Firehurler (Twinborn Trilogy)

by J. S. Morin

  “Peace. Me give up,” Gkt’Lr begged, holding up an empty hand while the other kept him from collapsing face-first onto the hall carpet.

  Juliana walked over next to the goblin, her other dagger still clenched in her hand. “I know better than to trust an assassin,” she told him simply.

  She proceeded to put her booted foot on the back of the assassin’s neck and stepped down. Not heavy for a human, she might as well have been an ox for all the goblin could tell in his weakened state. Her weight flattened him to the ground, and his neck snapped as she shifted her weight onto him.

  With reddened eyes and still wearing the dress that Brannis had rejected her in, she was in no mood for mercy.

  Chapter 31 - What’s in a Name?

  “It is called the breech. And that small hole there is called the touch hole. You put the brand to that and light the powder in the vent. That sets off the charge in the chamber, which is the inside part at the bottom of the bore,” Crispin explained, pointing as he went along.

  “And how do you prepare it for another shot?” Kyrus asked.

  He had gone belowdecks to find out more about how cannons worked, since Brannis would be facing them in battle all too soon. If there were weaknesses to be exploited, he wanted to know about them. Crispin had been the gunnery mate aboard the Harbinger when it was still an Acardian vessel, and was gunnery mate again aboard the newly rededicated Fair Trader, the name Captain Zayne had chosen for his ship.

  They had been out of port for a day, and the ship teemed with bodies. They had sailed into Marker’s Point with fewer than two dozen men and now departed with over eighty. They might have stayed longer and found even better sailors among the outcasts of Marker’s Point, but Captain Zayne had been wary of staying too long after Kyrus’s mishap, just in case the authorities were able to make a connection between them and the incident.

  “You swab out the bore, wet mind you, and then you load a new charge, wadding, and your shot. Fill the vent with powder again and it is ready to fire,” Crispin explained.

  He seemed eager to show off his knowledge of the guns, a topic that few aboard were interested in. One was either a gunner or not, and those who were not gunners assumed that it was someone else’s job to worry about how they worked.

  “Fascinating. And how far can they fire and …”

  * * * * * * * *

  “So where are we heading now?” Kyrus asked, leaning over the map. It showed the vicinity of Marker’s Point and a few days’ sailing in any direction.

  “We are heading to here.”

  Stalyart pointed to a small cluster of islands to the southeast, the largest of which was labeled as Denku Appa. They were not as remote as Marker’s Point but were still at least a hundred miles off the coast of Feru Maru, the nearest large landmass.

  “What is in Denku Appa? It seems a bit out of the way. I mean … I thought the same of Marker’s Point, but this does not seem the sort of place to attract trade the way Marker’s Point does.”

  “You are correct, Mr. Hinterdale. There is not so much there,” Stalyart agreed. “But it has two things that very much interest Captain Zayne. He kept a treasure stashed there, one that he had not told me about until just last night. They also have very beautiful women there, and it is warm all year round, so they do not wear much.”

  Stalyart winked at him. That was all good for Stalyart and Captain Zayne. They could have all the scantily clad island women they wanted for all he cared. He just wanted to find a way to see Abbiley again.

  “Well, it looks like we can be there the day after tomorrow,” Kyrus concluded, examining the map for a moment and measuring the distance on the map with a compass.

  Stalyart had yet to trust him without checking his calculations, but Kyrus had yet to be wrong. The older pirate did his cyphering on a slate with a piece of chalk, accounting for known currents and the prevailing winds. Kyrus managed the same tasks in his head and was quicker about it. It was something Stalyart could not grasp, and it made him assume Kyrus was guessing.

  “Mr. Stalyart, can I ask you something?” Kyrus asked, realizing that he had just asked something.

  “Of course.”

  “Who is Captain Zayne in the other world?” Kyrus said. There was no harm in trying, he supposed.

  “He is a Megrenn sorcerer. A good one too, by all the pleasant words I hear spoken of him when I travel in Megrenn lands. He was a hero of the war they fought to free themselves from your people. In the city of Zorren, there are five statues in the central square—‘The Liberators,’ they are called. Captain Zayne is one of those statues.”

  “Really?” Kyrus was genuinely surprised. “They made a statue of him?”

  “Indeed. The Megrenn people suffered much at the hands of the Kadrins. It was a great day when word came that Kadrin had agreed to peace and allowed them to rule themselves once again,” Stalyart said.

  The first mate seemed to be enamored of the Megrenn, but that seemed appropriate for a merchant such as himself. Megrenn produced little food and was not rich in resources like Kadrin was. They bought and sold, and each time took a little for themselves; it was enough to make a nice living for their people, but it left them vulnerable to blockades and embargoes.

  “So who is he? Anyone I would have heard of?” Kryus persisted.

  “I think not. Have you heard of Jinzan Fehr?”

  “The name does not sound familiar. Is that even a Megrenn name?”

  “Hah! Very observant, Mr. Hinterdale. His father was from Gar-Danel. Outside of Kadrin, it is much less uncommon to marry a foreigner. Of Jinzan Fehr’s three wives, only one is Megrenn,” Stalyart boasted, as if it was his own feat to be proud of.

  “Three wives? I did not think the Megrenn kept harems. Is that a holdover from Gar-Danel as well?”

  “No. No … they lost many men in the war. Too many. There were widows and daughters and no men to marry them off to. They allowed men to have two wives. For the Liberators, they were allowed as many wives as would have them. If there is one lesson they took from you Kadrin murderers, it is that strong blood keeps a nation strong,” Stalyart said.

  For the first time, Kyrus heard bitterness in the man’s voice. It seemed there was some grudge to be had against Kadrin there too.

  “Do you think Megrenn is going to actually manage to conquer Kadrin? Just twenty years ago, they were part of the Empire. I cannot imagine they have changed things there so quickly,” Kyrus said.

  He did not know why he felt he had to defend the glory of the Empire from a pirate, but he had to get to the core issue at hand as well: what Captain Zayne was up to in Veydrus.

  “Hmm. I do not know. I think they will try. I think their cause is right. The one weapon they have that Kadrin never learned is how to make friends. Kadrin has no allies. You stand alone,” Stalyart said sadly.

  “Mr. Stalyart, what would you say if I told you I would much prefer peace between Kadrin and Megrenn, and that if Captain Zayne starts a war, Megrenn will be wiped out?”

  “I would say that in twenty years, Kadrin has grown weaker and Megrenn has grown stronger. With help of knowledge of this world for cannons and black powder, Captain Zayne will make them stronger still. With allies, he will make them strong enough that Kadrin will be forced to surrender.”

  “No,” Kyrus replied. “Kadrin is stronger than you imagine. If you can convince him to make peace, we can save untold lives.”

  “Why do you care so much? You are a brigand who preys on merchants and who kills when it suits you. Why should you care about Megrenn lives?” Stalyart asked.

  Kyrus knew at that point that the canny sailor had not believed his story.

  The maps and charts lay forgotten on the table next to them as the ship continued on its course, vaguely in the proper direction. Kyrus had no proper response for Stalyart, at least none that was consistent with the life’s story he had given.

  “You work with the captain, and you will be fine,” Stalyart advised. “There is no
need to get involved in the war. Find yourself a nice nobleman to serve, and pass information along to the Megrenn. Captain Zayne will see in return that you are taken care of. The Megrenn are not like you Kadrins. I know, I have traveled in both lands, and I see the differences. You will not be put to slaughter.”

  Kyrus swallowed hard. “Megrenn will.”

  “You are young. You do not see the changing of the world. The pendulum swings and then it swings back.”

  “It just got pulled in back our way,” Kyrus said. “I know too much already. We are ready for war. Please, try to convince the captain.”

  “Convince him yourself. You have fooled him before; go fool him again if you must. I will not stop you from trying.”

  * * * * * * * *

  “Where did you learn that?” Denrik protested. “I went through the Academy in Kadrin and never have I seen such tactics. I have played many Megrenn sorcerers as well, and I can usually acquit myself well enough, even in losing. I know not a single player who would be your equal.”

  “There is your problem. You have learned from the wrong world.”

  Kyrus smiled. He had challenged the captain to a game of chess, and one game had turned into five. Denrik Zayne was a proud man and wanted to at least manage a draw before admitting defeat overall.

  “I literally wrote the book on chess, several times,” Kyrus said.

  “Set up the pieces again. I shall not let you off so easily as that. Try that same trick as last time and I shall have a response for it. And stop making those pointless moves in the middle, taunting me,” Denrik said.

  The little chess set they had found on the ship consisted of a heavy board with small pegs sticking up at the center of each square, and each piece had a hole in the bottom to fit snugly down onto those pegs. It kept the game from shifting and being ruined by the motion of the ship; the Acardian Navy had too much time on their hands, developing such diversions.

  “Those moves you do not understand are the reason I keep beating you. Just because you cannot see what is going on, does not mean that there is nothing happening.”

  Kyrus worded his statements carefully. He was trying to lead up to the point of his conversation: that he knew what Megrenn was up to, and not just in the general sense, and that they were following a path to ruin.

  “So you say.”

  Another three games passed, and Denrik was finally nearing the point of admitting total defeat. He ran his fingers along his scalp, where a fine stubble was finally starting to resemble hair again, and sighed in frustration. It apparently felt good for him to flex the muscles of his mind, but he wanted to find some result in it.

  “I think you must be cheating somehow. I see no other way you could win so many times in a row,” Denrik accused after the ninth game.

  “You cannot cheat at chess. The pieces are right there in front of both of us the whole time.”

  “I would not have thought you could cheat at Crackle, either, at least not without my noticing.”

  Denrik glared at him. Kyrus flushed, unaware that the captain had caught on somehow.

  “This is a pirate ship. I assumed everyone else was cheating,” Kyrus said.

  Denrik chuckled. “So your excuse was that you thought you did not want to be the only one at a disadvantage? Hah! So what were you doing here to win at chess?”

  “Outplaying you badly, I am afraid. I have no need to cheat to beat you. I must admit an ulterior motive, though. I wanted to show you that just because you do not always understand what you are seeing, does not mean that it is not a danger.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Denrik asked, his eyes narrowing.

  Kyrus sighed within. Denrik was a stubborn man and clearly not prone to enjoying lessons. He would occasionally teach them but preferred to think of himself as having all the answers he needed.

  “You are planning a war with Kadrin. You cannot prevail. Lives will be lost on a scale you have not seen in your lifetime, and your cities will burn to the ground,” Kyrus said.

  “Your loyalty to them is admirable, brigand, but you do not understand the strategic situation as well as I do. Shall I lay it out before you?”

  Kyrus saw no need to answer and allowed Denrik to continue.

  “Kadrin has been in decline for decades. You overextended your reach under Liead’s reign and made enemies of the whole of the continent. Loramar’s wars against you sapped your strength and wasted the lives of many of your sorcerers. When Rashan Solaran was destroyed in the Battle of the Dead Earth, it marked the beginning of your fall. The Kadrin Empire curled into a ball and licked its wounds, guarding its sorcerers against harm rather than risking losing their precious bloodlines.

  “Even now, with war at hand, they cower in their towers and plot, rather than acting against Megrenn,” Denrik said.

  “Tides change,” Kyrus said, attempting a nautical metaphor. “The rocks are about to be exposed, and if you do not take care, you will run aground.”

  “Mr. Hinterdale, you should stick to cheating at Crackle. You have no subtlety. What are you on about? What is it that you know that you are trying so desperately not to tell me, despite dangling it before me?” Denrik demanded.

  “I know what you are planning. I know your goblin allies have taken your cannons to Raynesdark and intend to conquer it. I even suspect you are with them personally,” Kyrus guessed. He was fairly certain but had no way of confirming who the human liaison was. If he guessed correctly, he might be able to convince Denrik to avert the disaster he was inviting.

  “Still going to insist you are a brigand, Mr. Hinterdale?”

  “I have my sources. Rumors travel far and fast, and I believe there is one rumor that you have missed out on, being with the goblins instead of at home in Megrenn,” Kyrus said.

  He wanted to see if Denrik—or Jinzan, he supposed—had heard about the return of Rashan. He could only surmise that he had not, or his certainty in a Megrenn victory could not be so total.

  “Yes, we found out about the demon you keep company with. One of the goblin assassins confronted him and was allowed to escape alive. I am sorry, but if that demon of yours could not kill a simple assassin, the Megrenn army will find nothing to fear, either,” Denrik responded, trying to take the wind out of Kyrus’s sails.

  “So that is it, then? Even with a demon on our side, you still persist in wanting to bring war?” Kyrus asked.

  He was not yet ready to reveal that it was Rashan who had returned to them. It was too incredible a story, and even those who had seen him personally had trouble believing it at first.

  “Mr. Hinterdale … Kyrus, you are fighting on the wrong side in this conflict. You will get conscripted—I cannot imagine them tolerating brigandry in wartime—and you will have to fight on the losing side in the coming war. Align yourself with us and you can be a lord of the seas in Tellurak and a nobleman in occupied Kadrin in Veydrus. I could arrange that.”

  * * * * * * * *

  Kyrus had not accepted Denrik’s offer, nor had he declined. He was unsure which option would serve him best, though he had no intention of actually joining forces with Jinzan Fehr and his Megrenn compatriots—nor their goblin allies. On the one hand, he might be able to get more information out of Denrik if he agreed to join him. On the other, he might let slip something vital from his own side. It would all come down to his ability to maintain a lie.

  That ability had been called into question when he found out that Denrik had caught on to his cheating, though he was unaware what gave him away. Still, it ruled out Crackle as a way of making extra money on board the Fair Trader, and was a warning shot across his bow that his lies were not going entirely unnoticed.

  Kyrus stared out to sea, watching the endless waters roll. With his aether-vision, he was able to see the sea creatures near the water’s surface and paused to watch an enormous school of fish flee from several sharks that had gathered in the area. With practice, it was getting easier to keep his vision split between the aether
and the normal world. It was fascinating to him to see the Sources of all those tiny little fish in the water.

  As the ship passed over the area where the fray was taking place, Kyrus took pity on the poor little fishes. Locking his attention onto one of the sharks, he felt for its Source—a shabby, weak thing for a creature that large and fierce—and drew at it. The shark had no means of resisting, and its Source gave up its scant aether with little fuss. The shark became a lifeless carcass in the water and continued on for a moment before it floated up to the surface. Kyrus did not even feel the urgency of the aether he had trapped inside him. It was little enough that he could safely hold it without even exerting himself. He killed the other sharks within his reach in a similar manner.

  Kyrus had first wondered about whether it was possible for him to kill just by drawing from a Source after he was attacked in Marker’s Point. In his panic, he had drawn aether as hard as he could, and though his memories of the event were hazy, he was certain that he remembered the first of his attackers falling limp before the blast that destroyed so much of the area around him.

  Marker’s Point … it reminded him of the tattoo on his arm. They were only two days removed from the events of that day, both the tattoo and the attack. The ward carved on his upper arm had saved Kyrus’s life that night, there was no doubt. But what had the cost been? Captain Zayne had called him a fool and told him that it would leech from his own Source, but he had yet to feel any such effect.

  It is possible that my Source is strong enough that I do not notice the loss of aether I am experiencing? Or perhaps I am just too new at this whole business to be able to tell I am being affected.

  * * * * * * * *

  Kyrus took his meal in the mess with the men that night. He felt more at ease among the rabble of the ship’s crew now that he was confident in the workings of his tattoo ward. Let one of them come at him with a blade, and he would not be so helpless as poor Ruuglor, killed in his sleep by a goblin. It was better than dining with the captain and worrying about whether he would accidentally betray the defenders at Raynesdark by something he said. Sooner or later, the goblins would attack, and until then, he would stay clear of the captain as best he could.