Heroes of Time Legends: Murdoch's Choice

by Wayne D. Kramer

  The plump form of Jaxon “Wigglebelly” Harper emerged from the galley, puffy chef ’s hat upon his head, grasping a large pot with oven mitts. He walked up to the other officers and stood in place.

  Zale frowned. “Not you, Wigglebelly.”

  “Ah, yeah,” Wigglebelly spoke in his light, airy voice. “Just passing through, man. Whole crew’s here.”

  “That they are,” Zale said. “As you all can see, we now have a full crew. Quick introductions would be appropriate. Mister Fulgar Geth will act as our onboard physicker and chaplain.”

  Fulgar bowed in greeting. “Healer and spiritual guide, sir. Thank you.”

  “Right,” Zale mumbled. “Take your physical and psychological woes to him.”

  “Hey,” Chim said, “our chaplain’s name rhymes with vulgar.”

  “Well, that makes him a perfect fit for this crew,” Beep said.

  “Next,” Zale said, “we have Miss Evette Caskmore. She is a seasoned coxswain and will lead our rowing team. In fact, she brings with her four able rowers and deckhands…because, after all, many hands make faster plunder.” He took note of the shifty glances already darting around. “Yes, she’s a female. I’ll tolerate no shenanigans on that account. Fump, ready her a private space within the hold. Is all copasetic with your quartermaster’s mate?”

  “Aye, Captain,” Fump replied. “All’s well. He’s a bland sort of fellow. If he were a spice, he’d be flour. But he gets the job done.”

  “Huhuhuhuhu,” Wigglebelly chuckled. “Flour. That’s good, man.”

  Beep turned to him with a scowl. “Why are you still here, Wigglebelly?”

  Zale cleared his throat. “Alright, men—er, crew—sorry, Evette, you might have to answer alongside the men until I get used to that.”

  “No need to change your methods on my account, Captain,” Evette said.

  Zale nodded. “Back to your final preparations. Dippy and I will be about the ship to ensure all’s well. Dismissed!”

  The officers dispersed, and Zale turned to Evette. He wanted to personally drive home his support of her command as coxswain.

  “Miss Caskmore, what do you say we set things to order with your team?”

  “Sounds good, Captain,” she replied.

  “Dippy, assemble all who will act as oarsmen in the event of need.”

  “Yes, sir!” Dippy yanked at the bell pull. “Oarsmen, below deck, on the double!” Those not already below made their way down the staircase.

  Zale, Dippy, and Evette descended to the main inner deck of the Queenie, which housed the oarsmen benches as well as the crew hammocks. Zale inhaled the stout, woody aroma of the ship’s roastwood planks as they entered. It was something like the charred logs of a campfire, but he loved it.

  The galley was just ahead from the bottom of the stairs and below Zale’s cabin in the ship’s aft. From here they turned the opposite direction. This was also known as the berthing deck, where rows of hammocks hung from the support beams. Positioned between the hammocks were the oarsmen benches. To landlubbers it might look like insufferable clutter, but to Zale it was pure function. Often the hammocks were removed and stored during daytime shifts, with only a few left out for those on nighttime duty. Beyond the benches, moving toward the bow, were the stairs down to the hold, officers’ quarters, and sickbay.

  Dippy blew his little whistle to signal their coming, an alert to the crew that the captain was on deck. The commotion of voices and movement dissipated.

  Zale made his way toward the center aisle between the rowing benches, his boots clomping heavily upon the boards. He stopped briefly beside Dippy and counted eleven men among the benches. “Is this everyone? I thought we had a dozen assigned oarsmen.”

  “Uh…yes, sir…mostly. It seems we are missing one of our designated oarsmen at present. That would be our newly appointed navigator…and carpenter, Jensen. Perhaps he’s conducting a repair, sir.”

  “Jensen,” Zale repeated in a low, growling voice, rolling his eyes. “Let’s hope so.”

  Dippy remained like a sentry at the base of the stairs as Zale continued down the aisle. Evette planted herself at the start of the aisle, arms crossed and hard eyes scanning the area and the men she would command during any situation that required the use of oars.

  “As you’ve no doubt heard, we have a new coxswain aboard for this voyage,” Zale said, pacing the aisle. “I’m here to set her charge in order. She comes with four able-bodied coxswain’s mates, who will also serve as deckhands where needed.” He nodded in the direction of the new crewmembers. “Introduce yourselves, men.”

  “Archie Hunt,” said the first, his skin like dark mahogany.

  “Cal Norton,” said the next, a strapping young man.

  “Winston Clergy,” said a middle-aged fellow.

  “Fritz Flitter,” said the last, a man of wild fire-orange and brown hair.

  “Your proficiency as oarsmen could make all the difference in a pinch,” Zale said. “We race not only to bring in a copious bounty but also against the mastery bar, of which we are very much within reach. Now, I turn your attention to Coxswain Evette Caskmore.”

  Murmurs and sneers filled the deck. Zale watched closely for anyone who dared insolence, and also how Evette would handle it.

  Evette slung her arms behind her back and stepped forward, shoulders back and head held high. “Oarsmen of the Queenie, listen up! When we are called to the sweeps, my voice will be your guide, your light in the darkness. By its command will you make this ship soar through the waves like an arrow in the wind. By my direction will you bank us around sea stacks and turn us toward or away from enemy engagement. I am your eyes. My voice is your conscience. You will hear it during the day. You will hear it in your dreams at night.”

  “I expect we will,” muttered one of the oarsmen, Jonas. He nudged a shipmate, who remained smartly rigid.

  Evette cast the man a sharp glare. “I have on good authority that I’m the only one here to lack a certain male body part. Get on my bad side, and you might find yourself lacking the same. Whether gelding or stallion, I will motivate you to move this ship. Are we clear?”

  She was met with silence.

  “I said, are we clear?!”

  The oarsmen gave a jolted “Aye,” followed by a nearly incoherent mix of “sir” and “ma’am.”

  Evette gave a satisfied nod. “Captain, with your permission, I’d like to acquaint these men with my primary calls and commands.”

  For a moment Zale almost believed that she commanded him, too. He recovered, straightening his posture.

  “The deck is yours, Madam Coxswain.”

  Zale’s office chair creaked in protest as he sat back from the desk of his private quarters. He took the spectacles from his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He tossed his glasses lightly upon the stack of flaxsheets before him. This was his least favorite part of any voyage, the pre-departure paperwork—a mess of expenses, ship’s logs, accounts and certificates of provisions, guild documents of crewmembers added and released, a slop-book with a meal-plan from Wigglebelly that might as well have been written in slop.

  Zale stood and stared through the aft windows at the increasing brightness of Eliorin’s planetary rings as the sky darkened to twilight. It was late into the day’s twenty-second hour. Most of the crew had already supped aboard the ship, partaking of whatever manner of gruel Wigglebelly and his mates could throw together amongst final preparations.

  Tonight everyone was to stay aboard the Queenie. At first light they were scheduled to leave port. Their destinations were set. First they would put their stern to the rings and sail north for Korangar. After that, they were bound for Akkadia in the east.

  That’s the right move, Zale continued telling himself. Vidimir’s sudden appearance and persistence last night had been meant to scare him into racing off to find the Grim-stone. To Zale it made things all the more suspicious. Still, as a cautionary measure, he paid off a couple of friendly soldiers in town to ke
ep an eye on his family. One could never be too careful.

  If Vidimir really was some off-color pawn of nobility, it seemed there was a coordinated effort to keep both Zale’s and Seadread’s crews from reaching the mastery bar. It could be the kingdom’s underhanded effort to ensure they both stayed in active service. Zale was quite content to call their bluff.

  A knock sounded on his door. “Come in,” Zale called.

  Fulgar entered. “You asked to see me, Captain?”

  “Please, sir, have a seat.” Zale gestured toward a small padded chair.

  Zale landed within his own creaky chair, taking a moment to stare at the physicker. Fulgar was a bit too undefined for Zale’s taste. He meant to learn more, find out his motivations.

  “Have you been able to set your space in order?” Zale asked.

  “Yes, Captain. The onboard supplies were admittedly lacking, but I have supplemented them, I think, sufficiently enough with my own cache of instruments and medicinals to handle most injuries and ailments.”

  “Good to hear,” Zale said. “I can’t help but wonder, er… Doctor, Physicker…?”

  Fulgar smiled politely. “Healer—please, sir.”

  “Healer. I can’t help but wonder how you came to know of the unoccupied stations of our crew. How did you know we lacked a physicker?”

  “It’s well-known, sir, that the famous Captain Murdoch can be found at The Wench’s Tavern whenever he’s between jobs. It’s also known that much of his crew loiters about Friendly Oaf ’s Taproom. That is where I caught word of your openings, sir. I hope this does not displease you.”

  “Not at all,” Zale answered dismissively. Of course, he knew that taproom well, being the place where his own daughter worked. “Then, these short voyages to Korangar and Akkadia were enough to entice you to seek me out?”

  “To sail with the great Captain Murdoch? Of course!”

  It wasn’t the first time someone had sought to join his crew for such a reason, but Zale didn’t feel entirely convinced. Fulgar seemed a man of experience, not the type so easily guided by the fame of his boss. He would keep a watchful eye on this one.

  Zale rose from his chair, indicating an end to their meeting. “I trust you’ll understand, Healer, that yours is one post I hope does not need to prove its worth.”

  Fulgar stood in turn. “I quite agree, sir.” He made for the door, stopping just as he reached it. “However…I must say, Captain, that I’d rather hoped you would pursue the other opportunity at hand.”

  Zale frowned with a blink of confusion.

  Fulgar lowered his voice dramatically. “The Grimstone.”

  Ah, so there it is, Zale thought.

  “So,” Zale replied flatly, “it would seem there is more to you than the piously noble healer we see on the surface. You might as well sit back down.” Zale walked past Fulgar, opening his door to shout at the nearest seaman. “You, there! See that I get a stein of ale straight away.” He closed the door. “Not even yet at sea, Healer Fulgar, and you’ve already got me drinking.”

  It was a warm, breezy night in the harbor of Warvonia, Starlina’s favorite kind of weather. She laughed and jogged with Jensen, hand in hand, their steps thumping against the wooden docks. They had enjoyed a picnic supper together along the waterfront, watching the sun disappear behind them. After they were done they took a stroll, with no particular aim, as they had done so many times since childhood.

  So far the evening had been wonderful. She felt relaxed in his presence, free to just enjoy herself. She was comfortably dressed in a white, sleeveless top, a blue mini-skirt patterned with yellow suns and moons, and white sandals. She had painstakingly styled her hair in rope-like braids that coursed across the side parting, wrapped both ways around her head, and tied together in the back.

  She had even had a pendant formed around the lilac kuntupite Jensen had given her. It dangled about her neck from a silver chain like a pinkish-purple teardrop.

  Jensen was garbed in his sailing clothes—a loose gray shirt, tan pants, and a hooded jacket. It was a subtle reminder that he would be leaving soon, a reminder she tried to push out of her mind.

  He was, by now, supposed to already be aboard the ship. “I want to spend every moment I can with you first,” he had told her.

  Then he led her toward the docks. She chose to believe it was just more aimless fun, more loitering about with different scenery.

  Starlina frowned when she saw her father’s ship, the Queenie. Before she knew it, Jensen was leading her up the gangway.

  “Jensen, have you lost your mind?” Starlina hissed, although she couldn’t help but chortle at the roguishness of it all.

  “Shh!” He removed his hooded jacket and placed it upon her shoulders. “No sense making you too obvious.”

  “But what are we even doing here?” She tucked her long hair into the hood and pulled it taut. “You’ll be in so much trouble if we’re caught! You’re supposed to be working, and I’m not supposed to be here at all!”

  He waved her off. “They won’t have even noticed I was gone.”

  “You know I don’t like being aboard ships, Jensen.”

  “Yes, I know…but I thought you might at least fancy a quick tour of my home away from home. That, and the view of the rings across the water from the stern is absolutely stunning.”

  “This is my father’s ship. I’ve seen it before!”

  “Not with me on it,” he replied with a wink.

  They stepped onto the main deck, the bustling crew paying them little heed in the darkening twilight. Jensen led her up the stairs to the short quarterdeck, location of the helm, where he gave the ship’s wheel a pat. “Don’t you find it special, Starlina, to be upon your father’s ship just before sendoff?”

  She puffed derisively. She wanted this time with Jensen, but he knew how she felt about ships and sailing. “Oh, please. I haven’t so much as heard from Father in the last week. It’s completely unknown to me where you’re even going this time— just away from Warvonia…from home. I imagine he made certain to bid farewell to his wife’s granddaughters. Darlings, all of them, but they’re not even blood relations!”

  They stepped up to the stern deck. Jensen led them toward the very end of the ship. The water stretched before them and away from the harbor, like liquid glass reflecting the soft whiteness of the moon and rings. Jensen spread his arms wide, his hair whipping in the breeze. “You see that, Starlina? What do you think?”

  She stared into the beyond—the gateway to lands that

  were not for her. “It is beautiful,” she conceded, “like a rippling tapestry.”

  “Now, imagine being completely surrounded by that view on all sides. Breathtaking, isn’t it? It’s the absolute perfect backdrop.” She noticed his hand fiddling with something in his pocket. “I…I have a question for you….”

  No, not here! Starlina thought with alarm. She turned away, walking toward starboard. “And what’s so great about it, really? It’s just a massive field of water.”

  “Wh-what’s so great?” Jensen followed her to the starboard taffrail. “It’s what every sailor dreams of. Those open waters, the horizon laid out before you—it’s like freedom.”

  She spun toward him with a severe look. “Freedom from what? From home? From commitment? From the family you leave behind?”

  She turned back away, looking out toward the ships of the harbor stretching into the north. Why have I fallen in love with such a dolt? she thought. Will he never understand?

  “N-no. No…that’s not what I mean.”

  “I really think I need to leave this place, Jensen,” Starlina said.

  “Starlina, please. This is what I’m made for. This is what I’m good at. I love nothing more than sharing it with you.”

  She wanted all the more to get away. On some level she knew that she chose to suppress the differences between Jensen and her, focusing only on the good. She had for years. Being here, aboard this ship, only brought those differences to th
e surface, making them impossible to ignore.

  “What you love is the ocean,” she said. “This ship. My father. I just can’t….”

  She stopped, squinting into the distance. A purplish flicker had caught her eye. “What is that?”

  Jensen looked in the same direction. “Is that a…purple fire? How strange.”

  “I think maybe you should tell someone, Jensen.”

  He hesitated only a moment. “Yes…yes, I think maybe I should. Just stay up here, Starlina. I’ll be right back.”

  CHAPTER 5

  LEGEND BECKONS

  7/26/3203

  Zale glared at Fulgar, saying nothing until his stein of ale arrived. “What’s your business with the Grimstone?” He took a mighty draft of his drink.

  “As you might have already discerned, those who desire it are dangerous,” Fulgar replied. “They will have what they seek, at any cost.”

  Zale half-shrugged. “Is this to say that they’ll pay anything for it, that the reward is colossal…or is your interest of some more pious nature?”

  “Indeed, money is no obstacle for them.”

  “You didn’t answer the second part of my question.”

  Fulgar gave a cool, wry smile. “If you’re asking if your spiritual guide is pious, then of course I must say yes.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Put another way, are you playing at some scheme to convince me to go after the Grimstone so you’ll have it for your purposes?”

  Fulgar’s expression softened, his mouth a thin line. “No schemes, Captain. As I said, I am but a guide.”

  “Let’s just cut the charade and get to who you really are.”

  “All that I’ve told you is true, sir, but I have not told you everything. I am of the ancient Order of Aether Diamond, protectors of the Light of the Land and keepers of its secrets.”

  “I know nothing of this Order,” Zale said. “How do you know I’ve been given any opportunity related to the Grimstone?”

  “When Vidimir offered you the job to retrieve the Grim-stone, back in the tavern, it was not altogether difficult for me to see and hear what was happening. He did, after all, cast darkfire upon your table.”