As the road passed close to one particular plantation, Carym was taken by its peaceful appeal. A wide wagon path lined with stout oak trees meandered through a pair of wheat fields bordered by a long stone wall. The large white home was two stories tall with a long sitting porch, not unlike the one on his own small cottage, and cattle and sheep grazed in a pasture on the far side of the estate. What spoiled the moment for Carym was seeing slaves, adults and children alike, working the fields under the watchful eyes of well-armed overseers.
“Slaves,” he muttered shaking his head in disgust. Since the Arnathians took control of most of the region, slavery had become acceptable to many and was readily embraced by Dockyarders. Zach bore an odd expression, and seemingly had not noticed them until Carym mentioned it. As if seeing the slaves for the first time, Zach peered intently toward them. After only a moment he merely shrugged and sank back into whatever quiet contemplation had hold of him.
Carym said nothing more as the plantation slipped into the distance behind them. As much as he hated the situation, there was nothing to be done for their plight, not now anyway. Their destination lay no more than ten minutes ahead. In a place like Dockyard City, failing to keep your wits about you could result in failing to keep your head on your shoulders.
There was no gate here, no city guard to speak of, and no soldiers patrolling the roads. Dockyard City was a vast collection of shabby businesses and dismal inns and piers interconnected with a rickety wooden dock system. Mercenaries, pirates, bounty hunters, and assassins frequented this dirty and dangerous town. But it was also an important minor port town on the periphery of Arnathia and was home to many rugged peoples making their living fishing, farming and selling the fruits of their labors in Dockyard City’s markets. Truth be told, merchants of even modest means fared well enough with a steady stream of wealthy importers from all over Llars making port here. Carym had even heard that the extremely wealthy people of Amberlou and the Free Islands began a business taking passengers aboard their luxurious and massive ships for no other reason than to travel from one port to the next. It was said that these luxury ships were huge and traveled in threes and were manned by large mercenary companies; even pirates dared not attack one of those groups of ships.
Carym snickered at the idea of foppish lords and bejeweled ladies standing about the weather decks of a large white ship standing alongside dirty Roughneck sailors and Marines and mercenaries. To an old sailor and Roughneck like Carym, the idea was incongruous; the two just did not mix. It was then that he began to realize that if one was enterprising enough, Roughneck officers could be paid well enough to be taught manners and be good company to pampered and spoiled lords who could afford the gold. He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head, it still seemed ridiculous and not worth the bother. And why on Llars come to Dockyard City?
As the two crossed the official border into Dockyard City, Carym noticed the temperament of the people seemed to fit in with his expectation; dirty, impolite and generally unsociable. As he went on, he noticed that even the children he saw were frowning and unhappy and the adults were intent on getting to their destinations as quickly as possible. Shadows moved among the alleyways, probably thieves awaiting unwary prey. Rumor had it that this town was so violent and dangerous, even Arnathia would not consider invading it. The truth of the matter was that Imperial Arnathia could certainly have taken the city with overwhelming force, but holding the port city after the fact was an entirely different matter. So nefarious and chaotic was it that neither the former Thaynedom of Hybrand nor the Kingdom of Herkenberg would lay claim to the town.
The men warily made their way farther into the city itself, leaving behind the firm ground of the outer portion for the port area where all the streets were made from wooden docks and none of the buildings stood over solid ground. The city extended far enough out over the water to allow for a network of waterways beneath the city. This was the part of Dockyard City that earned its dismal reputation. Persistent and pesky merchants followed the men as they passed into a section of the city known as Karbander Bazaar. Dozens of small shops and stands lined both sides of the main dock while merchants prodded and poked, yelled and cajoled, and otherwise tried to sell their wares. Each man kept a firm grip on his wallet, knowing full well that any number of thieves would be roaming the crowded docks.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m thirsty,” Carym said as he laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Between walking through all those treacherous tunnels and these streets, I’d like to sit for a few minutes.” Carym led his friend toward a nearby merchant stand who was selling the promise of a cold drink in a stoppered glass bottle.
“Come, come, my friend!” said the man in a think Karbander accent. “Cold quarim here! Special today just for you, my friend!” The man held up a glass bottle containing a black liquid with a cork stopper in it and offered it to Carym. The glass was misty with cool condensation as Carym eyed the quarim longingly. Quarim was a sweet drink comprised of sugary water and the fruit juices of exotic Karbander trees found nowhere else in the world. It was highly sought after anyplace it was sold.
Zach laid a restraining hand on his arm and said, “Careful. These men will sell you piss and call it wine!”
Carym nodded and reached for the glass and the merchant’s face split in a wide grin. Zach laughed at his friend, “I hope you like it, because you just bought it!” Zach pulled up a chair sat down at the small table in front of the merchant’s shop.
“Very good choice, my friend! Just for you, my friend!” he jabbered excitedly. “Five gold, my friend!”
Carym almost choked and blew out a spray of the dark colored liquid. “Five gold?!” he exclaimed. “Are you kidding?”
Zach leaned back in his chair and laughed uproariously. Carym was unfamiliar with Karbander bazaars, unlike Zach who had spent many afternoons roaming Dockyard City with his Spider brethren. “You have to haggle, Carym!” he managed between gasps for breath.
Carym shifted a reproachful gaze from his friend to the merchant who happily said, “Ok, ok. Just for you! Three gold, sir! Just for you!”
Carym placed a silver on the man’s counter top and said, “A silver and nothing more.”
Thinking it a fair price he seated himself next to his still laughing friend while the merchant took the silver coin he had not seriously expected to earn and shoved it into a pocket.
Zach finally managed to control himself and said, “So, was it worth a silver? Or the two coppers he charges everyone else?!”
Zach burst out into laughter once again and Carym was glad his old friend could have a good laugh at his expense. He was pleasantly surprised by the rich flavor of the drink, whatever it was, and was impressed at how cold it was. Then, he remembered, the oceans were mighty cold this time of year and more than likely the man had devised a way to keep the drinks submerged in the ocean water below his shop.
The pair sat easily, forgetting for the moment that they were wanted men and that in all likelihood, more of the Bishop’s Qra’zim would be coming to hunt them down. There could easily be members of that elite group walking among the riffraff of Dockyard City right now, Carym thought. A twinge of hunger caused Carym to glance at the foodstuffs offered for sale at the next shop - and he promptly lost his appetite.
A skinny, olive skinned man wearing a flowing shirt that draped to his knees with a sleeveless vest with a round cap on his head manned the shop next door. A fly buzzed the man’s head continually, even landed on the tip of his nose or crawled around his dirty chest-length beard, he didn’t even try to swat the bug. Karbanders were ever a cheerful lot, noted Carym as this man’s face was locked in a continual grin. The men stopped in front of his shop to glance at exotic food sold by: “Shafi, Shafi, your good friend Shafi!”
Shafi had several large barrels with mesh covered tops and three trays of seafood. The seafood was innocuous enough, the shelves bearing various kinds of fishes, eels, crabs, and squid, although the smell
was quite pungent. When he looked into the first barrel he thought he would empty his stomach, for inside the barrel was a writhing mass of large smelly maggots. “Shafi have fresh mousa, just for you! Good price just for you, sir!”
Carym quickly looked away, but his curiosity held him fast and he found himself looking into the top of the next barrel. “Ahh, Shafi’s favorite! Yesterday’s scoraggin fresh with young! Very good in deep oil cooker, sir. Good price, just for you!” he bobbed his head up and down and mimicked a deferential bowing motion.
“No thank you, Shafi,” Carym said, sincerely. To Carym’s chagrin, the man seemed more enthusiastic instead of less and held him by the elbow, steering him towards the last barrel.
“Come, come. Shafi have just for you!” Very quickly the man flipped open the lid and shot his hand down into the barrel, while Carym entertained the idea of running away. He did not want to offend the man, however; remembering that even a simpleton could become a dangerous enemy in the blink of an eye in Dockyard City. He was beginning to realize why most people never made eye contact in this God-forsaken place; making eye contact could get you the unwanted attention of Shafi.
Quick as lightning Shafi reached into the barrel and withdrew his arm holding aloft a large egg. Inside the barrel the sound of snapping jaws and a thrashing tail revealed the presence of the unhappy creature that just lost its progeny.
“No thank you, Shafi!” Carym said as he turned to leave. Shafi would not let him leave however.
“Ok, ok! A sample, just for you. Free to try!!” Shafi held out the egg and Carym was really quite unsure what he was supposed to do with it as he had nothing to cook with at the moment. Seeing Carym’s dubious expression Shafi appeared then to have an epiphany, realizing Carym didn’t understand. “Ahh, Shafi show you Karbander Delight!”
Shafi took a small curved knife from his belt and sliced the top third of the egg open, and peeled back the soft and pliable eggshell, quite unlike a bird’s egg. Then he gently squeezed it from the bottom as a wiggling reptilian form covered in yellow and white goo wiggled from the hole. Then, he poured the still moving contents of the egg into his mouth and chewed vigorously, fluids dripping down into his beard, and a huge grin on his face.
“Karbander...delight!” he said while he chewed. Zach grabbed the flabbergasted Carym and ushered him away, hoping to leave Karbander Bazaar far behind.
“Did you see…?”
“Yes, come on before you attract attention.”
When they left the bazaar district, the pair found themselves at the area of the city known as Portside. It was here where deckhands went about their business, running errands, picking up supplies, and merchant guards watched precious cargo warily. Carym felt menacing stares coming from men who clearly hailed from all over Llars, as evidenced by their bizarre clothing styles. Prostitutes walked about seeking new customers, always eager to see a drunken sailor in port. Carym felt pity for one woman, wearing little more than a towel, her eyes without life and more than one bruise visible on her face. But perhaps the most disturbing for Carym was that there were significant numbers of the Orkine races, hurkin and oroks, roaming about.
“Act normal and ignore everything. Got it?” instructed Zach.
Carym had not been to this seedy town before and it showed. He looked about in awe of his surroundings. The smell of nearby fishmongers assaulted their noses, while the sounds of cackling seagulls and the groaning of wooden planks consumed the attention of their ears. The planks of the dock streets had become a dirty white color from the volume of dried seagull droppings over time.
“Yeah, I got it. Who are we meeting out here anyway?” he replied.
“Yag, the privateer. He’s a mercenary with his own ship and a very able crew.”
“A pirate for hire.”
“Something like that,” agreed Zach walking confidently, looking dangerous. The wooden dock the men were now walking upon served as the main street in the Portside area of this lawless town.
“Look over there, Zach,” Carym nodded toward a man standing at the intersection of two dock-streets. A preacher, apparently, he was holding an open book in one hand while reading from its pages and gesturing emphatically with his free hand. A few people had gathered around this darkly dressed fellow and they appeared enthralled by him. A jet-black raven perched on his shoulder and it fixed its beady eyes on Carym.
What a peculiar looking fellow, Carym thought. He was dressed in a robe that appeared to shift between varying shades of brown as he watched. He was also wearing a beautiful glowing amulet of shiny gold. He was of average height and bald, with a goatee, and a menacing stare that was amplified by his burning red eyes. The man carried a wooden staff with the likeness of a ram’s head atop, its large horns curled forward.
Mesmerized by the man’s smooth voice, Carym noticed that he spoke a form of Cklathish, but strangely he could not understand what the man was saying. Carym shook his head and rubbed his eyes as though he had just awakened from a strange dream. Then he noticed that Zach appeared as enthralled as the people gathered about the mysterious man.
“What an interesting fellow. It looks like he is preaching, let’s go talk to him,” said Zach as he started to wander towards the man in apparent awe; as he had warned Carym against doing. Before Zach took three steps, a rough looking giant of a man about seven feet tall and dressed in warrior’s garb, stepped in front of the men and blocked their view of the brown robed preacher.
“What are ya lads doing out here?” the man’s putrid breath spilling out from rotted yellow and black teeth made Carym’s stomach turn sour.
“Our business is our own,” replied Zach testily. Now that he could no longer see the preacher, he appeared himself again; he and Carym turned to leave the area.
“Not sa fast,” the man growled. “Ah’ll wager yar running from something. Hyrum folk dan’t often wander to the Dockyards.” The air was eerily still, save for the constant squawking of seagulls. “Ahh, Ah remember, ah seen yar postars! Ya two are wanted men, and ah want the reward!” he laughed loudly at them. “Reach for those swards and ah’ll cut yar arms off!” The huge man waved a large sword menacingly at the two.
Carym knew this man for what he was, a giant orok. While oroks were small and stupid, giant oroks were large and cunning; but still stupid. He had a pair of yellow fangs resembling tusks protruding slightly from his lips, his eyes were yellow, his ears were cupped and his nose was slightly upturned and flat; not unlike a pig’s nose. He was tall, his arms were long and spindly. But Carym knew that giant oroks were fast and strong despite their ungainly and awkward appearance.
“What are you talking about?” demanded Carym.
Leveling his sword at Zach the creature said, “I saa the signs, General Craxis wants yar heads! And ah would be delighted ta give them ta him! Unless of course, ya give me one tousand emerald coins, den ah might pretend ah never saw ya!” the beastly looking man chortled eerily.
“Not likely,” Carym said very calmly, feeling his anger begin to rise. The bullish greater orok reminded Carym of the viciousness of the Vaard and suddenly he wanted very much to smash the creature’s teeth in.
“Don’t get righteous Carym! Give the nice orok some money so we can go,” said Zach as he reached for his blade. For some reason Carym just couldn’t abide this thing threatening him and his friend.
“I will not!” replied Carym defiantly.
“Ya will, or ah will take it from ya right alang with yar tongue! Den ah will deliver yar tongueless heads ta the General!” the giant orok snorted menacingly at the pair; Zach shuffled back a step. The trio began to attract attention and Zach worried that there may be other would-be bounty hunters nearby. Carym felt compelled to draw his sword. The orok was a bit surprised by this show of defiance, yet moved in regardless. Suddenly and quick as a cat, Carym slapped the surprised creature’s sword away with one stroke of his sword. Then, he angrily slammed his other fist into the beast’s chest sending a shower of crackling
sparks into the air. The orok shrieked in pain then fell to the ground and lay still, a sizzling hole in his chest.
“Way to go, Carym!” said Zach as he slapped his friend on the shoulder. “That ought to deter any of these other slugs from trying to get in on the reward hunting!” Zach waved his blade menacingly and snarled at the nearby crowd of onlookers. The body of the orok was dead for mere moments before the street urchins appeared at the periphery of the crowd, eager to begin plundering the body, yet cautious around anyone who could best a giant orok so easily.
Carym sheathed his sword and looked at the corpse; he felt powerful. The familiar feelings of fear and trepidation that plagued him since the death of his wife and child were gone. It was a good feeling. He knew he should not take pleasure in killing anyone or anything, yet for some reason he felt elated.
People everywhere were staring at them; some were staring fearfully, some respectfully. All were silent as if waiting for something to happen. Carym turned to catch up with Zach, who was walking very quickly away, the old wooden dock creaking beneath their feet as they hurried off toward the pier. Looking back he could no longer see the body of the orok for the street stalkers had swarmed over it. He also saw that the brown-robed preacher was no longer speaking; in fact, he was following them! Effortlessly, the priest covered the ground between them. They took a turn down a side street that would lead them to the privateer’s waiting transport boat.
The strange man’s pursuit was dogged and, for a while, the beady-eyed man seemed content to merely follow them. After a quarter of an hour of cutting through crowded bazaars, sudden alley turns, and double-backs, Carym had had enough. It was evident that their pursuer was not to be lost in the maze of dock ways, and it was unlikely that they would reach the safety of the privateer’s boat before a confrontation ensued. Carym stopped suddenly and turned. “We must face this man here, Zach. He is alone.”
The Dragon Writers Collection Page 29