by William King
“We have lost the Kraken,” said the captain. “And I have lost my flagship and the lives of a lot of good men.”
“We can still take the Kraken,” said Frater Jonas.
Zamara raised an eyebrow. “How? By sailing into the harbour of Port Blood? Three score and ten pirate vessels will give us a warmer welcome than we gave that squid. Not to mention the two great harbour forts. No, the only way we’ll get the Kraken is if we come back with the King’s fleet and the assembled fleets of a couple of allied nations.”
“I was not thinking about a head-on assault,” said Jonas.
“That’s good, for I would have thought you mad if you were. What exactly, pray, do you have in mind?”
“Sir Kormak and I will go ashore and take the pirate’s head.”
“By this I take it you mean Sir Kormak will do the beheading while you watch and applaud. Or do you mean to challenge the pirate-sorcerer to single combat yourself?”
“I will be in an advisory capacity.”
Zamara looked at him and laughed. After a while it dawned on him that the priest was serious. “You are not without courage,” Zamara said. “I’ll give you that, but your life won’t be worth a drunkard’s cuss if you’re caught.”
“It’s a risk we’re going to have to take.”
Zamara looked at Kormak and said, “I can understand why he is going. The mark of the killer is written all over him, and unless I miss my guess, this won’t be the first time he’s murdered a man by stealth. But why do you need to go?”
“Because I have knowledge that might prove useful and I have contacts in Port Blood. And because I started this thing and I want to see it finished.
“How do you plan to get into Port Blood?”
“Simple enough,” said Kormak. “Under cover of night you can take us in as close as you can, and the ship’s boat can bear us to shore.”
“You don’t have a problem with the priest tagging along with you?”
Kormak wondered exactly why the man wanted to go into Port Blood when he could stay aboard the Sea Dragon in relative safety. “Not if he does not get in my way.”
“On your own head be it then,” said Zamara. “I don’t think I’ll be able to wait too long out here for you.”
“I’ve found my way back from Port Blood before, captain. I imagine I will be able to do it again.”
He wished he was as confident as he sounded.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE MOON’S LIGHT turned the ocean’s waves silver and black. They broke softly against the side of the small boat, rocking it in the water. In the distance, the Pirate Island was a black smear on the horizon. Kormak checked his gear. This time he had left his armour wrapped in waterproof leather. His sword was on his back. If need be, he could swim to the shore. Frater Jonas had taken off his priestly robes and wore only a simple sailor’s garb. He had a package concealed within his tunic. As he had suspected, the Kraken’s notes had not gone down with the Marlin. Those papers went everywhere Jonas did.
Above them Zamara stood on the deck of the Sea Dragon. “Good luck, gentlemen,” he said. He could not resist place an ironic flourish on the word gentlemen.
“And to you, captain,” said Kormak, bending to the oars of the small craft. He pulled the boat towards the distant shoreline, while the silent black shape of the cog disappeared in the gloom astern.
Frater Jonas gazed backwards for a long time. There was a thoughtful air about him at this moment. “We’re a long way from Siderea,” he said.
“We’re a long way from anywhere.”
“You think we’ll ever get home?”
“Define home.”
“For you it must surely be Mount Aethelas.”
“I have not seen the Mountain in years. I don’t expect to see it for years more.”
“You’ve spent your whole life wandering then?”
“Most of it. It’s what’s expected of a Guardian. You go where your oaths take you.”
The priest made a soft tut-tutting sound in the darkness. His white teeth were visible in the gloom. “You must have led an interesting life.”
“If you don’t mind, I would rather save my breath for rowing, unless you would prefer to scull and I will chat.”
“You are better built for this duty. I saw what you did when the squid attacked today by the way. It was an act of astonishing bravery. Do you always run towards monsters with your sword in your hand?”
“Only when I want to kill them.”
Jonas laughed then after a moment became serious again. “I wonder what the Kraken is up to right now.”
“If I could tell you that I would be a better sorcerer than he.”
“It troubles me what he intends with the Teardrop of Leviathan. He has gone to enormous lengths to acquire it. In my experience sorcerers rarely do that without very good reasons.”
“Or very bad ones.”
“He summoned his namesake from the depth to destroy us. It might have worked too, had not the engineers got lucky with that flask of alchemical fire and had not you decided to stab the thing through its eye.”
“I think that was certainly his intention. I think we were lucky to escape.”
“Let us hope our luck continues.”
“Indeed.” The shore was closer now. Kormak could see the white crests of the waves where they washed up against the beach, hear their quiet breaking. He waited until he felt the oar hit bottom then jumped out into water as high as his knee. Within a few seconds he had the boat on the shore. Jonas got out and they pulled it up and away from the beach to hide it in amongst the sand.
“What now?” Jonas asked.
“We walk west along the beach until we come to Port Blood. It won’t take us long to find it or for it to find us.”
It took them no more than an hour of walking to reach the hills above Port Blood harbour. The sky was clear. The weather was warm and had it not been for the knowledge of where they were headed Kormak would have found it a pleasant stroll.
They crossed the brow of a hill. Below them lay the city. From the heights it looked like a string of brilliant gems strewn around a vast dark mirror. The blazing lights of the buildings and the reflected hulls of the pirate vessels were visible in the water. Every hill and every valley seemed crammed with illuminations. In the water between the two headlands framing the harbour were multiple islands and all of them blazed in the night.
“Those are the palaces of the Fleet Captains,” Kormak said. “They are the richest and most powerful of the corsairs. There’s ten of them and they are all deadly, for only the very strongest can hold onto those islands. We’ll head in down by the East Gate and see if we can find a drinking den for the rest of the night.”
Jonas said, “We’d best be careful that we don’t lose the Kraken. He might set sail again.”
“He might but his crew won’t like it. They’re back in port and they may well have money. If they don’t they can borrow it. Every man-jack of them down there will be spending like there’s no tomorrow.”
“For some of them there won’t be.”
“Which is why they are living it up while they can. A man can’t spend his gold when he is hanging from the end of a rope.”
“A suitable philosophy for a pirate,” said Jonas.
“And for more men than pirates.”
“I defer to your wisdom on such matters, Sir Kormak.”
“Let’s get down into the city before the sun comes up. If they see us here, they might ask what two such strangers are doing coming from inland. Most everybody reaches Port Blood by sea.”
They marched down the hill.
There was no real East Gate because there was no wall. Fortified buildings stood with their backs to the hill line. Arrow-slit windows looked outward and away from the pirate city. There were a few entrances, long streets that ran all the way down to the harbour and the ships.
From up ahead came the sounds of raucous drunken laughter. Men with swords strapped to th
eir hips staggered into the streets. Some supported each other as they reeled back to ship or lodging. Some brawled with fists or knives while crowds looked on and placed bets. No one paid the slightest attention to Kormak or Jonas.
The Guardian wore his sword on his waist. With just his light leather tunic on he could have been a marine from any pirate ship. The priest looked like a somewhat nervous seaman.
Blue, green and red lanterns burned in a hundred tavern windows. Women in low-cut dresses beckoned to them as they passed. Tough looking men eyed them as if contemplating robbery.
“It’s like Trefal on a feastday night when the Treasure Fleet is in,” said Jonas.
“Just another merry evening in Port Blood,” said Kormak. “They’ve got gold and they don’t know whether they will be alive in a week or a moon so they spend it.”
“And there’s plenty here to help them do it,” said Jonas.
“It’s not much different from any other port I’ve been to. We’d best find a place to hole up for the night and you can try and get in touch with your contact in the morning.”
“Pick a door,” said Jonas. “I doubt any of these places are much different from the other.”
Kormak strode into a smaller tavern and looked around. Men diced and played knucklebones in a corner. A good-looking red-haired woman garbed only in a diaphanous silk skirt and strategically placed scarves danced on the table while musicians played pipes and drums. Drunken sailors stomped their feet and clapped and cheered. Kormak strode up to the bar.
“You got rooms?”
The villainous looking landlord stared at him. “You got silver?”
“Yes.”
“Then we got rooms.”
“Let’s take a look.”
“Picky sort, are you?” There was a note of menace in his voice.
“What if I am?” Meaningful looks passed between the landlord, the barman and the two burly men at either end of the bar. Kormak tapped the hilt of his sword with the tips of his fingers. He wanted them to know he was sober and could use a blade.
The landlord said, “Silver gets you a berth in the common room.”
Kormak shrugged. He did not mind. There was more chance of petty theft but less chance of getting your throat slit while you slept in the common rooms of a place like this. “Fine by me.”
They moved down a short low corridor. Kormak kept close to the landlord and moved warily. He had known inns where a man was asking for a bludgeon to the head if he stepped through such doors. If anyone tried it here, they would find him more than ready.
The common room was long with a low ceiling and a score of hammocks hung from hooks in the walls. A couple copulated beneath a blanket in the far corner.
“You seen enough?”
Jonas looked at their surroundings appalled. Kormak nodded.
“Payment’s in advance. I can stow your gear for you for a copper.”
Kormak shook his head. “I carry all I own, all the time.”
“Man can get his throat cut that way in Port Blood.”
“Anyone who feels like making the effort is welcome to try.”
“You’re a hard man, eh?”
“Hard enough.”
“What ship you on?”
“That’s my business.”
The landlord stared at him. There seemed to be something about Kormak that puzzled him. “You’ve the manners of a captain and yet you’re staying in a seaman’s lodgings,” he said.
“I have my reasons.”
“As you say.” The landlord left.
“I think he suspects us,” said Jonas.
“What can he suspect us of? We’re on an island. Nobody gets here save those the corsairs allow or the corsairs themselves.”
“I am worried about having my throat cut this night.”
“This is an easy town for that to happen in,” said Kormak. He threw himself into a hammock and fell asleep with his hand on his scabbard.
His sleep was restless. Men and women came and went all night, and every one of them brought him to wakefulness. A passing stranger pretended to stumble and made a fumbling exploration of his backpack until he felt Kormak’s knife at his throat. He departed from the room in haste.
In the morning, Jonas looked tired. He yawned and said, “I did not get much sleep.”
“Complaining about it won’t help. Let’s get something to eat and be about our business.”
They ate scrambled eggs and bacon at a table on the veranda of the inn. It gave them a view of long low buildings built from a mix of wood and stone. Covered verandas ran the length of the muddy streets.
There were few riders and fewer carts. Most freight seemed to be carried by manacled humans, slaves taken by the pirates. The wealthier citizens rode around in litters. Drunks lay in the mud, some with a stillness that suggested that they would never rise again. Bunches of armed men swaggered along. Each group wore a different colour or had a scarf containing a different symbol draped somewhere on head, throat or arm. They were the identifying marks of different crews loyal to a captain, an admiral or a fleet.
There were men and women from every corner of the Sunlands and beyond, and more than just men. Kormak saw one or two of the Lost, elves who had broken their connection with their home forest. There were giants and even a few orcs, which was unusual, for most of their kind hated and feared the sea. He watched them all with eager curiosity.
“It’s good to have something other than ship’s biscuit,” said Jonas. “Although at these prices our host should have laid on a feast.”
Kormak glanced around at the few diners who shared the veranda. They all had the look of men wanting fried food to go with their hangover. “It’s what the customers want and what they can afford,” he said.
“You seem happy enough,” said Jonas.
“Like you, I am pleased to be eating something other than ship’s biscuit.”
“It’s a lot quieter through the day, isn’t it?”
“Everybody’s inside sleeping off last night. By noon, they’ll be ready to start again.”
“Well, we have business to attend to,” said Jonas. “Pleasant as this feast has been. I’ve got to go pay a visit to my contacts here.” It was obvious from the priest’s manner that he did not want the Guardian accompanying him.
“We meet back here this evening then,” said Kormak.
“As you say.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KORMAK STROLLED THROUGH the streets. As the sun rose higher in the sky the city woke. More and more men staggered from taverns, rooming houses and mansions and made their way to the docks. More and more slaves carried bigger and bigger loads along the streets. Armed men strode everywhere, eyeing each other like dogs from rival packs, hailing comrades and friends, diving into taverns and coffee houses.
Kormak heard a surprising number of deals being made as he walked. Despite the city’s reputation, merchants from all across the Kingdoms of the Sun and from far beyond came here to trade. They could pick up cargoes for a fraction of their normal price.
Kormak enjoyed the sights of the city; the long low buildings, the sprawling taverns, the large, ostentatious mansions of the rich. He liked the air of freedom about the place. Something about it appealed to a part of him he tried to suppress. He reminded himself of the ruins of Wood’s Edge. That was what this sort of freedom led to.
He followed the meandering streets all the way down to the harbour, noticing more and more because he chose to, all the unattractive aspects of the city—the piles of refuse in the streets, the sprawled sots, the unburned corpses, the frightened faces of the slaves, and the nervousness of the merchants.
A tall, stern faced man strode by him with a dozen cutthroats in tow. His manner showed he was a captain, as self-important as any Siderean nobleman, and in his own way, quite as powerful. Captains owned ships and their crews formed bands of warriors as fierce as any knight’s retainers and just as devoted for as long as their captain remained successful. The m
an noticed Kormak looking at him and stared back, a challenge in his stare.
With an effort of will, Kormak kept walking, ignoring the sudden burst of laughter behind him. He was not here to fight with some jumped-up cockerel. He had a mission and he needed to be about it.
Port Blood harbour was huge, a sheltered bay enfolded by two promontory arms. A tower stood at each point of the so-called Claws. In fogs they became lighthouses, in sieges, strongpoints.
Small islands dotted the bay. Each contained a mansion as big as a palace and as defensible as a keep. A forest of masts rose above the multiple piers. Small boats moved everywhere. Great warehouses lined the sea front.
A giant slave, half again Kormak’s height, with shoulders as broad as Kormak’s outstretched arms, strode by carrying a pole the size of a small tree-trunk. Cages of parrots hung from either end. The birds peered at him with bright mad eyes. The giant had the slow, somnolent look that gelding always gave their race. He bore no resemblance to the ferocious warriors from the cold lands Kormak had fought in his youth.
Taverns dotted the waterfront. Some of them rose above the water itself, timber structures, built on stilt-like pylons, joined to the land by carved wooden bridges, with verandas on their edges from which a man could study the harbour. Kormak picked one and strode inside.
He ordered a beer and looked out to sea. Ships came and went, under sail and under oar. The air of a bustling port hovered over the city. Tidal waves of wealth flowed through Port Blood and men made money every step of the way.
“Sure and it’s a grand sight, isn’t it?” said the bartender.
“That it is,” said Kormak.
“You looking for a place on a ship?”
“I might be?”
“You have the look of a fighting man.”
“I should hope so. I have spent my whole life at it.”
“Fall out with your previous captain, did you? Not that it’s any of my business.”
“Something like that. Who is hiring?”
“There’s Blane of the Sea Swallow, good ship. He’s looking for men. There’s Timon of the Axe Raider—they say he’s lucky and to tell the truth I think they are right. There’s Marselus of the Storm Petrel. He’s always looking for men who can use a blade.”