by Ben Cassidy
Kendril gave a lop-sided grin and headed towards the cabin door. “Then we’ll have to draw it in real close. Come on, Marley.” He pushed the startled sailor back out into the smoke-choked passageway and towards the stairs.
Up on deck, the fire had already consumed half the ship in a blazing inferno. Smoke poured up into the night sky. The heat was intense, like a furnace. From somewhere above came the keening cry of the hideous beast.
Kendril scanned the sky. He saw a flash of wings in the moonlight through the broiling smoke.
“We have to get off!” Marley yelled. He started towards the starboard side.
Kendril grabbed the man’s arm with his free hand. “Not that way. The breakwater. Let’s go.”
Marley was too surprised to protest.
Kendril dragged the man to the port side of the ship.
Behind them part of the rigging collapsed onto the main deck in a fiery explosion. Sparks and embers swirled into the air like fireflies.
Marley looked down at the jagged rocks of the breakwater, slimy and covered with barnacles. It was enough of a drop from the side of the ship to make him pull back. “Are you daft?” he yelled back at Kendril. “I’ll break my legs.”
“Better hope not,” Kendril said. He gave Marley a determined shove.
With a startled cry the sailor tumbled off the side of the ship.
The forlorn screech of the creature sounded again, cutting through the cold air of the bay.
Kendril glanced back over his shoulder.
The harbor was in an uproar of confusion. Muskets flared off at random, people were shouting, screams sounded from the docks. Some of the ships were making desperately for the open sea. As Kendril watched two vessels collided with one another in a booming crack of splintering wood.
Kendril threw himself off the burning ship.
He hit the rocks below hard, slipping on the wet surface. A sharp angle of stone jammed into his leg side. He felt his knee twist painfully, and tried to catch himself with his free hand. Barnacles shredded the palm of his hand. His chest slammed into a rearing boulder.
Kendril lay for a moment on the rocks, wracked with shooting pains. It was cold and wet underneath him. His left foot was entirely submerged in a deep puddle of seawater between two rocks. The overpowering smell of salt filled his nostrils, mixed with the stench of smoke from the ship behind him.
Marley wailed a few feet to Kendril’s side. “Oy, my legs,” he cried. “I’ve broken both my legs.”
“Shut up,” Kendril snarled. He pulled himself up, stifling a groan. His body felt like someone had run him over with a cart. Filled with logs. With three kids playing on top.
Kendril’s knee stabbed in agonizing pain as he tried to stand.
Three fat kids.
He snatched Marley by the back of the sailor’s filthy tunic and dragged the man to his feet.
“I can’t walk!” Marley wept. He rubbed his legs vociferously.
“Stop your whimpering and die like a man!” Kendril was surprised by his own fury. He took the whale gun in his hands, then reached for the powder horn he had taken from the arms locker.
A scream echoed from the far side of the harbor. There were more scattered gunshots. Bells were clanging all over the city.
Kendril jammed one of the metal darts down into the barrel of the whale gun. The weapon wasn’t rifled, and the iron dart would probably have little better accuracy than a basic musket ball. That meant he needed the creature within fifty yards to even have a chance of hitting it. For an actual killing blow, and considering the darkness and speed with which the thing would undoubtedly be coming at him, that range should probably be reduced to ten or fifteen yards.
Ten yards. The monster would be practically on top of him. Assuming he could even get that close to it.
Kendril limped down the line of the breakwater, moving clear of the burning ship. He tripped repeatedly in the darkness, cursing like a sailor himself as he stubbed and bashed his toes, feet, and shins against the uneven rocks.
A ship sailed past the end of the breakwater, its sails glowing in the moonlight. The crew bustled and scurried about in the rigging.
Kendril gave them a contemptuous glare as they floated by. He snapped back the lock on the whale gun, testing with his fingers in the dark to make sure that the flint was still in place.
“We’re going to die,” Marley babbled. He crawled after Kendril, like a moth drawn against its will towards an open flame. He looked fearfully across the harbor. “It will kill us all, it will. Did you see its eyes, its eyes….”
“Tuldor’s beard,” Kendril snapped, “of course I saw the eyes. Now shut up.” He took a pinch of gunpowder and between his fingers and primed the pan. At least, he hoped he had primed it. Even in the pale moonlight it was hard to see what he was doing.
“There!” Marley screamed. He pointed wildly over the water.
Kendril whipped his head around.
It was there, across the water. Like a nightmare brought to life. Some obscene cross between a lizard, bat, and…dragon.
It was unholy. Evil. Kendril felt as if he could smell its stench even from where he stood.
As he watched it swooped down upon the docks. A fire had somehow begun in a quayside warehouse, and the flames glowed orange on the monster’s wings.
It took longer than Kendril expected to get past the blazing wreck of the ship. He lugged the heavy whale gun, dragging his injured leg behind him. His knee burned with pain that occasionally exploded into a sharp stab.
“You’ll never get it close enough!” Marley shouted. His voice was trembling, shaking. “We should hide, Mr. Kendril, get out of sight.”
“Probably,” Kendril acknowledged under his breath. He turned, his feet planted securely on the rocks.
Across the bay he could see the monstrous winged creature as it ravaged the docks. Small figures lit by moon and fire were fleeing in every direction.
Kendril was tired. So tired. He had fought his way across half of Rothland, searching for a woman who had once again barely escaped from his grasp. Now here he was, standing on the breakwater next to a burning ship and staring death in the face once again. Like always.
He was through trying. Done fighting. He just didn’t care anymore.
“Please,” Marley begged. He waved urgently to Kendril. “Over here with me, sir.”
Kendril stared with hollow eyes at the monster. Perhaps this time, for once, death would finally find him. He had meted it out to so many others over the years. Maybe today it was finally his turn.
Kendril took a deep breath. “Hey!” he roared, his voice hoarse and strained. “I’m over here, frog-wings!” He lifted the whale gun in his hands. It felt reassuringly heavy, like a miniature cannon. Kendril didn’t even try to bring it to his shoulder, but just kept it at hip-level. “Come and get me!”
Marley stared at him as if he had lost his mind.
Truth be told, at this point he probably had.
“Come on!” Kendril kept yelling, ignoring the pain that gripped every part of his body. “You want me? Then come over here and get some!”
There was no way the creature would hear him. Not at this distance, not over the screaming and shooting happening all over the bay. And even if it did, there was no way it would actually leave all the chaos it was causing to come after one single solitary man.
And yet, Kendril felt a desperate, burning desperation to draw the thing towards him. A sudden moment of inspiration hit him.
“I’m the Demonbane of Vorten!” he shouted on the top of his lungs.
The thing was a dumb beast. A hideous, awful beast, but a beast none-the-less. Certainly not a demon of the Void, despite what that crazed cultist priest seemed to believe.
And yet, it turned.
It swung its head around, shrieked a howling cry that sounded like the tormented wail of a lost soul, then flapped off the docks and across the water of the bay.
Straight at Kendril.
&n
bsp; “Eru!” Marley gasped. He dove for the scant shelter of some nearby boulders.
Kendril lifted the barrel of the gun and snapped back the firelock into the ready position. “Come on,” he whispered. “Come and finish it. Take me.”
The monster swooped low over the water, growing closer to Kendril by the second. Its mouth was open, sharp teeth glistening. Talons flexed and glinted in the moonlight. Kendril could actually hear the whistle of the wind over its wings as it came nearer.
Kendril put a finger on the trigger of the whale gun. He lined the barrel up with the red glowing eyes of the beast.
At the rate it was coming at him, Kendril figured the creature would cover fifty yards in less than a second.
It was an impossible shot. One in a thousand. Maybe a million. And even if he only wounded it, the enraged beast would doubtless kill him where he stood.
Kendril breathed a prayer to Eru. A plea for a death that had eluded him for far too long. Finally, an end.
Finally, redemption.
The burning red eyes of the monster came straight at Kendril. They became his entire world. His ears were filled with the sound of the unholy creature’s howling shriek.
Marley screamed.
Kendril smiled.
He pulled the trigger.
Chapter 4
Maklavir put the teacup gingerly back on the small porcelain plate, careful not to spill any of the steaming liquid. He looked up at the three men across the table from him. “Do any of you gentlemen want sugar?”
One of the men, a finely-dressed nobleman with the hooked nose and severe bearing of the Merewithian ruling class, pushed his tea away with a snort. “This is a complete waste of our time.”
Maklavir gave his tea a small dose of sugar from the bowl in the center of the table. “If tea isn’t to your liking, Duke Mainz, I can have the maid fetch you something else. Coffee, perhaps, or something more robust?” He gave the steaming beverage a good stir. “For what it’s worth, however, I believe this to be quite excellent. Imported from the Spice Lands, you know.”
“Talin’s Ashes,” Mainz swore. His face was red, his bushy gray eyebrows knotted in anger. “I’m not talking about the blasted tea. I’m talking about this whole meeting. It’s a waste of our time.”
“I’m sorry you think so.” Maklavir’s voice was exceptionally cool. He took a sip of his tea.
“Mainz has a point.” One of the other men, a Merewithian lord named Erbritter, raised his own teacup. “We’ve been at this for hours, Maklavir. It’s quite apparent that you have nothing of substance to offer us.”
Maklavir set his tea back down and dabbed his mouth daintily with a napkin. “With respect, Lord Erbritter, that is hardly true. I have outlined several important ways that King Luxium has proposed to—”
“The King? He’s under siege right now along with the rest of his court up in Varnost.” The third nobleman, a scarred old warrior named Krampf, crossed his arms. “You’re being pressed, Maklavir. Kalinglanders on one side and the twice-cursed Baderans on the other. They’re chopping your whole country to pieces. And I say let them have it.”
Maklavir sighed and glanced out the window. The city of Vorten had some life back in it, but not as much as before the Despair. Some of the buildings across the street still showed obvious damage from the firestorm that had engulfed the jewel of Valmingaard and destroyed so much.
The Despair had taken everything from Vorten. It cut Maklavir like a knife to know that the city would never be the same again. At least not in his lifetime.
Erbritter took a casual sip of his tea. “It’s nothing personal, Maklavir. Surely you know that. But we have problems of our own right now.” He shook his head sadly. “I feel bad for you Valmingaardians. No one doubts that you have all suffered tremendously during this Despair, especially here in Vorten.” He spread his hands, as if to demonstrate his helplessness in the matter. “But you and the King have nothing to offer us.”
The other two noblemen silently nodded their agreement.
“Yes,” said Maklavir quietly, “I know that Merewith has had its own share of problems.” He shifted his gaze to Erbritter. “But I believe that the terms that King Luxium has offered are more than generous. You have been promised payment for the foodstuffs your duchies can provide for us. We will escort any food convoys with our own troops. We are only asking for the surplus, gentlemen. For the extra food that your own people cannot eat. And a bit of profit for you as well. Now tell me, how is that unfair?”
“Tell you?” Duke Mainz’ face was twisted in a condescending sneer. “Valmingaard is in a desperate place, Maklavir. It is ready to fall any week, and you offer us coinage stamped with the face of your king?” He gave a snorting laugh. “It is of questionable value, to say the least.”
Maklavir’s eyes darkened ever so slightly. “Any money you would be paid with would have the full backing of the monarchy of Valmingaard.”
“And that,” said Krampf roughly, “is precisely the problem.”
Erbritter took an experimental bite of one of the small biscuits set out on the table. “You could, of course, pay us in gold.” He grimaced and put the half-eaten biscuit down.
Maklavir tried hard not to stare at the uneaten food. It was more than a lot of citizens in Vorten would eat tonight. “You know very well that we can’t,” he said. It was taking every ounce of effort he had to maintain his poker face. “With Varnost under siege—”
“Other supplies, then,” Krampf chipped in. “Lumber, iron ore, even furs. Something of real value.”
“I think,” said Maklavir slowly, “that you gentlemen may be misunderstanding the extent of the situation Valmingaard is in. We need all our natural resources right now to continue the ongoing war effort.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Mainz pushed his chair back and stood. “I told you. This windbag is wasting our time.”
Erbritter gave a sad nod of his head. “I’m afraid that I must agree, Maklavir. I really am sorry, but there is nothing more we can do.” He got up from his chair.
Krampf got up as well. He tossed his napkin back on the long wooden table with a snort.
“I see.” Maklavir’s face was calm, but there was a strange fire in his eyes that none of the other men in the room seemed to notice.
“Thank you for your hospitality.” Lord Erbritter gave a bow. If you are ever in the north of Merewith, Maklavir, I would be honored to return the favor.” He turned for the door.
It was done. Time for his last card, the one ace up Maklavir’s sleeve.
“You will be,” Maklavir said airily, “but not for me. Valmingaard’s men-at-arms, on the other hand, would no doubt love both food and accommodations.” He reached for the teacup.
All three of the Merewithians stopped cold in their tracks. For a moment there was a tense silence in the room.
Krampf swung around. “What the devil did you just say, Maklavir?”
Maklavir took a sip. “I threatened you with military invasion, Sir Krampf.”
That took the old soldier aback. He spluttered for a moment, his face turning red.
Lord Erbritter managed a smile. “Come now, Maklavir, there’s no need for that. We came in peace, and there’s no reason why we can’t—”
“Oh, shut up.” Maklavir stared hard at the nobleman. There was no more kindness in his eyes. “The time for games is over, Erbritter. Like you yourself said, we Valmingaardians have suffered tremendously. We’re facing enemies on both fronts, and we’re desperate. The three of you have food. We need it. And if you’re too stupid to sell it to us at a reasonable rate, then we will take it by force.”
Krampf strode forward and pounded a fist on the table. The teacups and plates rattled. “You dare threaten us! By Eru, we’ll kill whatever men you throw at us, Maklavir. Just come and try it. We Merewithians know how to fight!”
“Do you now?” Maklavir said. “Well, I must say that is a relief. I was under the impression that your duchies consisted mostly of
uninspired serfs and tired fat noblemen.” He gave his tea a stir. “Not to mention that the population of Vorten alone, even after the Despair, is probably three times that of all your holdings put together.” He shrugged. “But if you’re so confident, who am I to judge?”
Duke Mainz glared icily at Maklavir. “The Emperor will bring state troops up. When they arrive, you—”
“Again, I am so relieved.” Maklavir stared coolly at all three noblemen. “With all the fighting going on in the south, I was under the impression that the Emperor was stretched thin, not to mention all the squabbling going on among the other barons and dukes there.” He sat back in his chair, his expression unmoved. “But since you’re so confident of receiving support, I’m sure none of you have anything to worry about. Good day.”
“You’re bluffing, Maklavir.” Lord Erbritter’s face was pinched and drawn. “You don’t have the men to invade. Not while you are fighting the Kalinglanders and the Baderans at the same time.”
Maklavir raised an imperious eyebrow. “It’s true, we are spread thin. But when our men know that there is corn aplenty to be had just over the border, I’m sure we’ll have no shortage of volunteers to form together into militia and guard units.” He gave the tiniest hint of a smirk. “As the Kalinglanders have been teaching us, it doesn’t take much discipline to mount a good old-fashioned raiding party.”
Mainz opened his mouth, then shut it tight again. “You’re…a monster,” he seethed at last.
“No,” said Maklavir calmly. “Just practical.”
Krampf took an angry step forward.
The two guards standing near the door behind Maklavir reacted instantly, hands tightening on their halberds.
Krampf took one uncertain glance at the men, then slowly backed off.
There was a long moment of silence.
Maklavir lifted his teacup easily in one hand and took a deliberate sip.
Erbritter cleared his throat. “I think we were perhaps a little hasty, Maklavir. Your terms from this morning seem more than generous.”