing lantern. To his everlasting surprise, the slim figure pulled their hood back to reveal an oval-shaped face of mind-numbing, yet uniquely feminine beauty. Dagmar's breath checked in his throat as he gaped far longer than respectful manners suggested. He stared, astonished, at thin, angular brown eyes in an attractive ageless face, with almost heart-stopping delicate cheek bones framed by straight ashen hair to her waist.

  "I invite you to meet us, Magus." Guileless silvery words in a heavily accented Latos common. The sound was delicious to his ears, a vibrating tone to seduce the eardrum—his wriggled like a pair of fish in a net.

  "Peace upon you. I have been waiting for you to reach our shores. We will provide aid and respite to you in your time of need." She gave him a reassuring smile that made him want to go somewhere private and drool over himself. Dagmar shook himself. This was a surprise. It could also be a trap to lure them in. A small voice at the back of his mind opined against his river of thought. At least part of him wasn't taken in by the ethereal beauty and honeyed tongue. A cynicism within took his image of a net and suggested how the Elves could greet them. But why invite them? Shit, it made no sense, but it was a chance. A better chance than the sea.

  Shocked, he flashed back as fast as he could propel his weary spirit. Never in all his life had he heard of such a thing. No-one should see him while in spirit form. Were their magic users better, or had his Citadel tutors misled or lied to him? He shoved the matter aside. Their survival was paramount.

  Sitting bolt upright, he rocked the boat from the brutal twitch of his neck as he merged into his dank physical form. He gave a secret smile at alarming Merizus. The big man's face paled in the dim starlight. Several faces stared at him, parroting the big man's expression better than a court jester. Dagmar chuckled, having shut up the big man and his negativity. "Head over," he said. To annoy the serjeant, he added, "We may find a cordial surprise waiting."

  Merizus threw a plaintive look at Grimm, ignoring the sarcasm. Grimm gave a dry, mocking smile as supportive as quicksand. Then he stared at Dagmar, gaze hard. For a moment, Dagmar's composure wavered under their scrutiny, but the chance might be their only one. It was worth the risk, and they were out of options.

  "Do we break out the oars, or are you chugging us over, sir?"

  "I'll use the crystal as we have enough charge, but ready the oars. I'll need you to take charge here."

  "Oh-kay," Grimm drawled. Merizus raised a troubled eyebrow.

  "I'll double-check," Dagmar clarified. He assumed it was because of his injuries, but the sunjammer felt languid, as though he unconsciously suppressed all of his worries to the back of his mind.

  Grimm gave the sunjammer a long, searching look before glancing at Merizus. The marine reached for his sword, stashed somewhere behind his legs. Dagmar grunted. It was a better response than he'd expected, and a relief Hadly had learned to keep his mouth shut.

  "Lads, be ready if you've steel to hand," Grimm instructed, reaching for his knife harness and looked at Carla. "Best keep your eyes on him." Hadly shifted as eyes fell on him, and he ducked his head behind his knees. Carla nodded and her right hand slid into her left sleeve. Dagmar grinned, amused at Grimm's inventiveness. When all this was over, both men and the noblewoman would have days of polishing out the rust. A magus had some perks—every so often.

  29

  With a dull crunch of rounded stones on copper sheathing, the boat kissed a shale beach. They inhaled the heady scent of land and vegetation over the aroma of the ocean as unknown insects flickered light trails around their heads. Dagmar released his grip on the sunjammer controls and stiffly rose. Every joint in his slender frame creaked and ached under his clammy robe. When he swayed on stiffened legs, Vaska gave him a steadying hand and helped him clamber over the side as an unnatural hush fell.

  Pale eyes in sombre faces tracked his every move with the intensity a bard could only dream about. Dagmar's feet in his thin boots became colder, waterlogged in a foot of water as he touched the bottom, with an icy chill to discomfort his toes. He turned back to the boat feeling the initial tug of cramp and said, "Wait here, if I'm not back in a quarter hour, back off and do what you can." That went down well.

  Grimm gave another long look, as though considering where 'can' could get shoved. Merizus gave Dagmar a criticising stare despite trampling the sunjammer's authority earlier. The serjeant waved down the boat, "At least let me, Trev', or Ephraim go with you. We're fucked if you don't return."

  "No, Serjeant." Dagmar admonished. "Not this time, but thank you all the same." The sunjammer smiled, relaxed in contrast to the miasma of tension which bordered on disbelief.

  "Dunno, sir." Harcux looked to Merizus and stood, flexing his shoulders like a rolling breaker. "I can be right diplomatic when I put my mind to it. This isn't the place to wander, is it? Where the hell are we? He's right. What'll we do, if you get reamed like a drunken tart waddling down the docks on her fuckin' lonesome while danglin' her nekkid ditties? This doesn't give me a warm and tingly feelin' downstairs." Dagmar grinned at the big man, making a declining motion, then faded into the shadowy blanket of night. The last sound of the boat he heard was Hadly's braying laughter, before they muffled it—and any further thought of mutiny—into silence.

  .*.*.

  "For fuck's sake, you can't wander off on a jolly when you're commandin'! Fuck! Fuckin' fuck! Follow the motherfucker?" Harcux spat, his notorious temper rising while Grimm clambered over the side after Dagmar.

  The coxswain's deliberation lasted a long minute as he got wetter, then numb. Finally, he shook his stubbled head, taking in a lengthy breath of land-scented air. Muttering under his breath, he sloshed his way to dry land, scratching a cheek that a bug chomped upon.

  "Nah, we'll trust the Sea Leach for now. Right, listen up. It's a shit order, but he is rankin' officer. We're strung out, but we're Tryphon men. Bullsen's men. We don't do every man for himself, ri
ght? Right?" He glared ominously, eyes blazing over Valant, then glinted murder at Hadly. "Lang, Paska, Nadam, Seton, Valant, Trevir, you're fittest; help Harcux spin us around. I'll keep an eye out. If it goes to rat-shit, we'll be facin' the right way." Groans erupted, but the named men followed Grimm overboard, with loud splashes, mutters and oaths.

  "Keep the fuckin' noise down!" Grimm growled over his shoulder. He had to clench his teeth, ignoring the twinge from still bloody gums to prevent a torrent of abuse. It's always fuckin' whinge, whinge, whinge, without a thought of the consequences.

  "Run? Ha! This' fuckin' stupid," Valant complained, ignoring the warning. Even as the man spoke, Grimm heard the whine thick in his ear, drilling into his brain. Valant had spent the last day sulking and was fortunate Cephill hadn't laid him out when his griping about the miserly portion of food became trying at dawn. This time, to Grimm's everlasting annoyance, he wasn't letting the issue drop. "We need to do somethin'! It's bad enough settin' sail and cursin' the crew with no godkisser, without more stupidity doomin' the rest of us!"

  "Valant—" Grimm warned without looking. He daren't, just daren't. His hands were on his hilts before he could inhale a calming breath. Then, his eyes swivelled sideways as Valant squawked in outrage as he departed the boat, exploding in a foot of water. So much for being fucking quiet…

  "If you don't like it, quit being a whingein' twat and keep yer eyes peeled. For once in yer life do somethin' fuckin' useful! Shit-eatin' cunt-monkey!" Cephill growled, his brown eyes thinning to slits as the knuckles in his hands popped on the upper strake. He spat at the sodden man and thudded back down.