by Rye Sobo
“We should get going,” the orc said. “This is the last ship north before the ice.”
With the bloody warrant still in my hands, I followed the two travelers from the dark alley.
CHAPTER FORTY
Every summer since I had first picked up an instrument, I had spent in the streets of Drakkas Port performing for crowds and travelers as they passed by, with hopes I could gather enough money to buy beers for the Dem and I that evening.
Dem set up his easel in the Market District and often spent his days trying to convince pretty girls to sit with him while he drew their likeness in charcoal.
The summer past my twenty-third year was hot, and the first day with clouds in the sky coincided with the start of Cassis’s feast days. Most of the city had gone to Fort Hydrus to see exhibitions of fighting and watch gladiators and soldiers battle in the war god’s temple.
The serpentine paths through the merchant stalls in the Grand Arcade fell silent as worshipers and revelers settled in for five days of drinking, fighting, and drinking.
Lacking of an audience, I went in search of Dem in hopes we could find something better to do with our time. My hopes were high that would include women and alcohol.
I sat next to Dem while he worked on a sketch of an empty stall in the Grand Arcade. Drawn by Dem’s creative endeavors, Erista’s muses struck as I stared out toward the harbor.
“What if we took a ship and headed off on an adventure?”
Dem looked up from his charcoal drawing with a face of abject horror and true disgust.
“What?”
“What do you mean, ‘what?’” he said. “Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?”
“Very? Judging by your response.”
“Do you have any idea how many laws we would break just by stepping foot on a ship that does not belong to us?”
“Technically, most of the ships in the harbor belong to my family,” I said. “So we wouldn’t be stealing, just borrowing a ship that my family owns. Without asking. Or telling them we took it.”
“Well then let’s just go ahead and steal a ship!” Dem said as he rolled up his papers and placed them into his satchel.
“Are you sure?”
“No!” Dem said. He slapped his hand down on his easel. “This is the dumbest idea you have come up with! Worse than the time you decided we should sneak into the Temple District to watch the Eristal Virgins bathe.”
“That would have worked.”
“Not for a single moment would anyone believe we were there to repair the bathing pool, especially while they were using it!” Dem stood up and folded his easel and stool, nestling them underneath his arm.
Dem neared a fathom tall at this point. I had stopped growing a year after we met, and now I couldn’t look him in the eye even if I stood on top of a table.
“Do you have enough money for drinks tonight?” Dem asked.
I reached into my tunic and pulled out my coin purse. It was light, as usual. Three pins and a half knot. “I could swing it, but it would have to be Dockside.”
“Dockside works for me. But let’s stay away from the Fortress. All the taverns around there raise their prices during feast days.”
“The heathens!” I shouted. “A plague upon them. Divine Justice, guide my wrath!”
Dem rolled his eyes, picked up his satchel, and walk down the main thoroughfare toward the docks. “Come along, Divine Justice. We will be late.”
“Can you be late to an event you only now decided on?”
“Fine, I want to get there before the crowds let out from the games.”
“I have just the place, somewhere the crowds will never go, and the ale is plentiful.”
“Sounds like our kind of place. Where are we headed?”
“It’s called The Rusted Sextant. It’s a sailor’s tavern on the west side of the harbor.”
Dem stopped mid-stride. “It’s not that one that looks like it’s about to fall down is it?”
“That’s the place!”
“Weren’t a few people stabbed in that place just last month?”
“We were contemplating stealing a ship a few moments ago, and now you’re worried about a bar fight and a few deaths?”
“WE were not discussing stealing a ship,” Dem shouted. “YOU were discussing stealing a ship. I am not stealing a ship. You don’t even know how to steer a ship. How are you planning to get it away from the dock?”
***
“In the matter of the theft and subsequent sinking of the ship known as The Esmerelda, I find you guilty,” Justiciar Alfons Silverford said.
“Before you sentence my son, your honor, would you allow a mother to speak in her child’s defense?” Zori asked.
“Of course, I would consider any mitigating circumstances you wish to provide,” the red-clad justiciar said.
“Is it considered theft to take something that belongs to you?” Zori began.
“Of course not,” the justiciar said.
“Is it unlawful to be ignorant in your job?”
“Unwise, but not unlawful.”
“Then consider that my son is, in fact, the rightful master of the sloop Esmerelda. He could not be guilty of stealing a ship that belongs to him,” Zori continued.
I tried my best to conceal the surprise on my face at my mother’s words.
“And I trust you have the supporting documents to prove that Ferrin Alsahar was the rightful owner of The Esmerelda before its departure from the dock?”
“Of course, your honor. I have those documents with me,” Zori handed a scroll of parchment to the justiciar.
The middle-aged human read through the documents provided to him by the gnomish merchant. His lips moved as he read, causing his beard to waggle.
“Well,” the justiciar said. “It seems Master Alsahar was the rightful owner of The Esmerelda at the time of its sinking, and I cannot convict him of stealing his own property.”
A large toothy grin crossed my face as I looked to Dem.
“However,” the justiciar continued. “Demetric Pictus was not the lawful captain of The Esmerelda. As such he is guilty of commanding a ship without authorization from the Harbor Master, unlawful departure without paying harbor fees, and abandoning a derelict ship in the harbor.”
“I would have stayed with the ship had the Watch not fished us from the water,” Dem said.
“Master Alsahar, I would strongly recommend that you return to the Imperial University and continue your studies,” the justiciar said. “Master Pictus, I am sentencing you to conscription in the Drakkan Army. You are to report to Fort Hydrus in no more than two spans. You are to serve the Commonwealth for a term of five years.”
My head spun around to look to my mother. I pleaded with her to help Dem as she helped me. Zori nodded to the justiciar, thanked him, and departed toward the Southern Empire trading house. I stood stunned as my mother walked away from the person I considered my brother.
Dem sat in the dirt where he had stood. Tears rolled across his cheek and down his chin.
“Just think about all the adventures you will get to have.” I sat next to him.
“I don’t want adventures, Fer,” he said. “I just want a comfortable bed and a warm meal now and then without having to beg for it.”
The following day I walked with Dem down the harbor wall to Fort Hydrus. I stood beside him as he took the Oath of Enlistment. I embraced him, wished him well, and told him the drinks would always be on me.
Dem wiped the tears from his eyes. He nodded to me, turned, and walked into the fortress with his head held high, as a soldier.
The night Dem enlisted I went to The Rusted Sextant by myself to have a drink or four in honor of my friend.
Still hung-over, I awoke after midday in a room inside The Rusted Sextant. On the table next to the bed was a contract for music and entertainment at the tavern five nights per span, signed by me—beside that, a lease for the room and my coin purse filled with coppers and silver.<
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CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The streets of Whyte Harbor were just as crowded as Drakkas Port and twice as cold as I ever experienced. I pulled the cloak around me, in part to fend off the bitter winds, and in part to hide the mercenaries’ blood on my hands and chest.
The three of us pushed our way through the crowds to the harbor, careful to avoid patrols of the Watch.
“Do we even know where we are going?” the orc asked.
Claudio had given no description of his friend’s ship. All I knew was the name.
“The Harpy’s Remorse,” I said. “By the way, I'm Ferrin. Thanks for helping back there.”
A mule-drawn wagon pushed between us.
“I’m Ari Shi, and this the demure Rook Ferox,” the elf shouted over the mule.
“Ari?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Fuck,” Rook said. “By the time we find the ship’s berth she’ll have been underway for two turns.”
“Are you a criminal, Ferrin?” Ari asked as he pushed aside a longshoreman with a barrel and moved closer.
“No,” I said. “Not really. Someone accused me of murder, but I didn’t do it.”
“You killed that guy back there,” Ari said.
“Claudio killed him, and she killed the other one. Someone is trying to make my family look bad. They put a bounty on me.”
“That explains why the Red Hand were after you,” Rook said.
“Who?”
“Mercenaries, elite soldiers for hire,” she said. “If you have the gold, they’ll get you the glory. I’m guessing they saw an opportunity and took it.”
“I can’t see a damn thing with all these people,” I said. “What makes you say that?”
“They underestimated you and your friend,” Rook said.
“I’ll say,” Ari added.
The Company contracted the Harpy’s Remorse to sail to western Nivalis, so it’s likely we should find the ship with the other company vessels.
“I think I know where we can find the ship,” I said. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and made for the Empire docks.
I walked with determination and was met with the odd stares and a wide berth from stevedores moving cargo to the ships.
The sun had set by the time I reached the Empire docks; the wharf was lit by massive mage lamps, larger versions of the flameless arcane lights we used on the Fritzbink. Ten ships lined the Empire’s docks.
I stopped crewmen and asked for ship names and destinations. I got three ‘fuck offs’, six ‘your mothers’ houses’, and a ‘you’re a little small for a sailor.’
Reading the names on the ships, none were the Remorse.
“We’re running out of time,” Rook said. “We have to find the ship now if we have any hope of getting aboard.”
I grabbed the first Company stevedore that passed close enough. “I’m looking for the Harpy’s Remorse. Where is it?”
His lower lip moved toward his front teeth, prepared for the same greeting I had received from the sailors on my family’s ships.
I grabbed him by the pant leg and pulled him toward me.
“If you tell me to fuck off, I will cut your balls off and feed them to you right here in the street,” I growled. “I have had a terrible day and just need to find my ship.”
I opened the front of my cloak with my free hand to show the bloody cuirass and the belt of daggers. The stevedore’s eyes widened, and he pointed the pier next to the one I had searched. “They shove off in two marks,” he said.
I released the longshoreman and thanked him. We turned and ran down the seawall to the dock he indicated.
There was only a single ship on the dock, a three-mast caravel. The crew was making final preparations. We walked up to the gangplank, and I announced myself.
“Sergeant Reno Leon, I would like to speak to the captain.” The tears formed once more at the mention of the name.
“You’re late,” a steward hauling crates toward a hatch said.
“We got tangled up with the locals,” I said. “May I speak to the captain?”
The steward nodded, set the crates on the deck, and ran to the aft of the ship. He approached a woman in a dark frock coat and pointed in my direction.
“My tits he is!” the woman yelled as she marched toward the gang plank. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Sergeant Leon,” I said. “I booked passage on your ship.”
“If you’re Reno Leon, then I’m the lost Empress of Fortis!” she said. “You’re not even half the size of Reno. And who are these two? Where’s Captain Azpa. Wasn’t he supposed to be with you, Sergeant?”
I looked to my bloody hands, “Claudio—Claudio didn’t make it.”
Her demeanor changed, “I never mentioned his first name, so I’ll give you that. Did you kill him?”
“What? No!” I said. “We got jumped outside a tavern. These two helped me.”
I looked down the dock to see if anyone had followed us.
“Who are you, really?” she said. “I want to know everyone on my ship.”
I motioned for her to move closer. She raised her eyebrow at me. I took a step toward the captain and whispered, “I’m Ferrin Alsahar, Claudio was helping. Reno died helping me. Ten hells, the entire crew of the Fritzbink died helping me.”
She nodded. “If Claudio helped you, so will I,” she said, “welcome aboard the Harpy’s Remorse, sir, Captain Helma Keets at your service. Jarret, help this man to his quarters. I expect the full story from you later. And who are you?”
“Ari Shi and Rook Ferox.”
“And you’re tied up in this too?”
“It seems so,” the elf said.
I nodded to the captain as the steward motioned toward the hatch and the ladder below deck.
“All right, let’s go. Raise the gangplank and prepare to make sail,” Captain Keets shouted.
“Aye, Captain!” The crew responded in unison.
***
The Remorse was twice the size of the Fritzbink. Where most of the lower deck of the Fritzbink was a cargo hold, someone converted the Remorse’s hold into individual cabins for passengers.
As Jarret led the three of us down a narrow corridor to our quarters, I noted the other passengers: a group of five men and three women, each with a shaved scalp and dressed raiments that marked them as members of the Larian Order. A full suit of plate armor on a wooden stand stood in silent vigil in each of their respective cabins while the clerics gathered together, laughed, and played cards in one room.
Jarret motioned to a starboard cabin, “Madam.”
Rook took her rucksack off and threw it into the bunk, then took her two-handed sword, wrapped in cloth, and placed it under her rack with ceremonial reverence.
“And you, sir,” Jarret nodded to Ari. The elven man stepped into the cabin, placed his pack down, and pulled books out and set them in a pile of books on the table.
Three doors stood at the end of the corridor. One was my cabin, across from it the one for Claudio. Against the aft bulkhead was a hatch and ladder down to the crew quarters and a galley the passengers and officers shared.
“And here you are,” the steward said. He pointed to the pitcher of water and basin in the corner. “You should clean up, sir.”
I looked in the mirror above the basin. I was a horror to behold. Blood matted my hair and beard. Crimson smears marked my face from where I wiped away tears with my bloody hands. I placed my rucksack at the foot of the bunk and unclasped the cloak. The mercenaries’ blood covered my clothes and armor.
The steward raised his eyebrow at my state. “I’ll get you another pitcher of water and more rags.”
Alone in my room, I pulled off my armor and washed my hands, hair and face. The water basin turned crimson. I pulled off the bloodstained shirt and held it at arm’s length. With an arcane word the blood lifted from the cloth and fell to the wooden deck. This was nothing as gruesome as what I had done on the shores of Ledeni. It was a simple incantation, one I
learned from the Medela. The same used by Biomancers to clean up after bloody patients.
I fell into my bunk, clean and only half dressed, and drifted into a deep sleep as the ship rolled in familiar time with the sea.
***
The Harpy's Remorse took a circuitous route to Nivalis, as we hopped from island to island collecting packages and letters, delivering parcels, and trading with small communities.
I learned our destination was the port city of Vyspan on the western coast of Nivalis, beyond the Narrows, and one of the few ports still open on the continent.
War was a topic of frequent conversation, both on the ship and in the island villages where we stopped. A massive civil war had erupted on the northern continent and had displaced many Nivaleans. Ari, Rook, even the Larians had personal stories of battles they shared at night as we sailed between the islands.
When it was my turn, I regaled my fellow travelers with tales of surviving the Great Storm, facing down pirates, and my narrow escape from the Kraken.
For once, all the stories I told were my own and did not need a word of embellishment.
***
Thirty-five days passed since we left Whyte Harbor when we entered the Narrows. It was the final night of Arkanus, the ten-day celebration to the god of magic. The sun did not bother to rise above the horizon, leaving the world in constant twilight.
I stood on the deck of the Remorse, bundled in the furs I purchased off a trapper on one of our island stops.
“Some sort of bear,” he told me.
Even with the bearskin cape my hands shook, and each breath I exhaled hung in the air.
Off the starboard side was Nivalis, and many passengers were on deck to get their first look at the continent. I stood abeam, staring off the larboard side as the steep cliffs and tall tower of Callum Heights came into view through the haze.
I pulled my furs close to my chest as I waited to see the thriving encampments of refugees Dem had described.
As the ship moved closer to the fortress on the Laetian side, I could see the Laetian and Drakkan flags flying from the battlements of the tower. The tall cliffs glowed a deep golden color as the pyres worked. The sand glittered in the firelight like glass. Not like glass. As glass.