Heroes of Time Legends: Murdoch's Choice

by Wayne D. Kramer

  “I know it’s not what you intended,” she said. “No one could have foreseen that awful fire. How do you suppose that happened?”

  “I think the biggest question is who made that happen? Whatever it was, word around the ship is that it’s responsible for the captain changing our course.”

  “Such a dangerous, unpredictable profession this is.”

  Jensen almost laughed. He felt awful that Starlina had ended up on the ship, but there was also a glimmer of excitement. Never would there be a better chance for her to see for herself what it was like to sail. “That’s part of the excitement. Although, I must say, usually we have some idea what it is we’re actually bound for, and the amount of the expected payout.”

  Finally she looked at him, her face softer, more relaxed. “How’s your head?”

  “Much better, thanks. The headache comes and goes. Healer Fulgar says it should feel much better by tonight. Although, my impending lack of sleep might not help the recovery.”

  She ran a hand through his hair, caressing him gently. He closed his eyes at the touch, both soothing and exhilarating. Jensen suddenly wished she could be here with him on every voyage. She actually smiled, showing her perfect teeth.

  “My father doesn’t deserve so much loyalty from you,” she said. “Oh! You’ve got a knot on your head.”

  He winced. “Ah, yes…it’s still rather tender.” He took her hand from his head and held it, relishing her skin’s warm softness. “Well…I’d better find Beep and get ready for a long night keeping the ship on course.” With another quick smile, he turned toward the stairs.

  “You’re right, you know,” Starlina said.

  Jensen turned.

  “It is beautiful…. The ocean, I mean.”

  He came back to her, drawing even closer than before. “Before now I believed it to be the most beautiful thing I would ever see from this ship.”

  He inched closer, his heart beating faster as he neared her tanned face. There was no other person he’d rather see, no better time than now. A sailor takes action, he reminded himself.

  He kissed her. At their lips’ touch they drew breath, and his nostrils filled with an intoxicating blend of the salty air and the rosewater in which she’d last bathed.

  He pulled away. “That was before today. I’ll see you later, Starlina.”

  The midday Jovidor sun beat down upon the ship, making the upper deck like a stovetop. Three days after leaving Warvonia, the Queenie breezed along through a mild chop in the water and full wind in the sail. Pleasant gusts of air pushed into the inner berthing deck, providing the comfort of the wind without the scorch of the sun.

  Jensen sat with Starlina and several of his crewmates amongst the rowing benches, slurping Wigglebelly’s latest batch of bean soup. Soon Wigglebelly joined with his own bowl, followed by Yancy and Rosh. They were gathered around the ever-intriguing Fulgar Geth, as he regaled them with tales of antiquity.

  “…And so it was that Zophiel became the second archastral to enter our world to save it from cataclysmic doom. It is said that the brilliance of her atmospheric entry circled the entire world with golden flashes of light. Soon the deathly cold temperatures of the prior age started to rise, and our ancestors emerged from their caves to an unencumbered sun. All the ice and snow which had blanketed the land for nearly a millennium began to recede. There were those who emerged who had never before seen anything in the sky except for the clouds of snowstorms. The so-called Lightning Cataclysm, which brought about the Foudroyant Age—Zophiel’s Age—was in fact not a cataclysm but rather an ethereal healing of the land.

  “Men and women, grimkins and anthropods, all beings of Grandtrilia begged to worship Zophiel as a goddess. She wouldn’t have it. Even as the fullness of her ethereal energy fed into the healing of this planet, even as immortality seeped from her body, she gave all the glory to Eloh.

  “As a manifestation of her energy, an ethereal material was created.”

  Fulgar pulled the long dagger from the sheath at his side. There was no white glow around it, as there had been during their fight with the darkfire. The blade was solid black, like polished obsidian, with pinpoints of light that sparkled like stars.

  Jensen imagined it was what the night sky might look like if there were no rings and moon.

  “Novidian,” Fulgar said. “In these days, any known traces of it are carefully guarded by the Order of Aether Diamond.”

  Their eyes followed the blade as he moved it slowly through the air, as if hypnotized.

  “How’s your knife black, man?” Wigglebelly asked. “Did you paint it that way?”

  “It’s not paint, Wiggles,” Yancy said. “It’s the mineral. How else would you explain the sparkles?”

  Wigglebelly shrugged. “That’s easy: tiny diamonds in the paint, man.” He popped a large spoonful of beans into his mouth.

  “Many weapons are forged with the intent to take life, or to overcome others,” said Fulgar. “A weapon such as this is forged with the intent of saving life. The purpose with which one forms an ethereal material is highly significant.”

  “May I?” asked Rosh, holding out his hand.

  Fulgar nodded. He handed the dagger to Rosh gently. Not out of fragility, it seemed to Jensen, but rather more like reverence.

  Rosh hefted the blade. “It seems light even for its small size. Very durable, too, as far as I can tell.” He gave the blade back to Fulgar. “How’s this compare to steel or iron?”

  Fulgar’s eyes twinkled. It was a question he seemed eager to answer. “Nothing you have onboard this ship could stand against it.”

  Jensen had never met a physicker or chaplain like this. True, his devotion to Elohism seemed absolute, but this weapon…novidian…was utterly unique. He wondered what the captain knew of this and if that had anything to do with their pursuit of the Grimstone.

  “There was white light coming from it before,” said Yancy. “I’ve never seen any steel dagger do that.”

  Fulgar lifted the dagger, and the white glow appeared faintly all around it. “Ethereal materials grant their users certain powers, to widely varying degrees. Novidian is like a connection to the energies of Zophiel herself, to the divine life she poured into our world throughout the Foudroyant Age.”

  “So,” laughed Tate, “it’s like you’re wielding angel’s light!”

  Fulgar tilted his head with an ironic smirk. “It is precisely like that.”

  Tate’s mirth faded into something like awe-inspired terror. Jensen and Tate shared a glance, and he wondered if they were thinking the same thing. Is this weapon in the hand of Fulgar an asset or a threat?

  Starlina’s gaze was fixed on the glowing weapon. “Will it shine for anyone else or just you?”

  “That depends,” Fulgar answered gently. “For some, yes. For others perhaps it could, with time.” He held it out to her. “Please…see how it feels to you.”

  She reached out and took it by the grip.

  “Hey, it’s still glowing!” Rosh exclaimed, pointing.

  “So it is,” Fulgar replied. “How does it feel?”

  “It’s like…something fond…like something familiar,” Starlina said.

  Jensen leaned toward her, his face alight. “Does it feel warm? Does it pulse or vibrate?”

  “No, it’s not like that,” she replied. “It’s more like holding something very dear to me, something so familiar that it’s almost a part of me.” She looked at Fulgar. “For something that indicates power, it seems remarkably…welcoming.”

  Fulgar took it back from her. “There are some within the Order who say those with a strong connection to ethereal materials will achieve great purpose in life.”

  “This Order you speak of,” Jensen said. “What is it? Where is it based?”

  “We are sworn guardians of the Light and of the ethereals, such as novidian,” Fulgar answered. “Those of the Devotion are scattered, and our armories divided. No one member knows the location of every stronghold. Yet, if
in need, we know how to call one another, to find one another, and gather.”

  Wigglebelly jittered with anticipation. “Hey, do you use that dagger to shave your head? That’s like an angel rubbing you bald, man. Huhuhuhuhu!”

  “I once had a full head of hair, actually. Black, with hints of white and blue.”

  Yancy nodded with interest. “Three colors—nice!”

  Tate jabbed at Jensen with a bony elbow. “Hey, your little lady’s got a nice head of hair. Wish I’d have known we could bring along our own scrubbers on this trip.”

  “Now we have to detour to Korangar,” grumbled Kelvin in his monotone voice.

  “Korangar’s where we were supposed to be headed in the first place,” said Rosh. “I’m more concerned about this whole Grimstone search.”

  “Personally I hope we find some pixies and munchkins along the way,” Yancy said with a chortle.

  “Do you question the captain’s judgment in this matter?” Fulgar asked.

  The other men exchanged glances, hesitating. Starlina’s eyes were fixed on Fulgar.

  “Ah, screw it,” Tate said. “It seems an awful rushed decision to me. Why’d he have to change his mind? If this was such a sure thing, we’d have left port knowing that was our bounty. That’s what I think!”

  “I’ve never doubted the captain before,” Jensen said, “but this is very unlike him. We could take the short runs we planned and still beat Seadread.”

  Rosh patted the empty sleeve on his left side, where normally there would be a second arm. “Sometimes one strong thing is better than two weaker ones.”

  Yancy chuckled. “He’s talking about arms and voyages at the same time. Love it!”

  Heavy steps crept toward them from the stairs.

  “Well, men, enjoying some glut and chatter, are we?” It was the unmistakable voice of Captain Murdoch. “It’s some fine sustenance, Wigglebelly. Some of the best brew o’ beans I can remember.”

  “Huhuhuhuhu! Brew o’ beans. Sounds like bean beer, man!” chuckled Wigglebelly.

  Shifty glances were aplenty. Jensen wondered how much of their conversation the captain had heard.

  “Fine work victualling the crew on our modified rations,” the captain said. “Gentlemen! Such a nice day to keep yourselves below deck.”

  “Yes, sir!” Tate piped, his voice unusually high. “As always, you couldn’t be more right!”

  “I wholeheartedly agree,” said Yancy. “I think we’re all about to get back to work, sir.”

  “At ease, men,” Murdoch said. “I’ve been considering things…and I believe I know just what our crew needs for a time like this.”

  Jensen grimaced and wondered if there was about to be punishment for too much lollygagging or, even worse, openly questioning the captain. He suddenly imagined being strung from the stern with his crewmates, dangling like lanterns.

  “What’s that?” Rosh asked.

  “It’s time to clear the upper deck and bring out the extra ale.”

  Yancy rubbed his auburn beard. “A deck party, Captain?”

  “Aye, Fump. A deck party.”

  Deckhands hauled barrels and flagons and all the ship’s most perishable foods to the main deck. Starlina watched them from beside the larboard railing, curious about this “deck party” that was about to take place. With any luck, she might even manage to enjoy herself.

  The smooth head of Fulgar emerged from the tangle of crewmembers. He was walking in her direction, frock coat billowing and arms folded.

  “Ah, Miss Starlina,” Fulgar said.

  She returned a cordial smile. “I’m not sure what’s about to happen here will be chaplain appropriate.”

  “Probably all the more reason I should be on hand,” he said. “How are you doing?”

  “Trying to make the best of bad, I suppose. Perhaps some drink will help.” She flinched, remembering this was the chaplain. “And praying, of course. Is it wrong to drink and pray at once?”

  Fulgar unfolded his arms, grinning. “Anyone with a drink probably has great reason to pray.”

  “Ah, of course.”

  She felt his eyes on her for a moment. “I merely joke, Starlina. Please, no need to prohibit yourself on my account. In fact, I pray you will enjoy the evening.”

  She relaxed against the rail. Fulgar really was rather charming. “And I you.”

  “Starlina.” He leaned a bit closer. “Earlier, when you held the dagger, the novidian connected with you. That is why the glow remained in your grasp. You are, indeed, someone very special.”

  “I suppose next you’re going to tell me that I’m here for a reason, to achieve some higher purpose.”

  He laughed. “Reason and purpose are Eloh’s business, and whether they align with mine or anyone else’s here is not for me to say.”

  “Indeed. I don’t wish to be made any part of whatever is going on here.” She was anxious to reach Vartu, where she would still need to find the fastest way back to Warvonia.

  “I will speak of it to no one without your consent,” Fulgar said. “But, Starlina, I request a pact between us. Should I ever need your help in some way, please come forth with confidence. Shall there be a signal between us?”

  This was startling. Starlina wondered what this man could ever possibly need her help with. It seemed of little matter, anyway. Soon she would be back on land.

  “Um…okay,” she said.

  “It shall be, I think—yes, of course—it shall be a star. If ever from me you see a star, then please come at once, for there is a great need. And should that time come, you just might find yourself with strength you never before would have imagined.”

  “A star,” she said. “My favorite shape.”

  “Then it’s perfect.” He folded his arms with a wink. “I should see if any of the men need assistance…with anything other than drink, of course. Thank you, Starlina.”

  She watched him walk away. She decidedly had no part to play here. Yet, as Fulgar mixed in with the crew, she couldn’t help but feel a part of something bigger than before.

  Twilight glowed in the sky, flamethyst torches lined the ship, and the rich, reedy sounds of accordion chords filled the air. Wigglebelly’s thick fingers proved not only adept in the kitchen but also on the keys of the accordion. Jensen couldn’t help but slap his thigh to the jovial tune.

  Captain Murdoch stood upon the quarterdeck, overlooking the entire crew gathered below. He raised a tankard of ale overhead. “Alright, you scurvy gruel-mongers, cheer up your guzzle-pipes and strike up a tone pleasing to me ear!”

  Wigglebelly played all the more fervently, swaying his girth to the tune as Fump, Chim, Dippy, and Beep clanged their tankards and erupted into song. Most of the crew joined in at the end of each verse, frothy drink splashing from their upraised mugs.

  “We’re king o’er the seas; yeah, we bring the loot!

  To all other seadogs we give the boot!

  Our captain’s name is Zale the Gale!

  Hey! Ho! Lift up your ale!”

  “Queenie’s our ship; she’s the greatest cat!

  In our crew we’ve got tall, thin, short, and fat!

  When a job’s on the line we will never fail!

  Hey! Ho! So let’s set sail!”

  The captain’s roaring laughter could’ve awoken the dead of the depths. Murdoch himself took up the next verse.

  “In all the guild, our crew is boss;

  Fump, Chim-Chum, and Wigglebelly sauce!

  Dippy and Beep and all the rest.

  Hey! Ho! Zale’s crew is best!”

  Starlina groaned loudly by Jensen’s side. “Well, that settles it. My father is officially a madman.”

  “He’s a riot!” Jensen yelled over the ruckus.

  Murdoch held both arms high in the air, demanding the attention of all. “Gents! And ladies—” he motioned his drink in the general direction of Evette and Starlina “—already we’ve been tested to our wit’s end. Many of you doubt my decision to change our cour
se—”

  “No! Of course not, Captain!” rang out shouts from the crew.

  Murdoch held a hand forward, calming the masses. “I know of the chatter. Very little is said on ol’ Pop-Pop’s ship which he doesn’t hear. But I tell you this—and hear me well—with the Grimstone in our grasp, the cargo will be simple, but the reward will be many times over the bounty we set out for—the bounty of bounties!”

  “To the Gale!” roared Rolf “Hookknee” Cone, a brown-skinned, barrel-chested deckhand.

  “To the Gale!” shouted the crew.

  “Never doubted you for a second, Captain!” Tate shouted.

  Wigglebelly set his fingers again to the accordion, prompting a flurry of dancing, stomping, and shouting.

  A few men urged the jolly seaman along. “Faster! Play it faster! Wiggle that jiggle-bowl!”

  Red-faced, Wigglebelly put his all into it, chuckling nearly in time with his music. Even Evette joined in the dance, hooking arms with the rowers who’d joined the crew with her.

  Jensen looked around in wonderment. Here was this crew on a daring mission, going after some mythical object they weren’t even sure existed, for a payoff they could scarcely imagine, and yet the entire ship was a festive uproar. Only one more thing could make this night complete.

  He turned to Starlina and proffered an arm. She arched an eyebrow. “Come now, Starlina. We’re here, under the stars and rings, and there’s no more jolly a place on the entire ocean than this very ship. We can share at least one dance, can’t we?”

  After an eye roll, she took his arm. “Fine. One dance.”

  They started off easy, but that one dance seemed to shake the inhibitions from Starlina. A second dance followed, then a third, each more energetic than the last. Others of the crew gaped at them longingly, perhaps the first time there had ever been such jealousy of Jensen’s position. Their options for female accompaniment at sea were extremely few—usually zero—and Evette was not to be trifled with.

  Eventually the music died down, Wigglebelly barely able to breathe from being so winded, and Captain Murdoch strode throughout the deck.