Marrok was disgusted by the actions of the elves though encouraged to hear that new leaders sympathetic to the needs of all were now in power and attempting to reunite their peoples.
The other thing that endeared Munch was that for most of his life he had been the object of bullying in one form or another, either because of his size, weight or pointed ears. Marrok knew all about this, his uncle being less than perfect as a disciplinarian.
Munch stretched and cracked his back with the accompanying sounds. He stood, forgetting to duck, and bumped his head on the underside of the deck above. After rubbing his sore head and with Marrok trying not to laugh, Munch stepped over to a gun port in the side of the ship, avoiding several sacks of cloth and many other sharp and oddly shaped tools or brushes essential for cannon maintenance. They hung from hooks driven into the beams above and swung slightly with the sway of the ship.
Munch gesticulated excitedly. ‘Marrok, look here.’
Marrok looked up, interested in seeing something other than the dankness of the deck or endless blue ocean and sky. ‘What is it?’
The guard shook his head and beckoned. ‘Quick or ya’ll miss it.’
Marrok heaved himself up from his seated position, and after gripping the thick chain that bound his ankle, he gingerly made his way to where Munch stood, the length of chain clanking behind him like a noisy metal snake.
He sidestepped a barrel, clambered over the same sacks Munch had avoided and peered through the gun port. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the bright daylight outside and more than once he had to wipe away tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes.
In the distance, a tall, dark cylindrical object loomed. It rose from the centre of a small island, and several large creatures circled the turrets.
Slowly the scene came into focus, and Marrok knew what he was looking at Lordich’s island in the southern sea, complete with tower and a herd of dragons guarding it. Jericho’s description had been accurate. Marrok marvelled at the General’s previous journey here which took just a single night. Dragons must fly really fast, he thought.
A vast tower shone and glistened in a wispy mist that circled the lower half, almost hiding a long, low straw-roofed building attached at its base.
None of this intrigued him more than the sight of half a dozen airships moored to anchor points that encircled the island. They floated serenely like watchful honour guards and cast dark shadows across the island.
The just visible summit of the tower appeared to have received some damage. A large section of the crenellated ramparts had given way or suffered destruction by other means, and Marrok remembered Jericho’s daring escape from the tower with the aid of a passing pirate airship. The damage, he recalled, was caused by cannon fire from a band of pirates loyal to The Brotherhood’s former Matron.
This threw up another question. Why had Lordich aligned himself with pirates if one of their ships had attacked his outpost not so long ago? Another question to ask the dark wizard, right before wringing his scrawny neck.
A hissing sound from somewhere above them indicated that the ship had begun its descent to the island. The pirates were going to dock and offload him, and no doubt receive a substantial reward in the process. What then? What was his fate?
Marrok took a deep breath, held it and then let it out noisily through his nose. ‘You’ll stay with me, Munch?’
‘Like goblin guts. ‘Tis my job.’ Munch beamed and then laughed at his own joke.
Marrok chuckled at the joke. Goblin guts, he had heard, were indeed among the stickiest substances known to exist.
‘Come on; I’ll take ya to the main deck.’ Munch knelt down and removed a triangular shaped key from a clasp on his leather belt. He undid Marrok’s shackle and dropped it noisily.
Marrok massaged his ankle where the cold iron had dug into his flesh. It had left a lesion and a ring of dirt. He tested his ankle and noted how light his leg felt now that it was free from the ever-present constraint.
‘After you,’ Munch said, pointing to a series of steps leading up and out of the deck.
Ducking low to avoid the many hanging obstacles that clattered and chimed with the heave and sway of the ship, the pair made their way up the steps. Marrok took the lead at Munch’s request, and they headed up to the next level.
Three sets of steps and decks later they stood before Captain Kelley. Tall, with a wrinkled face, she dressed in the fashion of a man with tight leather pants, laced boots and a black felt hat. Her expression was cold and calculating.
‘Lads; we’re about to be paid ‘andsome like for cartin’ this little boy around.’ She laughed and nudged Marrok in the chest.
Wolf whistles rang around the deck followed by hearty laughter.
Marrok ignored her taunts. She had not been able to entice him into intimacy with her, he having spurned her advances, so now she did what she could to belittle him instead.
‘No man has ever resisted my charms. I guess that proves he’s no man at all.’
Marrok stood silent. Who’d want you? Wrinkly old hag, he thought. His desire stood at another’s door, the woman he intended to marry, Talina Rend. A beautiful half-elf, who no doubt was fretting and worrying about his safety. He imagined her standing on one of the temple’s balconies looking forlorn and tearful, hoping to catch a glimpse of her betrothed hurrying home safe and sound. Soon my sweet. He smiled to himself.
‘Hey, wake up,’ demanded Kelley and slapped him across the face, which shook him from his daydream.
He glowered at the pirate Captain. ‘Touch me again, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.’
Kelley threw back her head, the hat wobbling with the movement, and laughed. ‘You dare to threaten me here, on my ship, surrounded by my men?’ She spat in his face and then stood nose to nose with him.
He stood stock-still and stared the woman down until she caved and spun away from him with the pretence that she had intended to finish the stare. Feigning bravado, she swaggered around him.
‘Let’s see how long this upstart lasts against Lordich Secracar.’
The crewmen in the vicinity shook their heads and sucked in sharp, audible intakes of breath followed by an ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ in mock concern.
‘He’s dead all right, he is,’ said one.
‘No question, he’s for the plank,’ said another.
A third bared rotten teeth and made a cutting motion across his neck with his finger, his tongue mimicking the sound of a slit throat.
Kelley moved forward and held out her arm as if to touch him to show her bravery. Quick as lightning, Marrok seized her arm and swung her into an embrace. His hand gripped her thin neck, and he squeezed just enough to show he was in control.
Immediately the crew around him drew swords and brandished them as Marrok backed away, his captive in tow.
‘One move, and she dies,’ Marrok hissed. His eyes flicked from one pirate to another.
‘Come on sonny, put her down, there’s a good lad,’ Kelly’s first mate growled. ‘There’s nowhere to go.’
‘Then get me a boat, and I’ll let her go when I’m very far away from here.’ Marrok edged further away as the crew bore down on him.
‘You really haven’t thought about this, have you? You will not escape,’ Kelley added.
‘Shut up!’ Marrok cried, and squeezed her neck tighter. ‘Fine, you lot can get off here, and I’ll take your ship.’
The first mate howled with laughter. ‘This ship can’t be piloted alone, you fool!’
Marrok’s face reddened in anger. He was resourceful and determined, hardly the traits of a dunce.
Sadly for Marrok, he did not sense a presence behind him until it was too late. Munch stood there and shook his head. ‘Bad boy,’ he said.
Munch gripped Marrok’s wrist and forcibly removed it from around Captain Kelley’s neck and then lifted the young man so that he stood on tiptoe.
‘Why Munch?’ said Marrok, feeling betrayed and a lit
tle hurt.
‘You don’t ‘arm the Captain,’ Munch replied, setting Marrok down once Kelley was clear.
Marrok was surrounded almost immediately and then subjected to a barrage of punches and kicks until he had no option but to curl up protectively in a ball. Munch intervened to stop the attack, not as quickly as Marrok had hoped, yet he did nonetheless. ‘Stop! He ain’t no good dead!’
Captain Kelley stepped forward. ‘He’s correct. Our bounty is lost if he dies. Step back!’ she ordered.
At once the crew obeyed, fearing the lash, which Kelley was often fond of using for insubordination. Kelley dropped to a knee before Marrok. She raised his chin with a long fingernail and peered into his eyes, aware that his face was steadily blackening with bruises.
‘Now look what you’ve done, silly boy. Perhaps you’ll learn a lesson today.’
Blood oozed from Marrok’s nose, and he stared back at her through puffy eyes. ‘Yes, to grow a pair of eyes in the back of my head,’ he spat.
Kelley snorted. ‘I like you Marrok; so full of spirit.’ She stood and turned to her first mate. ‘Bind him and prepare to dock.’
A flurry of activity saw the crew disappear to man their stations and Marrok found himself roughly turned onto his front before a rather bony knee jabbed into the small of his back. His hands were wrenched behind him and then tied with rope. He was hauled to his feet by Munch without so much as a struggle and was then led out of earshot.
‘Sorry, Marrok. I no want friend to die,’ Munch said with a sad face.
Marrok shook his head and looked up at his jailor. ‘No harm done that a few days of bed rest won’t cure,’ he said graciously. He coughed and felt a jolt of pain shoot through his ribs like a hot poker. Definitely a few days rest, he thought.
With a great deal of creaking and sighing the ship descended slowly to its mooring position above the island.
Marrok, from his position at the port of the ship, noticed a welcome party had gathered before the tower, mainly hooded figures windswept by the strong sea breeze. On either side of a solitary figure who stood apart from the rest, two dragons, black as coal, clawed the ground with apparent impatience.
The ship reached the optimal position and height, and mooring lines were thrown overboard to be tethered to stout iron hoops driven into the ground. A clanking up and to his right drew his attention. The metal cargo cage was lowered from its station below the canopy and clattered to the deck.
Munch led him to the cage and squeezed into the iron conveyance beside him. The cage first rose and then lowered all too slowly, to Marrok’s chagrin. Squashed inside with a large orc-elf sent pain firing through all his limbs, and excruciating agony brought tears to his eyes as his ribs impacted the cold iron bars. It felt like the longest trip of his life, if not the most painful, and he was grateful when it ended.
The cage landed softly on the moist grass of the island. Munch extracted himself with difficulty, freeing Marrok to move his stiff and battered limbs.
Munch waited until Marrok was clear of the cage and able to walk normally before escorting him to several wizards waiting in a semi-circle. He was halted before them and saw that the eyes of those gathered never left his. Each held in their hand a long tapered stick. Perhaps some torture instrument? He thought.
Without a word, they parted down the middle, and a tall, thin figure strode forward through a light swirling mist that hovered about a foot off the ground. His black cloak fluttered behind him, the hood hiding his features.
Marrok braced himself, puffed out his chest and immediately regretted doing so as a fresh wave of pain and nausea overtook him.
‘Marrok Wulf. How delightful it is to meet you finally. Thank you for visiting my little island,’ the figure said grandly, opening his arms in greeting.
It’s not as if I had much choice, thought Marrok, and then froze as the man embraced him. He wrinkled up his nose as a rancid smell permeated the air like that of rotten bark and cockroach. Marrok shivered. The man gave off an unearthly coldness, his touch like ice.
‘I am Lordich Secracar; you may have heard of me,’ he said, and dropped his hood to reveal a heavily fire-scarred face and sunken eyes that pierced his. A long, grey beard straddled his mouth and blended with the grey of his hair.
Marrok held his tongue.
‘Come now boy. Why the silence?’
‘I have nothing to say.’
‘Maybe not now, but perhaps later.’ Lordich’s smile dropped, and his face grew serious. ‘Very well, if you refuse to be civil.’ The scarred warlock turned and clicked his finger to the nearest aide. ‘Take him to the tower and make him comfortable,’ he ordered.
The aide, dressed in a burgundy robe, nodded, and with a two-guard escort, Marrok was led across the sodden grass towards the tower. Munch followed behind and looked unhappy to be doing so.
Marrok looked back over his shoulder to see Captain Kelley shake hands with Lordich and receive a leather pouch, no doubt her reward for delivery.
His captors led him to the main tower entrance, up a small flight of stone steps and through a plain open archway. They escorted him up a flight of spiral stairs to a dizzying height, and his bruised legs screamed for rest.
They bypassed dozens of thick oak doors, closed and barring entry with heavy locks. In what light was available from irregular fiery torches, Marrok could detect through the gloom symbols of the dragon carved into the lintels above the doorways.
Terrible screams could be heard coming from several of the rooms and set his teeth on edge. He was in for a rough time of it, he knew.
❖
‘One week passed by without seeing Lordich again, and then I was taken to a meeting place, a room with thirteen chairs and a large table,’ Marrok continued.
Coinin clicked his fingers. ‘I know this; I dreamed it. Lordich tried to use magic to turn you.’
‘You saw that?’
‘I did. It sickened me, but it at least gave me hope that you were alive.’
‘You amaze me sometimes, Coinin.’
‘Yes, all very touching. What happened next?’ Draken asked.
Marrok scowled. ‘When that didn’t work they locked me inside a—’
‘A metal box, right?’ Coinin interrupted. ‘There was a dead pirate and something about two airships colliding.’
‘You saw that too?’ Marrok looked astounded.
Coinin nodded.
Marrok raised his brows. ‘Coinin, please do me a favour. Don’t be nosey on my wedding night.’
‘On my honour,’ Coinin laughed.
Draken coughed.
‘Yes, I know. What happened next?’ Marrok mocked, and then continued his story.
❖
In the middle of the night several guards approached Marrok’s cell, and after some manhandling tied his hands and blindfolded him. He was pushed and shoved up the remaining stairwell and out onto the tower turrets. The cold wind hit him and sent a chill up his spine.
‘Where are you taking me?’ he asked, attempting to peer through a small hole in his blindfold at the end of his nose.
‘Mind yer business,’ a gruff voice replied.
He and his guards stood at the top of the turrets for ten minutes in silence, listening to a lone gull’s call and the sound of the sea crashing against rocks surrounding the island.
A powerful gust of wind buffeted him and caused him to stumble, and then he heard it: a constant noise that made a ‘whump’ sound. A snort of hot breath seared his fine neck hairs, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. ‘What’s that?’ he cried.
‘Your ride,’ a voice laughed.
Marrok blinked as the blindfold was whipped from his head. His eyes refocused and widened. There before him, taking up almost all of the space available between the ramparts at the top of the tower, stood a towering dark green dragon, scaled and horrific. Its giant wings were folded against its body, translucent and deeply veined like that of a bat. Short pointed horns that faced backwards sprouted
from growths at the tip of its head, just above its eyes. The eyes themselves were slitted like that of a goat or serpent and were flecked with bright yellow and orange hues. The irises, black like polished onyx, sucked all light into the pits. A semi-translucent membrane designed to moisten and clean flicked back and forth across the eye that seemed to stare deep into his soul. Nostrils flared and exuded acrid black smoke. The remainder of the creature consisted of sharp teeth and muscular shapes right down to the horrifically long-clawed feet at the end of its powerful legs.
‘Behold your transport,’ an unusually tall Tyrenian dwarf said, his bulbous eyes glinting evilly.
Marrok let out the breath he had been holding, and relief washed over him. He had assumed, incorrectly, that he had been brought to the creature as food.
‘You mean that I have to ride this monster?’
‘No, it is your transport. You will be travelling in that.’ The dwarf pointed to a thick leather sack on the floor, large enough to hold a human male.
‘Absolutely not!’ Marrok objected.
The sound of several drawn swords quickly changed his mind, and he acquiesced to being manhandled into the sack. A drawstring was pulled tightly around his neck leaving only his head protruding from the top. He was laid down before the dragon, and one of the assembled clambered up the flank of the scaly creature and settled into a dark leather saddle strapped to the animal’s back.
With a terrifying roar and a beat of its wings that scattered the guards, the creature hovered just above the ground and then, with a massive claw, grasped Marrok in a vice-like grip.
Several seconds later they were flying high above the tower and speeding North. The sea, far below, looked like a glassy millpond and Marrok’s eyes stung and watered in a freezing wind.
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 71