The Far Kingdoms

by Allan Cole

  Night slashed down, as black a night as I had ever seen. We could not see the creature's eyes, much less ourselves, but we knew we were still being watched. I heard men weeping. I heard frightened whisperings. I heard someone shout: "It's the red head the fiend wants!" Janos had Sergeant Maeen assemble the soldiers. From their voices they were as frightened as the soldiers. Maeen calmed them, steeling them against the night. But we did not know in which direction the most danger threatened - from the watcher in the sea, or from our own kind.

  I fell into a troubled sleep. It was a dream of strange voices, but no images. There were constant whispers, whose nature I could not determine, but I knew they were discussing my fate. A ghastly light crept in. The light grew into blue flames that leapt higher and higher, as if fanned by wizardry. I wanted to run, but my limbs were heavy stone columns. There came a shout that hammered my soul and the two Archons of Lycanth burst out of the flames. "Arise the winds," one of them called and his voice was thunder.

  "From the North and the South," cried the other, "East and West. Gather ye winds. Gather." His voice was lightning.

  "Seek the red-headed one," commanded the thundered. "And the one known as Greycloak. Find them on the seas where no wind blows."

  "Blow foul, blow fierce," said the other. "Then fiercer and fouler still. Blow, ye winds. Blow." A black cloud exploded out of the flames and the Archons were gone. The cloud was bristling with black forces, swirling this way and that. Then I could see the Archons in the cloud. They were pointing at me! "BLOW YE WINDS, BLOW!" came their great shout. The black cloud howled toward me.

  I bolted awake, dripping sour sweat. It was morning. I looked about, still shaken from my dream, and saw the other men were rising from the deck. They were smiling. I felt a cool breeze fan my cheek, the reason for their smiles. Janos clapped me on the back. "Our luck has returned," he cried. "The winds are back." The seamen leaped to obey Captain L'ur's commands. Soon the lateen stirred in the gathering breeze. I ran to the side and saw that the watcher was gone - and the wind was parting the floating mass of seaweed.

  There came a boom as the sail filled and the Kittiwake leaped forward. I heard the men cheer, but I did not feel the same joy. For looming up on the horizon was the great cloud of my dream, if it was a dream, and not a vision of our fate. My answer came as the cloud turned black and fierce and filled the sky. Janos shouted, but his words were whipped away as the wind went from stiff breeze to a demon storm that lifted the seas and smashed them against the ship. The cries of joy turned to screams. A line snapped and lashed past, scarring the deck. I dropped to the planks to escape the wind's blast. A body slammed into mine, and I grabbed and held the man down as the wind fought to tear him away. I saw, as he found a secure hold, the man was Janos.

  A great hand lifted the ship and flung us forward. The Kittiwake buried itself in a wave and we all nearly drowned as the seas poured over us. She struggled up and I felt weightless as she flew across the waves. We clung to whatever holds we had found for hour after hour as the storm raged without stop. Many times we were underwater so long I prayed to the gods for gills like a fish. Somehow we always emerged, as the Kittiwake refused to surrender to the Archon's winds. We were, Captain L'ur gasped in my ear, far beyond Redond, in unknown seas. Ahead must lie the cursed Pepper Coast! No one dared lower the sail and perhaps this saved us. Or perhaps the pig's blood Cassini had offered was enough to appease the local gods, because the lateen held as if woven by sorcerous threads and kept us flying across the seas.

  A fist hammered my shoulder and I turned to see Janos pointing. I looked up, I heard a dry crack and the mast split just above the step. If it gave, all was lost. Janos was pulling at me, screaming words I couldn't hear. I knew their intent - somehow we had to save the mast. We struggled forward. I believed Janos had gone mad for he seized a thick length of line, and began wrapping it about the mast. I thought it a useless reinforcement that would only hold for a moment or two.

  This time I heard his shout: "Help, me, Amalric!" Thinking these were my last moments of life, I did as he indicated, wrapping lines around the growing split in the mast. Janos tore an iron marlinspike from a rack and pushed it through the rope. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out an object that dangled from the end of a string. I realized it was a ferret's tooth, the tooth meant for poor Eanes. Janos wrapped the necklace about the spike, closed his eyes and chanted mightily, stroking the tooth as he chanted. The mast gave another CRACK, and the sail gave a terrible clatter. But before it could give way, I felt the rope lines harden and tighten under my hands, until they became as strong as new forged steel, and the mast held firm.

  We collapsed on the deck, exhausted. More hours passed, but now the winds were diminishing. Janos and I stumbled up to take stock. We spotted L'ur struggling alone to get the rudder back into its post. We fought our way to his side, dodging flailing lines and loose cargo. I heard a roar in the distance and turned to see land. Ragged reefs lifted fangs through the whitecrested stormsurf. In the grey light I could see the shore beyond. A wave lifted and hurled us towards those reefs. We braced for the wreck. As if alive, the Kittiwake shook herself in the water, heeling as she struck. Seas torrented over us for an eternity. Just when I thought I could no longer hold my breath, the seas rolled back.

  The ship was stranded, hard aground on the highest reef. Another wave rolled in, but now the storm was weakening and the wave foamed harmlessly around our keel. Janos and I hoisted ourselves upright. I almost laughed, for his gape at still living must have been a twin of my own surprise. I heard men crying out and turned to see how I could help. Amazingly, Maeen and the soldiers seemed to have survived; and the number of seamen did not seem much fewer.

  "Over there," Janos gasped, pointing. Three of our seamen must have been flung from the ship when she struck. They were wading through waist-high surf toward the rocky beach. One of the men, I noted, was Crop Ear. He seemed stronger than the others and strode vigorously forward. One of his companions, weak and bleeding, grabbed him for help, but Crop Ear swatted him off and pushed on.

  Janos gave a sudden groan. "Ah, the poor bastards." I saw the reason for his lament. Hundreds of dark figures scuttled along the beach toward the wading seamen. They were waist-high to a man and seemed to be composed of hard shell and sharp spines. At that moment the sun broke through the stormy skies. The figures were not creatures at all; they were miniature men, savages, really, armed with tridents for spears and wearing shields and armor made of some species of thick-shelled beasts. Scores of them plunged into the surf for the seamen. Crop Ear bellowed alarm and tried to flee. In moments they swarmed over him. Soon they had Crop Ear and the other seamen spreadeagled on the shore. One of the small warriors leaned in and cut a long strip of flesh from Crop Ear's wriggling, squealing body.

  The savage held up the strip of bleeding hide. He shouted a challenge at the ship, then raised his head and swallowed the flesh whole, like a cormorant taking a fish. He whirled around and plunged back at Crop Ear for more.

  There was nothing we could do but watch as the savages devoured our comrades alive.

  * * *

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE WARRIOR IN AMBER

  Janos bellowed: "Follow me." I saw him grab a fishing net. I could see it was snagged, and wondered why my friend wanted to go fishing when we were all about to be eaten by those fearsome folk of the shore. He bellowed again, breaking my coward's deathgrip on the rail, and I stumbled to help. The net came free and Janos threw it over his shoulder and leaped onto the railing. "Come on," he shouted. He plunged over the side. I didn't think, but vaulted after him. I followed him splashing and bounding across the reef and into the shallows - knowing he was mad, but I was madder still.

  Janos was screaming at the Shore People. The words were unintelligible at first, then I realized they were in Trader's Tongue. "'Ware the ghosts!" he was shouting. "'Ware!" "These be evil men. 'Ware the ghosts! 'Ware!" Then we were among the enemy. They must have thought we wer
e mad as well, for instead of falling on us like sensible little savages, they stood back, gaping, shields and spears drooping. "Evil men... 'Ware the ghosts!" Janos kept shouting, and they parted ranks and let us through. I saw frightened faces, stunned faces, even a few grateful faces blur past. Every stride we took and every shout Janos gave made them believe they faced a terrible threat, and we were not that threat. As we sprinted for the knot dining on our comrades, Janos unslung the net. "Back," he shouted. "Get back. 'Ware the ghosts!"

  The little men leaped away in shock as Janos hurled the net into the air. It spread its wings like a mountain bird and floated down and down. The savages held their breaths watching it fall and I knew they were calling on their own gods to aid the net. A sigh rose as it settled over the corpses. They were safe from the ghosts.

  Janos whirled about and when he saw the warrior who had challenged us when we were aboard ship, he assumed the man was one of the leaders. "Thank the gods you slew these men," he said with great emotion. "Please tell us what deities bless this place and we will make immediate sacrifice. For we are men of Orissa, known to all the world for our piety." I heard the word Orissa echo through the crowd. There were gasps of recognition, but amazement as well. The warriors had heard of our river kingdom, but we were evidently the first to come among them. The warrior leader goggled at Janos. His shell armor gave a dry rattle as he shifted, unsure. "These Lycanthians were your enemies?" he asked. I heard more rattling as the other warriors crept closer.

  "To be Lycanthian is to be an enemy of all civilized folk," Janos chanced. There were mutters of angry agreement. "But these men you killed were worse," Janos said hotly. "They were either demons in men's skin, or possessed by demons. It is because of them that we find ourselves wrecked on your shores, and begging your hospitality.

  He half-turned to me, still speaking in the tongue of the traders so all could understand: "We are most fortunate to come among these people, my lord. I fear your aged father would soon be weeping for his youngest son if they had not witnessed our plight. And joined in disposing of this, this..." Janos spat at the bodies. "...Lycanthian filth!" I looked at the net and saw Crop-Ear grinning back at us. But Janos was urging me to join in this desperate game quickly. Most of the warriors still seemed confused, open to suggestion. But I still saw doubt. A few were even eyeing us speculatively. If they were our rescuers, then what price could they exact for our salvation?

  "The crimes of the Lycanthians are known to all," I said, then made my face solemn. "But not all these men were evil. Do you not see, Captain Greycloak, who lies among our enemies?" I pointed at the only body which quickly caught attention - Crop Ear.

  Janos caught my ploy. He stared closer at the net, and all the warriors stared with him. When he saw Crop Ear, he gave a low moan of sorrow. "Why it is our brother, the Holy Crop Ear." He stifled a sob. "Poor Crop Ear. And he was so kind to homeless children, and starving widows."

  "This man was not evil?' the warrior said, alarmed. "But... he is Lycanthian. It is plain to see by his costume."

  "Yes of course he is," I said. "But he is one the gods blessed with knowledge of his own people's foulness. He came to Orissa many years ago, and performed so many acts of charity and other pious deeds he was purified by our greatest Evocators. Since that time, he has become a hero among us and an example for our children."

  The warrior still wasn't convinced. He pointed at the scarred reminders Crop Ear was a felon many times over. "Why does he carry those marks?"

  "They were self-inflicted," I said. "The Holy Crop Ear wanted the gods to let him bear the burden of the sins of the innocent."

  I heard sympathetic noises from the ranks. The warrior chief was so crestfallen Janos dared to step closer, shrinking his form - by craft, not wizardry - to not bulk large over the man. "Do not mourn, my friend. You could not know." He cast an arm out toward our wrecked ship on the reef. "These Lycanthians seized us at sea. By sorcery, I assure you, not by arms, for our soldiers would have soon overpowered the pirates. They plotted to use our ship, with us as their slaves, to spread their foul influence wherever they could. For some reason, they chose to come here to commit their first black deeds."

  The mutterings in the ranks grew louder, proving Janos had correctly guessed pirates and Lycanthians had clashed with the Shore People more than once.

  "But our own Evocator, who was ill at the time, or else they could not have trifled with such a powerful wizard, joined with the Holy Crop Ear to thwart them. For all of us had heard of the goodly folk of the Pepper Coast, and how you have suffered at the hands of the Lycanthians. When the storm caught us, we thought we were blessed. If we were to die, at least these demons would be stopped. But the storm wrecked us on your shores, and those men..." he jabbed a disdainful thumb at the bodies, "...tried to escape into your lands, where they could cause great misery. The Holy Crop tried to stop them. But, alas..." He shook his head. "It was an easy mistake to make, my friend. I am sure he would forgive you."

  The warrior chief removed his helmet and wiped a tear. I heard a few soldierly noses being blown. My merchant's instinct nudged. It was time to close the sale. "Certainly, he would," I said. "And I can see that great good will come from all this. For now we Orissans and the Shore People have finally come together. All our gods are sure to bless such a joining. And there can be much profit as well, for both our people. Friendship and trade will blossom on these bountiful shores."

  I lifted my hand in formal greetings. "I am Amalric Emilie Antero. Son of Paphos Karima Antero, the greatest merchant prince in all Orissa. And in his name, I offer you the friendship of our noble house."

  The warrior, too, raised a hand. "I am Black Shark, shaman and chief of the Shore People. Welcome, men of Orissa. Welcome." As his hand dropped, he thrust a chin at the corpses. "And we owe you thanks as well for capturing their ghosts. We did not know they were demons when we began to eat them."

  "Think nothing of it, Black Shark," Janos said. "Now, if it wouldn't be too much trouble..." he pointed at the tattered Kittiwake, and our forlorn comrades, who peered out at us from the wreck. "... Perhaps we could organize a party to fetch those people ashore?" Black Shark smiled. It was meant to be gentle, but was spoiled by the filed teeth.

  "Don't forget the cargo," I said.

  "Right," Janos said. "Could you take off the cargo as well?"

  "It will be done before the tides turn," Black Shark said. He barked orders in their native tongue, and while I was congratulating myself for being alive, the cannibals of the Pepper Shore laid down their weapons and swarmed out to the Kittiwake to help our friends. True to his word, Black Shark plucked everyone off and salvaged our gear before the tides covered the reef. By nightfall they had helped us erect shelter in their village, which was hidden in a nearby cove not far from the mouth of a river, and Janos, Cassini, Captain L'ur, and I were sitting about a driftwood fire, sucking the meat out of roasted crab claws.

  The human toll had been light; except for Crop Ear and his poor sailor friends, only one other fellow was dead - and he was a sailor as well. Black Shark and his people had easily accepted our assurances that these Lycanthians - L'ur included - were of that new, and astonishing breed, Reformed Lycanthians, like the Holy Crop Ear. The soldiers had suffered only small injuries and Sergeant Maeen was tending to them as we sat by the fire and reconsidered our future. But I was not totaling my good fortune as I sat there finishing my meal. Instead I gloomed into the fire, contemplating disaster. "Can you build another ship?" I asked the captain.

  "Aye," he said. "It can be done. Nothin' like the Kittiwake, `a course. But it'll be a sound craft. Got a whole forest of pepper trees about, and that's prized timber for ship building. I'll not have time to age the wood, but it's more'n sturdy enough green for our needs."

  "I'm sorry about Kittiwake," I said. "But I'll make it up when we get back." L'ur smiled, relieved, which had been my intention. I needed his full support. "How long will it take to build a new ship?"

 
"Two, maybe three months," L'ur said. "These be per'lous waters - as we've all witnessed. So we must take a care in the buildin'. The new craft'll need to be better'n just seaworthy if we're to make Redond."

  "That is not so long a trial," Cassini said. Under the circumstances he seemed oddly cheery. "We'll be home soon enough, with all of Orissa to praise our names."

  "How can you say that?" I cried. "We've been wrecked before I've even begun my Finding."

  "Oh, I think the oracle was clear when it foretold our troubles," Cassini said. "But it also hinted at success. And here we are, on the Pepper Coast, where no Orissan has ever gone. You said yourself the trade opportunities are fabulous. The captain has just spoken of the worth of the timber. And there'll be precious metals and we've seen wonderful animals and birds to delight the people at home. You've found your fortune, my friend, Amalric. There is no need to search further."

  "But... the Far Kingdoms... they're lost to us," I said. "I can't guarantee my father will fund another expedition. And I doubt your superiors will approve another."

  "No," Cassini said. "I am sure they won't. To go further, they'll say, would be to defy the oracle. But don't you see? We no longer have need of the Far Kingdoms."

  I didn't answer. Yes, there was much profit to be had on these shores. Exclusive profit and fame, of sorts for the Anteros. Although our journey had not been completed, this was the first new area opened to Orissa in many a year. But this meant nothing to me. All I could think of was the flash of golden sunlight that beckoned from beyond the black fist. Beckoned me still to the Far Kingdoms.

  "You can keep your gold, Cassini," Janos rasped. "And you can keep all the huzzahs from the good folk of Orissa. I, for one, intend to go on."

  Although I knew he was behaving like a fool, my heart jumped into the light when I heard Janos speak. "It is not for you to decide, Captain Greycloak," Cassini said. "This expedition cannot continue without my blessing, even if it were possible. Which it most definitely is not."