Hammers in the Wind

by Christian Warren Freed

  “Through our resolve,” Raste replied. “We don’t fear the likes of mountain savages like you.”

  A ripple of discontent went through the Pell. The insult demanded vengeance. Cuul silenced his men before they bayed for blood. He glared hotly at Raste but spoke to Mahn.

  “The young one should know to bite his tongue.”

  “They’re going to kill us anyway,” he urged Mahn.

  “I give my word there will be no killing. I might change my mind if you continue,” Cuul snapped. He took a deep breath before continuing, “Your prince must know of the coming darkness.”

  “Why should we trust you?” Mahn countered. “The boy is right. Do what you are going to and be done with it.”

  “We could have killed you several times. Yet here we stand.”

  Mahn couldn’t argue that. He decided to give in and at least hear the Pell out. There was no harm in living awhile longer. “You keep speaking of some darkness. What do you mean?”

  “War, man of Rogscroft. A great, terrible war that will tear the soul from this world. No one will be spared. Only through new alliances can we survive.”

  Cuul was thankful Mahn chose reason over rashness. Otherwise there was no way he’d be able to convince the scout of his sincerity. A lifetime of superstition was not easily overcome. Cuul took it as a good sign and chose to reveal his one secret.

  “Prince Aurec and I are already known. We have had dealings before.”

  “Impossible.”

  “How else do you think you crossed our mountains so easily?” Cuul countered.

  Mahn’s mouth dropped open. He was confused. Part of him questioned how they’d achieved their goals so easily, but the Pell’s explanation was too easy to accept. He refused to give blind trust to the dark-skinned savages, but also recognized a losing situation. Aurec’s safety was paramount, nothing else mattered. Mahn and Raste were insignificant in the overall scheme of things.

  Once again he had a difficult choice to make. He ran through all of the scenarios in his mind and reluctantly picked the least violent. He exhaled sharply and looked down at Cuul Ol. “Tell me why I should believe you and we will take you to the prince.”

  FOURTEEN

  Bahr stood on the aft deck warily watching his passengers and crew. One of them was a murderer. Nearly forty years on the seas and he had never had such committed on his ship. The sheer audacity of it churned his stomach. Above all, Bahr wanted justice. A measure of vengeance wouldn’t be so bad either. The only problem came from him not knowing where to begin.

  Anienam Keiss counseled him as best he knew how, but it was little comfort. The old wizard’s secrets were quite happy to remain hidden. That made Bahr less than happy, but aside from the threat of physical violence his options of inducing conversation were severely limited. Rekka answered all he asked and, though her answers were truthful, they did little to enlighten the situation. Dorl and Nothol weren’t much better.

  Winds drove the Dragon’s Bane across the seas, unheeding of the troubles on board. Normally Bahr enjoyed the sting of salt and wind on his face. There was no solace this night though. The men shuffled uncomfortably under his gaze. He pinched the bridge of his nose and winced. Why me? Boen stood just behind him, massive arms folded across his barrel chest. Even at sixty the Gaimosian was more daunting than ten men a third his age.

  “Now what?” he asked when it became clear no else would.

  His stern gaze kept the crew and mercenaries from moving. No one was eager to gain the wrath of a Gaimosian, especially on such a close-quartered ship. Boen smiled to himself. His reputation was a powerful tool.

  Bahr scowled. “I don’t know. I’ve half a mind to put ashore and be done with the lot of them.”

  “That won’t solve anything. We were hired to do a job,” Ionascu eased forward to say. “We can’t do that if you drop ashore in the middle of nowhere.”

  Bahr leveled his gaze on the man. “I didn’t hire you. This is my ship and I will cast you off wherever I see fit. Do we understand each other?”

  “Oh I understand all right. You’re putting your own safety above that of your kingdom!”

  “How dare you!” Bahr exploded.

  A sword pulled free. Then another.

  Ionascu refused to back down. “You hide behind this wooden hull, coming out to get your hands dirty when it suits you. Look behind me. Every last one of these men would give their lives to Delranan without thought. We’ve bled and lived in the mud for the kingdom all our lives. When have you had to sacrifice so much?”

  Bahr stepped closer, sword in hand.

  “Mind your tongue, dog. I’ll not be insulted by a gutter rat the likes of you!”

  “Hold!”

  The two men froze. Boen’s mighty axe slammed into the deck between them. His poise and tone of voice made it clear he wasn’t about to tolerate any more foolery. He waited long enough until both were staring at him rather than at each other.

  “Both of you stand down. Think with a clear head. We’ve a killer to find and you two trade bandy words like old women.”

  Both men glared hotly at him. Bahr was the first to realize what almost happened. A simple murder nearly led to slaughter. Crew and mercenary would go at one another until the decks washed red and only ghosts remained to guide the ship. The look in Boen’s eyes told him there was no give. It was the Gaimosian’s way or none at all.

  “Well?” Boen pressed.

  Ionascu wisely backed down first. He sheathed his sword with the knowledge of how precarious his position had become. His eyes burned with festering anger that would soon evolve into great hate.

  He bowed curtly. “This is the captain’s boat. I will abide by his wish.”

  Satisfied, Boen turned on his friend. “And you?”

  Muscles bulged. Bahr met Boen’s glare with one of his own. It had been a long time since they had come to blows and he wasn’t eager to journey back that way. He quickly looked down at the steel axe wedged in his decks. “You broke my ship.”

  Boen gave a toothy grin. “I can break more than that.”

  “I’m beginning to think you Gaimosians appreciate violence a bit too much. Very well, I’ll stand down too.”

  “Good. I’d hate to rip the rest of this deck up. Now, the question remains. What do we do next?”

  Bahr still hadn’t a clue. “We could accuse them, make them feel guilty enough to come forward and admit it.”

  “That solves nothing. It could have been no more than a drunken brawl gone wrong,” Ionascu criticized.

  Bahr ignored him. “Someone killed that man.”

  “Thirmas. His name was Thirmas.”

  Boen ripped his axe free and slung it over his back. “You knew him?”

  “Aye. He was one of our younger men. Too young to know what he was getting into, but a good lad all the same. I worked with his father some years ago,” Ionascu admitted. There was genuine sorrow in his voice.

  Boen nodded thoughtfully. “You can give his eulogy.”

  Ionascu walked off, clearly unhappy but unsure what else to do. Thirmas was one of his, handpicked for his intense dedication. His loss hurt. Ionascu felt guilty for the boy’s death. He was one of the few house guards to have survived the night of blood in Chadra Keep only to die here on the Dragon’s Bane leagues from home. The king’s man cursed Harnin for sending them all on this task. Keeping secrets from Bahr and his Gaimosian goon was getting harder.

  “That one is dangerous,” Boen whispered as he watched Ionascu go. “He’s the sort who puts a knife in a man’s back.”

  Bahr agreed. “I’ve been watching him since he came on board. He’s hiding something from us. That much is certain.”

  “Do you think he’s the killer?”

  He paused. At this point he wasn’t willing to put anything past a single soul on his ship. “He’s at the top of the list, but my gut tells me no.”

  “That might just make him our little spy,” Boen suggested. “Ah, my friend, you certa
inly know how to give a man a good time.”

  Bahr shook his head ruefully. “You have an odd sense of humor. Have I ever told you that?”

  He slapped Bahr’s back hard and laughed. “Keeps me young. What do we do with the rest of these curs?”

  Bahr shifted his gaze back to those assembled. He’d like nothing better than to interrogate the masses and be done with it. Unfortunately his work was just beginning.

  “Bring them to my cabin one at a time. Hopefully we can break one of them. Have the ones loyal to us scour the ship from aft to stern. If this bastard is hiding I want him found,” he finally said.

  Boen agreed and barked orders to Dorl and Nothol. “If he was smart he would have dumped the weapon and his clothes overboard already. Rekka Jel said she didn’t find a blood trail either. Whoever did this is good. Assassin grade.”

  “That’s all we need.”

  The prospect of an assassin made him sick. A single-trained assassin could easily kill them all before dawn. Soured, Bahr left the Gaimosian to oversee operations on deck. He was not a happy man, but knew better than to lash out blindly. That solved nothing. Right now the entire crew was looking to him for guidance and leadership. His example depended on how well they struggled through this ordeal. Bahr did his best to calm down. His rage was enough to break necks. He stopped at the top of stairs with a thought.

  “Boen, please send Rekka down to my cabin. I think she might be able to help.”

  *****

  Skuld remained oblivious to the tension on deck. Relegated to the galley, he had been peeling potatoes when the commotion broke out above. His hands were raw and pruned. His arms were tired. Torg, the ship’s cook, was a brute of a man as unforgiving as the winter snows. Easily two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and bald, Torg pushed his new charge with no sympathy.

  Skuld listened to the noise above and stared at the growing pile of vegetables. He already questioned his decision to sneak aboard the Bane. Just as soon as the thought entered his mind he shoved it out. He spent his entire life being told he was never good enough or he’d never amount to more than a penniless beggar, a nameless corpse face down in a back alley. Skuld took the criticism and used it to fuel his rage. He wanted to be able to spit back in the face of every man who said he was nothing. It made him more determined than ever to make his name, lest history pass him by. All of the naysayers be damned for doubting him.

  A potato rolled from the table, striking his boot. This was not the name he wanted to make for himself.

  “Should have stayed in Chadra, boy,” Torg grumbled in a deep, gravelly voice. “You ain’t the warring type.”

  Skuld tossed the knife down. “What is that supposed to mean? I can fight.”

  Torg laughed in his face. Steam rising from the huge stew cauldron gave the cook an ethereal feel. “It means this is no place for a boy. We ain’t off to spare against some palace guard who fight with rules and honor. The Pell are cold-blooded killers who’d just as soon split your belly open than shake your hand.”

  “I’m not afraid of them,” Skuld replied. His voice betrayed the false confidence he tried to project.

  Torg laughed again, lighter this time. “You’ve got spirit boy, I’ll give you that. But you’re a damned fool like the rest of us. Anyone ever tell you how the Pell like to kill their prey?”

  He shook his head.

  “Them Pell like to catch you alive, see. They’ll string you up like a gutted deer and slowly start to flay you. Ripping strips of flesh off and throwing them on the fire. Some folks say the Pell eat you like that. Just like a rasher of bacon.”

  Skuld swallowed hard.

  “See boy, I told you you’re not ready.”

  Skuld struggled to find a proper response but was saved by the sudden commotion on the stairs. Men shouting and the heavy stomp of boots echoed through the door moments before it swung open. He recognized them as Dorl and Nothol. Still, there was no friendliness in that recognition. Their look alone told him they were on the job and dangerous. Gone was the gentleness they’d shown earlier.

  “Find out who it is?” Torg asked.

  Dorl Theed shook his head. A hint of anger flashed in his eyes. “Not yet. Are you missing any knives or tools?”

  The cook did a quick scan more for show than anything else. He knew exactly what he had and what he was missing. “Nah. Everything looks in order. It would take a mean knife to take a man’s head.”

  “Agreed,” Nothol said.

  Dorl cleared his throat, clearly hesitant to ask the next question. “Has the boy been with you the entire time?”

  “Most of it. I’m not his sitter. He has freedom to use the head or get some fresh air. That’s fine by me. Aside from that he’s been here.”

  Nothol Coll settled a disturbed gaze on the boy. “Have you seen anything?”

  Skuld felt his face flush. He was both embarrassed and confused by the question. They should already know he wasn’t a murderer. Sure, he was a stowaway, but that’s where the crime ended. Skuld suddenly felt small.

  “No,” he answered. “I haven’t left the galley.”

  “Didn’t even hear a little bump in the night? Are you sure, Skuld?” Dorl pressed.

  He frowned. “You peel potatoes for six hours and see how much energy you have left to pay attention to things.”

  Both smiled at him. Torg reach down and gently slapped the back of his head. “Mind yourself there boy. That ain’t the way to be talking to your betters.”

  “Thanks, Torg. I didn’t think he had anything to do with it, but we told the captain we’d ask everyone.”

  “No problem.”

  Skuld waited until the sell swords were long gone and Torg had lost interest. He shuffled over to a quiet corner and hung his head. If Torg noticed the tears he didn’t mention them.

  *****

  Rekka Jel stood patiently before Bahr’s desk with her petite hands folded in front of her. Her light brown robes concealed most of her lithe curves, more so than the skin tight clothes she’s worn earlier in the night. He certainly appreciated the effort. Feminine distraction right now was the last thing he needed to worry about. Bahr yawned, wondering how she managed to remain so awake. His eyes were raw, almost burning. He had a headache and felt far too old to be looking for intrigue in the one place he should feel safe.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked unexpectedly.

  He looked at her appraisingly. “To be honest, I’m not sure what to think.”

  She cocked her head. “I do not understand. This is a serious issue and it must be dealt with as quickly as possible. Delay will not avail us.”

  “That much is clear to me.”

  “Why do we not confront this man and bring it all in the open? Ionascu is a cancer among the ranks,” she advised.

  Bahr offered a thin smile. “It’s not as easy as that. Sure, we could out him in front of the rest of the crew, but that would only cause more problems. We do not have proof and therefore lack the teeth of conviction. Ionascu is our spy, or not the only one at the very least. Any number of those nineteen men might be in Harnin’s pockets. This is a dangerous thought process and if we do it wrong we will look the fool. I will not risk a damned mutiny on my ship. Not yet.”

  Rekka thought for a moment. “If it becomes known that Ionascu is the spy then a potential partner would feel safer thinking that we will end the hunt, correct?”

  “Precisely.”

  “You are a strange people, Captain Bahr. Your decisions confuse me. I am not used to this political strategy and intrigue.”

  Bahr wasn’t so sure he was either. “Rekka, I need your eyes and ears. Most men regard a woman on board as an ill omen. That being said, they will be prone to tell the truth than risk the ire of the sea.”

  “You wish for me to try and detect lies and misdirection,” she said, catching on.

  He did. “Yes. I’d like you to hide behind that curtain if you don’t mind. Between you and Anienam Keiss we should find our k
iller and our spy.”

  She bowed at the waist. “As you wish.”

  Bahr knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as it sounded. It was a thin plan at best, but it was all he could come up with.

  FIFTEEN

  “That can’t be right. You’ve made a mistake.”

  Anienam Keiss stared back at Bahr, his look impassive. “I can only speak of what I know. None of those men lied.”

  Bahr slammed a fist on the table. “I refuse to accept that one of my men had his head cut off by a ghost or some such. The killer has to be on this ship.”

  “But who?” Anienam countered. “We have spoken to everyone. The killer is simply not here.”

  Bahr wasn’t convinced. He couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense. How would a killer just disappear in the middle of the ocean? Going overboard was suicide, besides which, no one was missing. “How can we be so sure? Can your magic be wrong?”

  “Do not doubt my capabilities, captain. The foe you seek is not on the Dragon’s Bane.”

  The Sea Wolf ran both meaty hands through his thick silver hair in frustration. “If what you say is true this killer can strike again at any time. There is no security for us.”

  Anienam nodded.

  “What can we do?”

  “Nothing,” was the almost empty reply.

  The implications were frightening. He didn’t like the prospect of constantly looking over his shoulder for that silver blade coming for him. Old already, it was no stretch of the imagination to feel the icy fingers of death come reaching for him.

  Bahr grimaced. “Not what I needed to hear right now.”

  Rekka Jel added, “The wizard is correct. We found no blood, no sign of struggle and no murder weapon. This is a confined area with limited room to hide. There should be clues.”

  Bahr eyed the tiny brown-skinned woman appraisingly. Brown wasn’t fair, he decided. She was more golden. He groaned. Now was not the time to battle distraction.

  “I have sailed across the northern oceans and a dozen kingdoms in my time. I’ve seen strange things, from monsters to dancing Elves, but what the two of you are suggesting is impossible. We must be missing something.”