The Axe's Edge

by Summers, Derick J. M.

  The Axes’s Edge

  The Chronicles of Logan Hammersmith

  Derick J.M. Summers

  The Axe’s Edge

  The Chronicles of Logan Hammersmith

  Copyright © 2013 by Derick Summers

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  To my beautiful partner, you are my inspiration and my muse.

  The Story So Far

  The novelty of ship life had quickly worn thin for Logan Hammersmith and immediately been replaced by a pervasive sense of boredom. It wasn’t as though there wasn’t work that needed doing on the former slave ship. No, there were a thousand and one things that needed doing in order to keep the large vessel sea-worthy and on course, but all of those tasks were being performed by the regular crew. Logan and his five companions, like the myriad of recently freed slaves who were in the process of leaving Tael with them, were merely passengers seeking transport home.

  And, being a passenger on a ship that had previously been used for slaving and cargo running did not translate into activity, or luxurious accommodation for that matter. Thankfully, his inherent sense of balance had adjusted quickly to the rolling of the ocean and he had blessedly managed to avoid the plague of seasickness that had afflicted so many of the other passengers since leaving the port city.

  When Logan had first seen the massive ships, he had been overwhelmed. This had been a short time after he and his companions had freed the city of Tael from its oppressive ruler, freed the slave population and placed the rightful king and its surrounding lands on the throne. It wasn’t as though Logan had never seen a ship before, growing up in the small coastal village of Solan Bay Logan had seen his share of fishing vessels, but none of those compared to these leviathans of the sea. The former slave ships had been pressed into service by the new king after the recent abolishment of slavery and retrofitted to carry passengers. Each ship was more than a hundred feet long with three square-rigged masts that reached for the heavens. Comprised of three decks and a cargo hold, all were also capable of speeds up to 13 knots. Initially, they had seemed monstrous to Logan.

  That had been two very long months ago. Since then, time and overcrowding had taken what had been awe inspiring and massive and made it feel small, cramped and oppressive. In order to house all the former slaves, several modifications had been made to the ships’ initial designs. The lowest decks, the proverbial belly of the ships that had previously held the slave pens, had been opened up and converted into simple cargo areas. These now housed the supplies that King Jarod, the new king of Tael, had provided for them. The old cargo storage area had been transformed into basic barracks style accommodations with a variety of bunks and hammocks to allow as many occupants as possible to fit, in at least minimal comfort.

  These accommodations were not extravagant by any definition of the word, but Logan had had the opportunity to see the slave pens before the cargo retrofit. The low ceilings and uneven flooring made it impossible to stand fully erect even for someone of his short stature. The pens were below the water line and lighting was non-existent when the hatch was closed, plunging the entire level into a depth of darkness that even his heightened night vision couldn’t penetrate. Added to these factors, his sister Tanel had explained, the new slaves were shoved in until they were in constant contact with each other. Space meant room for another body and that meant more money. Quite simply, it was the stuff of nightmares.

  Tanel, Logan’s adopted sister, had lived this horror first hand. When the slavers came to Solan Bay, they destroyed the town killing many and loading all the able bodied young people onto a ship like this. Logan had been left for dead, but his sister hadn’t been so lucky. She had been tied and loaded into the slave pen. Disoriented by the perpetual gloom, with no steady footing and pressed tightly against her fellow captives, she had been plunged into total darkness as the hatches were closed and bolted.

  Time had lost all meaning as the rocking of the ship added to the sense of disorientation. Left cramped in the darkness with hundreds of others, she had no idea how long she laid there. The only light came when her captors opened the hatch to provide the marginal amount of food and water they felt their captives needed to stay alive. No facilities were made available for the slaves to relieve themselves and so they lay pressed up against their neighbour in their own filth.

  Many had died in the hold, while even more went insane. Those who did survive the ordeal, relatively intact, they would be forever changed, for every last one of the recently freed slaves stepping back aboard these ships to go home had taken a Herculean act of courage.

  In spite of the modified accommodations, the sheer number of former slaves returning home meant that a lot of people were sharing very close quarters. Nothing even remotely close to their former experience, but still tight enough to wear on each other’s nerves. And though Logan, knowing his sister’s story, could not bring himself to gripe aloud, he found the situation nearly unbearable.

  For as long as he could remember, from the time he had been found on the field after a particularly vicious battle as a baby by soldier and blacksmith, Hagar Hammersmith, the man who became his adopted father, he had spent a significant amount of his life avoiding or being avoided by people. As loved and cherished as he had been by his adopted family, Logan had always been equally ostracized and shunned by the ‘normal’ people of Solan Bay. Solan Bay was a small fishing village on the southern tip of Tir’an continent, its residents were human with little or no contact with the other races that called Tir’an home. His physical differences and appearance had not been well received and as a result, he had never learned to deal with crowds. This prolonged, enforced proximity to large numbers of people was leaving him worn and raw.

  It wasn’t just the stares and odd glances that he constantly received. He was used to those. Logan looked different than any he’d ever met, his lack of height - he barely managed 5’3” feet - and substantial width combined with his pale grey skin, his overlong arms, overlarge eyes, pointed ears and teeth made him clearly unique. He knew he looked different. Logan was distinctly not human, and the villagers of Solan Bay never let him forget it. But, he had long since come to terms with that, in fact, it was slightly unsettling to him how accustomed he’d actually become to it.

  No, what really disturbed him was exactly the opposite. As the voyage progressed, those who had been with Logan in the slave mines of Tael and later in the actual taking of the city had begun to share their stories and tales, exaggerating and embellishing as the mood struck them. It wasn’t long before Logan had achieved something akin to hero status. Everyone wanted to thank the man who had saved them all from such a horrible fate.

  As a man who shunned the public eye, Logan was not impressed to say the least.

  Logan had made an oath to avenge his parents’ murder and to save his sister from those who had taken her. In the completion of that oath, he had been fortunate enough to make some true friends, friends who were still with him today. Lan’thor, the warrior Elf, Raeth, the changeling assassin, and El’dreathia, the Elfin mage, had journeyed with him across the entire continent of Tir’an and shared some amazing adventures with him as he followed the path laid out by his oath.

  It had never been his intention to lead an uprising in the slave mines of Tael, to overthro
w the king or to bring slavery to an end in that distant northern city. His goals had been nowhere near that grand. He simply wanted to save his sister. In the process, he had been faced with choices and had simply done what seemed necessary and right. That didn’t make him a hero as far as Logan was concerned. Just a man who acted his conscience and that made the adoration all the more uncomfortable.

  Lamenting to El’dreathia had not made him feel any better. Though she had tried to sympathize with his plight, the Elfin mage’s advice was simple and to the point. He had freed a people, overthrown a king and launched an entire city’s economy into disarray. People were going to notice.

  Which translates, thought Logan with a snort, to suck it up, sunshine!

  Unfortunately, the most annoying consequence of his newfound hero status was less and less privacy. He could no longer hide in relative anonymity nor rely on people to keep their distance because of his unusual appearance. In fact, that unusual appearance just made him more recognizable. To add insult to injury, he couldn’t even really complain about the situation. King Jarod, the new and rightful king of Tael, had offered he and his friends their own private ship to go home. At the time, Logan had been more concerned with getting as many of the newly freed slaves home as quickly as possible and had refused his new friend’s offer, insisting instead that every available ship be used to return those who’d been taken.

  El’dreathia, in particular, enjoyed reminding him of that whenever she felt he complained too much.

  Which seems to be any time I say anything, he thought with a sigh. Though, I guess things aren’t much better for her or the others.

  Being Elves, El’dreathia and Lan’thor stood out sharply amongst the collection of mostly human passengers on board, many of whom had never before seen an Elf. El, stunningly beautiful at over 6 feet tall with long golden hair, tanned skin and golden eyes, drew the attention of many of the shipboard males and several of the females. While Lan’thor, more attractive than any man has a right to be at an inch or so shy of 7’ with nearly ebony blue hair and eyes, had a similar effect on their opposite number. Elves were naturally one of the fairest of all the races, and El and Lan were attractive even by Elfin standards. The two soon found themselves surrounded by would-be admirers, offering compliments and assistance. Logan would have been jealous with all the attention focused on El’dreathia, if he hadn’t been so aware of how much it irritated her. Like him, she never craved such attention.

  Raeth, cloaked in the black robes of an assassin, was also the source of much interest and speculation.

  Though, she seems to have the least difficulty with unwanted questions and attention, Logan thought with a smile.

  In Raeth’s case, Logan couldn’t be sure how much of that was due to the fact that she was just another human and how much was because the woman could be downright scary when she wanted to be.

  Tanel, the only completely human one in the group was, for the most part, ignored. According to her this suited her just fine. Tanel had not been treated kindly under the ministrations of Siris, the man also known as ‘The General’, who had been responsible for imprisoning the true king and placing his own puppet on the throne. He had been taken with her beauty and, to her misfortune, had taken a personal interest in Tanel. It would likely be years before she was able to put the horrors of that ‘personal interest’ behind her. Logan respected her pain and tried not to push her on it, he was just glad that she was achieving some measure of peace. She had so much to work through and the scars that her experiences had left on her soul would need time to heal… a lot of time.

  Of all the companions, Logan figured that Smash endured the greatest difficulty and hardship because of their current shipboard situation. The mountain troll had joined Logan in his uprising in the mine and had been integral in taking the city. When offered the opportunity to return to his people, the big man had declined. Smash wasn’t welcome back to his tribe. Allowing yourself to be captured and enslaved were not acceptable in Trollish society and he would be shunned if not killed outright if he ever returned. Even if this hadn’t been the case, Smash wouldn’t have gone back. His own ideology and intellect separated him from his brethren and he preferred to make a new start in the world. Logan and his companions welcomed him, and with them Smash found the level of acceptance that he had been yearning for.

  Separating The Animals From The Civilized Folk

  A mountain troll in the company of humans was a rare thing. If Logan had experienced animosity growing up, it paled in comparison to what Smash faced every day. Many humans considered Trolls to be little more than brutes. Trolls looked big and scary, Smash stood well over 7 feet, and by human logic this meant they had to be either stupid or animalistic. Many of the humans on board had no qualms about staring and ogling him, often pointing rudely and commenting to those around them. Most times, Smash, who was still learning to speak the common tongue, didn’t understand their words. Or at least, Logan hoped he didn’t understand. He was still unclear as to how much Tir’anish the big man understood. Though even without a fluent understanding of the language, the meaning was often altogether too clear.

  The racial bias and fear went so far, that several of the passengers approached the captain and asked if such a wild animal shouldn’t be secured or chained for the voyage, so as not to be a threat to others. Thankfully, the captain, who had already had the opportunity to meet and speak with Smash before the ship left port, had already satisfied herself as to the big man’s civility. She handled the request by explaining to all concerned that she was not in the habit of securing passengers. She went on to suggest that if they were very troubled over the situation, she could see that they themselves were placed safely in the cargo hold below decks. This would be for their own peace of mind and safety of course. They declined her offer.

  Smash tried to ignore the obvious racism, and Logan admired him for it. The even-tempered troll showed far more restraint than Logan found he himself capable of and his temper finally slipped when one unfortunate passenger echoed the comments that had been made to the captain. Moving far faster than the foolish man could react, Logan seized the whiner around the neck and lifted him one-handed over the rail of the ship. With the terrified man’s feet dangling over open water Logan stared into him with his large, cold, black eyes. Logan allowed his lips to curl back in a low rumbling snarl, exposing the points of his own canines.

  A heavy hand on his shoulder drew Logan’s attention away from the frightened man. Smash was staring down at him. He was frowning in resigned frustration and shaking his head slightly. A low growl passed his lips. Logan understood his friend’s meaning even without the aid of the magical translation talisman Logan wore around his neck.

  “I know, I know.” Logan sighed heavily, unable to meet Smash’s gaze. He knew the big man was right. This was not the way to change people’s minds. Frowning at his own lack of control, he gave his attention back to the frightened man, studying him for a moment before finally speaking.

  “My friend is no more an animal than you are,” Logan said quietly. “He is capable of all the same emotions - anger, sadness, happiness, and in this case, compassion.” Logan dropped the man back onto the deck of the ship before he continued. “It would be best if you remembered that.”

  The man stared up wide-eyed at Logan and Smash, his face white with fear, and nodded solemnly. Logan could see the fear still fresh in his eyes and shook his head in resignation. He was at a loss at how to fight this.

  How, he thought with a weary sigh, do you change a man’s mind?

  Logan turned on his heel and allowed Smash to lead him away through the gathered crowd.

  For obvious reasons, Smash preferred the relative peace of the open hold that the captain had provided for him. Unlike the old slaver’s hold this cargo area had direct access to the deck and was actually fairly spacious, by ship standards anyway. It gave the big man a break from the constant overcrowding of the rest of the ship. This, paired with Smash�
�s willingness to share his space with his companions, meant that the hold quickly became the makeshift quarters for all of the companions.

  Even Tanel seemed to prefer the relative tranquility of the open hold, and could often be found sitting with Smash. It seemed to Logan that they enjoyed the challenge that came with their very different languages and before long the pair were developing their own mixed tongue. It incorporated some Trollish, some Tir’anish and an awful lot of hand gestures. With little else to do, the rest of the companions found themselves drawn into the lessons, adding their own nuances as time went on. After two months at sea they had perfected it to the point that they could all comfortably engage in some fairly lengthy and involved conversations without the use of Logan’s talisman. Many an evening was spent reliving adventures and sharing experiences. Tanel had even started to laugh again, something Logan had feared he would never hear again after her prolonged enslavement. Her laughter was infectious, bringing smiles to the rest of them. Troll faces weren’t really built for smiling rendering Smash’s grin fearsome enough to terrify small children and full-grown adults. This, of course, just made them all laugh harder.

  The Long Voyage Home

  The sun was just rising, bathing the eastern horizon in shades of pink and purple as it chased away the night. Logan leaned heavily against the rail of the former slave ship enjoying the spectacle of nature and the relative tranquility that came with early morning. The night watch went about their business keeping the ship trim and on course, while they anxiously awaited the coming of full dawn and the end of their shift. Logan was reminded that the great ship never truly slept when out at sea, but thankfully, the majority of its passengers did.