by Dave Morris
There was no sign of any living soul. The few bunks that were occupied contained only skeletons clothed in dust and rags.
Looking around, Caelestis backed into one of the bunks. A skeletal hand dropped, brushing his hair, and he jumped in alarm. But the arm only hung there, lifeless.
‘What we’re looking for won’t be here,’ said Altor grimly. ‘The captain’s cabin ought to be at the stern.’
They headed aft until they arrived at a large circular door of wine-dark wood. They looked at each other in confusion. There did not seem to be a handle, but after a few seconds’ deliberation Caelestis touched a metal disk at the centre. The door opened in sections, unfolding like a flower, and they stepped through into a cabin.
There was a bed draped with rich old tapestries and a table strewn with yellowing charts. A chair stood against the far bulkhead, beside a shelf full of curios.
And all the furniture had been made for someone at least eight feet tall.
‘This has got to be Hunguk’s quarters,’ said Caelestis.
There was one other door directly opposite. Crossing to it, Altor listened and then opened it, sword at the ready. He stepped back in bewilderment. Instead of another cabin, he saw just a haze of jumbled shapes and dizzying swirls.
Caelestis came up beside him. ‘I can’t seem to focus on it,’ he said, staring intently into the vortex of drifting lines.
‘Nor I. It’s like... sometimes it seems a long tunnel, then just a flat... ‘ Altor shook his head. ‘Don’t look at it, Cael.’
Caelestis tore his eyes away with difficulty. ‘If the emeralds are in there, Sussurien can get them himself.’
‘I’ll search the table. You check out that shelf.’
Despite the need for haste, Altor could not resist a quick look at the charts. The fine calligraphy reminded him of the illuminated manuscripts at his monastery. That was as far as the resemblance went. These were like no charts or manuscripts he had ever seen before. Places from mythology were mapped on a grid of ellipses and converging lines. Some of the symbols scrawled around the margin were in Arcane, a script Altor knew to be used by sorcerers. Others he could not identify at all.
The sound of Caelestis rummaging around on the shelves reminded Altor of the urgency of their work. He patted the manuscripts to check there was nothing hidden under them, then searched the table drawers.
Caelestis was giving each object only a moment’s appraisal before tossing it over his shoulder. Some looked intriguing and he would have loved to know what they were for, but he forced himself to consider nothing but the two emeralds Sussurien had sent them for. A thief of some experience, he knew that there was sometimes a need for stealth and sometimes for speed. This was one of the times that called for speed.
A shrill vibration set their teeth on edge. It was coming from the vortex of light beyond the other door. They looked across to see it changing, the pattern of colours gradually settling to a steady grey-blue glare. In the midst of the light, a hulking shadow appeared and began to grow. Then they saw it wasn’t growing, it was getting nearer—a figure striding towards them along a tunnel that stretched to a far distant place.
‘It’s Hunguk,’ gasped Caelestis. ‘He’s returned.’
Nine:
The Pirate King
Hunguk’s silhouette grew until it filled the door frame, then he stepped from the swirling mass of light and Altor and Caelestis knew their time had run out.
Even in the tall cabin he had to stoop, and his shoulders were as broad as a rowboat’s beam. In stature he resembled a rugged rock, strewn in kelp and clad in plates of iron that tolled like a bell as he raised his two huge axes. Eyes like molten silver sharpened over a dark weather-beaten face.
When he spoke, they heard the voice of thunder:
‘What mortal mice are these, come to scratch in my larder while I roam the world’s waves? God’s blood, I say, of all thieves the most reckless are those who presume to plunder Hunguk’s hoard!’ He clashed his axes together, sending sparks shooting in all directions. ‘Come, you land-pests. Pit your weapons against the Lord of the Nine Seas—if you dare.’
Altor snatched up his sword, which he had laid close at hand while he searched the table. Caelestis reached to the empty scabbard at his belt, remembered he’d lost his sword escaping from the Roc, and instead pulled a dagger from his boot.
The two of them stood facing him. They were not eager for battle. It was easy to see that what Sussurien had told them was true: the Pirate King was no longer a mortal man. The long centuries had tempered him into a creature of myth. He was halfway to being a god of the seas.
Altor rushed in first. His sword clattered against the Pirate King’s axe, slipped, glanced off thick armour-plate iron. The haft of the axe swung up, crashing into Altor with such force that all the wind was knocked out of him. He slumped, his sword almost falling from nerveless fingers.
Caelestis saw the other axe raised for a death-blow. Disregarding the danger to himself, he leapt onto the table and from there jumped up to catch Hunguk’s arm. It was like grappling an oak tree. Kicking out blindly, Caelestis was rewarded by a snarl of annoyance as his foot landed in the Pirate King’s mouth.
He let go of the arm, twisting in midair so as to land on his feet. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he yelled at Altor.
‘We can’t go without the emeralds.’
‘I’ve got them.’ Caelestis opened his palm to show two glittering green jewels that he had found in a clay jar just as Hunguk stepped out of the vortex.
Altor nodded. ‘In that case, I’m right behind you!’
Hunguk roared as he swung both axes up to strike. Altor waited a split-second, pretending he was still stunned, only to fling himself out of the way as the attack came. The axes made a sound like two lethal catapult stones as they sliced through the air. Missing Altor by barely a hair’s breadth, they chopped deep into the wood of the deck. Again Hunguk gave vent to his battle roar.
‘Stand still, pest!’ he bellowed. ‘I’ll teach you to steal from the king of all reavers!’
Altor was not usually one to run from a battle, but he knew when he was over-matched. Seeing Caelestis disappear of out the cabin door, he dived after him just in time to evade a brutal kick from Hunguk’s spiked boot.
They raced along the passage that led to the deck with the Pirate King thundering in his fury behind them. His oaths shook the timbers of the ship like the rumbling of a storm, and they could hear the harsh clang of his armour as he strode heavily after them.
‘Good job he’s not quick on his feet...’ gasped Caelestis.
He hurled himself up the companion-way and emerged into the chill air, only to duck by instinct as something went whizzing past his head.
Altor came up beside him and for an instant they both paused in amazement. The scene had changed. The fog had been torn away by hard gusts of wind thundering across the deck. Strange geometric objects like tangles of coloured thread were flitting through the air all around them. Wherever these objects touched the hull or rigging, they exploded in a fountain of red sparks.
Worst of all, ahead of the ship loomed a jet black void that looked like no place on earth.
They turned. The view to stern was like peering out of a vast round tunnel. The edges of reality itself twisted in a massive arc. They could see the island and the familiar ocean tinged by the afterglow of sunset, but they were receding with alarming speed.
The Devil’s Runner was leaving the earthly plane!
Caelestis was first to get his bearings. ‘To the horse—quick,’ he cried.
But the horse had gone. They scanned the deck in horror as Hunguk’s clanking footsteps thudded nearer.
‘Look—‘
Caelestis pointed to a shape moving beyond the rotted sails. For an instant they thought they glimpsed the horse hovering there, a laughing figure in dark robes riding on its back, but then a sheet of freezing drizzle swept down to obliterate their view.
With a splintering of wood Hu
nguk burst from the companion-way, smashing the hatch aside in his eagerness to catch them. He stared about, gave a snarl as he sighted his prey, and came stamping towards them.
Altor and Caelestis spared a last glance forward. The well of blackness almost filled the sky. With the horse gone, there was nothing else for it. They ran to the rail and jumped overboard into the seething grey sea.
If Hunguk roared his fury at seeing them escape, they could not hear it over the surge of the waves. Swimming powerfully, they reached the shore of the island and turned bedraggled to watch the departure of the Devil’s Runner. It pulled a blanket of darkness behind it, like a low black reef against the horizon, so that the ship itself was visible only as a blur in the heart of the darkness.
A wind seemed to catch the black cloud, even though the two heroes could feel no breeze, and sucked it away into the thin air. Only a few strands of mist were left, trailing across an empty sea that was swiftly becoming shrouded by nightfall.
The last waves from the strange ship’s wake lapped at the shingle by their feet. When those were gone, the ocean all around lay still and silent under the canopy of awakening stars.
Altor and Caelestis looked at each other. It was Altor who said what they both had already realized:
‘Let’s face it. We’re marooned.’
Caelestis watched the driftwood smoulder, glow, then catch alight. He blew until orange flames licked up, sending sparks spiralling into the night sky. Satisfied, he replaced the flint and tinder in his pocket and sat back to watch the stars.
Altor came up the beach. Caelestis heard the pebbles crunching under his feet before he saw him, outlined in the firelight against the black hump of the island’s interior. He had a fish dangling on a line in each hand.
‘Ever resourceful, eh?’ said Caelestis, lying back and pillowing his head on his coat.
Altor squatted down, tossed a couple more pieces of driftwood on the fire, and took out his knife to prepare the fish. ‘How come you’re so cheerful?’ he said. ‘We’re stranded here, we’ve no shelter, precious little to eat and no prospect of rescue. Normally you’d be the first to complain.’
Caelestis sighed. ‘I can’t explain it myself. But after all, we did get the emeralds.’
Altor grunted. ‘And a fat lot of good they’ll do us stuck here on this barren rock.’
‘Something will turn up.’ Caelestis took out his own knife and began idly to whittle at a bit of driftwood. ‘Tomorrow we’ll climb to the top of the island.’
Altor nodded. ‘We’ll have more chance of signalling a ship from there. Assuming any ships pass that close. Hey, what’s this—?’
His knife had struck something hard inside the fish’s gut. He extracted it, cleaned it up, and held it to the firelight. The gold band shimmered like liquid, the dark jewel drank the light.
Caelestis glanced at it, blinked, and sat bolt upright. ‘My ring!’ He snatched it away and slipped it onto his finger. ‘It is, Altor. It’s my ring.’
Altor whistled between his teeth. ‘Surely it can’t be a coincidence. You realize what this means, Cael? It’s a sign of divine providence. It means the Almighty Himself is watching over our quest.’
Caelestis’s elation faded slightly as another explanation occurred to him. The Faltyn that inhabited the ring had once given a little of its life essence to raise Altor from the dead. It could mean the two of them were somehow linked, their destinies intertwined.
But Altor did not know this, and Caelestis doubted if he would appreciate learning of it now. What would it mean to a pious worshipper to know that part of his immortal soul had been fused with energy taken from a pagan sprite? Caelestis, who was scarcely more devout than a tomcat, cared little about such things himself, but he respected his friend’s beliefs and so he kept the secret to himself.
‘The ring won’t do us much good right now, anyway,’ he said. ‘The Faltyn couldn’t conjure up a ship for us—and even if it could, we’ve nothing to pay it with.’
‘That doesn’t matter.’ Altor went back to filleting the fishes with considerably bolstered spirits. ‘I know now you were right. Something will turn up.’
They had rarely had a more strenuous day, and it was all they could do to stay awake while the fish cooked. Caelestis wolfed his portion down, bones and all, and then stretched out beside the fire. The hard-packed sand made an uncomfortable mattress, but for once he was too weary to care. By the time Altor had returned from the water’s edge where he had gone to clean his knife, Caelestis was sound asleep.
He was woken by a metallic clanking that sounded like a cowbell. Opening his eyes, he saw that the sky was that pale jade colour that comes before the dawn.
He turned over and groaned. The way he’d been lying in the night had made his back stiff, and now that he was more alert he realized how hungry he was. ‘Actually, I really think we should make every effort to get off this island as soon as possible,’ he said to Altor.
There was no reply. Sitting up, Caelestis noticed his friend kneeling in prayer some way off down the beach. As was his habit, he had obviously risen early to meditate and practice his swordplay. Caelestis glowered at the rock pools further down the beach. Either he would have to wait for his breakfast, or he’d have to see about catching something himself.
A wave rolled in and another hollow clang reminded Caelestis of the sound that had intruded on his dreams. He looked round and saw a flask of yellow copper bobbing up and down against a washed-up clump of seaweed.
Caelestis glanced back at Altor, thought for a moment, then got up and made his way down to the water. He stood looking down at the flask, which was sealed with a lead bung that caused it to float upside-down. After a few seconds’ deliberation he shrugged and picked it up. A curious glyph was stamped into the bung, but Caelestis had no idea what it meant.
‘It might contain a message,’ he said to himself. ‘Or better still, maybe it’s a bottle of good brandy wine.’
And, with a little effort, he pulled out the bung.
The first Altor knew that anything was amiss was when his prayers were interrupted by a sound like wind howling up a drainpipe. He muttered a quick ‘Amen’, crossed himself, and looked down to the water’s edge.
Caelestis was standing there beside a thick column of black smoke.
Then in the space of a blink it had changed. It was no longer smoke. Now it was a giant leg.
Altor didn’t waste time thinking. He grabbed his sword and set off down the beach at a run.
Caelestis had fallen to one knee in simple shock. As Altor came running up, he looked from him to the giant figure that now stood astride the shore. ‘What is it?’ he gasped.
Altor saw the open copper bottle lying in the sand at his feet and guessed at once. ‘A jinni.’
They both craned their necks to look up at the giant. His head appeared to scrape the clouds while his legs, knotted with individual cords of muscle each as thick as a tree, were planted solidly on the sand. As they watched he lifted his face exultantly and stretched both arms wide, giving a groan of satisfaction at being free that sounded like a fissure cracking open in a mountainside. He was clothed in nothing but the long dusty strands of his unkempt hair and beard, which reached right down to his knees like ivy covering a fortress wall.
‘He’s bigger than Skrymir...’ said Altor. Now that he had time to take stock of the jinni, he felt rather foolish for brandishing a sword at him. His best lunge could barely have reached the jinni’s ankle.
But Caelestis had recovered from his initial stupefaction. ‘A jinni, eh?’ he said, getting up and brushing the sand off his trousers. ‘That’s rather handy.’
Like a man noticing a gnat, the jinni became aware of them. He stooped, his mouth opening to reveal snaggled black teeth, and a gust of foul breath almost knocked them down. Above that cavernous maw, huge eyes burned like torches.
‘Where and when; how and why?’ he boomed. ‘Tale me your tale, you who have freed me.’
Before Altor could say anything, Caelestis was shaking his head. ‘We’ve no time at the moment for pleasantries,’ he called up at the jinni. ‘We ought to be in Hakbad. So, your first task is to create a winged chariot—‘
The jinni gave a shout of laughter that almost deafened them. ‘My first task? You’ve got things a bit muddled, little man. There’ll be no wishes, no orders. Pleas for mercy would be more like it, but even they’d be wasted. In a moment I’ll lift my foot, and the sight of it descending is the last thing you’ll see.’
‘What?’ Caelestis blinked in dismay and pointed to the copper flask. ‘But... but I freed you. You’ve got to give me three wishes.’ He looked at the jinni’s face and went pale. ‘Haven’t you?’
‘Don’t remind me of that flask!’ roared the jinni angrily. ‘After a wizard tricked me into it, I waited for a hundred years and not a day went by but I promised I’d bestow lavish riches on whoever let me out. But did you free me then? So, for the next two hundred years, I swore each day that whoever freed me would receive all the treasures and honours of the world. But did you free me then? As the next four hundred years passed, I pledged that the one who opened the flask would be rewarded with the three wishes of his heart, wealth and power that no mortal has ever dreamt of, a kingdom where his word was the only law, and eternal youth so that he could enjoy these things to the end of time...’
The jinni paused, bending over the beach so that his face blotted out the sky. ‘But did you free me THEN? No! This is why you now find me in a quite different frame of mind. Finally, after seven hundred years, I decided that the penalty for leaving me trapped so long in the flask would be instant death. And so, little man, prepare to die.’
The jinni lifted his foot and held it poised like a slab of mountainside, ready to crush the life out of Caelestis and Altor. Then it started to descend.
Ten:
The Prisoner of the Cyclops
‘Coward!’ Altor shouted up at the jinni.