by Ted Fauster
This time Breven could think of no quip. He was suitably distracted. Sunspot had chosen a difficult route up the side of a snowy embankment that was slick with under-mud and fraught with a brisk wind. He caught sight of the lizard that scrambled above them, kicking down snow and stones, a large king monitor with a bright yellow neckband.
It was the largest he had ever seen. He grabbed hold of Sunspot’s fur, nearly standing in the saddle to aid the alt in her steep and dangerous climb.
At the top of the tall ridge the king monitor surprised them, whirling around to lash out, a swirling nightmare of speed and unbridled rage. Breven saw the unmistakable glint of pure evil in its steely eyes.
He urged Sunspot to leap to one side, to let the beast come forward and tumble off the ridge into the lower forest. But the weyrwolf was too filled with excitement to immediately respond.
The two creatures met head on.
Sunspot was first to react. The larger of the two, she snapped out with her mighty jaws, despite the unwritten law to allow her master to strike the first of blows. This was an entirely different situation, a rare case where the hunted had turned round to challenge the hunter. The monitor’s razor-sharp maw opened wide to greet the snapping jaws. The two collided with a terrible force.
The collision sent Breven flying over the head of his mount and tumbling off into the snow. The wind knocked from his chest, he struggled to his feet, his hammer having fallen somewhere off in a puff of white. Behind him, he heard the painful cries of Sunspot and now felt the shared sensation of both the impact and a burning sharp pain.
He fell to the ground, stunned. The king lizard had surely bitten Sunspot near the shoulder, a great tearing sensation in his own body translating the injury. Although his own pain was deep, the sensation lasted only a moment, the full consequence of the monitor’s powerful bite having taken its true toll on his poor mount.
“Sunspot!” he cried out. But the words came out weak, gobbled up by the wind. “My… friend.” In a desperate attempt to reach out for aid he cried out in mindspeak to his companions one ridge over.
Unarmed and still shaken, he could only watch in sheer horror as his injured mount struggled to hold the giant lizard at bay, the two gladiators trading violent snaps and gnashes. A cascade of snow and broken branches suddenly rained down upon them, momentarily breaking up the tussle.
The overwhelming bulk of Kellin and Silverwind crashed down into the fray.
Kellin wasted no time, lashing out with his spiked mace, using the inertia of the crashing impact to amplify the force of his blow. In a single moment the danger was ended, the broken and smashed neck of the king lizard snapped over in a permanently twisted angle.
Sunspot limped over to her master, the large gash in her neck leaking a trail of red in the snow. One of her paws was torn and bleeding. The wounded alt favored the other leg as she struggled to make it to Breven’s side. She nearly managed half the distance when Silverwind suddenly lashed out furiously.
The bigger of the two alts gave a guttural growl as it latched onto Sunspot’s neck. Its eyes went wild, its massive jaws crunched down in a murderous rage.
“No!” Breven cried out in shock. “Why?”
There was nothing to be done. With a mighty wrenching of his thick neck, Silverwind shook Sunspot wildly until something cracked. The golden alt’s eyes flashed and then froze eternally in terror.
Breven’s heart literally ached. He fell to his knees. “By the gods… why?”
Still growling, Silverwind slinked back as Kellin crept forward, the mighty mace still clasped in his hand. The light in his eyes was different, as strange as those of his turncoat mount who now dragged the ragged remains of Sunspot away in the snow.
Kellin stepped to within killing distance of Breven. The wind moaned and howled as he glared down.
“I’ve something t’ show you.”
The traitorous weyr tossed the mace over the ridge. Then, as Breven looked on in confusion, his longtime companion, his friend from birth, transformed into a mocking version of Tuyen.
“Your purpose is served. Your company fallen. And now you will join them in oblivion!”
The thing that now paraded as Tuyen opened its mouth impossibly wide and stretched out its arms. But just before the wriggling mass of black tendrils could dart out, it closed its hands about its own throat and faltered back.
Breven had felt the sensation too, had realized what was about to happen. In a valiant rush of will, Sunspot had somehow managed one last burst of dying energy, powerfully blindsiding the unsuspecting Silverwind. With her bloody jaws clenched firmly round the bigger alt’s neck, she plowed forward, sending them both tumbling over the ridge and into the torrid gloom below.
Breven steeled his conviction. There were precious few seconds. Sunspot’s sacrifice would not be for naught.
Despite an overwhelming sensation of agony and pain, he rolled to one side, desperately punching through the snow for his father’s hammer. Miraculously, his nearly frozen hands closed around the leather grip. In one swift motion he swung the dense head of the weapon up against the side of his love’s skull.
But this was not his love. Kellin and Tuyen were most certainly dead. The thing that had taken them would pay dearly for such a blasphemous display. The force knocked it cleanly from the ridge and it tumbled down into the flurry below.
Behind him something tromped through the branches and onto the ridge, but Breven did not turn. He suddenly felt no more pain, which could mean only one thing. Someone was speaking to him, calling out to him in his mind, but at that moment he trusted no one and only wished to throw himself from the ridge as well.
One of the company scooped him up onto the back of a shaggy alt and retreated from the storm, back into the woods. Still he remained silent. He found he no longer had the will to do anything more.
13
The Prinkipria
It certainly didn’t look like any kind of ship Jack had ever seen. It had taken them days just to cut it loose from the jungle. And once they had it free, Jack’s immediate reaction was to cover the Prinkipria right back up.
Stout and barrel-shaped, the ship looked more like a bloated tugboat than any seaworthy vessel. It stood crookedly in the shallows of the cove, covered in rusting iron plates riveted along swollen and bent seams. She had two, sail-less masts on her deck and a large smoke stack at the back.
A large paddlewheel was affixed just in front of a tall rudder at the back. At least that was all in good shape. But he cringed when he saw the front; the enormous carving of a woman’s upper torso jutting out from the bow only made the ship look all the more ridiculous.
Jack stood with the others in the rusty sand, scratching his head. The Raratong had been quite accommodating, providing him with plenty of food and water, although Jack felt guilty about consuming much of what he knew had to be sparse stores. Marlin had given him a billowy white shirt, a pair of gray pants with a blue-and-white stripe running down the side, and a tall pair of black boots—all courtesy of the former captain, of whom the little rodent said very little. Jack wondered what had become of the crew, the entirety of which, save Marlin, had all perished.
The Prinkipria, Jack learned was evidently some kind of a magical ship. The Prinkipria was alive, instilled with an essence all her own. The ship chose her captain. And only the chosen captain could pilot her. It certainly was a strange vessel. There were no sails, just a wheelhouse and a captain’s quarter visible on deck. In addition to Marlin, seven additional crew members had been selected to go along on the journey to the mainland.
One of these was Manitowatinaya. Including him, there were three men and three women, all of whom now carried woven baskets of fruit, crates of dried meats and gourds filled with wine-water down into the hull. Jack’s stomach ached at the sight of it all. It was becoming painfully obvious how dependent these little people were on both the skill and courage of a man who knew about as much of sailing a ship as they did nuclear physics.
Marlin seemed to realize this but gave only a slight shrug.
“Don’t worry, none of them have ever left the island,” he said with a bucktoothed grin. “They won’t be able to tell if you know what you’re doing or not.”
Several hours later, after the last of the vines had been cut away and the hull scraped clean, the tribesmen pulled the nose of the old tub out into the water. With all of the cargo properly balanced and secured, Jack had to admit that it was finally starting to resemble something that might actually float.
Jack’s stomach flopped as he climbed the gangplank. He felt a strange pull he could not describe, a kind of warm feeling, as if he were about to be reunited with a lost love. He scoffed at the sensation, puffing up his chest and clomping up the long, wooden ramp. When he stepped out onto the deck he heard a distinct voice in his head.
“So, you are the one. You are the one who will guide me now.” It was a woman’s voice, sweet and luxurious.
“Yep. I suppose I am,” Jack answered with his mind. “Name’s Jack.” He nearly shot out his hand but caught himself at the last second.
“I know who you are,” the voice said warmly. “My creator has given me the very distinguished name of Prinkipria, but I have another name, a name known only to myself and my master.”
Jack stood on the deck, waiting. All around him the Raratong scrambled to scrub the decks and adjust ropes and guide wires. From the corner of his eye he could see that they’d been shoved out into the water a good ways. Marlin stepped in front of him. His lips moved. But it didn’t take long for him to realize Jack wasn’t listening to a word he was saying.
“Well?” Jack finally asked. “Are you going to tell me your name or not?”
The delicate sound of laughter tinkled in his mind. “I’m afraid that’s the problem. I don’t yet know the name myself.”
Jack got it. “Okay then. So I have to come up with a name?”
“That is correct.”
“Any name at all? Okay, well, how about…”
He didn’t have to give it much thought. There was a name he had always held dear, a name that meant a lot to him, although he’d never had a reason for telling it to anyone. The ship gave a long pause before responding. Then he felt a different kind of warmness, one that gave him comfort.
“I love it. It’s the most beautiful name I’ve ever been given.”
The boxy structure at the back of the ship was the captain’s quarters. Above it, just before the jutting smokestack, stood the wheelhouse. A narrow set of stairs led up to it. It was more of a wall-less shack, really. Not much more than four wooden poles and a pitched roof. Although Jack now stood confidently before the wheel, giving the outward impression of concentrating on some distant horizon that only he could sense, his stomach sank as the prow pointed toward open water.
He took a deep breath. “So, how does this work?”
“Listen carefully, for I have not much time. Speaking to you now in this manner causes me great pain. I will be unable to do it again anytime soon. I have taken this time to instruct you, to guide you on how I am operated.”
Jack felt his body relax as the ship condensed volumes of information into his mind. She explained everything about how she was operated, which turned out to be ridiculously simple. She included a complete description of all the working parts of the ship, nautical terms, and even provided an understanding of the various decks. There were three: the main deck, the central hull, and a lower portion that could only be accessed via a small trapdoor in the main hull.
This place was off limits, she told him, as it was the resting place of her essence. He agreed never to disturb her.
She also included a full inventory of nearly every item on board, a checklist for burning brynstan for the main paddlewheel—something only done to add to the ruse that she was a normal ship—and a list of what materials might be needed for repairs. Then the sweet voice grew silent, and Jack thought for sure he had lost contact.
“Thank you. Is there anything else I need to know?”
Thankfully, the ship was still with him. “Only that I will serve you so long as you live, Jack Rowan. Together we will sail to lands yet unexplored and we will have many adventures. Go now. Attend to your crew, and may you find safe passage wherever you shall travel.”
The weird contact dissolved. Jack felt his senses return and his hearing retune to a normal frequency. Marlin stood waiting beside him until he had fully snapped out of it.
“Well, did she accept you?”
The million-dollar question. Jack nodded. “Yeah. I think I just married a tugboat.”
He grabbed hold of two of the wheel spokes. Thin metal strips were fixed into the wood. A sharp snap of electricity met him when he touched them and he nearly let go. But the ship had warned that might happen. He pulled a lever, releasing the electromagnetic anchor, and eased his foot down on an accelerator pedal affixed to the deck.
It was even more incredible than he had imagined. The floating keg of a ship began moving determinedly out into the waves, without the starting of any engine, and without the aid of any sails or oars. And it was all as easy as driving a forklift.
They moved past the breakers, which somehow looked ridiculously like they were rolling out toward the sea rather than in. So much for surfing. But it all seemed to work, so he didn’t even question it. Soon, the cheering of those who remained behind grew distant and then disappeared altogether.
He stole a glance back. The island looked so small now, like nothing more than a flat plane of earth speckled with green. A stiff crosswind blasted his face as they moved past the last fingers of the island’s outer sandbars and he soon found himself surrounded on all sides by infinitely deep leagues of marbled water.
“Here we go.”
Once he had the ship moving at what felt like a comfortable pace, Jack peeled his sweaty palms from the contact pads. He adjusted a lever and the ship continued to move steadily forward. Marlin scampered up the stairs to the wheelhouse, a jovial look upon his amazingly emotive rodent face.
“So, captain, how goes it?”
Jack just grinned sheepishly as he looked out over the emerald sea. He rubbed his hands together. “Just fine, I suppose.”
He reached over and clapped his little fuzzy companion on the back, reminding himself as he watched the wind push clumps of the rodent’s fur aside, exposing patches of freckled, pink skin, that despite what he was seeing the fellow standing next to him was indeed very much like a man, even more so than most men he had ever known.
Marlin crossed his arms. “Well, I suppose we should make for the kingdom of Jarl Naru, to Overgaard.”
Jack squinted. That didn’t sound right.
“Overgaard, huh. Well, okay then.”
“Why, you have someplace else in mind?”
Jack shook his head. “Nope. Overgaard it is.”
The two clambered down to the main deck where Manitowatinaya and the rest of the Raratong sat patiently in a ring. Jack stood looking down at his odd crew, his hands upon his hips.
“Okay,” he said, not really able to think of anything else to say. “I guess we’re off.”
The group of little red warriors sat unmoving on the freshly swabbed planks, staring up at him with waiting glances. Jack closed his lids when he realized he was rolling his eyes. He had no intentions of pressing anyone into any kind of service. He was thankful when Manitowatinaya stood.
“I em et thes moment checking to see thet precisely everything is… okay… my keptin?”
Jack tumbled the Rubik’s cube of a sentence around in his head. “Uh… yeah, everything is fine,” he said at last. “By the way, it’s pronounced, kap-tin. You keep saying it like we’re on a U-boat or something. And as far as all that crap goes, we’re all equals here, you got me? None of this captain crap.”
The tribesman looked up at him blankly. “Yes. Thet is precisely the word thet I jest said, keptin.” He saluted, probably having seen Marlin do so at some point.
“Stop that.” Jack pushed his little arm down.
Truth be told, whether he thought them all equals of not, the group needed a leader. It was something he really wasn’t used to, even as a cop. He needed a minute to think. He squinted down at the now confused little man.
“Look, I’ll need you to translate to the crew. But we’re all the crew. Okay? You guys don’t work for me. I’m just the guy steering the ship.” Jack dragged back a swoop of hair. “By the way, would you mind if I called you by another name? A shorter one? It would make things a whole hell of a lot easier.”
Manitowatinaya just stared at him.
“I mean, if we ever found ourselves in a tight spot it would make sense to be able to address you as quickly as possible.”
Manitowatinaya continued staring, then slowly he began to nod. “Oh, yes. I suppose thet would not present itself to be much of a terrific problem whatsoever. I agree. Precisely what is the name you are considering to be calling me by instead?”
Jack already had a much simpler alternative in mind. “How about… Manny?”
The cherubic warrior seemed pleased. He smiled. “Yes, I like thet name very much… Menny.”
Jack shook his head. “No… Man-ee.”
“Yes, Menny.”
“Whatever.”
Just to keep things in order, he gave the small group some minor tasks to occupy their time, which included settling in to the sleeping quarters located in the hull below, straightening things out as best they could manage, and making sure the rusted tub wasn’t leaking anywhere. He was glad to see they refrained from wearing the stilts onboard. Perhaps they were just for hunting.
Jack returned to the wheel, not really sure of what to do next. Marlin lingered at his side, leaning against the railing, occasionally sneaking sips from his wineskin. Every now and then he peered through a long telescope that looked like six disjointed soup cans of varying sizes joined limply together.
“Where did you get that thing?” Jack asked.