Trail of Pyres

by L. James Rice

  His Hidreng was better than most Silone. So much for that plan to speak to him in their native tongues. She planted her hands to hips. “I find that unlikely.”

  “We lost our orders on finding the gates of Gomjon barred.”

  She slipped a gold crown from its hiding place and held it aloft. “My father is quite wealthy, perhaps I could inspire new orders?”

  “We’re locked at anchor by order of Gomjon.”

  Meliu took his hand and slipped a golden song of Choerkin mint into his palm, instead of the crown she’d shown him. He opened his hand, glanced, face betraying only a hint of surprise. “Might be I could row you to the Soaring Gull and let the cap’n tell you no himself.” He extended his hand and assisted her aboard the boat before turning to Ivin. “Help me shove off.”

  The two men shoved and splashed the boat into the surf with driving strides before bounding over the sides. The sailor grunted as he set oars and stroked the waves. He remained silent until thirty strides from shore, and when he spoke it was in Silone. “Who the hells are you folks?”

  “It’s considered polite to give your name first.”

  “Kemin Reden, of Emudar Fost.”

  “My name is Meliu, this here is Ivin Choerkin.”

  Kemin’s head cocked, and he blinked. “No shit?”

  “Aye. I am.”

  “A godsdamned Choerkin… The day just got interesting. I’d heard the Church murdered you all.”

  “They missed some of us.”

  “Good. But I reckon you won’t like what’s goin’ onboard ship.”

  “I could take a guess. The Hidreng boarded, and forced your allegiance to Hidreng, maybe even converting your souls.”

  The man stared. Spat in the waves. “Some shit it was. Half the crew is on shore, trapped in that damned town as they went to pray to the Hokandite.”

  Meliu said, “There’s a disease.”

  “So they said. Either way we’re godsdamned stuck with a Hidreng captain, flying a Forges-honed Hidreng flag.”

  Ivin said, “Your Emudar captain?”

  “Bastards hammered up a brig and tossed him in. Haven’t seen him in days.”

  “What loyalty, the remaining crew?”

  Kemin smirked. “Choerkin, once you’re aboard. But, there were more than a few thinkin’ about taking on the Hokandite.”

  Ivin said, “Be sure to tell them there will be no peace… no Hokandite. The Tek will no doubt blame the disease and its ravages on our people, when this happens, they’ll slaughter every Silone in reach and come after the rest.”

  Kemin stared, glanced at Meliu. “This is true?”

  “The disease is the Rot—”

  “Forges! You’re certain? The Rot left more’n a few ghost ships wandering the Parapet Straits.”

  “Certain as I can be.” Meliu sighed, the squint or her eyes and wrinkle of her lips proved she was concocting a plan.

  “How greedy is your new captain?”

  He laughed. “I can’t say as I know him well, but I reckon greedier than most. He weren’t no captain ‘til they took our damned ship. Green, but ripe for the pickin’.”

  “Don’t say a word to no one until I share words with this captain. If he loves gold, we’ll get the Gull at full sail before seeing how well he swims.”

  Kemin nodded with an approving smile. “If you ain’t beddin’ this one, I think I’m in love.”

  Meliu leaned into Ivin’s shoulder. “I’m smitten as well.” Ivin wrapped her in an arm.

  The sailor whistled. “Damned shame.”

  Meliu blushed, enjoying this game with Ivin maybe too much. “What’s the Hidreng captain’s name?”

  “Mulopo. But shit eater behind his back.”

  They reached the Gull and clambered up rope ladders dropped from the rail, and Captain Mulopo came at Kemin with a fury, reaching high to slap the big man.

  “I should throw you into the strait! Leaving your post.’ He fumed, a skinny man but muscular; he reminded Meliu of a little dog, always angry to convince himself and others he was bigger than he stood.

  Kemin didn’t flinch at the blow. “This miss has a proposition I thought you’d want to hear.”

  Meliu curtsied. “My father is the merchant Ulbor, and I’m due in Inster in two days—”

  He turned to her, slow, judging, and, she wagered, happy to be taller than someone. “You think I give a whore’s kiss for who your father is?”

  “No, but all men like pretty things.” She held out her hand, opened it with care; the uncut diamond and two sapphires sat in her palm.

  His eyes widened, and his hand crept toward hers. “Two days, you say?”

  Her palm clamped shut, and his hand pulled back, but his eyes never left her hand. She pulled a sapphire from her hand and held it up, triangle cut and sparkling. “This now, the others if you get us there in time.”

  The captain licked his lips. “We’re short on crew…”

  “An able captain such as yourself, I’ve no doubt you can manage this crew of barbarians.”

  “That I can, m’lady. That I can.” He patted a bullwhip at his side. It didn’t hurt that the only sailors bearing weapons onboard were Teks.

  “We’ve an accord?”

  He held out his hand, and she placed the sapphire in the middle of his palm. His smile stretched one side of his face. “Promise my crew a century crown per man, and I’ll promise no questions and speed.”

  “Done.” She creased her brows. “For the Hidreng only, not these barbarians. Let them make due with a quarter that.”

  He pocketed the gem, and Kemin said, “What of Juno and the others in Gomjon?”

  Mulopo shrugged with a shake of his head. “If they survive the plague, we’ll pick them up on the way back to Kulkar. May Pulvuer shield their lives and guard their souls.”

  Meliu said, “Excellent. My man-servant and I will need private quarters.”

  “Of course, of course. Kemin, show our guests to Juno’s cabin… he won’t be using it.”

  Kemin bowed. “Right away, sir.”

  Meliu smiled and winked at Ivin as the captain strode away with a bounce in his step.

  Kemin led them to an aft cabin, opening the door and following them in. The room wasn’t big, but it had a proper bed in addition to tables and chairs. Charts hung tacked to the walls, a couple of them she recognized as showing land formations from the Age of Warlords. “This Juno, your navigator?”

  “Aye, likely as not that cocky shit outside will drive us into a reef.”

  “I’ve hit one too many reefs…” She glanced out the cabin’s window with its uneven glass, and in the distance spotted sails. With a quick prayer for vision the flag flying on its mast came clear: A red spear on a field of black. “Godsdamnit to the Forges… Thonian ship.” As she watched, another passed, and another. Then one flying the banner of Brotna, and every damned one platformed for war and carrying ballista. She covered her mouth. Two flags she didn’t even recognize. War with the Hidreng? Or worse? “Not one ship, it’s a fleet.”

  42

  Sailing to Stand Still

  The Prancing Horse spins circles to clutched knees,

  neck twisted to pulling reins,

  to buck and bounce,

  collapse, roll, and leap, throw and trounce,

  shoe more devastating than mace.

  Rider tried but died.

  You look now into blowing, snorting nostrils,

  will you test your spurs as well?

  The Beast who’s known but one master

  may kill a dozen more.

  –Tomes of the Touched

  Nobody aboard the Soaring Gull appreciated the stream of flags passing to the north. Captain Mulopo’s lust for gems, however, was more potent than the fear of conscription.

  “Raise anchor! Full sail! We’ll outrace them to Inster.”

  Ivin figured he was full of hot air, but it was the air in the sails which mattered, and the Gull indeed made better speed than the larg
er ships to the north. Ivin’s only explanation was that they were racing folks who didn’t know there was a race. By evening the flags of the enemy were long faded from the western horizon. Come morning, all he spotted was open Strait without a sail in all directions. The waves were empty from horizon to horizon straight through to the next day.

  Meliu spent that next morning and afternoon outside keeping an eye on the Hidreng command and their routines, buttering the Captain for her feast, and figuring a way to be rid of the Teks onboard. They couldn’t afford to lose too many sailors in their mutiny, they’d be a skeleton crew as it was.

  The cabin was quiet and boring, but being able to understand the shouts of Silone sailors outside was some small comfort. When Kemin slipped through the door in the early evening, it pleased Ivin to see another soul. “What word from the decks?”

  Kemin whispered, “With you aboard and a disease behind us, every Silone is with us full sail.”

  “Good. We’ll need every last man.”

  “Still don’t see how we take the ship, you’ve the only weapons in Silone hands.”

  Ivin pulled the dagger from his belt and handed it to him. “You keep that. The Tek aren’t armored, and damned near anything can be a weapon, but we aren’t relying on you and me. It’s Meliu who’ll clear most of the ship.”

  Kemin scoffed. “She’s beautiful, but not so beautiful men will walk the plank with her wink.”

  Ivin slapped his shoulder. “She’s a priestess I wouldn’t underestimate.”

  “No shittin’? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

  “And if they step off this ship, it won’t be because of a wink.”

  “She set ‘em on fire, does she?”

  “No. Worse. Maybe.”

  “Worse’n burning?”

  “I don’t want to find out either way.”

  A Hidreng shout came outside and Kemin’s eyes sprung wide. “Forges! They’ve spotted sails ahead. Thon.”

  He rushed out the door, and Ivin stared after him, feet planted. Their ruse of his not having a voice worked so far, and nobody had bothered trying to speak with him. “What the hells.” He stepped outside and faced east. A line of ships sat on the horizon: a blockade. “Son of a bitch.”

  He muttered too loud, and a Silone sailor glanced at him with a stern grin. “Watch your tongue… Tek.” Ivin nodded, embarrassed at his slip.

  Captain Mulopo shouted, “Half sail! And every bastard aboard best wear a smile.”

  Meliu stepped close, whispering: “Judging by the charts, I’d say that’s Inster ahead.”

  “Aye, I’d wager. Unless they’ve dropped anchor in the middle of nowhere. Too big a blockade for quarantine, even if the Rot has made it this far.”

  “A siege? War with the Hidreng?”

  Ivin pointed to a ship’s flag. “A hawk on blue, if I’m not mistaken. No, my bet is the peace brought by the Edan has ended. We’ll know more than we like soon, I suspect.”

  Even at half sail, they approached the enemy ships faster than made him comfortable, but at least it got him beyond the nerves of waiting, easing his bladder. The Gull went bare poles when a quarter horizon from the lead Thonian vessel, and the current pulled them onward.

  They dropped anchor not long after, and two rowboats paddled their way. The tension onboard spread through every man and woman until you could strum it like a harp.

  Captain Mulopo belted out in rough Silone, “You barbarians, to the back of the ship.” Ivin came close to stepping away with Kemin, but remembered to stand his ground.

  “Captain?” Meliu tapped his shoulder, but she ignored him. “Captain?”

  He spun on her. “I appreciate your sapphire, miss, but right now I’m trying to keep us all from trouble we want no part of.”

  She backed off and waited, no matter that instinct told her to lash the man with sharp words. She returned to Ivin, and they stood in silence.

  The boats came close, and a man stood at the prow of the lead rowboat, his helmet open-faced, tall, and pointed, with a horse’s tail dangling from its peak. He wore a gray longcoat with a golden chevron on the front of both shoulders. An officer of some level. “This is a northerner cog?”

  Mulopo said, “Up until a month ago come yesterday. I’ve held her sails sense.”

  “Any disease onboard? Fevers? Sores?”

  “No, Temyon. We are all well, barbarians the same.”

  Temyon, the captain’s first hand if her memory didn’t fail her.

  “What port do you seek?”

  “Inster, sir!”

  The officer shook his head. “The magister of Inster barred the gates to all comers. This vessel is now property of the combined might of this Five Nation fleet, along with every life onboard, under command of Admiral Yolkon of Semarn, Duke of Garhaad, and Naval Hand to the King of Thon.”

  Mulopo stammered. “Sir! Half my crew are barbarians, what good are we blockading Inster?”

  “We sail east, but worry not… your conscription will not include warring, but we expect you to assist blocking any ships attempting escape.”

  Mulopo shook his head. “Again… My crew—”

  “If you’ve no faith in your crew, I’m certain I could find another with a more able captain.”

  “We are at your service, Temyon.”

  The man pulled a tube from his jacket and lofted it to the Gull’s deck. “Your orders, Captain. May your sails blow full.”

  A sailor brought the Captain the tube as the rowboats moved away. He twisted it open, grumbling. “Confounded bastards.” He strolled to Meliu and pointed at her with the scroll. “I should blame you for this.”

  “Commandeered here or Gomjon, what difference? I’m certain my father will understand your duress and compensate you well, with you making sure I’m safe.”

  “Let’s hope he does.” Mulopo’s face eased. “Might be nothing comes of this anyhow. A skirmish.” He strode away, perusing the scroll.

  “Come, Tulk. And barbarian, I wish to speak with you.”

  Ivin and Kemin followed her into the cabin. She strolled to sit behind the table. “Can this tub outrun these bigger ships like before?”

  Kemin scratched his head. “The fastest thing about the Soaring Gull is her name; we’d stretch three to four knots in a candle. Them ships earlier weren’t full sail. But, if they’re heading for a fight, they won’t be racing, the faster ships will hang back with the command. But if they see us, they’ll catch us if they want to.”

  She pointed to a chart on the desk. “We’re here at Inster, do we know where New Fost is?”

  Kemin asked, “New Fost? I’ve got a feelin’ I’ve missed out on many things.”

  “It’s on the coast of the Blooded Plain.”

  He tapped the map. “The Plain is hereabouts, weren’t nothing there anytime I passed. Not a village, let alone a known harbor. Could be anywhere… hells if I know.”

  Meliu ran her finger along the coast. “Anywhere” was a stretch of coast fifty horizons long, give or take. It couldn’t be so hard to find the Silone. “Does your captain know we’re aboard?”

  “Captain Swolis? Not I know of, ain’t no one allowed speak to him from the old crew.”

  “If I get you away from these Tek bastards, you’re sure you can keep the lead?”

  “There ain’t no guarantees what we’ll face ahead, but if they don’t know to chase us, they won’t catch us. Swolis’ll see to it.”

  Meliu stroked her finger along the coast. “I’ll figure it out. But pass the word… If I scream a direction on the boat in Silone, everyone gets there fast as they can. Below decks, they stay put.”

  He scratched his brow. “Why?”

  “Because you won’t want to be anywhere else on deck. All you need to know.”

  “Aye, priestess.” He bowed and left the cabin, closing the door behind him with a soft clack.

  “You told him I was a priestess?”

  “He was getting the fool notion I’d be killin’ them all myself.�
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  “Well, no one lynched me or tossed me overboard. The sun has risen on one horizon, but goes down on another.” Meliu chortled and stood, strolling to the door. “Let’s take a walk.”

  She slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow, aware now of every Silone glance. The Emudar mightn’t bear the malice toward the Church like the Choerkin sailors, but she wanted no mistake about whose side she was on.

  The sun was setting to their backside, throwing orange light over the Tek fleet, as they leaned on the rail. Kemin and a couple other Silone sailors walked past with grins and nods. Meliu spoke to them in Hidreng. “Might as well relax, boys. Don’t look like our betters plan on sailing soon.”

  Kemin laughed and relayed the words in Silone. Meliu hoped he’d gotten the message. With four or more days of sailing to reach the coast of the Blooded Plain, they wouldn’t make their move until setting sail.

  She turned back to the ships, spoke under her breath. “How bad is it?”

  “Could be a show of force, a threat. Could be a war we’ll never survive.”

  The straight forward option was to unleash the Dark, driving the Hidreng bastards mad, or into the strait, or straight to the Hokandite hell, whichever came first. That’d be loud, and she didn’t have a way to hide the screaming of so many men. Once taking the ship, she might hide from prying eyes in the night, but ships made noise too. No, she needed something more clever than a hammer without a nail.

  Ivin mumbled, “We need to be in control of this ship.”

  He was right, and like so many truths, it was an annoying hair stuck to the roof of your mouth. “A thunderstorm, heavy winds… we need help. We need a captain.” She turned and spotted Kemin. “You! Barbarian! Fetch me and my man a drink.”

  Kemin turned with a sour gaze, swearing she’d wager, but she couldn’t read his lips. In a wick he bore two mugs and a grin. “You’re gonna owe me for this shit.”

  She kept her face staunch, but rolled her eyes. “Aside from you, any Silone here fluent in Hidreng? Pass for a native in a pinch? Better if he’s about the size of Mulopo.”