The Warrior's Tale (The Far Kingdoms, Book 2)

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  A few days later, Gamelan met his first wizard.

  "For a boy with his head full of silly notions, he was quite disappointing," Gamelan said. "I’d expected a fellow who looks much as I do now. Old. Bearded. With eyes that would freeze an oxen in his path."

  I glanced at Gamelan’s strange, yellow eyes. Just now, they were as kindly and warm as a kitchen fire.

  Gamelan caught my look. "They can get meaner," he said.

  I laughed, then eased back. The tale he spun was so intriguing, I forgot my own worries.

  "But, back to my first Evocator," Gamelan went on. "He was quite young, handsome. And rich. He was brother of the young woman I had saved. His name was Yuloor, and he was a wizard of small talent, but enormous ambition. He wanted to reward me for helping his sister by sponsoring me to the Council of Evocators. Soon I would wear a wizard’s robes and would be respected by everyone in the city. But I wanted nothing of this. For I knew once I left the river, I would never be able to return.

  "Yuloor admitted this, but said it was a small sacrifice and my family would greatly benefit. More importantly, it was my sacred duty to the people of Orissa not to waste a talent given to so few. He wooed me and my family for many a day, until finally I believed I had no other choice. To do otherwise would doom me and my family to a wretched existence, caused by that magical spirit inside me gnawing and clawing to get out. Finally I agreed."

  "I suspect Yuloor actually saw his chance in you," I said. "The real reward was to be his."

  "Quite right," Gamelan said. "He became my mentor, and as I rose through the levels of knowledge and power, he rose with me. He died not long ago. He was quite a happy man."

  "But what of, Riana?" I asked.

  "She was lost to me," he answered. "Our marriage was forbidden. After all, how can an Evocator marry a fisherwoman?"

  I blurted: "Didn’t you argue? Didn’t you fight?"

  Gamelan sighed. "Yes. But it was hopeless. I was told quite plainly what would happen to her if I continued to defy them. I suppose my loss is one reason I achieved the powers that I now call my own. I’ve never loved another. So there was nothing to keep me from my studies, until they finally consumed me until there was nothing left of the fisherman. Only a wizard."

  I said: "And this is the life you want me to take up? I’m happy as I am."

  "Are you, Rali?" he asked.

  I thought of the dream I had of Tries’ betrayal. I could not answer yes.

  "Anyway, happiness is beside the point," Gamelan said. "You must follow your weird, or suffer the consequences."

  "Consequences?" I snapped. "that’s what your lying friend, Yuloor said."

  And Gamelan answered: "Ah. But that part was no lie at all."

  "I’m a soldier," I muttered. "Nothing more." My words were slurred. I was drunk. It wasn’t the brandy that made me so.

  "Will you think on it?" Gamelan asked.

  "That’s all I’ll do," I said. My mood was evil, hating.

  "We’ll talk again tomorrow," Gamelan said.

  I said nothing. But I thought, if I had real magical power, tomorrow would never come.

  Well, it did come, scribe; but the day wasn’t spent as either of us had expected.

  * * * *

  Each day after the noontide sighting, the wizard was rowed over to the Admiral’s galley to confer on the course they believed the Archon fleet was on. Navigational tools were matched against Gamelan’s magical skills, and the bearing was set. Signal flags announced the course, and each ship made any corrections necessary.

  On this particular day, however, the routine changed. Corais and I were discussing the progress of our recruits’ training when we heard the lookout shout. I glanced around and saw with mild surprise that Gamelan’s visit with Cholla Yi had been cut short and his little boat put out for our ship. Corais and I idly strolled to the rail to see what was happening. There seemed to be much excitement — Gamelan was pointing impatiently at our ship and urging his rowers to make haste.

  "A wizard in a hurry," Corais said, dryly, "rarely bodes well."

  I heard Polillo shout and I looked to see some fifty yards off the bow of Gamelan’s boat a huge bird with leathery wings struggling with a sea lizard over a large fish. There was no danger to Gamelan, so I was quickly caught up in the fight between two such unlikely adversaries, as was the rest of the ship.

  The lizard was twice my size, but the bird was not intimidated. It’d caught the fish in its heavy tooth-lined beak, and had been about to swoop up with its prize when the lizard had struck. Both creatures had strong holds on either end of the fish, one dragging down, the other up.

  "A silver piece on the bird," Polillo cried.

  But there were no takers for everyone seemed to find favor with the strange creature from the sky, shouting and cheering its efforts. We groaned as the bird suddenly let loose.

  "Two silver pieces against one!" Polillo jumped the odds as the lizard rolled back, the fish gripped in its jaws. She was deluged with shouted offers. I could see from her wide grin she believed the bird was as clever as bold. Sure enough, as the lizard lay there, stunned by its sudden victory, the bird swooped back and slashed its white belly with its hooked talons. The lizard screamed, curling and flopping in agony. Instantly, the bird grabbed the fish and shot for the skies, to cheers, and some groans from those who’d taken Polillo’s bet.

  "I know a fighter when I see one," Polillo gloated, diving in amongst her new debtors. "Let’s see the color of your coin, my friends. White metal only. There’s no room for copper in my chest."

  We were all exhilarated by the struggle, as if we’d been in on the fight ourselves.

  "Now, that’s a good omen if I ever saw one," Corais said.

  I wanted to agree. But my natural caution — some brand it cynicism — crowded in. Perhaps it was a good omen. On the other hand, from the point of view of the sea lizard, it could be a warning.

  A swish of robes brought me back, and I turned to find Gamelan hobbling toward us as fast as his old legs could carry him. He’d reached our galley during the middle of the fight and had boarded with little, or no help.

  "I’m sorry . . . " I started to say, but the wizard brushed my apology aside with an impatient gesture.

  "The Archon’s fleet has stopped," he said.

  I goggled and made the usual silly noises of an officer who’s become so used to routine that she’s forgotten her profession is founded on surprise.

  "I don’t know how long his fleet will tarry, or what his trouble is," Gamelan said, "but all signs show he’s lying as if becalmed or anchored."

  "Perhaps he’s taking on water, or food from somewhere," I ventured. "They had little time to prepare before they fled."

  Gamelan nodded, his beard bristled with energy, and his yellow eyes danced like twin suns. "That is what the Admiral and I surmised," he said.

  He unrolled a small, crude chart I’d never seen before. “Master Phocas found this among his other charts. It’s supposed to show what lies beyond our master chart, although he gave it to me saying he had many doubts as to its truth, since he was given it in a wine-shop rather than buying it from a chandlery.”

  Corais and I bent close to see. Gamelan jabbed a finger at a small group of islands near the western-most edge of the map. "This is where his fleet appears to be at this moment. Whether or not the islands can provision him, no one knows. Cholla Yi says that even the existence of those islands is speculative."

  I saw a small symbol next to the islands warning that the map maker was relying on rumor, rather than fact about those tiny dots. Still, blood began to hammer at my ears. I said: "If there are no islands, why else would he stop in the middle of the ocean?"

  The wizard twisted his beard in delight. "Why else, indeed?" he asked.

  Corais laughed. "The next time I see a wizard in a hurry, I won’t be so quick to fear for our luck."

  "Don’t dare the gods," I warned, only half in jest. "First we have to catch him. Then
we have to fight him."

  Polillo, who’d come up behind us, broke in: "Did I hear someone say, fight? Or, was it my imagination?"

  "No, my friend," I answered. "It was not your imagination. And, yes, you finally get to fight."

  "Good," she answered. "For awhile, I’d been wondering if I’d fallen into the company of cravens. My ax is thirsty."

  * * * *

  The fight did not come that quickly. As I’d warned Corais, first we had to catch the Archon.

  We rowed with a will, the drums around our fleet hammering in constant double time, the oarsmen digging in so deeply with each pull their oars could be seen to bend. The fleet skimmed through the seas so swiftly that sometimes it seemed the hulls barely had time to get wet. We rowed like that for two days, then after only a few hours rest, for two more.

  The tension hung so close no one remarked when we passed the western most edge of our master chart and crossed into unmapped seas.

  On the fifth day, we sighted the Archon.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE SEA ON FIRE

  As hard as we pressed before, we pressed harder still and within two hours the fleeing Lycanthians could now be glimpsed from the foredeck. I even thought I could distinguish sails of individual ships. The deck was crowded — there was myself, Corais and Polillo, as well as Captain Stryker and Gamelan. Then Cholla Yi arrived, unbidden, for an impromptu conference. The air crackled with excitement and tension.

  "Will they have sighted us yet?" Corais’s question was intended for Stryker, but Gamelan answered: "They have. If not by sight, by castings. I have already felt the fingers of the Archon stretching out toward us."

  Cholla Yi frowned when he saw a nearby sailor shiver — and the reaction wasn’t from the breeze. Gamelan nodded understanding and we moved back along the storming bridge out of earshot.

  "How long until we’re on them?" Polillo asked.

  Cholla Yi eyed the full mainsail and estimated the time from the distance the foremast’s shadow had traveled on the deck since we’d gathered to watch the ships.

  "If the wind holds fair,” he said, “and from the same quarter . . . and they keep their current course . . . two, perhaps three days."

  "If I was runnin’ that fleet," Stryker said, "and knowin’ a fight’s for certain ’cause they can’t outrun us, I’d be formin’ my battle line now — and maneuverin’ for the weather gauge."

  "As would I," Cholla Yi said. "But once a man starts running, it’s hard to stop. Fear makes us all do strange things."

  "Are you certain, Admiral," Gamelan said, "they are afraid? That they’re running from . . . rather than to . . . something?"

  Cholla Yi began to snap a retort, then considered. He looked slightly worried and ran his fingers over his spikes. "They are holding the same course, aren’t they?" he said. "And have been for some time."

  "That was what I thought," Gamelan said, "though I’m hardly a seaman."

  "Do you sense anything, Lord Gamelan?" Stryker asked.

  "Not as yet,” the wizard said. “But I am spending most of my energy attempting to determine what battle spell or spells the Archon may be intending; and casting counter-spells against them. I shall attempt, though, to see if there are any porous spaces I could slip an inquiry through."

  He went back down the storming bridge, then to the maindeck and below to his cramped cabin.

  Polillo shook her head. "I don’t like warring against sorcerers and I wouldn’t want to be Gamelan. Imagine an enemy you can’t see, can’t hear, can’t slay with steel."

  Corais put her arm around Polillo. "Don’t fret, sister. There’s an Archon roasting away in some black hell who thought like that until Rali taught him different." Polillo’s mood changed and she grinned.

  Then words ran out and all of our eyes were held by those tiny dots, far out against the horizon.

  * * * *

  That night we entered strange seas. The sun sank below the horizon as before, but the sky was still alight. As twilight died we could see the glow was coming from beyond the Archon’s fleet. The light was red, as if there were some fire raging just over the horizon. I’d heard of phosphorescent seas and asked Stryker if this was the case.

  “I ain’t ever heard of sea fire bright enough to light the whole sky,” he said.

  “What do you think it could be, then?” I asked.

  Stryker spit over the rail. “I left off thinkin’ when we started this voyage, Captain,” he said. “Else, when we catch that black wizard, I’ll be a foul hand on the tiller.”

  As the hours progressed, the light in the sky grew stronger and by midnight, when I forced myself to my hammock, I could see four distinct blazes in the sky.

  * * * *

  I shuddered awake before dawn, brought up by an awful stench and shouts from the deck. At first I thought we were under some sort of magical attack and rolled out of my hammock scrabbling for a sword. But it wasn’t that at all. The air, the sea, the entire world stank like the mud- and sulfur-baths outside of Orissa that my father used to take us to when I was a girl. I hurried on deck, once again nearly skulling myself on that damnably low hatchway as I came up. I must have been the last to awake, because most of the ship’s company was already there, crowding the ship’s railing.

  The sun hadn’t risen yet, but there was a thick, drowned yellowish light that let us see clearly. A brown haze covered the sea and even though we must’ve sailed leagues closer to the Lycanthians, their ships were still dots, half-hidden in the murk. But that wasn’t the signal attraction everyone was gaping at. Land was in sight. Land of a sort, anyway; land that explained the stink and also that eerie glow in the night. I counted low mountain tops, seemingly rising out of the sea itself — three, no five volcanoes a-borning. From each of them rose a column of smoke and now and again, sparks and a dull flame. Corais and Polillo joined me, but said nothing.

  I saw Gamelan and Stryker on the quarterdeck, and climbed up to them. Both men looked drawn.

  "It looks," I said to Gamelan, "as if your thoughts were right about the Archon running for something."

  Stryker chose to answer. “’Pears, so, Captain. Do yer ’spose they thinks there be shelter ahead? Or, mebbe friends to help them?” He scratched his head. “Yer’d have to have skin made out of iron to live in these parts. So that don’t make sense.”

  Gamelan broke in. "But this region surely looks to be their goal,” he said. “Our friends aren’t blind and would have changed course earlier if they thought they were sailing into a trap."

  I remembered something Amalric had told me. “My brother once said," I offered, "that the Symeon clan had voyaged into the west, but no one knew to what distance."

  Gamelan stroked his beard. "This far? With no navigational aides? I would think it more likely the seas remain as unknown to Nisou Symeon as us, but the Archon has used his magic to peer ahead."

  "I wish yer’d done the same with yer own arts,” Stryker half-whispered, “and warned us of this gods-forsaken ocean."

  Gamelan looked at the mercenary, his yellow eyes glowing. His tone was cold, cold. "As I said before, I have needed all my powers just to keep magical sight of the Archon and his ships. There have been many spells cast and sent wafting back on their wake intended to delude us onto another course, or even give up in hopelessness. As for these eruptions . . . the greatest danger we face is being built right now, in the flagship that holds the Archon. Even now, as Symeon and his sailors are polishing their weapons for the battle, so the Archon is readying his spells.”

  Then his teeth gleamed through his beard, as he added: "Concentrate on your duties, Captain, and I shall attend to mine."

  Stryker quailed under the wizard’s scorn. Then he recovered. "Sorry to be speakin’ out of turn, Lord Gamelan,” he said. Then he spun and went down the companionway to the main deck.

  Gamelan said nothing, but only stared after him.

  "What spells do you sense we’ll face?" Corais asked, breaking the tension.

/>   "I don’t know precisely,” Gamelan said. “But we can all take a hint by looking about us. Not only are we sailing strange seas, but the weather itself is worsening."

  Indeed, we’d been so engrossed in watching the bellow and boil as these new mountains were a-borning from the depths of the sea we’d paid small attention to anything else. The sun must’ve risen, but the sky was overcast and the clouds were gray, becoming black. The wind whipped against our helmet crests and armor. The seas themselves were long rollers, with great intervals between the waves, such as I had seen building on beaches at the mouth of Orissa’s river during winter storms. We were occasionally taking water over the bow and the lookouts were crouched under the rails.

  "We should expect any sort of magic to be cast at us — confusion, despair, anything whatsoever," Gamelan said. "The Archon must either destroy us or so weaken us his flight can continue. Otherwise, he will die this day."

  "There won’t be any otherwise about it," Polillo said firmly.

  Gamelan smiled approval. "We should all curry such firmness as you have, Legate. Bear in mind that we have a great advantage — the Archon’s soldiery are those soldiers and sailors who happened to be aboard Symeon’s ships when they fled. Against them, the Guard is as keen as the blade you carry sheathed at your side."

  Corais and Polillo acknowledged the compliment as no more than the Guards’ due and left on their duties. Gamelan and I exchanged glances — I realized he spoke truth about our readiness for battle, but I also realized he’d not mentioned two greater truths — first about what might be in the Archon’s trunks loaded from the seacastle in Lycanth, and secondly that the Archon now appeared trapped. No warrior knows of an enemy more dangerous than one with his back against the wall.