by William King
“A roof, a meal, some beer, maybe.”
“Irvyn can give you all that. This is his place. Best tavern in a hundred leagues.”
“Only tavern in a hundred leagues,” muttered one of his companions. Everybody at the table laughed. Ulrik wondered how often they had heard that joke before but he kept the question to himself.
“We need repairs done on our ship, too.”
“She don’t look to bad to me,” said the old-timer. “Flown in worse.”
“Runestone is shonky,” said Ulrik, not wanting to let anybody know quite how badly off they were but needing to know if he could get a replacement. “I don’t want to take chances.”
“If you can get her in the air, she’s not too bad,” said one of the drinkers. “That’s what I always say.”
“Where you from, stranger?” asked a rough looking cove with a scarred bald head, and a glittering draconite gem instead of one eye.
“Typhon,” said Ulrik, wondering if this was one of the local bully boys.
“You’re a long way out of your way.”
“We were on a trader, attacked by pirates, escaped on the lifeboat. That’s her.”
The atmosphere around the tavern changed subtly. Everybody paid attention now. There was a note of alarm in the old-timer’s voice when he said; “Pirates?”
“Black Pirates—strange craft. Don’t fly like normal ships. Ever heard anything about ships like that?”
All the locals exchanged looks now. “If you survived an encounter with those raiders you’re one lucky crew.”
“We survived though we might be the only ones out of hundreds. What do you know about the Black Ships?”
The locals looked at one another. Their attitude seemed to have changed subtly. The hairs on the back of Ulrik’s neck rose though he was not sure why. He made sure his blade was loose in its scabbard. The locals noticed that too and backed away slightly. The old man coughed nervously and then stroked his beard with one grizzled hand.
“Heard tales out of the Wastes. They’ve been doing a lot of raiding there. Carrying people off and the like. Sometimes seen them in the distance when I’ve been out prospecting. Never got too close to one.”
The reference to prospecting confirmed that these men were crystal hunters, scouring the desert for magestone and draconite. Ulrik knew the sort. He had grown up around them. They were mostly a desperate bunch, looking for that big strike that would change their lives and never seemed to arrive.
“Seen any other ships, big military types, part of a convoy maybe.”
“One overpassed ‘bout a day ago. Hailed the village- said it was looking for a ship that got lost in a storm. That be your craft?”
“Most likely.”
“If you wait around it will be back this way in a day or so. Officer said they would call in, see if there was any news.”
“We can probably wait for a day or two.”
“That would seem sensible. What were these pirates like?”
“Some were demon-pacted monsters and some were men like you or me,” said Ulrik. “Let me get chambers sorted for my boss and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Would greatly ‘ppreciate that.”
Irvyn the tavern keeper let him have a huge room hollowed out from the living rock of the mesa for a price that would not have got the use of a cupboard in Typhon. It had crystal portholes that looked like they had been taken from a small airship, set in the walls. They gave a view down onto the desert. The beds were raised bricks of adobe with a mattress on top. The air was musty and dusty and small insects crept up the walls. Ulrik guessed the regular customers were not too choosy.
“Delightful,” said Valerius when he saw it. He set wards around the bed and spoke a spell to keep insects away then threw himself flat on it and almost instantly fell into a deep coma-like sleep.
Ulrik carried the gear down for the wizard and Rhea. He left the cat-girl to keep watch and then headed back upstairs to the taproom, calling for a drink. Soon he had a crowd of people all around and began to tell the listeners most of the tale that was fit to tell. All the time he kept watch on the stairway to see if anybody came or went. Nobody did.
It was a pleasant enough way to pass the evening and reminded him of old times. His earliest youth had been spent in a wastelander community like this, and he had scuffled around many of them in his youth. He told his listeners about the attack and stressed the formidable power of the wizard just in case anybody got any ideas about taking their stuff.
After he finished he listened as much as he talked, hearing tales of the strange things multiplying in the waste, of djinn and succubi and lonely sorcerers in isolated towers. He paid particular attention to what little people knew of the black pirate vessels. They had appeared only a couple of seasons ago, while he was fighting in the Pits, and had swiftly become one of the greatest threats to the security of the small communities of the wastelands. He heard of how the mine had been worked out and most of the locals had either gone or gone into prospecting.
Eventually he staggered off to bed, hoping that no one would decide to rob them in their sleep. Rhea slept snuggled beside Valerius. She did not look up as he came in.
Ulrik stood at the rim of the skyland and looked out over the desert. Heat haze hung over the tortured land, making it shimmer and ripple. A few prospectors were already up and heading out, their small craft skimming over the sand like hunting hawks.
He sat down and let his legs dangle over the edge. It was something he had done as a boy and it made him feel an odd nostalgia for a time when he had understood less about the way the world worked and had been considerably happier.
Below him was a long drop, a thousand strides or more to the ground below. He wondered what it would be like to live here, scrabbling out a desperate living windfarming or prospecting. If he had taken a different path, that so easily could have been his life. It might even have been an endurable one if Anna and Tam and Rurik had been with him but when he tried to imagine himself living in an adobe hut and cultivating a greenhouse in between trips out into the deep desert, he could not. He could not imagine wanting to bring up children in a place like this either.
Guilt bit into him-- if he had done so all of them might still be alive. Maybe if he had been with them he could have saved them. If they had not been in Hydra, they might never have contracted the plague.
In a way being in the Pit had been a strange blessing. Crowded in the cells he had never had any time or space to himself. Every day had been a simple struggle to stay alive. Everything had conspired to fan the flames of his hatred and his anger, and they had allowed him to avoid thinking about his life. Now he had solitude and his gaze had turned inward, and he did not like what he had finally allowed himself to see.
What a world, he thought. Dying slowly, eaten by demons and dark magic, filled with the hungry and the brutal and the greedy, lorded over by those who would do anything to keep their hands on the reins of power. Even they were simply prisoners of their destiny. It would be idiotic to expect them to give up what they had. That would simply mean handing it over to someone else and bowing their own heads to a new oppressor.
There were times when he found it easy to believe that the Demon Princes ruled Urath, that it was prison in which they tortured lost souls. He had not found that so easy to believe when Anna and the boys had been alive; then the place had seemed brighter, and the future more hopeful.
He sat down on a boulder and continued to study the patterns of the multi-coloured clouds as they scudded along the horizon. He felt like they looked, as if his life were being driven along by the wind, and he had no control over where it would go. At that moment, it came to him that he was not so fettered. He could walk back into town and steal an airboat. If Valerius triggered his killing spell, at least he would die free, racing towards the horizon, at the helm of a ship.
Most likely Valerius would not need to do so. The locals would pursue him and overhaul him and bring him back t
o face summary justice and he would have nothing but the satisfaction of cheating Valerius out of his bond price, and what was left of his own life seemed like a poor exchange for that.
He shook his head. It was amazing what loneliness and a slight hangover could make you think. His situation was better now than it had been in a long time. He was not in chains. He was not being forced to fight for his life every night. He had a chance of freedom and even of fortune if he managed to survive. He was a lot better off than most of the people in this sorry world, and he would do well to remember that.
In the distance something massive emerged from the cloud cover. It was an airship, painted black and red, and the symbol of the black moon surrounded by a corona of fire was painted on its side.
It looked like they had not escaped the pirates after all.
It was not the same as the first pirate ship. This one was smaller. It had drive rotors set atop lateral turrets as if the blades were intended to pull the ship into the sky. There was a full complement of drives in the normal position as well. It had the ramshackle, patched together look at Ulrik associated with the Hydran ships of his youth. For all that, it approached quickly enough and he knew there was no way they could escape it in the crippled lifeboat.
He ground his teeth in frustration and fear. They had almost escaped. Why did this have to happen now? Think, he told himself. There must be some way out. Perhaps they could steal one of the moored airboats. At least they would be a lot faster than relying of Valerius as a source of power.
He turned and raced back across the rocky plateau top towards the mesa village and the tavern. Already the small airboats belonging to the villagers were taking flight, sparrows scattering under the shadow of a hawk. His plan was thwarted before he even had a chance to implement it.
Rhea emerged from the Inn and stood in the sunlight, staring into the sky. It took her only a moment to realise what was happening and she disappeared back into the structure to seek Valerius.
Ulrik wondered what he was going to do. He had his weapons but there was no way he could fight off an entire ship full of pirates in his own. He was not going to get any help from the villagers. No one had entered the defensive turrets. They were plainly more for show than for practical purposes. Or perhaps they had simply been intended for defence against small raiding ships, not something as powerful as the approaching warship.
Already smaller craft were emerging from the hangers in its sides. All of them were filled with armed men. As far as he could tell, there were no mutants or Shadar present but that did not reassure him. Mortal pirates were capable of just as much cruelty, perhaps even more.
He raced on, scanning his surroundings, desperately trying to spot an airboat that had been left tethered. He saw none. He dismissed any chance of trying to escape on foot. Even if they could somehow elude the eyes of the watchers on that approaching craft, there was no way they could survive out there in the desert without specialised gear and more supplies than it would be possible to carry by themselves.
Valerius strode out of the tavern door. He shaded his eyes with his hand and watched the approaching airships. For a moment his shoulders slumped and he looked weary beyond words but then he stood up straight and tilted his head to one side with an air of complete nonchalance.
As Ulrik ran up he said, “It looks like our piratical friends have found us again.”
“It’s a different ship.”
“Well thank all the gods for that,” said Valerius. “I’m sure we’re safe now then.”
“Perhaps it would be better if you used your wit to think of a way out of this,” said Ulrik. “Sarcasm I can manage for myself.”
“I feel my wit being most profitably used as it is. I cannot conjure up a way out of this.”
Ulrik turned and stared at the skies. The pirate craft was much closer. All around, the villagers who had not managed to escape were diving into their shacks and slamming the doors. Much good it would do them.
“Can’t you summon something, do some magic?” Ulrik asked.
“My dear Ulrik, even if I had the energy to do that, which I don’t after the past few days, it would be useless. Formidable as I am, I would not be a match for all of those pirates and their ship.
“What are we going to do?” Ulrik asked. Valerius shrugged and said, “I don’t know about you but I think I’m going to go back inside and have a drink. Who knows when we might get another one?”
Chapter Fourteen
They were the only people in the bar when the pirates entered. There was over a dozen, all of them heavily armed and all of them human although some of them had so many flesh grafts that they did not necessarily look it.
Ulrik’s sword was in his hand and he stood ready to fight, intending to sell his life dearly. Valerius leaned on the bar looked sick and weary, a glass of greenish cactus rum held nonchalantly in one hand. He could not have looked less menacing if he tried. Ulrik had seen stupefied beggars who looked more threatening.
“What have we here?” asked a tall man with a shaven head. His teeth had been replaced with gems and the stones glowed with the light of the sorcerous runes etched on them. A double band of amulets encircled his burly chest and they too showed the mark of sorcery.
“Who’s your captain?” Ulrik asked. He spoke calmly and with authority and just for a moment the questioner was taken aback.
“What is it to you?”
“I’m a member of the Brotherhood.”
“Are you now?” The man with jewelled teeth grinned savagely. The blade in his hand glowed with power. His swagger increased a fraction. Ulrik knew his sort; you found them everywhere in the streets of Hydra. They spent all their money on enhancements and magical weapons and challenged all comers to duels. This man was most likely an officer on his ship who dreamed of becoming a captain but who lacked the brains to understand why it would never happen.
“Yes, I am.”
“Whose ship?”
“My own.”
“You don’t look much like a captain.”
“And you don’t look much like a human being but I’m prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“What’s your name? What’s your ship?”
“My name is Ulrik. My ship was the Condor.”
“Ulrik is dead. The Condor is lost. The Typhonians got him and all his crew over a year ago.”
“They got me all right. They took me alive. They sentenced me to the Pit. I’ve killed thirty men since then.” Ulrik let the menace show in his voice. Jewel-tooth was unimpressed.
“Anyone can claim they were once a member of the Brotherhood.” Jewel-tooth was not going to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“What’s your ship?” Ulrik asked.
“The Fiery Blade of Devastation.”
“Your captain is Serena Blaike”
“You’ve heard of her. That proves nothing. Lots of people have.”
“Her father was Sebastian Blaike. Her number two is called Leo Trask. He used to drink in The Bloody Dog Tavern down by the Red Tower. I once took two thousand crowns off him at dice.”
The other pirates were looking at Jewel-tooth now. A man with a glowing tattoo designed to ward off inimical spells said, “He sounds convincing, Riordan. We should take him and these others to the captain.”
Riordan showed his glittering teeth again. It was more a snarl than a smile. “I’m not sure Leo’s ghost would thank us for bringing in a man who took two grand off him. Maybe we should slit his throat just for that.”
“Or we could always sell him and get some of Leo’s money back. Molok’s bounty is good. The cat-girl looks like she would fetch a pretty penny on the block. I don’t know about the other one though – he looks sick as a dog. Might be as well to put him down in case he infects the rest of us.”
“Who are your friends? Are you going to tell us they belong to the Brotherhood too?”
“They were passengers on the ship.”
“What ship would tha
t be?”
“The Pride of Karnak. It got hit by a Black Ship and taken down. We were the only people who managed to escape.”
“You want to fight?” Ulrik asked Valerius out of the corner of his mouth. “Might be our last chance.”
A row of stormlances and painwands were brought to bear on them.
Valerius shook his head. “We can’t win now. Let’s wait and see what happens.”
The wizard sounded like a man resigned to his fate. Or a man who wanted to be captured.
The pirates led them outside. Overhead, their ship blocked out the Sun. Standing in its shadow chilled Ulrik’s skin, as did the breezes whipped up by its huge rotors. Looking around, Ulrik could see that many of the shack doors were open and the villagers were looking out. As far as he could tell, the three of them were the only ones being marched away as prisoners. He turned to Valerius and said, “Looks like the locals have cut a deal with the pirates.”
He should have known. Such arrangements were not uncommon in the vast wilderness. Perhaps the pirates even recruited from this place like they’d done from his own village.
“What will you do with us?” Valerius asked. His voice sounded normal with none of the usual compulsions in it.
“You’ll have to ask the captain that. Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance.”
“A lady pirate captain, I’m keen to meet her too,” said Valerius in his most ingratiating manner.
“I’d wait till after I had met her before I said that if I were you,” said Riordan. “You might find her less than congenial.”
“How could I do that? When her crew are so picturesque and charming.”
Their captors laughed in a way that Ulrik did not like at all.
They swept into the town square. Windmill pumps whirred all around them, inaudible in competition with the rotors of the great airship. In the centre of the square, surrounded by a crew of the most brutal appearance, stood the most beautiful woman Ulrik had ever seen.