Still walking, Yanko passed out of earshot and missed the rest of the conversation. That was a good thing. Even better would be if Lakeo did not mention the incident again. With all the trouble he was already in, Yanko did not want to be given credit for destroying a ship, a ship that had people on board who were friends with the Nurian ambassador and the local police.
About three days later—at least that was how it felt—Yanko made it to the end of the pier and set down the barrel. He could feel the kraken out there, beneath the surface. He did not know whether to toss fish out one at a time or toss the barrel, so he formed both images in his mind and offered them to the creature. The return image came promptly and forcefully—all the fish, all at once, and if Yanko fell in, the kraken would happily eat him too.
So, maybe it wasn’t just like communicating with a mouse.
Yanko heaved the barrel as far as he could, which, given the battering he had taken that night and the weight of the load, was not very far. A dark purple tentacle shot out of the water, the tip wrapping around its prize. The barrel disappeared so quickly, Yanko might have believed he had imagined everything. But a few seconds later, shattered pieces of wood floated up, all that remained of the meal.
Apparently, nobody else knew the kraken lurked so close to the docks, because there were people out, readying other ships to sail, but nobody had paid any attention to Yanko. He doubted anyone had seen the delivery. Good. He gave the creature a mental salute, then walked back to the Falcon’s Flight.
“Not a chance,” Captain Minark’s voice rolled down from the ship’s deck before Yanko drew close enough to see him.
Of course, Yanko was not looking at the ship. Another figure walking toward him from the opposite direction captured his attention—a tall, broad-shouldered figure with a sword and pistol at his hip and a huge pack slung over his shoulder. Dak.
“We brought you lime trees,” Lakeo said.
“Do not under any circumstances lower my gangplank,” Minark told Arayevo. “I’m not going to be bait for a Nurian wizard again. We almost lost the Flight last time.”
“But Yanko protected us from the fireballs,” Arayevo pointed out. Other crew members had shown up behind them at the railing, rubbing bleary eyes.
“Fireballs that were only hurled at us because he was on board.” Minark thrust his arm toward Yanko.
Lakeo shrugged her shoulders as Yanko joined her. “I tried. He’s not being wooed by the lime trees.”
“You can’t grow trees on a ship,” Minark growled.
“I can create a protective potting system for them so they won’t be bothered by the salt and the wind,” Yanko offered.
“Not if you’re not on board my ship, you can’t.” Minark crossed his arms over his chest, looking a touch petulant, as well as defiant.
While Yanko was hunting for an argument that might sway him—he had used the last of his money on the fish and the lime trees, so riches wouldn’t do it—Dak came to a stop in front of them. He prodded Lakeo’s bulging backpack.
“Those the library books the Kyattese are looking for?” he asked.
“I’ll bring them back when I’m done using them. Isn’t that how libraries work?” Lakeo didn’t sound remorseful over her unauthorized borrowing.
“For citizens. And for reference books that aren’t a hundred years old and rare.”
Lakeo scowled, challenging him with her eyes, as if she would be willing to fight him over them. “Then the Kyattese should thank me, because my travel mate suggested I dump them in a lake of boiling lava earlier tonight.”
“To save her life,” Yanko rushed to explain when Dak turned a cool gaze onto him. It occurred to him that Dak may have come to collect them and turn them over to the embassy. Except he wouldn’t have brought a bag if that was his intent, right? Sound reasoning, Yanko believed, but he couldn’t keep from squirming under Dak’s assessing gaze. “And I didn’t steal anything,” he found himself adding, like some child making excuses to a parent. “I even helped the Kyattese economy by purchasing trees and fish.”
Dak looked down at the trees—Lakeo had grown tired of holding them and set down the pots. “And fish?” he asked.
“Uh, yes.” Yanko glanced back down the pier. “The fish have been consumed already.”
Dak’s eye shifted toward the wreck—the rescuers were hauling people out of the water. Yanko shifted uneasily, having no delusions that Sun Dragon might have died. He needed to jump onto a ship—any ship on its way out of the harbor, and at the moment, he didn’t even care where it was going.
“As entertaining as this blather is,” Minark said from the deck, “we have a new cargo to deliver. Arayevo, you’re coming with us, right?”
“I...” Arayevo looked at the ship behind her, the men running and climbing about, making ready to sail. Then she looked down at Yanko. “Are you all right?” she asked him. “You look... rough. Do you need my help?”
While his spirit had not been bolstered by her polite suggestion that he looked like a dead animal that had been plucked over by carrion birds for days, her offer of assistance let him forget that. Would it be selfish of him to say that he did need help? Her help?
The captain scowled fiercely at the question. Yanko almost told her yes right there, because he would love to end whatever chances Minark thought he had with Arayevo, in addition to winning her company. But... what right did he have to put her in danger? To put anyone in danger? He looked back out to the wreck, then shook his head.
“No, thank you, Arayevo. Nothing but trouble is going to follow me, and I don’t want you endangered by it.” Yanko looked at Dak. “And you’ve more than redeemed the favor you said you owed me. Thank you.”
Yanko shrugged at Lakeo, not sure what to say to her. If she wanted to part ways, he would understand, but he thought she might continue with him, if only because she was being labeled a criminal here. Back in Nuria... well, he still had to figure out a way to finish Zirabo’s quest and to bring honor to his family. Or at least clear his name. He sighed and picked up the lime trees, thinking he could barter them and his skills as a mage for passage on another ship. A fledgling mage. He had enough marks against him; he didn’t need to lie about his qualifications to a potential employer.
“Your cargo worth more than a pirate’s treasure?” Dak asked.
Yanko frowned in confusion, thinking the question had been for him. But Dak was looking at the still-scowling Minark.
“What?” the captain asked.
“I have a map to the secret stash of a former archaeologist-turned-relic-raider-and-pirate.” Dak pointed a thumb over his shoulder at his large pack.
“Do you really?” Yanko whispered. From the way Dak and Mela Komitopis had been speaking, it hadn’t sounded like anyone knew where the museum loot had been hidden. How could he have found a map in such a short time?
Dak shook his head infinitesimally. So, a bluff. But why? To gain passage on the ship? Why did Dak care? Unless he had become a believer in the Golden Lodestone and wanted it for himself. Or his people.
“What’s the pirate’s name?” Minark said, his eyes narrowed.
“Heanolik Tomokosis, the Mausoleum Bandit.”
“He-ah-no-what? I hate Kyattese names. Who can pronounce them?”
“The Kyattese,” Dak said.
“The Mausoleum Bandit.” Minark stroked one of the charms dangling from his belt. “That name does sound familiar.” He looked at Arayevo, as if she were worldly and wise and might advise him on the matter.
She shrugged.
“Where’d you get this supposed map?” Minark asked.
“I made it myself. I’ve been doing research here.”
Yanko doubted Dak had found time to research anything in the handful of hours since he and Lakeo had fled the plantation. He might have had time to gather some books. That would explain the bulky pack.
“You’ve been doing research.” Minark grunted. “Aren’t you the bodyguard?”
Yanko
watched curiously, wondering if Dak might reveal a little more of his background, thus to prove the likelihood that he might have access to restricted information.
All he did was give a tight smile and say, “Yes.”
“Care to show me this map?” Minark asked.
“Once we’re all aboard and underway in the direction of my choosing, I will.”
“We’d want an eighty percent cut of the loot,” Minark said. “We’d be doing all the work, getting you there, and I’ve got a crew and a bunch of freeloaders to feed.” He waved down at them.
“Fifty percent,” Dak said. “I have the map.”
Yanko almost choked on his audacity. What would happen when they were a few hours out to sea and the captain learned Dak didn’t have anything except some books? As strong as he was, he couldn’t fight off an entire crew.
“Seventy,” Minark said.
“Sixty.”
Yanko was surprised that Dak didn’t add that there was one item that he insisted on keeping, but then realized that it wouldn’t be a good idea to draw attention to the fact that they sought something special. Enough other people wanted the lodestone already.
The captain leaned forward, gripped the railing, and glowered down at the three of them. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
Dak gazed back without comment.
Arayevo smiled down at Yanko. He didn’t know if it was because she was excited at the prospect of a treasure hunt or she wanted him to come back aboard, but he smiled back.
“Fine, get on,” Minark said and stomped away.
“He’s such a pleasant host,” Lakeo said.
Arayevo grabbed someone else to help, then lowered the gangplank. When Yanko picked up the potted lime trees, Dak quirked an eyebrow in his direction, but did not otherwise comment.
Yanko climbed aboard as soon as the gangplank touched the pier, even if he had no idea where they were going. Maybe Dak had a vague destination in mind. For now, it did not matter, so long as they escaped Sun Dragon’s wrath. Dak and Lakeo followed him aboard.
Arayevo hugged Yanko when he reached the deck. He must look like he needed it. He made no move to object.
“We were heading out this morning, anyway,” Arayevo said. “Do you have a problem with leaving soon?”
Yanko glanced toward the rescue dinghies, which were now rowing the survivors toward shore. He couldn’t see anyone in a robe hunkered on the benches, and even though he doubted he should hope for another mage’s death, his life would be simpler if the nemesis he had never asked for had been destroyed.
“No problem at all,” he murmured.
“I’ll tell the captain.” Arayevo jogged away.
Lakeo walked over to a big coil of rope by the railing, tossed her pack into it, and flopped down. After their ordeal, she would sleep for days. Yanko would like to do the same, but Dak would probably want help researching. Even if he didn’t want it, Yanko would provide it. He doubted Dak’s motivations for showing up on the pier had anything to do with wanting Nuria to find the lost continent.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked Dak, not that he expected a straight answer.
“You are not the only one who seeks honor,” Dak said and walked off to stow his gear.
In other words, he had his own nation’s interests in mind. Yanko watched him go with mixed feelings. Oddly, he was glad to have his surly bodyguard back, but he couldn’t help but wonder if a time would come when they had to cross swords.
As two crew members stowed the gangplank, he glimpsed a red and blue bird flying over the harbor. Kei? He was a long ways from home. Had he sought out Yanko because of their mind link? Yanko had never intended for that to be permanent or for the parrot to continue to work with him.
With a flapping of wings that managed to avoid Yanko’s head this time, Kei dropped onto his shoulder, sinking his claws in with his usual lack of delicacy.
“Puntak, puntak,” he announced.
A Nurian sailor walking past frowned over at the bird. Yanko pretended not to notice.
You don’t need to stay with me, he told Kei, forming a picture of the Komitopis plantation in his mind. You can go home.
“Chips,” Kei announced.
I’m out of chips. Yanko added an image of empty pockets.
A return image popped into his mind, one featuring a pile of seeds.
Yanko sighed. I’ll see what I can find.
The Falcon’s Flight pulled away from the pier, and Kei made no move to fly back toward the island. Whether he wanted another traveling companion or not, Yanko had one.
He headed for the steps leading below decks, hoping he might find some scraps suitable for a bird. He had no sooner reached the bottom than a wave of power washed over him, unfriendly power. It was more of a probe than an attack, but the strength of it made him lean a hand against the wall for support. And then an all-too-familiar voice spoke into his mind.
You think you won a victory today? You’ve only won a temporary respite. I will follow you wherever you run, and you will die, boy. You will die.
THE END
Afterword
Thank you for checking out the first book in the Chains of Honor series. The second novel, Snake Heart, is now available. There are also three prequel novellas with Yanko and some of the other characters featured in this book. If you’re wondering how Yanko first met Dak, please check out the Swords & Salt Collection.
Beginnings: Five Heroic Fantasy Adventure Novels Page 137