by Stas Borodin
“Greed, it’s a lethal disease,” Ice snorted.
Three days’ away from Gonkor, near Eni Island, we were joined by a convoy of six large transport ships and twelve war galleys. Five days later, a large Mino fleet approached us as we passed Don Island.
“They got a taste of Gonkor’s gold too,” the captain grinned. “But what will they do now that Gonkor is no more?”
The Mino warships turned back as soon as they learned about the explosion.
“As I suspected,” said the captain. “No gold – no allies.”
“Shouldn’t we turn back too?” I asked.
“You must be joking!” said the captain. “Besides, what would we do with the mercenaries? It would be madness to let them loose so close to our homes.”
“Right,” I said. “It would be better to let the Paarians deal with them?”
The captain didn’t answer.
We rounded Bibl island and approached Kortas.
It was getting dark and a dozen beacons were flashing on the island. The slick triremes guarding the entrance to the harbour glowed yellow, illuminated from the inside.
“The traitors’ den!” Ice hissed. “I wish we had Hrianon and her wonder powder here with us.”
I understood my friend perfectly, but I did not want to witness the destruction of yet another island. “If only we knew who’s pulling the strings,” I said. “I think that Kortas is just another puppet in this horrible play.”
Ice scratched the back of his neck. “If you throw me a punch, I’ll hit you back,” he said. “I won’t wait for an explanation.”
“But if you have many opponents?” I said. “What if the instigator is hiding behind their backs? What would be the point in fighting?”
“You always complicate things!”
Ice stood at the bulwark, looking with hatred at Kortas’s merry lights. The town, located on a high cliff, towered over the harbour. Its lights were reflected in the black mirror of the gulf like a festive firework display. In other circumstances, I would have admired this wonderful picture, and would have enjoyed the coolness of the night and the music coming from the shore. But tonight I was not in the mood.
“We’re here, right under our enemy’s noses,” Ice whispered, “and we can do nothing!”
I looked at the couples strolling along the quays, at children playing near a stage where an orchestra played, and I felt sad. It seemed to me that these people did not know about the war which was swallowing islands and nations alike. They had no idea that their fragile peace might shatter in an instant, and the war could devour their tiny peaceful island in the blink of an eye.
Ice sat down beside me. “Do you know how she made her powder?” he asked.
I shrugged. I knew the base ingredients but had no idea how to mix them properly.
“What about the pirates? How did they make their fireships?” Ice continued. “They are not that powerful, but still …”
“It’s easy,” I said. “All you need is just a couple of barrels of oil and a gas lamp. That’s all.”
Ice nodded. “Damn, but those fireships suck! Too unwieldy, too hard to control.” He looked at the glowing warships, then at the island. “You know how lucky we were to be out of the city at the time of the explosion? I think about it all the time…”
The first mate moved quietly like a ghost. His feet were bare and his hair wild, and he scratched the grey stubble on his chin and puffed on his pipe. “Go to sleep, mercs,” he said, releasing a trickle of blue smoke. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”
“We are no mercs!” Ice snapped. “My friend and I are traders from Bit.”
The first mate smiled. “Really?”
Ice bristled. “Are you calling me a liar?”
The sailor put the pipe between his teeth and looked at the shining island. “I don’t care who you are or where you come from. Got it?” His eyes flashed in the dim light. “But merchants from Bit would rather die than work for free.”
Ice and I exchanged glances. The first mate looked at us and smiled. I liked the man – he reminded me of Bevid.
“What would you do if we were Paarian spies?” I asked.
The first mate shrugged. “I have a woman and two kids in Paara. You understand?”
I nodded. “What about the captain?” I continued. “Does he have kids in Paara too?”
The sailor sucked on his pipe, red embers illuminating his wrinkled tanned face.
“We were selling Zenor silk in Paara, but two weeks ago, on our way back, a Gonkor warship intercepted us near Bibl island. We were offered the choice to serve Gonkor or to surrender our ship and all the cargo. You see, Master Trader, the choice was obvious.”
Ice squirmed on the bench. “There is Black Death in Paara,” he said.
“Yes,” the first mate said with a frown. “Every day I ask the gods to save my woman and children.”
I got up from the bench and leaned against the bulwark, looking at the seaman’s wrinkled face lit by the shimmering coastal lights.
“Master Trockton, there are rumours that the Black Death and Astar are somehow connected. Have you heard anything?”
The sailor knocked his pipe on the railing. “So you’re a spy after all,” he said. “Well, if the Paarian ships catch us tomorrow, would you put in a word for us?”
Ice nodded. “Astar,” he said, “we need more information.”
The seaman shook his head. “I think Astar is just another puppet.”
Ice cracked his fingers, clenching his fists. “I’d like to know who’s pulling the strings.”
The first mate put the cold pipe in his mouth and bit on the mouthpiece. “Ask the captain,” he said. “He knows something.”
I held my breath. “What do you mean, Master Trockton?”
The seaman looked around and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Yesterday, on the head ship, the captain met a sorcerer.”
Ice gave a whistle. “What a nice surprise!”
✽✽✽
The captain looked at us and frowned, holding his head in his hands. “If someone finds out about you, we are done for.” Master Korst tried not to meet our eyes. “I’ve always been a friend of Paara, but I won’t put my ship and crew in danger.”
“There is no danger,” I reassured him. “All we need is just a little help.”
Ice looked at the captain, his arms folded across his chest. “You can’t wait it out, man,” he said. “Grow a pair!”
The captain sighed heavily and rubbed his inflamed eyes with his fists. “What do you want from me?” he asked, looking at his first mate. “How can I help you?”
“A bit of information would do,” said Ice. “That’s all.”
The captain sighed. “This will not end well. Mark my words, Trockton.”
The first mate rocked from his heels to his toes. “If there is even the slightest chance of changing something…”
The captain still looked unsure and I decided to help him. “Ice”—I turned to my friend—“the captain must know that we are not just spies.”
Ice breathed out fire. I hoped that the bright flash was not visible from the shore.
“Is that some kind of trick?” The captain’s face turned pale.
“No.” Ice bent over the sailors. His mouth still smelled of smoke. “It’s real magic!”
“We are wizards,” I said. “Do not be afraid and trust us, we will protect you.”
The captain and the first mate exchanged glances. Their faces were pale and tense, but their backs straightened and their hands stopped shaking.
“Tomorrow morning we’ll sail toward the Iron Finger.” The captain straightened his uniform and met my eyes for the first time. “Our fleet will be the bait, while the real transports will take another route.”
Ice looked disappointed. “And what about the Gonkor mages?” he asked.
The captain frowned. “They have no mages in Gonkor,” he said. “There are rumours that they came with the mercenaries from the far n
orth. They wear women’s clothes and worship some kind of idol.”
Ice smirked. “Women’s clothes? I’d like to see that with my own eyes!”
The captain spat. “They also brought many slaves in big wicker cages.”
The first mate nodded. “I think they eat them!”
“Damn!” Ice looked excited.
“Tell me more about the idol,” I prodded. “Did you see it with your own eyes?”
“Yes.” The captain rubbed his nose. “It was made of dark wood, covered with old flaking paint. It had a human torso and the head of a goat.”
I shivered, remembering the bloodstained idol seated on top of a pile of dead bodies. “Anything else?”
The captain nodded. “It had eight hands, like an octopus. Above and below, intertwined with each other, with strings of copper coins around the wrists.”
Ice chuckled.
“Where are they now?” I asked. “Do you know anything about their plans?”
The captain shrugged. “During the campaign they will command a galley of their own,” he said. “Their task is to destroy the enemy fleet and provide us with safe passage to Paara.”
Ice croaked. “Let them try! Ayssived the Beast Slayer will make a roast out of them!”
The seamen exchanged glances.
“One of the sorcerers was called the Bane of Wizards, and the other one the Crusher of Kings,” said the captain. “Are you sure you can handle them?”
“I don’t give a shit about their names.” Once again the air smelled of smoke. “Worry not, Ice the Almighty will turn them to ashes in no time!”
Ice was too cocky to understand the danger, but I was scared in earnest. Two mages at once! If they possessed even a fraction of the power that Telaris had, we were all doomed.
I did not voice my concerns, for the seamen were already terrified, but I needed to talk to my wizard-friend without delay.
“I’ll burn them like moths,” Ice boasted. “Together with their damn idol!”
The sailors smiled shyly, staring at my friend in awe.
“It is an honour to be of help,” said the captain and shook my hand.
✽✽✽
Brass pipes wailed from the shore at dawn. Startled, Ice and I jumped to our feet.
“Did you manage to get any sleep?” Ice’s eyes were sore.
“I fell asleep just before morning,” I said. “Been thinking about things…”
“Me too,” Ice sighed. “I should stop bragging for my own good.”
I was relieved to see that my wizard-friend had finally come to his senses.
“Look! It’s them!” Ice poked his finger toward the shore.
The sorcerers were even taller than Telaris. Slender, in tight white robes, with wreaths of yellow flowers on their heads and green branches in their hands, they reminded me of the priestesses of Rothe, leading the townsfolk at the feast of the First Harvest.
The sorcerers were accompanied by a small army of slaves. The slaves, all strong and muscular, were chained together with a single chain. At the very end of the procession I saw dozens of servants with bales on their heads and warriors armed with wicked-looking axes.
The sorcerers descended gracefully into a small boat and headed for the black trireme next to us.
“Shit!” exclaimed Trockton. “I did not see that ship until now!”
The trireme’s oars were in the water, its tall masts already erect, the sails rolled up. I saw the whole crew lined up on the deck, waiting for the guests’ arrival.
“Sorcery,” Ice said grimly.
The sorcerers boarded the ship, the oars foamed the water and the huge trireme moved toward the exit from the harbour.
“Set sails!” cried Captain Korst, and the sailors, who were standing at the ready, got to work.
Gonkor’s mercenaries bunched up on the foredeck. They chewed their salt jerky and looked at us with unconcealed contempt.
“Look at them mingling with the damn heretics!” The elderly Gonkorian spat at my feet. It seemed that he had forgotten how recently he had lit incense before Mistar and peed on the statue of Orvad.
I pretended not to hear the man and walked by.
✽✽✽
At Kortas we were joined by ten more galleys and our flotilla swelled to twenty-two warships and seven transports.
The galleys left the port first, leaving the unwieldy transports with their big square flapping sails far behind.
I looked at the sleepy city, which, it seemed, was in no hurry to wake up. I looked at the young women, seeing their husbands and fathers off to sea. I looked at the children gathering seashells on the coastal sand. These people lived a normal life. They didn’t care about the outside world. Their island was the sun around which the planets of their destinies revolved.
I blinked and turned away from this idyllic, but at the same time disturbing, picture.
The huge shape of the Iron Finger appeared on the horizon. Black, intimidating. The warships of Modron and Penkaur were hiding out there, ready to sink anyone who dared pass by.
“I think the Paarians saw us coming,” said Captain Korst. “It won’t take long to reach the strait.”
Our ship was jumping from wave to wave, trying to catch up with the warships. It was sheer luck that we had no cargo and full sails of wind.
I looked at the heavy transports crawling like snails in the distance. “Try to stay close to the black galley,” I said. “But not so close as to look suspicious.”
“I’ll do my best,” Trockton nodded. “But the black bitch is too damn fast!”
The galley seemed to fly over the water. Her oars flapped like a bird’s wings, and her copper ram shone like a huge predatory beak.
“So beautiful!” Ice said with a sigh.
Spellbound, I stared at the ship too.
“She’s the fastest ship I’ve ever seen,” said the captain. “I doubt we can keep up with her.”
“She will slow down near the cape,” said Trockton. “The waters are treacherous there, and the bait is too far behind.”
The bait moved slowly, crashing hard into the low waves and splashing its passengers with fountains of spray. The mercenaries were laughing, brandishing their weapons and bawling out their songs.
“Merry bastards!” said Ice.
“But not for long,” said the captain. “I’m afraid we will be at the bottom of the sea in an hour!”
Something flashed on the horizon, near the very foot of the black cliff.
“Our scouts from the Iron Finger!” said Trockton. “They must have spotted the Paarian ships.”
The black galley slowed down immediately, its oars hanging above the waves. In a few minutes, our ship got so close that we could have a good look at her upper deck.
The black galley was as silent as an ancient graveyard. The chained slaves were kneeling with their heads down, and above them the warlocks perched on high chairs, sipping lazily from sparkling goblets decorated with pearls and precious stones.
Next to the stern I saw an ugly idol with many hands and an obsidian knife arranged on a cloth-covered altar.
“They’re going to sacrifice them,” said Ice, pointing to the altar.
“It’s better to keep our distance,” said the captain. “Their souls are blacker than their ships!”
Rolling from wave to wave, the heavy transports finally caught up with us. The guarding galleys moved closer, assuming battle formation.
“Gods help us!” said Trockton.
A few minutes later, the whole flotilla was swallowed by the cape’s immense shadow. The Iron Finger stood before us – huge and intimidating, dressed in boiling foam and surrounded by a maze of sharp underwater fangs.
A white light flashed from above once again.
“Hold on!” The captain gripped the rudder, changing course. A sharp stone fang emerged from the white foam for a moment, almost slicing the belly of our ship.
“I can pass this strait blindfold,” bragged the captain. �
�If you’ll only let me!”
Trockton nodded. “There’s no better place for an ambush,” he said. “One mistake and we’re all dead.”
There were sharp stones covered with red algae and yellow shells everywhere. They looked like the teeth or talons of some mythical creature lying in the shallows. Closer to the shore, I saw the scattered remains of hulls and masts jutting out between the rocks. There were so many of them! It looked like a real graveyard.
“Our red-bearded devils did their best!” said Ice.
The captain was looking at the remains too. “We may join them pretty soon,” he said, grasping the rudder.
“Look!” shouted one of the sailors. “An enemy ship!”
A small ship with two rows of oars appeared in the narrow passage between the islands. A scout.
“We’re being pulled towards it!” exclaimed Captain Korst. “Lower the sails!”
Our ship slowed down right away, but the enemy galley was approaching too quickly.
“Hold on, lads!” Trockton barked. “We are being rammed!”
The oars on the enemy galley hit the water and the ship rushed forward. Ice and I clung to a half-empty water barrel and exchanged glances.
“It would be foolish,” said Ice, “to die now, after all we’ve been through.”
“We’ll die,” I nodded. “But not today!”
“Really? What a relief!” Ice laughed and clasped the barrel with both hands. “Just to be sure!”
A bolt of black lightning shot past our vessel. The black galley with the warlocks on board darted forward to meet the enemy.
The next moment I saw the oars of the Paarian ship turn into splinters. The small galley desperately fought the current, trying to stay in the middle of the strait, but the waves hurled the crippled vessel against a big rock, which split it neatly in two like a giant knife.
“What happened?” yelled Ice. “I just blinked and it was already over!”
“We are safe for now,” I said, looking at the Paarian sailors clinging to the wet slippery stones. Another wave and they were gone, pulled by the current to the bottom of the sea.
Finally, our flotilla passed the dangerous strait and reached deep water. Here, between the islands of Tin and Bes, the whole Paarian fleet was waiting for us.