The Harpy's Song (Ëlamár Series Book 1)
Page 34
He rose slowly from his bed, fighting the agony that pulsated through every sinew of his body, to stand before the mirror that had been brought in just moments before. He studied the injured form before him with a sense of detachment. The bruised limbs, the lacerated torso and the melted skin that covered its right side. His mouth flickered with the beginnings of a smile as he thought of the girl who had bested him once again. He held a kind of admiration for her; she was worth five of his crew. But he couldn’t let her get away with it and had already sent vessels in every direction to hunt her down. And that traitor T'illaá.
He turned his attention to his face, still hidden beneath bandages. Carefully, he removed the pin that held them in place and slowly, his hands trembling, began to unwind the pustulant, blood-stained cloths. Beneath them, the right side of his face was covered with a gauze dressing. He paused for a moment to compose himself and then began to peel it slowly from his skin, gritting his teeth against the pain.
Sklõff did not recognize the one-eyed monster that stared back at him; it seemed almost incomprehensible that it was his own reflection. With the tips of his fingers, he gently caressed the melted mass of skin that covered the empty eye socket; he traced the outline of the cavity that replaced his distinguished nose and felt along the scarred ridge that framed his teeth, exposing them in a permanent snarl. He turned his head slowly, revealing the true horror of the contrast between the still handsome left side of his face and the ruined wreck that remained of his right.
With a howl of rage, he struck the ruined face with his fist, shattering the mirror. But even as the pieces fell to the ground, the grotesque reflection remained. The reflection of the monster he had become. Anger surging inside him, he lifted the deceitful frame and threw it across the room, ending its treachery in a splintered heap.
A detached calm followed. He pulled on some clothes and pulled the bell cord. Instantly, there was a knock on the door and he instructed the maid to enter.
‘Summon Kârik please, my dear,’ he crooned as he turned towards her.
Her eyes widened at the sight of his face, but it was the unfamiliar silky tones that filled her with fear. ‘Yes, my lord,’ she replied in a small voice.
When Kârik entered, Sklõff was sitting at his desk studying a chart. ‘Make ready the Harpy’s Song. We leave at dawn for Borreós.’
‘Um…err…’ Kârik stammered as he thought of his master’s stolen galleon.
‘What are you waiting for, man? We’ve wasted enough time as it is.’
Sklõff waited for the door to close before opening the bottom drawer of his desk and taking out the familiar metal box. He placed a hand on its lid and contemplated what he was about to do. Finally, he opened the box and removed the orb, placing it on his outstretched palm. But his fingers tightened angrily around it.
‘Caleb—my lord and master no more,’ he growled, imagining those red eyes. ‘You thought me ignorant of your plans. Of what it was you had me searching for. But I knew. I’ve known all along.’ He raised his hand high and smashed the orb against the floor, splitting it into a thousand pieces. ‘And when it is I who hold Zethaphùs’ sword in my hand, you will kneel before me. Along with the rest of Ëlamár.’
About the Author
Logan Joss is an emerging author of fantasy and science fiction. He lives with his wife by the sea in the south of England.
Logan has many stories in his head and hopes very much to be able to write as many of them as possible down on paper and share them with you.
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Also by Logan Joss
Beneath the Watchers’ Eye - a FREE short story from Ëlamár - click HERE
Zethaphùs’ Sword - Ëlamár Book two - available Spring 2019
The Night Garden - available Summer 2018