Majestic was the only way Carym could describe this ship. The great cabin was carved intricately with fanciful scenes of naval battles seemingly inlaid with gold and silver and bright paint. One particular scene exhibited a beautiful siren, displaying her wares from the surface of the sea and lulling a witless captain and his crew to their deaths on a rocky shoal. Carym felt a twinge of guilt as he admired the lifelike portrayal of the well-endowed siren, miserably recalling his own encounter.
“Don’t stare too hard, man. She might convince you to walk the plank!” the captain laughed heartily and so did some of his crew as Carym’s face reddened in memory of the shameful experience, which he vowed to take to his grave.
It was then that Carym was introduced to a few of Yag’s officers; Commander Wellson, the 1st officer; 1st Lieutenant Hyrnby, the deck officer; 2nd Lieutenant Mathys, the pilot; 3rd Lieutenant Persus, the arms officer, and an Arnathian, Carym noticed; Chief of Mates Ahmen’She; and Captain Kyrses, commander of Yag’s personal detachment of Roughneck fighting sailors. Kyrses was a tall and lean man, who wore a coat of dark gray with black buttons, three bands of black on the sleeves just above the cuffs to indicate his rank and a stiff neck collar, also known as a “Roughneck” collar, which forces a man to hold his head high, and gray trousers with a black stripe down the sides. Captain Kyrses’ face was scarred and it seemed to Carym that he might be blind in one eye. The man wore two swords fastened to a shiny leather belt and had a number of daggers fastened to a pair of belts he wore diagonally across his chest. He and his men wore an odd tri-cornered hat, like Yag’s, that was becoming the style of maritime officers. On his chest was a coiled rattlesnake, poised to strike, which denoted the identity of his mercenary company.
“The Marineer has such a fierce reputation that pirate ships and Vaardic Raiders alike have fled from her presence,” Zach confided to his friend. Zach had been aboard this ship many times while working for the Spiders and was no stranger to these men. In fact, they greeted him heartily and welcomed him and Carym aboard with an invitation to dine in the officer’s mess in the evening. How could an old sailor like Carym say no to that?
After the introductions, a young midshipman took the passenger’s weapons and belongings and stowed them in the captain’s cuddy. In the event the ship came under attack, Yag felt it prudent to be able to arm or disarm the passengers as needed; the latter being a measure of protection to be offered in the unlikely event his ship was detained by the authorities, thus the passengers would be viewed as innocent non-combatants. Commander Wellson brought the travelers to their staterooms below decks, where paying passengers would sleep. He showed the lady to her stateroom first, they exchanged bows, and she closed the door behind her. Then Wellson showed the young men to their space across the passageway. It was very cramped, but it was all theirs, and it was separate from the bunks of the crew for which Carym and Zach were grateful. Yag told them it would be a day and a half trip across the bay, two days with bad weather, and warned them to stay out of the way.
Zach had already kicked off his boots and put his feet up on his bunk. Carym silently contemplated his several near-misses over the last few days, beginning with becoming an outlaw in his home town and ending with his encounter with a Siren; his gut twinged and he quickly put that thought behind him. He wondered if he would ever return to visit Naboneezer’s shop, and he thought he might even enjoy talking with the old sorcerer, Bartholomeul, under more pleasant circumstances. His thoughts naturally turned to the mysterious Crimson Elf, Morgon Fyr, and wondered if the man was as genuine as he seemed. A Fyrbold?
“You know she is Keneerie, don’t you,” Zach growled suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. Carym shook his head at the sudden and surly change of mood in his old friend.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Carym said wryly. “What have you against them, anyway? We’ve dealt with them on many occasions.”
“They have hurkin blood in them and are not to be trusted, Carym. ‘Tis why the Crimson and the Frost Elves refer to them as ‘Low Elves.’ And did you see that tattoo on her neck? It is the mark of the Black Order of Grymm; she is a Sister of Death!”
Carym nodded, having made that observation too. It was a secretive order of witches devoted to Grymm, the Lord of Death. Carym had met of few in his time and couldn’t help but feel reticence about that. They were a very secretive group with a powerful command over the souls of the departed. While a member of the Order of Grymm she may be, he found it difficult to believe the myths about her race. Some indeed said Keneerie were descended from a lost tribe of the elves that had been enslaved by hurkin overlords many centuries ago. According to that legend, Keneerie female slaves had been forced to breed with hurkin and that their hurkin ancestry had polluted their blood making them dangerous and unpredictable. The Keneerie peoples firmly dispute any such hurkin ancestry. Other legends describe them a race of elves mixed with human blood.
“Witch and Keneerie,” Zach said with disgust.
“Isn’t your boss an elf?”
“He is not Keneerie. And he is my boss only as long as he pays me and as long as someone else doesn’t knife him. She is just a Low Elf, Carym; hardly considered an elf by Elvish standards. They are unpredictable and they cannot be trusted.”
“I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. I will not judge her simply for being a Keneerie. There are many of her kind living among the human populations and the ones I have met are good people. I pity them; their Elvish cousins distrust them as much as humans do.”
“Spare me,” Zach groaned, rolling to face the bulkhead. “Sometimes you have to pre-judge people so you don’t get caught off guard, something you and I know can get you killed!”
“Well, I am going to try to get to know her and learn from her if I can,” Carym was quickly tiring of his friend’s increasingly intolerant attitude. It seemed Zach now suspected every person he met of betrayal and duplicity. Irritated, Carym intended to leave Zach alone with his suspicions.
“Learn from her? Why, you are Right!” Zach said, mocking his friend. “She could be a princess from Amberlou!”
Carym’s face turned red with anger as his friend erupted in laughter. He began to demand how Zach had known about the Siren, but thought better of it and stormed out of the cabin.
“Ass!” he grumbled as he walked out.
C H A P T E R
10
A Journey at Sea.
Beneath the Waves.
On the morning of the second day at sea, Carym was on the weather deck near the bow of the ship getting some air and watching hopefully for a glimpse of a whale, a shark, or giant ray in the gently rolling waves. He breathed deeply enjoying the cool breeze and the clean air and for a moment he could almost feel the pull of the stones secreted inside the pocket of his coat. The blue stone seemed to pull his consciousness the most, though he resisted thoughts of examining it in the presence of others. He watched as crewmen hoisted barrels of full of seawater from the sides of the ship using a system of ropes and pulleys. The barrels were placed sporadically around the decks of the ship for men to drink from, wash themselves, or use for cleaning. Feeling quite thirsty, Carym dipped a cup into a barrel of fresh cool seawater and drank deeply.
A shadow in his peripheral vision warned him that someone was coming, perhaps seeking a drink. His heart skipped a beat when he saw who it was that had glided up next to him; the Keneerie woman! The ominous black garb of her station was unsettling to most people, cowl shrouding her face in shadows, voluminous sleeves hiding her hands. Somehow Carym sensed a warm spirit there, trapped ironically in the dark world of the God of the Dead. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he truly felt like this woman was no ordinary Sister of Grymm.
Carym quickly bowed and offered the woman a drink from his cup.
“Thank you,” she said. “You are kind.” Her voice, soft and graceful, seemed almost musical in keeping with the way of elves.
“Not at all, my lady,” he said, glimpsing her rav
en hair and golden eyes peeking out from under the hood. He was amazed at the woman’s beauty and, for a moment he felt awkward and foolish; perhaps this was another siren masquerading as a Sister of Grymm? He blushed with embarrassment and quietly swore he wouldn’t fall prey to that darkness again.
A loud horn began blowing from the rigging directly above him and he looked up to see the lookout frantically waving and shouting something about warships. Carym glanced in the direction the sentry was pointing and he saw several ships looming on the horizon. Yag’s gruff voice heralded his approach, shouting orders at his men who probably could do their jobs without being shouted at. But such was life aboard ship, he not-so-fondly remembered.
“Better stand clear, landlubber! Else ye might get knocked overboard by mistake!” the old pirate laughed, apparently thinking that might be an amusing scenario.
“Are those Arnathian warships, Yag?” asked Carym; the grizzled captain snorted and cursed at the thought. Carym was used to life aboard a ship and was not offended by the rough sense of humor and harsh language of most sailors and Roughnecks, though he naturally felt that such was not proper behavior in front of a woman.
“No,” he said as he pulled out a brass telescope and peered through it. Carym wondered how much Zach had told him about their ordeal.
“Where are they heading?”
“It looks like they are heading towards Amberlou, or maybe Brythyn. Can’t be sure.” Yag handed the telescope to Carym.
Carym peered through for a few minutes and said, “It looks like at least one ship is coming this way.”
Yag snatched the spyglass away from Carym and peered through for long moments, oddly silent. “Shrast it all! It’s the Shugu!” the old man sputtered, a nervous edge took over and hardened his voice. He began thrumming his fingers on the polished rail of the ship. “Sharks and shells, they’ve identified us! Now the whole crackin’ lot is coming about.” The grizzled old pirate looked positively worried to Carym.
Then the captain stalked away, shouting orders to his men. Suddenly the ship lurched and turned a few degrees to the west, orders shouted and men scurried to comply. It seemed to Carym then that a distinct change in mood occurred in the crew, the men seemed anxious.
Carym grabbed a passing deckhand by the shoulder. “Are those really the ships of the Shugu out there?” he asked.
“Aye, and the Shugu is one for holding a long grudge!” the man said earnestly. Carym looked back out at the horizon, listening as the man in the crow’s nest called out descriptions of the sails of the far away ships and what flags they were flying. The navy of Shugu Wysari Komato practiced the ancient signaling tradition of the seas, wherein ships of a fleet could communicate with each other by flying a series of elaborately decorated flags with predetermined meaning. The meanings of these flags were secrets closely guarded, typically known only to ships’ captains and their designated signalers. Of course, almost anything can be bought for the right price and it seemed that Yag’s men must know the Shugu’s signal codes.
Carym squinted up toward the spy in the crow’s nest and heard him shout, “Shugu’s ordering his fleet to pursue and detain all ships leaving Dockyard City!” Yag knew the old Shugu well and was not surprised that the fearsome man would attempt such a crime against the Laws of the Sea. “Command ship has signaled a pair of Mantis Battleships to lead pursuit at us!”
Yag snorted.
“Captain, where are our weapons? Zach and I can help you fight them,” he offered.
“Weapons?” he said, incredulous. “We ain’t fighting them, we’re gonna disappear! But we need to get over the horizon ’afore we can!” Having set his orders in motion, and satisfied they were being carried out by his officers, Yag stood calmly and quietly watching the Shugu’s well-armed navy.
“Bastard piermaster must have told them,” he said with a sigh of regret. “I guess I didn’t pay him enough. It’s a tricky thing, bribing a piermaster, you know? You can never tell who got to ’em first, and they’ll take your money all the same. Ten of them to one of us; not odds that I’m liking.”
Carym nodded, Yag was right. “Where are we going then?”
“We travel to Sargan Duchy where I will be offering my services to the Duke of Sargan. I’ll have you fetched o’er to Caelambra on the backside.”
“Won’t the Shugu just follow us?” asked the Keneerie woman, whose name he still did not know, in a silky voice. She hovered behind him, raven tresses spilling out from her cowl. Yag glanced at the woman and nodded to her in greeting. Carym knew the man was thinking that it was bad luck to have a woman aboard ship, as most sailors do.
“They’ll try, ma’am. They’ll try,” he said as he turned and walked toward his cabin. The captain had ordered his crew to increase speed and he could see the men busily working amongst the sails and ropes and masts. Satisfied that the privateer’s competent and skilled crew could outrun the Shugu’s battleships, Carym turned his attention back to the woman.
“We haven’t been properly introduced, ma’am,” said Carym bowing as he took the woman’s hand. “I am Carym of Hyrum.”
“I am Gennevera al Louerra, and I am honored to make your acquaintance, Carym of Hyrum.”
Carym was pleased that she did not greet him with condescension upon hearing that his namesake was his village, an indication of low station among many cultures. Her eyes regarded him with an intensity that touched his soul as she clung to his hand for a moment longer than was proper.
“You are going to Caelambra?”
“Aye. There is someone I must meet there.”
Finally she let go of his hand and looked back out to sea as the Marineer picked up speed. Carym and Gennevera stood on the weather deck talking and watching for whales, which Gennevera had never seen, for hours. And for a while, it seemed as though the Shugu’s ships would not catch them. Then off the bow directly in front of them, Carym spotted more ships on the horizon! The two watched calmly for a while, waiting to see if the spotters in the ship’s rigging would notice and let everyone know if the ships were friend or foe.
Before long, it was apparent to Carym that the crew had spotted the ships blocking their path before he did. Yag and his officers had gathered near the ship’s great helm, deep in conversation. As the ships on the horizon grew larger, Carym saw their sails bore the markings of the Shugu’s fleet; a black sun with six red rays extending from it on a white sail.
“Below decks! All passengers below decks!” shouted the Chief of Mates in his trashy Dockyarder accent, as he walked about the deck. The ship heaved and a great boom swung, forcing a change in direction. North again, Carym observed as he and Gennevera were ushered politely to the ladder leading below by a grim looking petty-officer.
“What’s happening, Carym?” asked Gennevera.
“I think we have sailed into a trap, one that has been waiting for our erstwhile captain!” he answered grimly. He wanted to find Yag and throttle him; it seemed there would be little chance of escaping the Shugu’s fleet which was now closing from both flanks. And, it seemed the Marineer was now sailing into a slight headwind, which would give their adversaries a better chance to close the gap. So it will be a fight then.
“Sorry, sir. Ma’am. Captain’s orders,” said the petty officer, though it was clear he wasn’t sorry to see them go below.
“Petty Officer, if we can have our weapons we can help you fight them!” said Carym urgently. But the gruff man just smiled.
“We ain’t to be doin’ no fightin’, sir. You can count on that!” then the sailor secured the hatch behind them, muffled voices of the crew could still be heard shouting above. Gennevera was holding his hand again and he felt a surge of warmth flow through his body, he felt connected to this woman and he barely knew her. Feeling giddy, he gripped the woman’s hand in return and led her down the passageway. Doubt assailed him again and he wondered if he was he being fooled again. Was this another one of Umber’s agents sent to waylay him? How much difference could there
be between the Lord of Death and the Dark Lord of Deceit?
“I need to return to my cabin so that I may prepare for dinner,” she said softly, Carym could scarcely hear her voice above the creaking of the ship. He nodded, but said nothing, preferring the silence to think. As they reached the woman’s cabin, he decided to be cautiously optimistic, for she had made no advances and had shown no interest in his plans. He regretted leaving her alone, but knew it wouldn’t be wise to be forward with the woman.
Forward? When did I decide I like her that much? She could be setting me up.
She gave him a kiss on the cheek and said, “I’ll see you at dinner.” Then she entered her cabin and closed the hatch behind her. He stood looking at the place where she had stood, torn by conflicting emotions. Was he somehow being unfaithful to the memory of his deceased wife? Was the spirit of his daughter somehow looking down on him in shock and dismay? If the visions shown him by Zerva in the druid’s glade were true, his deceased loved ones wanted him to move on; he had purpose now. He shook his head as he walked back to the porthole and stared out at the sea, hoping a glimpse of the Shugu’s infamous navy would take his mind off things. Alas, he could see nothing but rolling waves from here and so he retired to his own cabin for a nap before dinner.
***
Carym, Zach, Gennevera and the officers had dinner in the Captain’s personal galley. The Captain’s galley was a brightly painted room with covered candles placed along the walls for lights. There were paintings of various people whom Carym did not recognize, and a statue of the Goddess of the Seas prominently displayed on the wall behind the Captain’s place at the head of the table. The table, like the chairs and every other thing on this ship, was fastened to the deck.
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