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

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  “Wizard,” I said, “I sense a plan budding in that white-fringed noggin of yours.”

  Gamelan’s teeth shone through his beard. “Not a plan,” he scoffed. “But an outright plot.”

  “Tell me more, my wise friend,” I said.

  He did. It was brilliant, it was simple, and it was evil. In short, it contained all the key ingredients that go into the best of plots. The magic required took only a few stale sweetmeats I scrounged from the bottom of Corais’ seabag — she has a weakness for such things that she does her best to control. I freshened them with a potion any market crone could make and chanted a few words I will not repeat. Murder is easy enough as it is.

  We returned to the tent and made casual conversation. When I presented the sweetmeats to Chahar she purely blubbered with joy. And yes, the wordplay was intended.

  By the time the sun reached its highest point she was growing sleepy. A few minutes later, the demon returned.

  Gerasa was the first to see him. I’d set her to watch with half-a-dozen of our best archers in case Elam tried a surprise attack. When her warning came, at first all I could see was what appeared to be a large wave rolling under the thick kelp. It was moving at great speed and coming straight for us. About ten yards out, it stopped abruptly. A hole gaped and a thick black column of smoke boiled out.

  We all braced, not knowing what to expect. The smoke whirled, hurling off hot sparks. Gradually the smoke formed and we saw Elam. He was twice as big as when I’d first seen him. His eyes were pools of fury and his tail lashed angrily. Knowing he wouldn’t have come alone, much less so close, if he hadn’t have cast protective spells, I whispered to Gerasa and the others to hold their fire.

  As calmly as I could, I approached the ship’s rail and addressed him. “Good day, Lord Elam,” I said. “We are all deeply honored you’ve graced us with your presence.”

  He ignored my pleasantries. “Where she be?” he hissed, and his breath was so foul that even from that distance I nearly gagged.

  “I expect you mean the good Chahar,” I answered. “And she’s quite well, as you will shortly see for yourself.”

  I motioned and Polillo fetched Chahar from the tent. She was yawning and rubbing her eyes, but soon as she saw Elam she cried out in joy and waddled to my side.

  “You’ve come for me, Master,” she said. She began to weep in relief.

  “As you can see,” I told Elam, “she’s quite well. And although she’s had a lovely time with us, the poor dear is tired from all the excitement and is anxious to return home.”

  One of the demon’s taloned hands shot out. “Give to me,” he roared. “Give to me, or I kill you all.”

  I shook my head, as if my feelings were injured. “Why all this talk of killing, Lord Elam? We’ve only had her to supper.”

  I patted Chahar’s head. “We treated you well, did we not?” I asked.

  Still weeping, she nodded. “They didn’t hurt me,” she called to Elam. “And they promised to let me go.”

  I gripped her shoulder tight enough to make her wince. “In a moment, dear one,” I said. “First, your master and I must talk.”

  I looked back up at Elam. “You can have her,” I said. “But first you’ll have to free us from this place.”

  The demon laughed. At least I think it was a laugh. It sounded more like a pack of baying direwolves. “No,” he said. “You give. I not kill. Let you be slaves. I need slaves. Too many die in fire.”

  I shook my head. “Much as we’d like to have a nice long visit with you,” I said, “it’s quite impossible to stay longer. I’m afraid you’ll have to make some sort of concession, or . . . ”

  I grabbed Chahar’s hair, unsheathed my knife and placed it against her throat. “Your fat little Favorite will be the one who dies this day.”

  Chahar screamed. “Don’t let her hurt me, Master! Please!”

  Instead of becoming angry, the demon adopted my pose of a trader trying to be reasonable against a tough bargainer. His talons brushed away a non-existent speck on his scaled chest.

  “Why I let you go? She only slave.”

  “Perhaps so,” I answered. “But we’ve had a little chat with Chahar and we know all about you now. You don’t belong in this world, and you need the magic in her blood, or someone like her, to live.”

  I gave him my most pitying look. “Why, you’re probably growing weaker already. If we wait long enough, maybe we won’t need to trade.”

  The demon’s frighteningly wide shoulders shrugged. “I find other,” he said. His flat nostrils flared and he began to sniff. Ghostly fingers seemed to move over my body. I repressed a shudder, but only smiled wider to show he didn’t affect me. His lipless mouth parted to show fanged amusement.

  “You have witch’s blood,” he said. “Maybe I wait. Let you kill Chahar. Then you be Elam’s Favorite.”

  “Are you sure you have time?” I asked. “Before you lose your powers, I mean? We have much food and water. And all of us are warriors. More than a match for your puny slaves. I wonder . . . who can wait the longest?”

  Elam’s tail lashed in renewed anger. “Give me Chahar,” he roared. “Give me! I want!”

  “And you’ll let us go if I do?” I asked.

  His eyes squinted, crafty. “Yes,” he said. “You let Chahar go. Then I free you. Is trade?”

  I put on a worried frown and pretended I was thinking this over. Finally, I said, “You swear that if I free her now, you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”

  Again the demon bayed laughter. “Elam swears. Let Chahar go now, yes?”

  I pretended to hesitate, then — with seeming reluctance — I pushed Chahar forward. “You’re free to go,” I said.”

  Chahar squealed in delight, and with a grace that seemed odd in all that blubber, she went over the side into the water. Strong strokes took her swiftly to the bank and Elam scooped her up and put her on his shoulder. She hugged his neck and pounded her fat heels against him in joy.

  “We’ve done our part,” I called to him. “Now it’s your turn.”

  If his laughter was like a pack of direwolves before, now it seemed like a thousand of them had gathered to feast.

  I acted as if I were stunned. “You are going to let us go, aren’t you?” I said, my voice all a tremble.

  “I lie to you, little fool,” he brayed. “Now I make you slave. Or, maybe kill. Not decide yet.”

  He turned and started striding away. “I leave, now. Make magic with Chahar. Be too strong for you. Then I come back.”

  I railed at his retreating form, hurling curses for his betrayal. Soon as he disappeared, I stopped. As I turned, a large smile of pleasure pasted on my face, I saw Polillo looking at me in awe.

  “If you’d been a merchant instead of a soldier,” she said, “you’d be richer than your brother.”

  I laughed, protesting I was an amateur compared to Amalric. But her words pleased me. Not that I’d want such a thing — remembering, of course, that no woman would be allowed to join the ranks of merchants in Orissa. I liked being a soldier. It was nice, however, to think that maybe Amalric wasn’t the only crafty bargainer in our family.

  “What do we do now?” Stryker asked.

  “Signal the Admiral to make ready,” I answered. “If the gods remain with us, we’ll sail within the hour.” Shaking his head in open disbelief, Stryker left to do my bidding.

  Gamelan tapped up to my side. “That was well done, Rali, he said. “I’ll make a wizard of you yet.”

  His words soured any satisfaction I felt. I wanted to snarl at him, tell him once this voyage was over, I’d never lift a conjuring finger again. But he looked so proud to be my mentor that I bit my tongue and patted him, instead.

  As I searched for a kind response, a shriek of awful pain shattered the air. I whirled to see the demon stumbling from behind the charred remains of his ship. He gave another shriek, doubling over as the poison burned his guts. Then he struggled up and charged toward us, his long legs eati
ng up the distance. Behind him I saw his remaining slaves pour out of hiding and run after him.

  I barked orders as he came. My troops unsheathed their weapons and nocked their bows in readiness. I could see Elam gathering all of his strength, shooting up in size as he neared us. He was rattling his talons and gnashing his teeth. He stopped at the bank’s edge.

  “You lie to me!” He screamed.

  “Why, Lord Elam,” I replied, most mildly. “How can you say such a thing?”

  “You kill Chahar,” he gritted out, as another wave of pain took him.

  “And I’m very sorry about that,” I said. “But it was necessary to poison her, so I could poison you. Now, what can I do for you, my Lord. I’m a busy woman.”

  His men were massed behind him, now — waiting for his orders to attack. He raised himself up to his full height to scream our death warrants. Then pain gripped him and he fell to his knees. His slaves moaned in fear.

  “I see you are in some discomfort, my Lord,” I said. “Perhaps I can assist you . . . If you free us, that is. And this time, if you want to live, you’ll have to keep your side of the bargain.”

  The demon shuddered and nodded his head. “Yes. Elam agrees.”

  I motioned for Polillo to hand me a leather flask Gamelan and I had prepared. I uncorked it, took out my knife and nicked my arm. I let the blood drip into the flask, mixing with the elixir. I recorked it and handed it back to Polillo.

  “If you’ll do the honors, Lieutenant,” I said.

  Polillo hurled the flask across the distance. It fell in front of the kneeling demon. He struggled up, opened the flask and sniffed the contents suspiciously.

  “How, I know you not lie?” he asked.

  “You don’t,” I said. “But let me tell you this. That potion will not only cure you, but it binds us both to our solemn oaths. Cheat us, and you will die most painfully in a few hours. Honor your word, and you will live to go about your filthy business. To be perfectly frank, if I had my choice, I’d let you die. And then I’d skin you and hang your hide on a tavern wall so all could mock you when I told the tale of the demon, Elam, and all the evil that he’d done. But, I have no choice. For me and my companions to live, you must live as well. It’s to be regretted. But there’s nothing else I can do. So drink, my Lord. Drink deep and thank the foul gods you worship that they did not permit the woman who defeated you to do worse.”

  Elam glowered at me, then another wave of pain racked his body. Hastily, he drank.

  “Quickly, now,” I urged him. “If you do not act this instant, the potion will not work.”

  He hesitated for a long moment, turning his head as if he were about to unleash his slaves. They leaned toward him, moaning for the pleasure of the anticipated kill. Instead, he whirled back, raised up to his fullest height and opened his mouth. Air rushed in with such force that it sounded like all the ghosts of all time were crying out for release. Then he blew.

  A great foul wind washed over us, our ship heeling over from the force. It was so strong many were hurled to the deck. The wind roared through us, hammering over the fleet and across the rolling kelp plain. Then it stopped as abruptly as it began. The hot moist air turned chill and I saw huge black clouds scudding across the sky. Stryker barely had time to shout orders, when a new gale swooped in from above.

  The seas burst up above the kelp and we were surging forward, sails cracking in the wind. The banks of kelp were ripped away, and the floating beds pushed aside, and a wide, straight passage yawned, a path to the open seas beyond. I heard faint cheers echo over the wind as the rest of the fleet saw what was happening.

  I pulled myself to the rail and looked back. I saw Elam’s black form standing where we had left him. We were moving swiftly and his figure got smaller and smaller as the distance grew.

  Just before he vanished all together he gave a great shout that boomed over the howling winds: “Did you lie, Antero? Did you lie?”

  Then we were on the open seas again, freed from our strange prison. And that was the last I saw of him, thanks be the gods.

  What was that, Scribe? You want to know if I told the demon the truth? Was my potion really a cure? I’m hurt. How could you doubt me? Very well. I’ll only say this. If you should ever sail beyond the fiery reefs, and find yourself becalmed in some seaweed . . . don’t speak my name to the gods there when you pray to raise a breeze.

  * * * *

  The magical gale soon died, but was replaced by brisk, natural winds that raised our spirits and our hopes. Even Cholla Yi and Phocas seemed cheerful when we gathered to examine Chahar’s stick chart, which Phocas declared to be accurate, at least as far as the features he’d marked before we came upon Elam’s lair. We agreed to sail for the distant Kingdom of Konya and throw ourselves on the mercy of the civilized people Chahar had assured us dwelt there.

  “They’re sure to have detailed charts of these seas,” Cholla Yi said. ”With their help, all we need to do is to add it to our knowledge and we’ll soon be sailing home.”

  I had some doubts of my own — Chahar was too stupid to dissemble, but was she also stupid in her estimation of the kindly Konyans? But what other course did we have? I shrugged off the worry and joined the celebration. The wine flowed quite freely that night.

  We sailed for many weeks, our confidence in the stick chart growing as more landmarks were sighted. One day I arose in spirits that were brighter than any time before or since. I bounded up on the deck, full of cheer and good will to all. I found Polillo exercising, heaving an immense cask of ballast about to stretch her muscles. When she saw me, she let it down. The deck groaned with its weight.

  She drew in a long, joyous breath, swelling her bosom to such size the crewmen’s eyes were popping from their heads.

  “What a great day,” she exclaimed. “I’m no wizard, Captain, but I have this feeling that something marvelous is about to happen to us.”

  I laughed in agreement, then went to Gamelan for our daily ritual of casting the bones. He was as cheery as I, combing his beard and teasing me about what a great wizard I was going to make when he was done.

  For a change, I took no offense. We got out the bones and I threw them. Gamelan chortled over the pattern I described, saying nothing but the best was in store for us. To me, the bones looked no different than any other day, but I thought I must be wrong.

  An hour later I returned to the deck and strolled along the rail, enjoying the sun and fresh air. Then the lookout shouted “land,” and I craned to see what lay ahead across the dancing seas.

  I saw a pale, blue mist, edged with a dark line below. The mist lifted, and my heart leaped, as I saw the most glorious island. It was deep emerald and beckoned us with sweet promises and even sweeter dreams.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE SARZANA

  As we closed on the island our happiness grew, almost as if we were returning home. There wasn’t any reason for it, but after the past few weeks of gloom and disaster, all of us welcomed that peacefulness. The sea mirrored our feelings — the waves’ near-calm, a warm, gentle early morning breeze off the land ruffling the placid waters, the sails and our hair. I found myself smiling inadvertently at Stryker, as if he were an acceptable excuse for a human, then grinned more broadly at my sappiness.

  My women and even some of the sailors, who I thought would’ve seen everything, lined the railings. A curious seal broke water ahead of our prow, then dove and swam past underwater — so close to the surface we could see the muscles rippling beneath her smooth brown hide.

  “It might not be bad,” Corais said dreamily, “if the fools who believe in rebirth happened to be right. I wouldn’t mind returning as a seal.”

  I thought of saying something sarcastic, such as it’d be best to be reborn in waters that seal hunters hadn’t found yet, but thought better. Corais seldom relaxed as much as she had on this day.

  For the first time since his blinding, Gamelan also looked content. I chanced ruining the moment and asked if he c
ould sense anything that might portend danger from the approaching land. He smiled and just shook his head, no.

  The island looked like a curled hand, with fingered headlands enclosing the bay, and in the center the land rose to a plateau. I guessed the island to be about ten miles long by six wide. Everything was green, so green it hurt the eyes. I thought I spied a bit of white atop the plateau, but when I searched again, I decided my eyes had deceived.

  The water shallowed as we entered the bay and the ocean became a crystal blue like the finest diamond. One Guardswoman pointed, and I saw first a dolphin, then its mate, below our keel. They were swimming about thirty feet apart, and it looked as if they had something clenched in their jaws. I thought I saw glints from their foreheads, a reflection such as that would come from a prince’s diadem. Ahead of them I saw the flash of a school of silvery fish trying to escape their fate as the dolphins’ midday meal. Then our ship passed over them and our wake obscured the scene.

  I heard a shout from across the waters. It was Cholla Yi, calling for the fleet to assemble on him. Oddly, he gave his orders without an obscenity or a curse. The day must’ve worked its charms on him as well. Within minutes, our ramshackle ships gathered, sails lowered, each rocking gently in the low waves. I could see long strands of weed and barnacles along the waterline and below. Shrouds were frayed and the ships’ sides stained; the planking battered, splintering. I took a moment to pray this new island would fulfill its promise of peace. We desperately needed not only supplies and water, but to beach and careen our ships for repair.

  Cholla Yi’s orders were brief — take arrow formation, half the ships as the point of the arrow, the others in line to the rear. No ship was to anchor or land without orders from the flagship. Then something most unusual occurred — he called to me, asking if I had any comments or additions. Perhaps the mutiny and its aftermath had made even a man as stubborn as he was realize there was no room for conflict among ourselves.

  I had only one suggestion — perhaps one galley should remain outside the bay for a few hours, close to the headlands, to make sure no hostile ships were lying in wait to bottle us in this beautiful trap. Cholla Yi grinned broadly and bellowed, “a good idea. This one will be a sailor yet. Captain Meduduth . . . you’re the watchman. We’ll try to save any wenches or wine we find for you.”