The Fifth Empire of Man

by Rob J. Hayes

  “Big bastard is trying to break free again.”

  “Starve him again,” said the other voice. “Fuck it, starve all of them. More food for us. Get precious bloody little as it is without feeding criminals.”

  The guard laughed and closed the door, once again bathing T’ruck and his surviving crew in darkness.

  The next time the door to the brig opened it was the squat-faced guard and his storm lantern once again, but this time he looked far from comfortable. His back was straighter, and his uniform, though still slightly too small, looked as though he’d recently fussed about smoothing it down.

  T’ruck was lounging against the bars to his cell, but rose when the door opened. No matter what was sent into the brig, he would meet it on his feet.

  “The admiral said to put her in with the others,” said a new voice, one with an air of command. “And I’m to make sure it’s done personally.”

  There was some grumbling, and T’ruck thought he heard mention of the admiral’s mother, but there seemed to be an agreement to follow the orders and the guard started into the brig, followed leisurely by a beautiful woman with raven hair and an iron collar. A tall man in an officer’s coat followed her in and shut the door behind them. He stayed there at rigid attention, standing guard.

  As the guard walked past T’ruck’s cell, the woman tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face her, his eyes going wide as they met hers.

  T’ruck leaned into the bars and caught a glimpse of the woman’s eyes. They were a swirling mass, almost like a bag of snakes writhing against each other. T’ruck found himself being drawn in, unable to look away.

  “Please control yourself, Captain Khan,” the witch said in a voice like an ice bath. “It is hard enough to keep these two under my sway without your attempt to subjugate yourself.”

  T’ruck shook himself free of her spell and dragged his eyes away from hers.

  “Open the door to this cell,” the witch said sweetly, and the squat-faced guard began fumbling for his keys.

  T’ruck noticed the officer standing at the door to the brig stumble and shake his head. The witch snapped her head around and locked her evil eyes onto the officer’s. “I would be very grateful, my dear, if you would just wait there for now.”

  T’ruck looked at the witch again. He’d transported Lady Tsokei halfway across the world in the bowels of his ship, and not once had he seen her look so dishevelled. Her black hair was dull and greasy. Her skin was dirty, coated with a sheen of grime. Her black dress was heavily ripped and stained, hanging loose and tattered upon her small body. Sweat dripped down from the witch’s forehead, running down her cheek and chin and disappearing beneath the iron collar.

  “Quickly, please,” Lady Tsokei hissed at the guard. She was shaking a little, as if cold despite the warmth and closeness of the brig.

  The guard slid a key into the lock and the door to T’ruck’s little cell squealed open. T’ruck had to duck as he wasted no time in exiting his prison, the doorway clearly designed for smaller men – but then, most men were smaller than him. Squat-face stood by with a curiously expressionless face as T’ruck pushed past him.

  “Please kill one of these men,” Lady Tsokei said, steadying herself against the bars to T’ruck’s former cell. “I cannot keep them both bound to me much longer.”

  T’ruck wasted no time in choosing. The officer would likely be more useful, and the guard had already proven himself to be unworthy of life. He wrapped his giant hands around the smaller man’s throat and began to squeeze. At first there was no resistance, but soon the man’s eyes lit up as the witch released her control – T’ruck saw her collapse against the bars at the same time that the guard began to struggle – but he was no match for an angry giant. T’ruck watched the life fade from the guard’s eyes before he let the corpse drop to the decking. The officer didn’t so much as blink at the death of his crewmate.

  “I will be glad when that one is dead too,” Lady Tsokei hissed, nodding towards the officer. “The fool tried to claim me as any man might an errant slave. I will teach him the error of his ways. I will make him watch as I burn his ship and force him to kill his own friends. I will drag the knowledge of his family from his mind and release him just long enough to realise he has condemned them all to death.”

  T’ruck ignored the vengeful witch and scooped the squat-faced guard’s keys from where they’d fallen. He decided right then it would probably be a bad idea to ever look into her eyes again. The iron collar she wore was supposed to stop her using her magic.

  “Release me, Captain Khan,” Lady Tsokei said, “and I shall send this monstrosity of metal and wood to Rin’s court.”

  T’ruck stopped, the keys in his hand and vengeance within his grasp. “I told you before, Lady Tsokei,” he said, not looking into her eyes out of both fear and pride, “I do not want this ship sunk. I want it taken. I want to sail it against my enemies. Against the Five Kingdoms. Against the bastards who murdered my family. I would use this monstrosity to break them and help carve out the new home Drake Morrass dreams of.” He laughed. “T’ruck Khan, once mightiest leader of the clans, displaced and driven from his home, again sitting in a position of power. I believe that would taste bitter to even…”

  “Spare me your speech, Captain,” the witch said with a sigh as she pushed away from the bars. “I do not care one bit about your new home. I wish only to stay one step in front of the Inquisition’s dogs.”

  T’ruck grinned and risked a look at her, hoping she wouldn’t have the strength left to take control of him. “And what makes you think the Pirate Isles and Drake aren’t also your best chance?”

  “What?”

  “The free cities stand up to the Inquisition. They grant the witch hunters no power within their walls. We are carving out a new kingdom here, and we can set the same restriction. You would be safe, protected.”

  “If you believe my kind are safe from the Inquisition while in the free cities, you are very much mistaken, Captain Khan. The Inquisition hunt us no matter.”

  T’ruck raged inside at the witch’s stubbornness. He spat on the deck in frustration. “Then you would sink this ship and die along with your captors, taking us all down to Rin with you. You may not feel it, but we have been sailing for days. Like as not, we are far from friendly lands, and if we do not take this ship then we sink with it.”

  That seemed to bring her up short. No matter how powerful she might be – and T’ruck was fairly certain she was powerful – she would die here with the rest of them if she couldn’t find land to live off.

  “Help me take this ship,” T’ruck continued, “and I will drown that collar. Never again will you be leashed.”

  Lady Tsokei smiled, and when she spoke her voice was like silk. “You will offer me a permanent position aboard the ship for as long as I wish to remain on board. My identity will remain secret and you will guarantee your crew’s silence. And I will not take on any of the ship’s duties.”

  “No bewitching any of my crew.”

  “I’ll need a bigger cabin.”

  “You can take your pick of any but the biggest.”

  For a moment T’ruck and the witch stared at each other.

  “Good?” T’ruck said eventually.

  “Good,” Lady Tsokei said.

  “Rest of the crew are just down here,” T’ruck said. “I’ll get ’em freed while you figure out how you’re gonna help us take this ship.” He turned towards his crew’s cells, keys in hand.

  “Captain Khan,” the witch said, a hint of humour in her voice. “The collar.”

  T’ruck looked back, ambition warring in his head with what he assumed was probably better judgement. He towered over the small woman and yet she showed no fear, even with her powers limited. A memory flashed through his mind of Lady Tsokei before she’d willingly donned the collar and bound it to T’ruck. She was terror given flesh, fear pulsing off her in waves that had terrified men and women alike, even though they didn’t know why.<
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  With a greedy smile, T’ruck reached out towards the witch’s neck and placed his thumb on a flat panel on one side of the iron band. There was a click, and the collar opened up and fell away. T’ruck winced, expecting to feel the same fear he’d experienced when he first met the woman, but it didn’t come.

  Lady Tsokei rolled her head around and stretched out her shoulders as though a great weight had been lifted. She glanced at T’ruck and laughed.

  “Do not look so surprised, Captain Khan. I would not have eluded the Inquisition for so long had I not been able to control my aura. Before, it served my purpose to keep you and your crew scared. Now, I believe it to be otherwise. Release your crew and let us lay waste to our enemies.”

  With the lantern in one hand and the keys in the other, it didn’t take T’ruck long to find his imprisoned crew. They were crowded together, twenty-one living bodies and one dead, in just four cells. Some of them were in fine shape, with only a few scratches and bruises from the fight, whereas others had obviously been the victims of beatings and bore more serious wounds. Yu’truda had survived, though she now walked with a painful-looking limp, but her husband, Zole, had drowned when North Gale went down. The grief was plain in Yu’truda’s eyes, but she was a clansman the same as T’ruck, and they were well used to the death of loved ones.

  After a few words of caution to his surviving crew members, and some assurances that freeing the witch was in all of their best interests, T’ruck gathered them near Lady Tsokei and they prepared to leave the brig. There were just twenty-three of them in total, and T’ruck wagered they faced nearly a thousand.

  Chapter 5 - North Gale

  With wooden cosh in hand, T’ruck burst through the doorway and out of the brig. He’d been escorted through the guard room twice and knew the layout well. There were three men inside, two sitting around a table playing dice while the third was bent over a desk, writing something on a sheet of parchment. T’ruck leapt towards the table and the first soldier went down with a cracked skull before he could even gain his feet. T’ruck swung at the second just as the man launched out of his chair. The doomed guard managed to get his hands up, but they only delayed his fate, and T’ruck rained down blow after blow until the man collapsed into a quivering, bloody heap.

  Turning to the third guard, T’ruck found four members of his crew had rushed in behind him and pulled the man down. They were busy giving him the last beating of his life as more of North Gale’s crew squeezed into the room and finished off the two guards T’ruck had left unconscious.

  The witch pushed past a few of T’ruck’s pirates with her enslaved officer in tow. She glanced at the three bodies only momentarily, taking more interest in the parchment the guard had been writing on.

  “A poem,” she said with a wry smile. “To his wife. A shame it will never reach her – the man appeared to have some skill with words.” She stepped over the corpse of the soldier she’d just praised and approached the door that led to the rest of the ship.

  “We will need weapons. Where are we likely to find the armoury?” the witch asked her minion.

  “There is a store of weapons two decks down, my lady,” the officer said in a voice as blank as his face.

  “Are we likely to encounter any of your crewmates?” T’ruck squeezed past a couple of his crew, wondering why they seemed so determined to fill the small room.

  “Yes,” the officer said. “Just below us are the quarters assigned to the knights.”

  T’ruck felt his blood go cold. “Is the Sword of the North down there?” He heard Yu’truda gasp.

  “No,” said the officer. “Sir Derran left a few days ago aboard Gold Glitter.”

  “Thank fuck,” Yu’truda muttered. She’d witnessed the man’s ability to deal death first-hand, and was lucky to have escaped herself.

  T’ruck inched open the door and glanced through. The hallway beyond was empty for now, but there was no telling where the other soldiers might be. “We need those weapons,” he said.

  “Stealth is our strongest ally.” Lady Tsokei lingered nearby. “I can weave illusions to keep us hidden for a short time, but we must move quickly and be ready to kill anyone who spots us. Some are curiously resistant to such magic.”

  They exited the guardroom quickly, with the enslaved officer leading the way and Lady Tsokei just behind him. T’ruck followed, leaving his crew to jostle for spots in the procession. They set a brisk pace, only briefly checking interconnecting hallways before moving on. They encountered no soldiers or sailors until they came to the ladder leading to the lower decks.

  Just as the officer reached the ladder, a head poked up from below – a sailor by the looks of him, with crooked teeth and a sunburnt complexion. He nodded to the officer before noticing the line of pirates behind.

  “The prisoners…” the man said, looking utterly confused, before T’ruck barged past the witch and her minion, grabbed him under the arm and hauled him up, clamping a meaty hand over his mouth.

  Pain blossomed in T’ruck’s side, and he looked down to see a small knife sticking out of his flesh very close to a barely healed wound he’d received during the battle aboard North Gale. With a grunt, T’ruck tossed the man to his crew, who proceeded to quietly beat the poor fool to death. He pulled the knife from his side and handed it to Yu’truda.

  “How bad is it?” said Lady Tsokei.

  “A scratch,” T’ruck bragged, wincing at the pain. It didn’t appear to have hit any vital spots, but the wound was bleeding and hurt like fire on his skin.

  Lady Tsokei narrowed her eyes at him, and T’ruck did his best not to let the pain show.

  “We should keep moving,” he said.

  The witch spoke in a language T’ruck didn’t recognise and tapped a finger on his new wound. Pain erupted in T’ruck’s side and he stumbled, collapsing against the wall, his vision swimming. He bit down, squeezing his teeth together as hard as he could to stop himself screaming as the pain in his side grew and grew until he was certain someone was cutting him open from the inside.

  The pain started to lessen, dwindling down until it was no more than a dull ache, and T’ruck realised his eyes were squeezed shut. He opened them and saw Yu’truda standing over him with an expression caught between terror and anger.

  “What did she do?” Yu’truda said.

  T’ruck looked down at the wound. It had closed, and was now little more than a small, angry red line on his bronzed skin.

  “She healed you?”

  T’ruck looked over towards the ladder, where the witch was waiting patiently. He wasn’t sure whether to dash her head against the decking or thank her.

  “I did not heal you,” Lady Tsokei said. “That ability is far rarer than you might imagine. I simply sped up your natural healing at great cost to yourself. You may find yourself weaker than normal for a few days, but it is better than having you collapse from loss of blood before this night’s work is finished. Are we ready to continue?”

  T’ruck pushed himself back to his feet and ignored the slight wobble in his legs. “Aye. We’ve not even started yet.”

  The enslaved officer set his feet on the ladder and started down, followed closely by Lady Tsokei, who chanted as she went. T’ruck waited a few seconds, then set his own feet to the ladder and started to descend. Before long he found himself passing through a large, open area of the ship with bunks lining either side, each complete with a bulky chest and an armour stand. Of particular concern was the number of men in the room, most of whom had a distinct warrior feel about them, both in the way they moved and the way they smelled.

  T’ruck froze, unsure whether to continue down or head back up before any of the men saw him. It was a wonder they hadn’t already, given his size and how conspicuous the ladder was. He spotted the witch standing just at the foot of the ladder, waving frantically at T’ruck in a downwards motion. She was holding one hand out towards the knights and appeared to be chanting. Whatever magic she was using, it was hiding him from sig
ht, and with one last glance at the knights as they joked and drank and gambled, he resumed his descent at a faster pace.

  At the bottom of the ladder was another hallway, where the enslaved officer was waiting silently. T’ruck felt more than a little uneasy with the witch above him maintaining her illusion; if any soldiers discovered him and his crew while they waited, he might have a hard time stopping them before they raised the alarm.

  His crew climbed down quickly, one at a time and full of hushed panic. When Yu’truda hit the deck she pulled T’ruck aside and whispered in his ear.

  “What are we gonna do, Cap’n? There must be fifty knights up there, and a fuck load more soldiers throughout the ship. We’re twenty. We can’t…”

  “Trust in the witch,” T’ruck grumbled, silencing his quartermaster. “She’s as much stake in this as the rest of us, and she can get us through it.”

  T’ruck didn’t wait for her reply. The last of his crew hit the deck and stood aside as the witch followed them down. Her face was coated in sweat and her hands were shaking.

  “That’s some useful magic,” T’ruck whispered.

  Lady Tsokei froze him with a stare. “If only you knew the cost,” she said in a haunted voice before turning to her enslaved officer. “Lead the way to the armoury.”

  There were two soldiers guarding the door to the armoury, and both were carrying sharpened steel. They would be no match for twenty-two angry pirates, but T’ruck doubted they would fall without a fight, and he couldn’t afford to lose even one of his surviving crew. Lady Tsokei had a different plan in mind.

  Dropping any attempt at stealth, the witch marched towards the two guards with T’ruck and his crew following along behind her. T’ruck felt the hairs stand up on his skin, and a sudden, unnatural fear fell upon him. It took every drop of willpower he had not to run from the woman and find the nearest dark corner to hide in. The soldiers didn’t fare so well.