Ampheus

by Jonathan Forth

  “Let me guess,” said the Queen. “Captain Ginger Beard?”

  The pirate seemed momentarily confused. “Arrghhh, I see where you are going with that. No, Your Majesty. They call me… Captain Blade!

  “I am the Captain of The Black Boar. She’s the finest galleon and crew of pirates, sorry privateers and second to none sailing the Aquamuran Sea.”

  The Queen said, “I know all ships are ‘shes’. Because goddesses and mother figures play a role in looking after a ship and crew, but the name Black Boar does not seem very flattering.

  “Shiver me timbers, Your Majesty, you’d make a fantastic pirate, sorry privateer. Aaiiyyaaii, you are right, tis always been said that nothing is nearer and dearer to the sailor than his mother. What better reason to call his ship ‘she’?

  “Arrghh, but my mother, bless her woollen socks, was as ugly a woman as you may ever behold. It’s where I get my looks from. And she was a drinker, gambler and murderer. Only seemed fitting that my ship reflected her personality.”

  “Captain Blade, you seem to be a little confused as to whether you are a pirate or a privateer.”

  “Arrghh, Your Majesty, it is true. I’m ashamed to say I was a pirate in a prior life, but I turned over a new leaf. Privateers answer to the government. There is a certain security in becoming a privateer. After all, there is one less government trying to hunt you down.

  “You can also pull into port now and again for a little carousing. You can get a little sick of desert islands. There are only so many coconuts one can eat.”

  The Queen challenged him: “One could argue that the primary difference between a pirate and a privateer is getting caught, captain!

  “So, if you are a privateer, why are you in prison? Did you not say you were the shrewdest, cunningest, cleverest, pirate-cum-privateer?”

  “Arrghhh, milady, there’s the rub. In fact, for full transparency, you got me. I was a pirate really up until yesterday. There I was, ‘three sheets to the wind’, and just on my way to see the Commodore personally. I was going to tell him I’d had a change of heart and a privateer’s life was the one for me.”

  “Let me guess,” said the Queen. “They arrested you?”

  “Blimey, milady, that’s right, and would they listen, no! It is a travesty. A man wants to go straight and in fact he ends up going straight to the hangman’s noose to ‘dance the hempen jig’ as they say.”

  “As who says?” said the Queen.

  “Pirates, milady; we say that. It’s not that I have done anything particularly wrong. Not out of the ordinary anyway; a bit of hornswoggling; cut down one or two scallywags with me cutlass; and we’ve plundered a little Aquamuran treasure. But no more than the next pirate, nay privateer.”

  At which point a guard stepped in. “Captain Blade. Your hanging’s scheduled for noon tomorrow! Should draw a nice lunchtime crowd. Anyway, I’m here to grant you your last meal. Anything in particular you like?”

  “Aaiiyyaaii. How about a barrel of ale and roast venison?”

  The guard conferred with someone unseen down the corridor.

  “I can do the ale, but we’re out of venison. How about a fish stew?”

  “I have been at sea for the past six months; can you at least make it a steak?” pleaded Captain Blade.

  “Right you are!” said the guard. “Be back in a jiffy!”

  By the time Rolden returned to the cell, both Captain Blade and the Queen were ‘one sheet to the wind’ and the captain was singing a rather rude and boorish sea shanty.

  *

  The cockerel crowed its morning wake-up call as the door swung open. Then Rolden stepped in. “Right, my Lady, let’s get you out of here; there have been developments. We need to meet with Commissioner Niff.” Rolden and a couple of guards hustled the Queen through the corridors and out of the castle. They headed down the alleyways to the port and in through the door of the council chamber.

  “Perfect timing, Your Majesty.” Lady Amice came round the table and gave her a hug, and the Queen nodded to her remaining guards. “All right, let’s bring this meeting to order,” said Commissioner Niff.

  “So, it appears that High Commissioner Yip was dispatched by the Gamuran scum. We could say we are in their debt for that. We believe Emissary Gowan took the Water Totem and made his escape by sea. He joined up with some renegade pirates in the service of Gorath and is heading east. I anticipate they will find a safe point to land and then head inland to join up with Gorath’s main force.”

  Rear Admiral Dunbar nodded. “The fleet has set sail but the Emissary departed before we could blockade the port. The navy is now in pursuit, but some way behind.”

  “I want to join the fleet,” said Her Majesty.

  “Sorry Your Majesty, they have already sailed.”

  The Queen paused and thought. “All right, can I commandeer a ship and its captain?”

  The commissioner said, “Done!”

  “What about Ampheus, we need Aquamura’s help? Can we send her armies?”

  Again the commissioner paused, though very briefly. “Done!”

  “Aquamura will go to war. General, prepare the armies. We march to Ampheus.”

  There was a cacophony around the room. “Troth to the Realms! Troth to the Realms!”

  *

  Her Majesty and Rolden strode purposefully up to the dungeon only to find the cell empty.

  “Yes?” said the guard. “They brought the hanging forward, as apparently it clashed with the commodore’s bridge game.”

  The Queen rushed to the square, just in the nick of time as the noose was being placed over Captain Blade’s neck. “Stop, release this man. I have orders from the High Commission. I am commandeering this man and his ship!”

  The crowd started to boo and the captain blew them a kiss; then he danced the sort of jig that you would dance having just got a reprieve from certain death.

  The commodore looked completely crestfallen. He studied Commissioner Niff’s order for some time before lowering it resignedly.

  As Captain Blade left with the Queen he shouted, “Crusty, round up the men, get them to the boat, we sail in an hour.”

  Her Majesty nodded and yelled, “Don’t let me down, captain; this ship of yours had better be as fast as you say it is.”

  *

  The castle guards still held their positions on the gate but were slowly being overwhelmed.

  Beneath Sumnar and Ladryn was a mass of bodies battling for ascendancy, but the Horde was ever-increasing in number. Sumnar placed both hands on his staff and inch by inch pulled himself to his feet.

  Ladryn allowed himself a victorious smile. “In what plane could your sorcery beat mine?”

  Sumnar straightened up. He removed his hood from his sweat-drenched face; he looked up, shrugged and walloped Ladryn over the head with his staff. The wizard crumpled into a heap and the blue flame was sucked back up into the sky. It sent forth searing lightning strikes that burnt and scorched the earth.

  With a slow grinding sound, the portcullis began to lower and the drawbridge rose once more.

  Sumnar stepped over Ladryn’s prone body. He deserved to die and it would be perhaps prudent just to finish him off here and now. Why take the risk of having the wizard breaking loose and causing havoc once again? Yet he also knew he was a spy and traitor and should be tried for treason.

  Ladryn may also have intelligence on Gorath’s plans and ultimate goals. Sumnar needed to take a chance and hold him until he could be interrogated. The King and Terramis needed all the help he could muster to outmanoeuvre Gorath.

  A couple of guards had rushed over from the gatehouse as Sumnar knelt in front of Ladryn. “His hands and his mouth are a wizard’s weapons. The mouth to speak incantations and the hands to form them, solidify them and bring them to being.” Sumnar undid Ladryn’s dagger belt and tied his hand
s with a square lashing. Next, he searched around him for something to put in Ladryn’s mouth. He took off one of his socks and unconsciously sniffed it, hesitated, and removed one of Ladryn’s, gave it an arm’s length sniff, if that was possible, winced and scrunched it up and stuffed it into Ladryn’s mouth.

  “Take him to the gatehouse,” he instructed the soldiers. “Under no circumstances take the sock from his mouth or untie his hands if you want to survive this. If he chokes, so be it, if his hands turn purple and his fingernails fall off, he deserves it.

  “When he comes round, just knock him out again until the King arrives. In fact, if anything starts glowing, vibrating, disappearing or if anything else that looks remotely unusual happens, lop his head off!

  “And for God’s sake, hold the gatehouse! Whatever you do, don’t let it fall; while the drawbridge is up we have a chance! I will gather reinforcements.”

  Sumnar stood up and beat his fist to his chest. “Troth to the Realms!” The guards in turn thumped their chests and shouted, “Troth to the Realms!”

  Each guard grabbed one leg of Ladryn’s senseless body and dragged him unceremoniously back to the gatehouse. His head bumped up and down on the battlement’s cobbles. Sumnar assessed the battle raging beneath him in the courtyard and attempted to plot a route to Logar and the King.

  Realisation of what had unfolded at the main gate had filtered through to the soldiers still engaged in battle. The first to realise were the Horde on the drawbridge. They found themselves rising and sliding down into the castle and yelped out in panic. The next were those still caught in the barbican or just beyond it in the courtyard itself.

  Having already survived the scalding, burning and stoning of the barbican once, their immediate reaction was to turn tail and try and escape the castle before the drawbridge shut. Hence braving the barbican once again, this time in reverse: stoning, burning and scalding.

  Most did not make it out, so had to turn and engage the Terramians again, enduring the barbican, the scalding, burning and stoning, a third time.

  By the time they got back to the courtyard, most were on their knees and in no condition to fight.

  Sumnar managed to make his way back to the front line by striking hordesmen down with his sword or batting them away with his staff. Not that there was much of a first line left. Basically, it had turned into a free-for-all.

  He found Logar and the King still engaged with the enemy. They appeared rather unruffled and were happy to engage in idle banter as they hacked, cut and thrust at their attackers. It went something like this:

  Sumnar joined the two of them. “We’ve secured the gatehouse from our feckless wizard.”

  The King hacked off an arm and replied, “Well you have bought us some time.”

  Sumnar lopped off a head. “For the moment at least.”

  Logar thrust Beast Slayer into a midriff. “Perhaps we should bring the second front forward and re-engage the Horde here while they are disorganised. Perhaps we can vanquish them once and for all without letting them establish a foothold in Ampheus.”

  Sumnar sliced a leg in two. “I will make my way there and give the word.”

  Logar nutted someone with his helmet exploding their nose, “Is Ladryn secure?”

  Sumnar laughed and landed a kick in the family jewels of a hordesman and then kneed their owner in the head when he was bent over. “Our wizard is taking a nap.”

  Sumnar nodded and chopped off a hand, which fell to the floor still holding its sword. “Anyway, Logar, I think you and Dorf should reinforce the gatehouse; we can’t let that fall to the Horde. For the moment we have the upper hand, so let’s not lose it. Ladryn is alive but incapacitated. I left instructions with the guards either to knock him out or chop his head off if he tries anything.”

  The King punched a metal glove into a barbarian’s face, removing a number of teeth, “For the sake of us all, Logar, the quicker you make it to the ramparts the better.”

  Sumnar kicked the legs from under a hordesman and thrust his sword into his chest as he was lying in the dirt. “We still need to get the Earth Totem and your signet ring safely away from here. With your permission, Sire, I will take the Princess and we will make our way to the catacombs.”

  An axeman came at the King. The King intercepted the handle in the grip of his hand. He flicked it round and chopped it down on the owner’s head and left it embedded there as he fell to the ground. “Yes, it may be wise; if there is a chance to distance her from Ampheus we should take it.”

  “We will try to reach Aron and Saturnus; perhaps it’s our only hope to bring an end to all this. With the Horde camped outside our front door, this remains the only escape route and the totem will be of no use buried in the vault.”

  The three men paused and stood facing each other. The King nodded. “God speed, and may Lady Luck shine down on you,” and beat his fist to his chest. “Troth to the Realms!” Each turned and headed in different directions.

  Sumnar decided to head straight for the chapel; after all, Fayette had the invisibility cloak and stood a good chance of reaching it. If she was not there then he could work his way back to the vault to find her. Between the two fronts it appeared to be a bit of a ‘no man’s land’.

  There were random groups of soldiers on both sides that he needed to avoid. Hordesmen had broken through the first line but only in dribs and drabs.

  Instead of engaging the Amphean guard from its rear, they had pushed on into the city. They seemed to have distracted themselves, although there was still sporadic fighting as they came across Amphean guards. But many had simply refocused their efforts on looting.

  Perhaps they were unaware of how the tide had turned at the main gate. They were out to loot their spoils before the rest of the Horde caught up with them. It was the only way they could supplement their meagre earnings. In fact, apparently so certain were they of their victory, they left him quite alone as he walked up the alleyways and strolled by them.

  To his left a group was trying to kick down the doors to the Treasury. He knew anything of value had already been taken and hidden in the catacombs. He let them get on with it and did not interfere.

  His reasoning was that if they were not fighting, then the King’s Guard had more chance to defend the castle. The guards should be able to mop up any remnants of the Horde with time.

  He made his way to the chapel whose entrance remained in no man’s land. As he approached he realised the door had been smashed. The bolt was shattered and the door was splintered and hanging off its hinges.

  *

  It was obvious really: silver candlesticks, chalices and flagons. These were rich pickings for the looters. He tentatively eased the door open and stepped inside. He was pleased to see too not much movement, though he could hear a disturbance at the end of the chapel and followed the sounds.

  *

  The Princess and the girl had remained hidden for as long as they could. They could hear the sounds of fighting outside but the chapel had an inner peace and felt like a haven from the tumult beyond the door. That was until the door was smashed and burst open.

  Fayette had shrunk back into the alcove but could hear three voices and footsteps coming down the aisle. “We’ve hit the jackpot here, boys,” one was saying. “I knew we did the right thing to break away from the troop.

  “They can do all the fighting and heavy lifting, and we are going to line our pockets and live like kings together.”

  “So,” he said. “I’m going to have a candlestick.”

  “Me too,” said another. “You can have the flagon and chalice,” he said to the third hordesman.

  There was a pause until the third voice said, “I would rather have a candlestick! You are not trying to cheat me, are you?”

  In what for centuries has been a harbinger of an argument, which typically escalates to a bit of pushing and shoving and
fisticuffs, the first one said, “Who are you calling a cheat?”

  Fayette listened to the argument that ensued. Heard the scuffling, the pushing and shoving, and finally waited for the clashing of swords and gurgling of dying men to fade.

  It was all too much for the little girl who started whimpering. To Fayette’s horror she could hear the scraping of feet coming towards them, towards the girl’s sobbing. Once again she was faced by a member of the Horde, bloodied and bleeding, but still with his sword in hand. A skeletal and deformed face peered down at her.

  “What have we here then? A bit of sport.”

  He raised his sword ready to strike and grinned. “Here comes a candle to light you to bed. Here comes a chopper to chop off your head! Chop, chop, chop.”

  The Princess closed her eyes and twisted her body to place herself between the hordesman and the little girl held in her arms. But the blow did not come. When she opened them again the hordesman lay slumped on the floor, blood pouring from a gaping hole in his side. Sumnar stood over him, claret dripping from the tip of his sword. He held out his hand and lifted her up. His eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw the small body of the child quivering beneath her.

  He reached for her but she shied away, terrified, and clung to Fayette, trembling. Sumnar nodded. “She’s scared; let me lead her to safety before more of the Horde turn up.”

  He turned to take her out of the chapel but it was too late. There was the clatter as more of the Horde forced their way through the door. He made a decision.

  “Princess, do you have the totem, the ring and the map?” She nodded.

  “We will bring the child with us. We have no other choice.” He sheathed his sword and Fayette gathered the child up in her arms and strode after him. Sumnar pulled on the torch handle. It didn’t budge. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  Fayette said, “I tried but could not work the levers to open the door.” Sumnar heard the soldiers heading down the aisle towards them. They were getting closer but were still out of view of the alcove.

  He frowned then shrugged apologetically, reached up once more and turned the handle clockwise. The hidden door ground open, and Sumnar ushered them in. With the light from outside he found the mirror torch handle, turned it anti-clockwise and the door closed, leaving them in total darkness.