Fractured Dreams

by Greg Alldredge

  The problem was the rain and mist cut his visibility down to a limited range. Harper was not helping him enough, but at least Sinead had not taken his life.

  Sitting at the back of his craft next to the makeshift tiller, he spent most of his time with a baited line in the water, praying for a bite with one breath and cursing the gods in the next.

  Too many times he considered drinking the water that he floated on, but he knew the salt content would only make his thirst worse. The way things were going, he guessed he would have one, maybe two, more days before he became too weak to control his craft. Then it might be better to roll over the side in his sleep and let the crazy bitch Sinead take his sole to the torment he knew waited for him.

  Dusty stopped that line of thinking. He went over to a spare line that he’d coiled to his makeshift mast. It only took a few rounds about his slender waist to tie him off to the craft. As a precaution, he double-checked both knots. Now, even if in a fit of despair, he threw himself over the side, once the second thoughts of fish feeding on his body struck home, he should be able to drag his sorry ass back on the flat raft.

  It was a slim measure of safety, but it was better than nothing.

  <=OO=>

  “Will these clouds ever leave?” Kanika stood at the helm, her officers surrounded her. She took great pleasure from standing at the helm guiding her ship through the cracks. It gave her the freedom she felt nowhere else. An excitement that verged on the sexual. She loved the control it gave her.

  Tiara, the former slave turn navigator, spoke in a soft voice. “I have heard far to the south the sun never shines because of the fog and mist. These are dangerous times, to be sure.”

  Kanika turned to her advisor, the witch Lizzie, and with a look shut her up. After the visit by the goddess Anshika, Lizzie wanted to proclaim to the crew the holy quest they’d been set upon. It took all Kanika’s power of persuasion and threats of bodily harm before she convinced the small witch to keep her mouth shut.

  The one-legged mountain of a man Christian grumbled to himself, “The moisture isn’t good for the decks. With no time to dry, I’m worried about them becoming slick and unmanageable. I do miss the sun.”

  Kanika always worried about the man. After he agreed to follow her as captain, he was the one person she never fully understood. She knew he held the ear of a great many of the crew. He was the key leader of any opposition, but as long as he followed her orders, all should go well. If they ever fell out, she might lose the ship to a mutiny.

  Lizzie said, “The sun will return once the forces of nature have returned to balance,” before she turned and went belowdecks.

  Kanika watched her leave before clearing her throat. “Stay on this course. We will search for a shard to gather our bearings in six hours. That should put us close to Zar.”

  Tiara took the helm, allowing Kanika the freedom to move about. She didn’t bother to address the worried looks each of her officers gave her as she strolled off. There were times she needed to think, and this proved one of them.

  On the main deck, the sailors left her to her thoughts. Each of them knew they sailed waters controlled by their long-time foe, Zar. A quick scan of the highest mast showed their protection still flying high. The blue flag with the white tree of Zar blazoned on it flew over her head. It was little protection, but all the ship had.

  Technically, the Phoenix never attacked a ship of Zar. Kanika had been too busy inflicting retribution on the slavers. In a sense, that made the Phoenix an unofficial ally of Zar. The problem was Kanika had no way to prove her motives, and any search of the ship would reveal the now empty cells in the hold. She ordered Christian to disassemble the cages, but they were well built, and the task took time.

  Kanika was surprised that during the parley she had been able to convince the captains of her plan. The captains and ships of the new fleet were a mixed bag of travelers. All most assuredly pirates, but all hailed from different parts of the cracks.

  The safety of the fleet and those that followed her became her primary concern. She would not throw them into a fight without good cause.

  The first decision was to find a safe harbor for the fleet. Several captains knew of safe anchorages suitable for a colony. A group decision was made to split the force into three. Harbors were marked on charts, and the three groups set out to create the infrastructure to support a fleet of massive proportions.

  Kanika stayed ignorant of those details. Others would be more suited to that creation. She might have sent a call to arms for the other captains, but she was no supreme ruler. She knew each leader of a ship was a proud captain and could take their support elsewhere if Kanika did something stupid. For now, she worked hard to keep from making stupid decisions.

  Information became her secondary concern. That was the task she worked on now. She took what was considered the most dangerous task on her own. She would sail to Zar and discover what the situation truly was. If the Villas had fallen and the war on the free captains was over, they could focus on other issues. Like Perdition and the black fleet raging in the southern portion of the shards.

  Bran was sent south. The Black Death was stripped of all cargo, and the hull and sails were painted black to mask the ship in southern waters. Their goal was simple enough yet equally dangerous. They were to capture a southern ship or sailors of the southern fleet for questioning. Only then could they find out why the ships attacked with such wanton destruction.

  Reports had it the black ships left nothing alive in their wake. To Kanika, that made little sense as a raider. Each shard that was left barren of life would mean the fleet would need to venture deeper north to raid. Eventually, the black fleet would run out of targets, and they would starve. The problem was the northern city-states might all be gone by then. There had to be a goal the ships from the south wished to achieve. Destruction for destruction’s sake was not sustainable.

  As a leader, Kanika hated not having information. Each decision made blindly might be catastrophic. She needed intelligence. She needed informants in the court of each city-state, and she needed the people to gather that information loyal to her and the cause of freedom.

  Freedom, that was to be the banner she would rally others under. Freedom from slavery, freedom from the ruling class, freedom for all. It had a much better ring to it than a holy war against evil. If her late night visitor proved right, and an unstoppable darkness came from Perdition and demons walked the earth, the task of growing a fighting force became crucial. Kanika didn’t know what every person of the shards believed, but she knew there was no way she would sign on for a holy crusade. She talked to the god, and she still found it hard to believe. It was a hard decision but one she stood by.

  More hard decisions would follow. As a leader, she knew there would come a time she would need to commit her ships and sailors to the coming conflict. She simply wanted to limit the loss of life she knew any war would bring. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to decide, she just didn’t want to make the wrong decision based solely on the word of a self-proclaimed god.

  “Man in the water!” The shout came from the forward lookout.

  They had passed flotsam in the water for days. The officers assumed it was blown north by the southern wins. Leftovers of battles of Zar or the black fleet, it didn’t matter. They were not in these dangerous waters for salvage.

  In a few quick steps, she reached the bow and the forward watch. She hated dropping sail in such dangerous waters, but with the strong southern wind they had, she knew they could gather speed quickly once they stopped.

  It was an unwritten code that captains would stop and help those lost at sea. Cheating Sinead of a soul might be repaid in the future. With a wave of her hand, she sent Julie the bosun to stop the ship. The hope was if Kanika or her crew ever found themselves in the water, someone would come along and do the same.

  Even from a distance, they could tell it was a man. He’d tied himself to the mast of the makeshift raft. He looked dead, unkempt
hair and beard, burnt by the sun. The only indication he still lived was the lack of harpies feeding on the corpse.

  The officers and crew congregated around the starboard side as the Phoenix slowed to provide assistance. The ship’s doctor even left the safety of belowdecks to lend what aid he could. The raft began to fall apart when the three crewmembers boarded to check on the man. He screamed in pain when they touched him, his body covered in blisters from the sun. A plank and block and tackle served as a stretcher to haul the survivor aboard.

  On deck, it was easy to see where the flesh was rubbed bloody raw from the movement. Through cracked, blistered lips the man croaked, “Captain Dusty of the Rambler requests to come aboard.” He laughed and fought back a dry coughing fit before he closed his eyes.

  If not for the man’s raspy breath, Kanika might have thought he died there on the deck, but the man still lived. Doc ordered the crew to whisk him away for treatment.

  “Get him able to speak. I want more information than that from the man,” Kanika ordered.

  Doc turned and shot her a glance that Kanika understood at once. Her words overstepped to the obvious. She gave an order to a man that wasn’t needed. She knew Doc was loyal and would do what he could.

  “Sorry…” The apology was quick and enough for the moment.

  Doc followed the man belowdecks.

  Leading a ship was easy once. Now that they approached Zar, her level of tension increased. She needed to not take that uncertainty to the crew. She needed to let her officers do the work she knew they could do. She needed to trust those that followed her and not dictate each of their actions.

  Leading this way, mistakes might happen. Things might be done differently than she wished, but it was the outcome she wanted. The finished product not the process concerned her.

  Chapter 10, Louie Hicks:

  “Tell Asher Black I want to see him at once.” Louie wasn’t normally so forthright with his guards, but news had reached his ears he needed to confirm with his advisor. Not calling the man by his title was a huge risk. The guards might inform on him. All the guards worked for Asher.

  His concern for his kingdom began to override his fear of his military advisor. Death for the right reason, the protection of his kingdom, might be more palatable than kowtowing to Asher. Every person contained a breaking point where they could take no more humiliation. Louie might have finally reached that point.

  Asher Black might be the power behind the throne, but Louie spent some quiet time reaching out to other advisors. Asher had been too preoccupied with seeing to the raids and the reports of the ships that returned to monitor Louie’s activities, or at least the king hoped that proved the case. Some of the guards watched the king a little less intently. There were times Louie had been left alone for hours at a time.

  There was zero doubt in Louie’s mind that the general would follow through on his threats to murder him. If he learned of his clandestine meetings with others of the court, his life might become forfeit. But the king had run out of options. Something needed to be done… for his people.

  Louie never considered himself a brave man, but the thought of standing up to the tyrannical General Black gave him a warm feeling in the core of his soul and a fear of death to match it.

  Today he would confront the advisor. He didn’t dress with the corset as normal, and he left his wig on the stand. Today he would meet his enemy head-on without the façade he was normally forced to wear. One small step toward his freedom at a time.

  More than once, indecision washed over his troubled mind. Members of the court willingly approached him with words of ousting Asher. There was little doubt the conspirators held their own agenda close to their chest, and they might be playing the king as a fool. Louie hoped he would make it out of this mess alive. He felt no need to be the ruler of this frigid land. If he could manage a warm island with a hut where he could write and paint maybe with one or two of his wives… that would make him a happy man.

  The sweat formed on Louie’s palms. He needed to sit if he was going to maintain the courage for the upcoming confrontation and not pass out. No matter his lineage, Louie found no problem recognizing and admitting the fact he remained a coward.

  He took a few steps to the lounge chair that stood near the fire. It was his reading seat, a place he found a secured comfort and peace while he read the books he loved. He needed the security of the chair now more than ever.

  Under the cushion, his hand searched for the weapon he stashed there long ago. It sat right where he left it. In the same place it had been the last six times he searched for it. The normal cold of the blade hilt was kept warm by the proximity to the fire and the cushion keeping it hidden. If he needed to use it in self-defense, Louie felt he was as likely to stab himself as much as any attacker. There was no sense in deluding himself concerning his combat prowess. Overconfidence would surely get him killed.

  The ornate symmetrical doors parted and in walked the general. In theory, Louie should have no concerns about the much older man. Louie was easily twice the general’s weight and thirty years his younger. Louie should have been able to murder the old man with ease. However, Louie’s body was round and soft from too many sweets and a life more fitting a papered pet compared to the man who led battles since before he could shave. Even now, General Asher Black could fight with most of the men in the land and still best them. With a weapon or barehanded, the old man could kill Louie in the blink of an eye.

  Add the fact the military loved the old man… It was a matter of reality that whoever controlled the hearts of the fighting men controlled Bore-Tide. Louie was under no illusion. As the king, he fell short of the stature required to reach the hearts of the fighting men. If not for his father’s name, he would have died long ago.

  The door secured behind him, Asher grumbled, “Now is not a good time. There are ships returning from the north, many of them empty-handed. This has not been a good raiding season. What do you want?”

  Louie leaned back and tried to remain calm while he spoke. His left hand drifted to the underside of the cushion, looking for his security. He found the handle of the blade right where it should be. “I have told you before, the raids will not be able to be maintained. Your continued murder of the stock that supplies our men with wives will lead to our downfall.” Louie tried to use the words he’d practiced.

  “We have discussed this before. If we do not raid, we have no women. With no women, the young men of our land will kill one another or even turn on the capital and murder you. We have little choice but to raid.”

  “Think of our fields. Every harvest, we hold back enough grain to plant for next year. The same with the herds. We never eat the last animal. We need to renew our resources. Every time we lay waste to an island, we need to send our fleets farther north. This cannot be sustained.”

  “If we don’t raid, our young men will revolt. This is the reality. They will tear each other apart in the search for women. This is our reality.”

  “And when there are no more women to raid? We need something more sustainable. Something that will last longer than a year.”

  “If you are thinking of breeding women like cattle, who would wait for the cycles long enough to grow a wife? We are not talking wheat.”

  “No, but who says our men and ships need to come back each year? If we send some of these men north, not just men but families, and repopulate some of these dead islands, we could limit the burden on our own land resources. At the same time, the more space our men have, the less likely they are to fight one another. The fewer chances they will band together and attack the castle… and kill us.” Louie listed the reasoning behind the choice, but he wasn’t sure the general would consider his suggestion as an option. If he could not convince the general, then other arrangements might be needed.

  “Who gave you this idea?” Asher asked. The manner in which he spoke was not what Louie expected. There was nearly reason in his voice.

  Louie pulled out a book he
referred to often. He never thought it would help in his cause, but there had to be some reason he kept it so close. “I have been reading my father’s journal from the wars. His thoughts on the loss of females and the way he supplied his troops. It is plain after the first battles, he learned a great deal about the need of keeping the men fed and happy.” He rested the book on his lap. “Have you ever read it?”

  “I don’t need to read it, I lived it,” Asher growled. “I’m more curious how you obtained the book. I didn’t even know it existed.”

  “I guess my father didn’t trust you with everything.” It was a barb Louie loved to dig into the older man. He did not expect the reaction it pulled from the general.

  Swift and to the point, Asher covered the distance between the two men and picked up the leather-bound book. Without hesitation, he tossed the journal into the fire. “That is what I think of your idea.”

  The man that ran Louie’s life had moved so close. He nearly lost control and thrust the dagger into the general’s chest. Louie restrained himself. The iron breastplate would have stopped any attack the king might have tried. The book being flung into the fire shocked him, though. He screamed, “No,” and scrambled from the chair, trying in vain to reach the burning book with his bare hands.

  “You need to understand, my pudgy little friend, your ideas and your concerns are of no importance to me. Do not bring these insane ideas to me again, or I will throw you into the fire next.” Asher Black turned and stormed out of the room before Louie could regain his composure and reply.

  He grabbed a massive pair of iron tongs that stood on the hearth and pulled the book from the flames. The leather did a remarkable job of protecting the contents. The leather was scorched, but the paper inside remained whole.