The Kingdom of Dreams (Chronicles of the Magi Book 2)

by Morris, Dave

  Grogram looked straight into Caelestis’s eyes. The seaweed liquor was strong on his breath. For an instant his expression was nothing but pure, naked malice. Then he smiled, displaying his rotted teeth. ‘See you get it done before we sail.’

  With that he walked off, leaving Caelestis fuming. ‘I shall have words about that fellow when I dine with Captain Lazarus tonight.’

  Sighing, Altor put their travelling-packs out of sight under a hatch cover and took one of the mops. ‘I’m not sure it was wise to accept Lazarus’s invitation,’ he said as he started swabbing the deck. ‘He seems a sinister fellow to me, what with all his talk of slaughter and doomed souls.’

  Caelestis dabbed a couple of times at a spot of grime and then paused to lean on his mop gazing out to sea. He seemed hardly to have heard his friend’s warning. ‘Ah, the seafaring life, Altor! What could be more enticing? Smell that salty tang! The breeze on your face, the cry of the gulls, the clean splash of sunlight on grey swell... When I was a child I often thought I might become a sailor.’

  ‘Except that your career as a pickpocket and general scoundrel got in the way,’ muttered Altor.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Nothing. Move your feet, will you? Your twenty-five florin soles are planted right on a patch of whale grease.’

  Caelestis found supper disappointing. Lazarus seemed not to be a man who cared for the finer things in life, so they had dined on steamed fish without herbs or other garnish. This was followed by a burned bread pudding that Caelestis left untouched.

  Now the cabin boy was clearing away the plates and Caelestis was still waiting for his single glass of wine to be refilled. Not that he thought it a wine worth quaffing, but at least it helped to make Lazarus’s conversation seem less tiresome.

  The captain had only one abiding interest, and that was the hunting and killing of whales. Over the course of the meal he had explained every gruesome detail of the profession with such gleeful fervour that Caelestis had begun to wonder if he was sane.

  Reaching over to his desk, Lazarus picked up a chart and unfurled it in the dim candlelight. Caelestis gave it a cursory glance and then turned his attention to the cheese board.

  Lazarus was tracing his finger along an arc drawn on the chart. ‘Here he lies in the depths of the Mistral Sea,’ he muttered, ‘battening on whales and dreaming of the end of time. This line shows where—you see that, lad? That’s the track of Yellow Eye when it sweeps through the sky. Heh, this old chart cost me a pretty sum, I can tell you...’

  Caelestis had been about to take a mouthful of cheese when he noticed a weevil snuggled inside the cracker on which he’d spread it. He put the cracker down hastily. ‘I’m sure it did,’ he said, stifling a yawn. ‘Ah, now is that a bottle of brandy you have propping up those books, Captain?’

  ‘Books?’ Lazarus lurched around, reeled out of his chair and zigzagged towards his bunk, snatching up one of the books on his way.

  He fell back in a sprawl on his bunk and held up the book. How has he managed to get drunk on just one glass of wine? wondered Caelestis thirstily.

  ‘You’ve a keen eye, lad. This is the book, the very book—the one that told me where to find him.’

  He fixed Caelestis with an intense stare that seemed to pass right through him and the cabin wall to survey the heaving grey waves of the boundless ocean beyond. There was a long period of silence. Lazarus’s eyelids drooped. Possibly he was drifting off to sleep. Caelestis noticed an untouched pickle on the captain’s plate and reached for it with his fork...

  ‘Aha!’

  Caelestis looked up startled to see Lazarus sitting bolt upright on his bunk. Stamped on his face was the afterimage of a grin. ‘Dead below the path of Yellow Eye, I say! What do you think of that, lad?’

  ‘Astrology is not my strong point,’ said Caelestis.

  ‘Nor mine. But whaling is, and do you know what whaling is?’

  Caelestis shook his head. ‘It’s not a thing I ever stopped to think about.’

  ‘Whaling is playing poker with Death. It’s staring the Reaper right in the face and laughing, because live or die he’ll only have you when he’s prepared to call your hand. The whaler goes right to the brink of the unknown, time after time, because it’s only when you see that vast devil square ahead of your harpoon that you know you’re at the gateway to the next world and the thrill of life becomes a thing you can taste in your mouth along with brine and bile and fear!’

  Caelestis nodded slowly. There was no doubt in his mind now that Lazarus was a lunatic. He eased himself out of his chair, deciding that a sudden rush for the door might provoke a dangerous reaction.

  ‘Yes, a very excellent point. Food for thought, certainly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Captain...’

  ‘Don’t go rushing off, lad. Come and look here at this book. You’ll see what I’m talking about.’ Lazarus let out a drunken belch. A few seconds later an overpowering blast of brandy fumes almost knocked Caelestis off his feet.

  Caelestis edged nearer to the door. ‘It’s, er, getting a bit late. I have to rise early or no doubt the odious Mister Grogram will give me hell for it.’

  ‘Grogram? He wouldn’t understand! None of ‘em... all ignorant fools, the detritus of a dozen scummy ports. But they’ll go to hunt that old sea-worm whether they know it or not, and when we bring his carcass onto our deck every man Jack of them will thank me for leading ‘em to glory. Glory and gold too, aye, for we’ll all be rich when we’ve done this deed!’

  Caelestis had his hand on the door-latch, but curiosity held him back. Sea-worm? That didn’t sound right. Nautical slang for a whale? Doubtful. Caelestis knew very little about whales, but he did not believe them to be especially worm-like in appearance.

  Despite himself, he had to know. A moment later he was to wish he’d never asked.

  ‘What exactly are we hunting, Captain? A particularly large whale, is it?’

  ‘Haven’t you heard anything I said?’ growled Lazarus. ‘It’s no mere whale I’m after, but Jormungand the World Serpent—the great snake that encircles the earth!’

  Five:

  The World Serpent

  Caelestis returned to his berth on the lower decks in a glum mood. Not only had he discovered the ship to be commanded by a dangerous madman, but he now had indigestion into the bargain. All in all, he was beginning to wish he had stayed a street-thief and never allowed himself to get mixed up with Altor and his quest for the Sword of Life.

  Altor was still awake. He looked across from his hammock as Caelestis wearily undressed by the light of a single taper. ‘Well?’

  Caelestis tugged off his boots, examined them despondently, and stowed them neatly beside his travelling-pack. ‘Well what?’

  ‘How was your meal?’

  ‘Both worse and better than I expected. The quality of the food was harrowingly poor, but there was much less of it than there might have been—which, it being bad, was good.’

  ‘It’s too late at night to get my head around that,’ said Altor after a moment’s thought. ‘Tell me in the morning.’

  ‘If there is a morning,’ said Caelestis. ‘Or rather, if we live to see it.’

  ‘You’re exaggerating again. I’m sure the food wasn’t so bad that it’ll kill you. Incidentally, there’s a slop bucket aft if you feel the need to throw up. Don’t use the freshwater bucket or Grogram and the others might become aggrieved.’

  ‘Hah, you’re in a cheerful mood,’ said Caelestis bitterly. ‘The World Serpent will find you’re a sweet mouthful to chew on.’

  ‘Don’t even speak of such things at sea!’ Altor said in only half-feigned alarm. ‘You could bring bad luck on the vessel.’

  ‘The vessel already has more than its share of bad luck—to whit, a first mate who is an uncouth gin-sozzled sadist and a captain who is dangerously unhinged. If you can see any way for things to get worse then by all means let me in on it.’

  ‘Stow that chatter!’ snarled a gruff voice from across the way. �
��Some of us want to sleep!’

  Altor dropped his voice. ‘So you weren’t too impressed by Captain Lazarus.’

  Caelestis extinguished the taper and swung up into his hammock. ‘Oh, I was impressed all right. He showed an impressive ability to get drunk on one small glass of liquor, though that wasn’t the best of it. What really impressed me was his project to get us all killed by going after the World Serpent.’

  There was an instant while this sank in. Suddenly Altor sat bolt upright in shock—only to overbalance, spin around in his hammock, and fall with a thump to the deck.

  ‘Be quiet, I said!’ hissed the sailor who had spoken before.

  ‘Are you all right?’ enquired Caelestis.

  ‘Fine...’ Altor felt around in the darkness for the taper. He got it lit and stood up beside Caelestis’s hammock. ‘What’s this business about the World Serpent?’

  ‘Only what I said. Lazarus plans to hunt it down, entice it to the surface and kill it.’

  ‘Kill it? What with?’

  Caelestis made an impatient hissing noise between his teeth. ‘Why ask me? It isn’t my plan. Presumably Lazarus, being as crazy as a loon, hasn’t thought to worry about that yet.’

  ‘This isn’t good, Caelestis.’

  ‘Believe me, I couldn’t agree more.’

  ‘Do the crew know?’

  ‘Apparently Lazarus thinks they wouldn’t understand. The worrying thing is that he thought I would.’

  ‘Sailors are a superstitious lot. If they find out there’ll be a mutiny...’

  Altor frowned and looked around. Snores came from a dozen sleeping forms, slung in their hammocks like fat larvae. Across the way, the sailor whom they’d woken up seemed to be fast asleep again.

  ‘We’d better keep it to ourselves, then,’ whispered Caelestis. ‘But never mind about the crew. What happens if we really do run across the World Serpent?’

  ‘What we really have to worry about is the effect this’ll have if it gets out. Surely there isn’t any chance of Lazarus actually finding the World Serpent.’ Altor frowned thoughtfully. ‘Is there?’

  The sun rose pallid and watery in a cold white haze. By that time Altor and Caelestis had already been up for over an hour plaiting rope for the harpoon spears. Caelestis sat huddled miserably inside his scuffed and grubby cloak, teeth chattering. Altor worked as ever with brimming good health.

  Lazarus emerged from his cabin. Spying Caelestis, he cast a broad grin across the deck and swept off to find Grogram.

  Caelestis scowled down at his hands where the coarse rope had scratched them raw. ‘The madman!’ he said bitterly. ‘He’s hell-bent on the most irresponsible scheme since ships first put to sea without oars, and all he can do is gad about with a half-witted smile on his face.’

  Altor shrugged. Looking up at the fluttering sails, he said, ‘The wind’s freshening. We might be in for a storm.’

  ‘Trim that canvas, you lubbers!’ Lazarus suddenly bellowed at the top of his lungs. ‘Mister Grogram, get ‘em moving or we’ll be looking at the sea from four fathoms down!’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ remarked Caelestis to Altor. ‘At any rate, the captain seems agitated.’

  Grogram came stamping across the deck. ‘You look a likely lad,’ he said to Caelestis. ‘Get aloft an’ trim the main topsail.’

  Caelestis looked at the sails, which were now straining against a strong wind. The ship surged through high grey waves, casting foam high around her bows. ‘Why not ask the captain to do it?’ he retorted. ‘He’s the one with a reckless disregard for life and limb. For myself, I prefer to remain where I am.’

  Grogram went to cuff him. Caelestis ducked, sprang back and reached for the knife in his boot.

  Altor stood between them. ‘Mister Grogram, neither Caelestis nor I have any experience in the rigging, as you know. Wouldn’t it be better to get someone else?’

  Grogram rubbed his unshaven jaw, the stubble making a sound like sandpaper. ‘Domar! Bildad!’ he roared at two sailors nearby. ‘Get up in that rigging sharpish ‘fore I put nine stripes each across yer worthless hides.’

  The two men dutifully clambered up to trim the sail. Grogram continued to glower at Caelestis and Altor. Then the gleam of a thought appeared in his dull bloodshot eyes. ‘What’s that talk o’ recklessness?’ he growled. ‘Our captain, you say?’

  ‘He didn’t mean anything by it,’ said Altor hastily.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Caelestis. ‘Why, Lazarus dines on boiled fish with neither salt nor seasoning. How could such a man be deemed reckless?’

  Grogram’s small eyes narrowed until they almost disappeared in the huge purple-veined folds of his cheeks. ‘You pokin’ fun at me, lad? ‘Cause if you are—‘

  He stopped because Caelestis, instead of coming out with a haughty riposte as he normally would, had fallen silent. He was looking quite sorry for himself and his face was grey. In fact it had gone beyond grey. It was almost green.

  Grogram started to laugh. ‘I can see you haven’t got yer sea legs yet,’ he crowed. ‘What about a spot o’ breakfast to settle yer stomach? A rasher o’ greasy bacon and a spoonful of scrambled eggs..?’

  Caelestis clapped a hand to his mouth, scuttled across the swaying deck and leaned over the rail. It was just in time. With woe-begone detachment he watched his meal of the night before gush down into the heaving sea.

  Grogram strode off laughing.

  Altor came over and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘Feeling better?’

  Caelestis sighed and wiped his mouth with his lace handkerchief. Rather than put the soiled handkerchief back in his pocket, he held it out between finger and thumb and dropped it into the sea. ‘If I died right now I would feel better. Believe me, if the World Serpent rose up and swallowed me at this instant it would be a blessing.’

  Altor frowned and crossed himself. ‘I told you it’s not wise to say such things.’

  ‘Why? I thought you didn’t believe in it.’

  ‘I didn’t say that. Best not to tempt fate, all the same.’

  ‘What’s tempting fate?’ said a squeaky voice overhead. They both looked up to see the cabin boy, Kenoi, hanging like a monkey from the rigging.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Altor.

  ‘Be off about your chores,’ said Caelestis.

  ‘You’ve been sick,’ said Kenoi, in the same sort of tone he might have used if accusing Caelestis of cowardice.

  ‘Yes. Now push off or I’ll throw you overboard.’

  ‘Yeah? You couldn’t catch me, you lubber.’ Kenoi thumbed his nose. Before Caelestis could grab him, he swung up out of reach. They watched him rise nimbly through the rigging until he was just a speck against the grey sky.

  ‘You do have a knack of antagonizing people, Caelestis,’ said Altor.

  ‘Aha! Not feeling too well I see!’ Lazarus came swaggering over and clapped Caelestis on the back.

  Weakened as he was by nausea, Caelestis had to hold onto the rail to keep his legs from buckling under him. ‘A bit queasy,’ he admitted.

  ‘You’ll soon get used to it. Why, I was forever chucking my guts up when I came aboard my first ship. Couldn’t keep a solid morsel down for weeks. Then we hit a storm, and after it had cleared up I was fine.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to that storm, then,’ said Caelestis with heavy irony.

  ‘You’ll not have long to wait, I think.’ Lazarus beckoned his pilot over. ‘Bildad, can you sight our way?’

  The portly sailor gazed up at the sky, now slate grey, and shook his head. ‘Not through those storm clouds, Captain. I could not catch the beady gaze of old Yellow Eye himself.’

  Lazarus waved him away. Putting his arm around Caelestis’s shoulders, he drew him to one side and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘It’s apt that Bildad should speak of Yellow Eye, for in truth we’re not far off the path it takes through the sky each night. You know what that means, Caelestis. Soon the World Serpent will show his head. Then a dozen harpoons and
a dozen times a dozen will strike him.’ Lazarus flung his arms up and smacked his fist into his palm to emphasize the point. ‘And then he will be dead and we will be accounted such heroes that the streets of Port Quag will be paved with gold for us!’

  Caelestis mustered a queasy smile and nodded. Lazarus, grinning broadly, had his attention caught by a sailor across the deck and wandered off.

  The pilot, Bildad, had been loitering nearby. As the cabin boy climbed down from the rigging the two exchanged a few words and Bildad looked across to where Caelestis and Altor stood. He shook his head, started to walk away, then looked again. There was a long pause as he seemed to mull something over. Reaching a decision, he turned and strode up to the rail.

  ‘You are quite friendly with the captain,’ he began.

  ‘He is friendly with me,’ said Caelestis, ‘which is not necessarily the same thing.’

  Bildad tried a change of tack. ‘What was it you were talking about? The weather, perhaps? No, no, hardly that. It’s a good strong wind, but no cause for real alarm now the sails are trimmed.’

  ‘My opinion exactly. Now, excuse me...’

  Bildad caught Caelestis’s sleeve. ‘Surely it must have been quite a momentous matter for the captain to take you into his confidence but not to share it with his own loyal crew?’

  ‘You must take that up with him.’

  ‘But I’m taking it up with you.’

  Caelestis noticed that some of the other sailors, noticing this conversation, had come over. The cabin boy said something to one of them and the man scowled darkly. The word ‘serpent’ circulated in a awed undertone.

  Altor decided to step in. ‘What’s the matter with everyone?’ he announced in a firm voice. ‘Are we going to let a stiff wind get us spooked?’

  But Bildad refused to be distracted. ‘They were talking about the World Serpent,’ he said accusingly.