Blood Of The Righteous

by J. E. Sandoval

  David froze in place as his feet declined to move and his lungs refused to release their breath in a yell that would alert the rest of the crew. His mind tried to force his hand to draw his own dagger, but his will could not break through the paralyzing fear.

  Pem swung his dagger in a wide clumsy backhanded arc. David instinctively brought his arms up, knocking the dagger off course from his throat, causing it to cut him from his cheek to above his right eye.

  If his will could not break through the power of fear, his pain certainly could. David screamed as he clutched his face, blood pumping from the open wound. The rest of the group turned around, just as they were set upon by more of Gaceric’s men.

  Weapons came out as they faced their attackers, and Edge immediately dropped one of the assailants. David had no time to watch the others. Pem grabbed him by the shirt collar and raised his dagger for another swing.

  David quickly bit down hard on Pem’s hand, sinking his teeth into the meat between his attacker’s thumb and index finger. He then kicked him hard in the groin, causing Pem to release his grip as he yelped in pain. Quickly, David dove to the ground, crawling into the growing crowd that was enthralled with the spectacle. He darted under the pickle vendor’s cart as Pem retrieved his dropped dagger and began to scan the crowd.

  “Twice in me jewels? You’ll die for that!” Pem screamed. He scanned the ground, finding David’s telltale blood, and tried to push his way through the people who had closed around the path David had taken.

  David drew his dagger from his boot as he crouched under the pickle cart. His eyes were stinging from the blood that continued to flow. Bending to the side, he looked out from under the cart. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Pem making his way to the cart.

  “Where are you, you bastard? I’m gonna…”

  Pem’s voice cut short. He dropped to his knees, and then fell forward in front of the cart. David yelled as Pem’s face dropped to the ground staring right at him in his hiding place. However, Pem only gurgled as blood poured out over his rotting brown teeth. David crouched down further and saw a knife sprouting from his enemy’s back.

  “David! David!” Karinga’s panicking voice cried out over the din of the crowd. “Lad, where are you?!? David!!!”

  David weakly reached his bloodied hand out from under his hiding place. Karinga ran over and flipped the cart over backwards, sending pickles flying into the crowd. He scooped David up off of the ground, raising him to his feet.

  “Come on, let’s get you to Quenton,” Karinga said, his voice cracking.

  Edge and Fyke, both bleeding from various small wounds, stepped over several bodies to Karinga and David.

  “Come on, Captain,” Fyke said. “The watch is on their way and…” Fyke paused as he saw the wound on David’s face. “Oh, lad! Are you alright?”

  “Of course he’s not alright!” Karinga bellowed. “We need to get him back to the ship now!”

  Fyke nodded and took the sobbing Yeoman’s right arm as Karinga took his left. They followed Edge as he forcibly parted the crowd, leaving the five attackers dead or dying in the street.

  * * * * * *

  The men in the employ of Lady Malcoeur carried the barrels of dark beer off the ship one by one under Johan’s constant urging for care towards the valuable cargo.

  Karinga leaned on the starboard railing, watching the line of workers load the barrels onto several mule-pulled carts, wincing every time a scream pierced the air from below decks. Every cry of pain cut deeper into Karinga’s heart than he thought possible. David was just a boy, a boy he had grown quite fond of, almost like a favorite nephew. He blamed himself for the wound across the Yeoman’s face, one that would surely leave a nasty scar that he would carry with him until the end of his days.

  The visit from the town watch had been routine. His explanation of how he and his crew were mugged, plus a handful of silvers, had satiated the guards. They warned Karinga to set sail as soon as possible before Gaeceric demanded an inquiry for the death of his men.

  Another scream split the air as Quenton pushed another stitch through David’s face below decks. Karinga thumped his fist on the rail as Dunkirk cautiously approached him.

  “Captain,” the hawk-nosed boatswain said, “We’ll be ready to set sail with the tide in an hour. What shall our heading be?”

  Karinga stared at him blankly. “I’m sorry, Dunkirk. With all that has been going on, I hadn’t had a chance to think about it. What about replacement crew? How many did we lose this port?”

  “Just two, Captain. We lost Georgie, of course, and Garth, one of the bilge men. No one else wants to leave after that payday. It’s probably more than they are used to seeing in a year.”

  Karinga winced as David screamed anew. “Hm. Shouldn’t take long to replace them.”

  “Aye, I’ve had twelve others offer their services. Seems word’s gotten out about our new way of doing business.” A rare smile crossed Dunkirk’s sunken face.

  “I guess we can afford a full crew now. Hire seven of them, the ones who look most sturdy. Have them report to Edge,” Karinga said.

  “Edge, Captain?”

  “Yes. I want the entire crew to start training to fight. Better yet, get Edge up here.”

  David’s screams had stopped. Karinga went back to watching the laborers load the large kegs onto the carts. How lucky they were in their simple lives, he thought, not having to put up with the likes of Gaeceric and his men. They could put in a hard day’s work, no one’s lives depending on them, collect their pay, and then go back home to their families and a hot cooked meal.

  Karinga was brought out of his thoughts by Edge bounding up from below decks, still clutching a rag to his wounded left forearm.

  “Bo’sun said ye wanted ta see me, Cap’n?”

  “Edge,” Karinga said after a pause, “We need to step up the training for the crew. Specifically, I want you to make sure David is the best fighter you’ve ever seen. I want that boy to have confidence, and I want the peace of mind knowing that the best Yeoman we’ve ever had won’t be in any more danger than the rest of us if Gaeceric’s cronies come calling again.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “Work them hard, Edge. Every last one of them.”

  Edge nodded and went back below deck. On the dock, Johan waved goodbye. It would be a long time indeed before Karinga and the Waverunner could return to Port Cauldwell.

  “Mister Dunkirk,” Karinga called out. “Set course for Port Cirill.”

 

  * * Four Years Later * *

  The sea spray danced upon David’s face as he leaned against the forward railing at his usual spot overlooking the jib boom. The water sparkled with the reflected light of the midday sun, and the sky had not a cloud to detract from the endless expanse of blue.

  It had been another routine commodities run, although this time to the far south port city of Bord de la Mer in northeastern Gaul. There, he had purchased seven hundred bolts of fine silk that originated in either Byzantium or Greater Arabia. Fortunately, due to its cost, not many northern traders dealt in silk, as the risk was often too great. A successful pirate attack could financially ruin both a captain and his creditors, who were almost always needed when dealing with such a precious commodity. However, the Waverunner’s funds were more than sufficient for such a purchase with the large sums of wealth the officers had accumulated over the past four years.

  Another factor was the Sea Merchant’s Guild, always trying to wring money out of members and downright extort money from independent operators, which they called illegal traders. They had continued their bullying tactics, and had become worse than any group of pirates since the Rain of Fire. With Gaeceric greasing the palms of the northern seafaring nations, guild ships had very little to worry about from any nation’s laws. Most merchant ships gave the Pirate Isles, the current home of the guild,
a wide berth.

  The Waverunner had crossed paths with several guild ships since David had come aboard as Yeoman. Twice at sea the confrontations had erupted into swordplay. David fingered his scar that ran from his eye down to his jaw, given to him shortly after joining Karinga. That altercation had taught him a valuable lesson about being on guard. At a finger short of six feet, David, now eighteen, had grown into a fine young man. With Edge’s constant training, he no longer feared to walk streets of any port alone. Using his fine cutlass plus his brass-knuckled dagger in his off hand, he had ended the career of several rogues who thought him an easy mark. His strikes were not overly powerful, but given his lean build and cordlike sinewy muscles, he struck frequently and with deadly accuracy.

  David breathed in deeply, catching the salty mist. Corwyn was right, there was nothing better than the sea to purge the demons from the mind. His nightmares had dwindled to almost nothing. No one had ever recognized him, and as far as the world was concerned, David Ki Kalendeen was long dead and buried.

  He occasionally wondered about Gabriel and Eleenia, but to contact them would mean exposing himself to whatever force had destroyed his family. They were safe enough in Avonshire, he reckoned, however he could never hide in such a life that the university and church would offer him, especially now that he had tasted the freedom and independence his current life had brought.

  David jumped as he was startled by the appearance of Captain Karinga by his side.

  “I need to tell Fyke where to set course. I’m guessing you want to sell this silk in New Portsmouth?” said Karinga.

  “No, Jax. Somewhere in Decia, I think. Northpoint. That way we can pick up a shipment of timber and take it across to Gylina.”

  Karinga pursed his lips as he leaned against the railing next to David. He stood silent for a few moments, not wanting to question the decision of his Yeoman, whose reputation amongst traders had become infamous. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him. “Why not put into New Portsmouth? The Eddingtons would be sure to pay handsomely for most of the silk. Then we could pick up some iron and sell it at Port Cirrill.”

  David smiled at Karinga’s question. It was good to see him start to think beyond his next trade. He had also picked up quite a few of David’s negotiation techniques.

  “Snakepox, Captain,” David answered.

  “What’s those?”

  “After the trade in Bord de la Mer, I spoke to Monsieur Laffont at length about the happenings around the trade routes. Quite a number of people in New Portsmouth have acquired Snakepox this year. It happens during warm summers. The area near the sea will be set upon by a plague of snakes in the springtime. Several months later, Snakepox will appear. Nasty disease. It starts with tiny purple splotches on the skin. Blood blisters, really. People pop them and they go away, only to be replaced by two more. After a few weeks, they are covered in them. They lose interest in eating, take on a fever, and die. Disgusting. I have no desire to go there until it clears itself up.” David couldn’t help but shudder.

  “So it eventually disappears?” Karinga asked.

  David nodded. “Usually around mid-fall when it gets colder. The snakes will die off or go away, and the Snakepox will vanish.

  Karinga wrinkled his nose. “I see. Yes, I am inclined to agree with you. Northpoint it is.”

  David turned back to the sea, catching sight of a shark’s dorsal fin breaking the surface.

  “Tanner,” Karinga said uncomfortably. “How is it you have come to know so much about so many different subjects? I’ve never seen you so much as open a book as long as you’ve been part of my crew.”

  A bit of anxiety cramped in David’s stomach, as it always did when asked about his past. “My father made sure I was well educated as I was growing up. My older brother was to take over his tanning shop, and he wanted me to attend the university in Avonshire.” It was the same story he told others when they asked.

  “Do you ever intend to fulfill your father’s wishes?”

  “Not on your life, Captain,” David replied with a smile. “I love being part of the crew, seeing the world, and making more money in a month than my father made in a year. Go to Avonshire and sit around all my life arguing the finer nuances of Piranian’s principles of morality with a group of stuffy narrow-minded popinjays? I would rather sleep naked on a pile of broken glass. No, education without application is pointless.”

  Karinga chuckled and patted David on the back. “There’s a good lad.

  “Oh, Corwyn tells me you’ve passed your eighteenth birthday a while back. Is that true?”

  David nodded. “Yes sir, I did.”

  “Then I’ll have to quit calling you lad soon, being on the doorstep of manhood and all.”

  David rubbed his scar again, not taking his gaze from the sea. “I think I passed that threshold a while ago, Captain.”

  “Aye, lad. That you have.”

  * * * * * *

  The sharp pounding on the door cut its way through Gabriel’s blissful slumber. He wished nothing more than to be embraced by the sweet darkness that sleep would bring, but alas, the villain outside his room was intent on foiling his plans.

  Yesterday had been one of the most trying days he had endured over his seven years of training. While he was now considered a master with the sword, surpassing even most of his teachers, his skills in the realm of academics left a lot to be desired. However, with Eleenia’s help, he had prepared himself, and yesterday he had passed the Test of Knowledge. One test was completed, and two more lay before him.

  This day was his Test of Combat. He would fight the three initiates he had been training for the last two years, and while they were all top quality fighters, Gabriel had little doubt in his abilities. This would be the easiest of his three tests. Tomorrow would bring the Test of the Angelic Blade. A Holy Defender was expected to be strong in mind, body, and spirit, thus all three were rigorously tested.

  Over the past several days, Gabriel had been neglecting his sleep, studying and being quizzed by Eleenia until the wee hours of the morning. El didn’t mind, as she hardly stepped foot outside of the Great Library these days and her thirst for knowledge had grown unquenchable. Gabriel joked that he would dress her up like him and have her take the Test of Knowledge for him.

  Truth be told, Eleenia would have had no problems. Of all four of Lord Alexander Ki Kalendeen’s children, she by far possessed the greatest intellect. Gabriel had never beaten her at a game that required strategy, and it was said that she had once even defeated their father at a game of King’s Table, a feat he himself could never have hoped to accomplish.

  The banging continued. “Brother Gabriel,” the voice called through the heavy oaken door. “The midday meal is in a few moments, and then your test of combat!”

  A wave of anxiety washed over him. He had overslept! Gabriel jumped out of bed and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. “I’m awake! Thank you,” he shouted back to the steward. Had he not been awakened, he would have slept right through his Test of Combat.

  Walking over to the washbasin, he splashed some of the cold water on his face and grabbed his clothing. After today, only one obstacle remained to his becoming a full knight in the Order of the Holy Defenders. If only his father could see him, he thought.

  * * * * * *

  “It is indecent for a woman to be reading of wars, Mistress Ki Kalendeen!”

  Eleenia looked up from her book, the orange and yellow light of two flanking lamps dancing upon her overly pale face. “Thank you for your most unsolicited opinion, Professor Skinner,” she said, regarding the dour face of the crotchety older man across the table from her. “However, the strategy of battles is one of my interests, and Homer’s Iliad contains some of the most…”

  “I am well aware of The Iliad, you impertinent…” The pro
fessor stammered over his words as Eleenia cocked her head to the side, staring at him with an amused smirk. He shook his finger at her, his frustration evident. “Your problem, young lady, is that you lack a sense of propriety! Spinsterhood is your future. Your poor mother and father are probably rolling over in their graves!”

  “Nonsense, Professor. My father always encouraged me to pursue whatever held my interest, regardless of stuffy old traditions.” She batted her eyelashes, mocking him.

  “Preposterous!” he said. “Utterly preposterous! You are court trained, Mistress Ki Kalendeen! You should be spending your efforts trying to catch the eye of a noble or country lord, not spending your time in useless pursuits.”

  “Useless, Professor?”

  “Of course!” Skinner said, placing his hands upon his lapels, attempting to look as scholarly as possible. “Matters of strategy are best left to men, as the male mind has a stronger grasp of abstract concepts.”

  Sensing the gauntlet had been dropped, Eleenia folded the corner of the page in the book to mark her place and stood. “Would you care to put that to the test, professor? A game of King’s Table, perhaps? Or would a defeat be too much for your superior abstract mind?”

  “Bah!” Skinner proclaimed. He reached down and took the book from in front of her. Eleenia tried to stop him, but he had the book out of her reach. “To even suggest such a thing is the height of absurdity! You mark my words! No man is interested in a bookish woman who doesn’t know her place! The best you can hope for is that someone will take pity upon you and…”

  “I don’t need to get married to have self-worth, Skinner! And mind yourself for a change. I pray to God that someday I will have so little wrong with my life that I could go around pestering others about the speck in their eyes while ignoring the forest in my own!”

  The professor dismissed her with a wave of his hand and walked away grumbling to himself, the book Eleenia had been reading under his arm.

  Eleenia looked around the room, darkened by the closed drapes. The other two library patrons in this particular room were staring at her, uncomfortable at the spectacle they had witnessed.