The Undead Hordes of Kan-Gul

by Jon F. Merz

  Ran didn’t feel particularly legendary at the moment.

  He bit back another tidal surge of vomit and steadied himself with a deep breath. He allowed his legs to spread and then sank his hips a bit more, giving him a better base of support.

  So far, his wandering quest—what his clan called a shugyo—wasn’t as thrilling as he’d hoped. Certainly not as much as his final test before graduation. But the end result of that test had been that Ran had passed and simultaneously violated one of the school’s rules. His punishment was to embark on a shugyo where he would test himself and his skills while journeying abroad. This wasn’t so unusual in itself: the school normally dispatched its agents all across the lands near and far. It was how they kept tabs on what everyone else outside their secluded world was up to. The masters at the school could then decide if certain events required their intervention or not. Sometimes interventions took the form of subtly applied misinformation. Other times the actions were much more direct.

  Ran’s best defense while he was outside the protection of the school was to never let anyone know that he was a shadow warrior. Certain rulers offered a huge bounty for the death of anyone found to be from the school. Others sought to employ them to their own ends, despite their distaste. So Ran simply adopted the manner of a wandering warrior looking for opportunities to sell his blade to whoever could afford him. To help his disguise, Ran had stopped shaving and now sported a stubbly growth all over his face. His hair had grown longer, but he didn’t pull it back off of his face the way the warriors of his homeland did. Despite his obvious youth, the overall effect of the ruddy, unkempt appearance gave him an edge that made people slightly wary when he approached.

  Which was exactly what he wanted.

  “Where are you headed?” asked Malkyr.

  “West. To find work.”

  “What—there aren’t enough lords in Nehon who could use your blade alongside theirs?”

  Ran shrugged. “Perhaps I’d like to see the world.”

  “Indeed,” said Malkyr. “You’re young enough, and adventure awaits. Is that it?”

  “Perhaps.” Ran eyed the clouds. “This storm doesn’t seem to be helping matters, though.”

  “We’ll get through it,” said Malkyr. “The current is being a bit troublesome, but the Aqaria is strong enough to handle it.”

  Ran nodded. “You keep water below?”

  “Yes. Try not to drink too much, though. We’re only a few hours into this journey, and we won’t see landfall for another day.”

  Ran ducked belowdecks and found the barrels of water. He sipped at the ladle. As the cool water touched his throat, it removed the sting of bile. He found a berth near the other travelers and settled himself as best he could. In seconds, he was asleep.

  Hours passed before he heard heavy footfalls clomping down the ladder. He cracked an eye and saw Malkyr looking around at his passengers. “This damnable storm is worse than any I’ve seen. We’re not going to make the port of Chulal.”

  “Where are we headed?” asked Ran.

  “Hopefully to Naran.” Malkyr spat on the deck. “But I wish we weren’t.”

  The old drunk sat up at the mention of Naran, but quickly tried to hide his attentiveness.

  Ran was fully awake now. “Why?”

  “Because it’s a lawless place. Smugglers, thieves . . . they dominate the area. There’s no real ruling warlord. And the reefs nearby are deadly to ships like the Aqaria.”

  Nearby, the female warrior grunted. “Kan-Gul.”

  Malkyr whipped his head around and frowned. “I’d prefer you not speak that name, Neviah.”

  Ran sat up. “What is Kan-Gul?”

  “Not a what,” said Malkyr. “A who.” He frowned. “I need to get back up on deck.”

  Ran watched him leave and then turned to Neviah. “He doesn’t seem too eager to talk about things.”

  Neviah cursed and then yanked one of her throwing knives out of its sheath, running her eyes along its honed edge. “I’d hoped to give that area a wide berth.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  She eyed him. “You’ve never heard of Kan-Gul?”

  “No.”

  She shrugged. “Some say he’s a sorcerer. That he employs the undead to do his bidding. He controls that area, and the land is said to be rife with evil magic.”

  “You believe it?”

  Neviah frowned as she slid the knife back into its sheath. “I believe it enough to want to avoid the land and anything to do with Kan-Gul.”

  The ship lolled to one side, and Ran’s stomach rolled with it. He swallowed quickly and tried to concentrate on dispelling his nausea. “I need some air.”

  He climbed topside and was immediately drenched as a wave crashed over the bow of the ship. Ran sputtered and stumbled toward the rail and spat the salt water out of his mouth. Still, the cold water refreshed him.

  A full day had passed, and dawn was close. The dark clouds overhead were lighter toward the heaving horizon. Malkyr stood by the tiller, and Ran wondered if the captain had even slept. Another wave crashed over him, and Ran steadied himself, watching the roiling seas, and he forgot his queasiness for a moment.

  Mostly because he’d noticed something moving out of flow with the surging waves.

  “Malkyr?”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve heard stories of creatures that live in the seas. Have you ever seen them?”

  Malkyr laughed. “There are things that swim in these waters that will eat you in one gulp, my boy. Huge, dangerous beasts that don’t care if you have a sword on your hip or not.” He paused. “Why do you ask?”

  Ran pointed just as the ship rose on another swell. “There appears to be something following us. Just under the surface.”

  “Probably a pod of dolphin,” said Malkyr.

  But Ran heard the uncertainty in his voice and saw a ripple of concern crease his forehead. Malkyr turned and barked an order to his first mate in the strange tongue that the seafarers used. Ran didn’t understand the language—if you could even call the short, guttural utterance that—but he understood that Malkyr was concerned enough to order the first mate to stand ready with a large harpoon. Even as the storm clouds drew closer to the ship, the polished, folded-steel tip of the harpoon gleamed like an eye, searching for prey.

  The first mate hefted the harpoon with scarred, tanned arms. A broken nose jutted out from under his brow, but his eyes were keen as they searched the waters around the ship. He said nothing to the captain but stood ready to hurl the giant spear.

  The fingers of Ran’s left hand rested just below the guard of his sword. Normal warriors in his country often used their thumbs to ease the blade forward in its scabbard. But Shinobujin preferred using their index fingers underneath to accomplish the same motion. It often gave them the barest moment of advantage. In battle, you took whatever advantage you could get. Ran wasn’t sure how effective the edge of his folded steel sword would be against a leviathan from the deep, but he felt a measure of confidence anyway.

  “Are you certain you saw something?” asked Malkyr.

  Ran kept his eyes on the churning swells. “I did. It moved out of time with the flow of the water around us. We are definitely being stalked.”

  Malkyr grunted and aimed the bow of the ship into another wave, keeping a firm hand as he fought to keep the Aqaria from turning and taking a potentially mortal wave broadside. Ran was grateful for his experience. He wouldn’t have wanted to go overboard in seas like this, regardless of the beast stalking the depths below them.

  A sudden boom overhead tore open the skies, and rain dropped down in sheets. Ran heard Malkyr laughing and found the man’s behavior strange. “How can you find this funny?”

  Malkyr pointed at the heavens. “The gods love to make the lives of mortals miserable. This weather, these waves, and even now the presence of some watery behemoth . . . But I’ll show them. Never let them see the fear that threatens to squeeze your heart. I’l
l face whatever they throw at me. And more.” He shook a fist at the sky as more thunder roared. “You can’t kill me!”

  Ran’s frown deepened. He wasn’t certain what the gods might or might not have to do with his present situation, but he saw no use in angering them further. Why ask for more trouble when there was no guarantee they’d outlive their immediate circumstances? It just didn’t seem wise.

  He stared out over the waves and then saw a flash of movement again out of time with the rest of the flow of the sea. A shadow streaked horizontally across the waves in front of the bow. Ran was about to say something when he felt the breeze of the harpoon shooting past him, its silver barbed tip almost buzzing as it cut through the rain and streaked out beyond the ship. Ran watched it arc and then fall into the waves and the dark bulk just beneath.

  Malkyr laughed again. “How’s that for a shot, eh?” He nodded at the first mate. “Excellent job.”

  But the answer from the first mate was drowned out by a sudden screech as something rose up out of the waves ahead of them, spraying red foam across the bow and the deck. Ran caught the stench of brine and blood mixed together. The harpoon may have struck the creature, but just as Malkyr might have done with the gods, it had merely angered the beast.

  And now the creature seemed intent on attacking the ship.

  Ran glanced back at Malkyr. “Do you have other weapons on board this ship?”

  “Another harpoon, and then we have our swords.”

  “Any spears?”

  Malkyr frowned. “No.”

  Ran unsheathed his sword. “I suggest you call your men to arms.” As he said this, he felt the ship shudder. Ran turned and saw a massive tentacle come over the side of the ship. It crashed on the foredeck and shattered a wooden crate, spilling grain all over. Ran immediately rushed forward, swinging from high to low and severing the tentacle as far up as he could reach. The finely honed edge of his sword sliced through the muscled limb. Blood spouted from the stump, and the beast screeched again.

  Ran didn’t stop. He spotted another tentacle rising out of the surf. Even as more rain slashed at him, he leaped high and cut horizontally, shearing another piece from the leviathan. He heard shouts behind him and risked a quick glance. Another tentacle had entangled one of the crew, its suckers already attached to his body. The man howled over the roar of the storm as his friends desperately tried to free him.

  But in another blink, the tentacle vanished back into the sea, dragging the crewman to his death.

  Malkyr shouted orders at his crew, but it was obvious that panic was setting in. The first mate tried to keep some measure of control, but then a rogue wave tossed the ship, and the first mate went over the side and vanished. Another tentacle appeared and smashed into the mast in the center of the boat. Ran heard the splintering of wood and looked up to see the mast breaking.

  “Look out!”

  Even as he shouted a warning, the timber crashed down onto the deck, crushing another crew member. Ran dodged the ruffled and drenched sail and the lines that threatened to spool around his feet. He’d spotted another tentacle lashing at the midships and struck out with his sword, cutting deep into the flesh and muscle of the suckered tendril. Dark blood poured from the gaping wound, spilling onto the already slippery deck. Ran jerked his blade free, and almost instantly the tentacle slid back into the deep.

  His breath came in spurts now, and the adrenaline flowing through him made his pulse drum in his ears. He took several deep breaths and managed to calm his heart rate. He turned and saw the crew still trying to clear the wreckage of the mast from the deck. Men worked feverishly to cut the lines and toss the timber overboard.

  Movement in his peripheral vision made him turn in time to see a massive tentacle streaming straight at him. Ran ducked and then heard the song of steel as another sword cleaved through the tentacle. He looked up to see the old drunk launching a series of lightning-fast cuts that severed the tentacle in several places. The wounded stump shrank back over the side of the ship.

  Ran rose on his feet, steadied himself, and waited for another tentacle to appear.

  But no new attacks came.

  The beast’s screeching had given way to the howling wind and thunder of the storm.

  The older man grunted and nodded once at Ran. Ran smirked. When he first saw the old man on board the Aqaria, he’d thought the man was a mere drunk. But the way he wielded his sword clearly indicated a warrior of great skill.

  Ran looked at his own blade and saw that the rain had already cleaned most of the blood from it. He flipped it over and performed a quick move to flick away the rest before resheathing it again.

  “Is it gone?”

  He glanced back at Malkyr. “Seems to have disappeared, yes.”

  “Gods be praised. I wasn’t sure we’d survive that encounter.”

  “You’ve lost your mast and sail,” said Ran. “How will we ever reach land now?”

  Malkyr frowned. “The current is strong and pulling us to the west. With any hope, we should reach landfall by night.”

  “You’re certain of that?”

  Malkyr grinned. “Much more certain now than I was a few moments ago.”

  “Why so?”

  “Look.”

  Ran turned and felt his stomach drop. A huge wave was headed right for the ship.

  CHAPTER THREE

  If Ran thought Malkyr would panic, he was sorely mistaken. Instead, as the huge tidal surge lifted the boat beneath its keel and carried it like a piece of driftwood, Malkyr let out a long and deep laugh that seemed to echo off the storm clouds above. Ran, who had finally warded off the effects of seasickness thanks to the combat, now felt himself becoming queasy again as the boat surged through the water on the back of the wave. This can’t be real, he thought. The boat would probably capsize, but still Malkyr would laugh at the gods for this.

  He’s mad, thought Ran. As he watched, the captain’s hand never left the tiller, and Ran could see how hard his grip was on the piece of wood that enabled him to keep on course. They were headed west, no doubt, but in what condition would they reach land?

  Ran steeled himself on the bulwark, one hand never far from his sword. He gritted his teeth and willed that their journey be a swift one. While he had studied many techniques used for fighting on ships, Ran had never felt at ease on the bucking beasts and preferred having his feet on solid ground.

  “The man might well be the death of us.”

  Ran glanced behind him and saw the old drunk who had helped him fight off the monster a few moments earlier. He was squatting and wiping his blade clean, his eyes never leaving the prized two-handed curved sword. “And if that happens, then all of this will be for naught.”

  Ran sank on his haunches close by and watched the old man work for another moment before responding. “You’re quite adept with that blade.”

  The man’s eyes lifted and held Ran’s gaze. “Are you asking me a question or simply stating the obvious?”

  “I thought I was paying you a compliment.”

  “Compliments are for women. You fought by my side when we faced that creature instead of running or acting like a damned fool. That’s enough.”

  “I’m Ran.”

  “Kancho.”

  “You’ve used that sword a lot,” said Ran. His eyes had spotted several nicks along the edge of the blade. “You haven’t had time to put a whetstone to that edge.”

  Kancho shrugged. “I left my home rather unexpectedly. I didn’t have time to get it fixed. But there’s nothing too serious about them. The blade still cuts like a sharp tongue.”

  “A tongue eager for blood,” said Ran. “Why did you leave your home so suddenly?”

  Kancho regarded him for a moment and then went back to wiping his blade. “You ask a lot of questions for someone so young.”

  “I apologize if I offended you.” Ran started to stand.

  Kancho held up one hand. “Don’t worry about it. I keep to myself mostly. It’s a bit out
of the ordinary for me to have long conversations.”

  Ran glanced away, but kept Kancho in his peripheral vision. There was a lot more to this old man than met the eye. Not only had he handled himself like a seasoned warrior during the melee, but he knew how to care for his sword. That skill alone marked him as something more than what he appeared. No, Ran decided, this was no regular man. He was most likely a member of the professional warrior class in Gakur, the Murai. Judging by the reverence he showed for his blade, there was little doubt.

  But why was he disguised? Murai were a proud class of expert warriors who would never conceal themselves the way Kancho was.

  Unless . . .

  If Kancho had dishonored himself, then that might be cause for a false identity. But just as quickly as the thought had occurred to him, Ran dismissed it. If Kancho had dishonored himself or the lord he served, then Murai tradition mandated that he commit suicide through ritual disembowelment. That was the only way to remove the shame that he would have brought upon himself and the lord he served.

  Ran took a breath and looked out over the horizon. The storm clouds, dark and streaked with charcoal gray seemed never-ending. And Ran wasn’t sure where the clouds stopped and the land they traveled to began. Even if they were close to the coast, they might never know it.

  But Malkyr looked every bit as confident as he had when the sea monster had attacked them. His hand was still firm on the tiller, and his eyes never wavered. Ran found his presence almost unnerving in its nonchalance. To Malkyr, this sort of thing might happen on a daily basis. Ran hoped it was a once in a lifetime event.

  “You’re fair with a sword as well,” came Kancho’s voice again.

  Ran smiled. Clearly the old man was making an attempt at communicating. “Thank you.”

  “But you’re not one of the Murai.”

  “How would you know if I was?” asked Ran.

  Kancho chuckled. “I would know.”