Dark Blade

by Steve Feasey

  Lann was about to say something else when a great shout went up above him from the crew member placed high in the rigging as a lookout. ‘Ship ahoy!’ the man shouted. The two words had a disturbing effect on the crew and their captain. Men shouted out to each other, moving around the deck and in the rigging with renewed speed as they went about their work. Lann could sense the tension, a shiver of nervous excitement and fear running through him.

  ‘Where away?’ Fariz called up to the man. The lookout pointed to his left.

  Captain Fariz mumbled something under his breath about gold and women and bad luck as he pushed past Lann, heading towards the port side so he might see the vessel for himself.

  Just then, Lann saw Fleya emerge from below decks. ‘Fariz is worried,’ he said, hurrying over to her.

  ‘He has every reason to be. The other ship is a pirate vessel.’

  As a young boy, Lann had held romanticised notions of pirates, picturing daring and audacious men and women who roamed the seas looking for adventure. But as he grew older and heard tales of pirate attacks, he realised the truth behind his fanciful imaginings. Pirates terrorised merchant ships like the Ra’magulsha, taking what they wanted and killing everyone aboard. It was said that King Mirvar had driven them all away to ply their bloody trade in other waters. If that was so, it had not taken long after the king’s death for them to return.

  The other vessel was at least twice the size of the Ra’magulsha and moving towards them at a terrific speed. Even from this distance Lann could make out figures on board the other ship. Many had ventured towards the front of the deck and were holding grappling hooks and ropes in their hands. Others had drawn their weapons.

  Fleya reached out and grabbed his arm, her fingers digging into his flesh as she turned him round so he was looking directly at her. ‘Look after this body while I’m gone,’ she said. Her eyes went from the advancing ship to the body of water separating the two vessels and back again.

  ‘What do you mean? Where are you going?’

  ‘Just do it.’ She offered him a brief smile. ‘I’ve become rather attached to it over the years.’

  Lann was about to say something else, but the words stuck in his throat at the sight of his aunt’s eyes rolling back into her head. At the same time, her legs, arms and everything else simply gave out, and her body folded up beneath her as she collapsed towards the hard wooden deck. He caught her as she fell.

  Fleya was in the darkness. She reached out with her mind and sank further and further into the freezing waters, searching for the thing she knew was there. The spirits of the deep were everywhere, and they were unhappy that this interloper had dared to enter their domain uninvited. There would be a price to pay for this intrusion. But that was not her main concern now.

  Deeper and deeper she went, into the dark.

  Captain Fariz was at the helm, his eyes glued on the pirate ship. It was almost upon them, so close that the merchant seamen could hear the threats being hurled at them. Fariz waited until the last moment to throw his full weight into the helm wheel, giving everything he had to turn the bow of his own ship towards the pirate vessel. This audacious manoeuvre meant the Ra’magulsha avoided the full impact of the ugly-looking ram at the front of the brigands’ vessel and instead glanced off it. Even so, the damage sustained was devastating. Heavy timbers were smashed, sending lethal, jagged splinters flying through the air in every direction. The crew of the Ra’magulsha were thrown around like dolls, and three men up in the rigging lost their grip. Two were swallowed up by the sea; the other’s screams came to a terrible and abrupt stop as he plummeted down on to the wooden deck.

  The two ships, side-on now, shrieked like living things as their bulwarks ground against each other. The pirates sprang into action, readying ropes and grappling irons to board the other ship. Seeing this, Fariz leaned into the helm wheel again, this time in the opposite direction, desperate to move the ships apart.

  Lann looked down at the body of his aunt in his arms. It was like an empty husk, and he knew the thing the kurgyres had tried to take from her in the forest that night – her essence – was gone. Where was she?

  A loud thunk next to him made Lann look up to see a grappling hook being dragged back across the deck and coming to a stop when it bit into the wooden gunwale. Up and down the port side of the ship more hooks and ropes appeared, pirates straining against them in an effort to bring the two ships together. Standing, Lann pulled his sword free and moved to cut the rope. As he did so the strangest thing happened. In a motion that had little to do with him, the black blade quickly swung up and around in front of him, deflecting an arrow that had been fired directly at his heart.

  Looking across at the other ship, he spotted the archer, the man already nocking another arrow from the quiver at his waist. The sword had saved his life.

  Other members of the crew were not so lucky. Hearing a scream, Lann spun about to see a man struck in the chest with an arrow, the force of the impact knocking him back off his feet. Lann’s first thought was to protect Fleya. He dragged her as best he could towards the bulwark, hoping it would offer some protection from the lethal missiles. Glancing over the edge, he saw how close the ships now were. Pirates readied themselves to swarm across the narrowing gap.

  Captain Fariz had seen the same thing. Abandoning the wheelhouse he called his men to him and set up a tight fighting square in the middle of the deck. Knives and cutlasses drawn, the crew formed a shield-wall against the arrows but the look in their eyes was enough to tell Lann they thought all hope was gone.

  Suddenly a loud shout went up from one of the defenders; he was pointing at something beyond the pirate vessel. There was a moment of silence as everybody, attacker and defender alike, stared in that direction. Then chaos broke loose.

  The creature was ancient. A primeval thing from a time when the old gods ruled this world and everything in it. It was this mythical beast Fleya had come into this watery world to find, but even so, she paused before stretching out to make contact with its mind. She’d never attempted something like this before, not with a thing like the giant she was now faced with. She’d have liked more time before attempting such complicated majik, but right now, time was the one thing she had precious little of. Forcing her doubts and caution aside, she merged her own consciousness with the sea monster.

  It had been a long time since the creature had moved from its place on the ocean floor, and it couldn’t quite understand the impetus to do so now. It had thought it would rot away in the darkness and cold it had chosen as its final resting place. For it was an ancient thing and there was little left for it to do in this world but die. But it did not feel old now. No; it felt brave, excited, in a way it had not for hundreds of years. And this alien feeling, rather than being resisted, was welcomed by the monster. It unfolded itself, stretching out with colossal limbs and feeling the seabed around it. It was to go up through the murk and cold. Up, up to the surface. Jetting water through its body, it propelled itself out of the darkness towards a light that was already hurting its eyes. All it knew was the need to hurry. It passed the body of a man sinking slowly through its watery world. The man was dead, the corpse already attracting the attention of those who would feast on it. The light was brighter than ever, and as the creature burst free of the water it let out a terrible screech against the searing pain that exploded in its head. Noises, shouts, screams and harsh, sharp sounds filled this world. The cacophony was coming from the two wooden vessels filled with men. The foreign stimulus that had stirred it from the ocean depths now urged it to concentrate on the larger of these vessels. The creature had been brought here for a purpose, and now it set about its reckoning.

  The sea surged upwards, rocking both ships in its wake as the kraken emerged from the depths. An eye – a perfect circle of black set in silvery-grey – stared out from the creature’s huge bulbous head, the obsidian disc regarding both vessels for a moment before sinking back beneath the waves again. A tentacle, a vast snake-
like thing, rose up out of the water before slamming down against the stern of the pirate ship and wrapping itself about it.

  Lann, consumed with fear and dread, had frozen at that first glimpse of the vast sea creature. Pulling his aunt’s body closer to him, he muttered a prayer into her ears, hoping that his instincts were correct and that Fleya was using her majik to control the kraken. Because if that was not the case, both ships and their crews were surely doomed.

  The pirate vessel was large, perhaps the largest seagoing ship in all of the seas around these parts, but it might as well have been a child’s toy to the sea creature attacking it. That first tentacle pulled sharply down against the stern of the boat, sending the prow surging out of the water so that everyone aboard was thrown off their feet. The second appeared quickly after. Shooting high out of the foaming waters below, it wavered in the air for a moment before snaking out to grab hold of the mizzenmast, snapping the thing like a wishbone before sending it crashing down into and through the deck. The skewered vessel quickly took on water and was already listing dangerously to one side.

  The monster was beneath the ship now. A third, and then a fourth tentacle, one from each side of the ship, wound their way across the vessel. The cracking and splintering sound of the hull being torn apart finally stirred the pirate crew from the shock that had paralysed them thus far. Forgetting all else, the brigands set about hacking and cutting at the limbs, trying to free their vessel from the gigantic beast beneath it. Below decks, men were screaming as water poured in, trapping and drowning them. All efforts were in vain. With one last terrible, ear-splitting crack the pirate ship was torn in two.

  There were no cheers from the merchant ship. The crew of the Ra’magulsha stood, slack jawed and agog as the pirate ship and all aboard her were dragged down into the boiling waters with that terrible thing. After a few moments, Captain Fariz and some of the sailors warily made their way over to the bulwarks and looked down on to the waters. Wreckage quickly floated up to the surface, but not a single pirate body returned from the depths.

  Lann stared about him at the Ra’magulsha’s crew. Some wandered about the decks, blank eyed and shaking their heads. Others sat and hugged themselves, swearing they would never take to the seas again. Seafarers often told stories of sea monsters from the deep, but few in truth believed these creatures really existed. Now, the stuff of every mariner’s nightmares had dismantled a ship before their very eyes, and they could not understand how their own vessel had been spared.

  Fariz was the first of them to regain a semblance of control and composure. The captain began to bark orders at crew members, urging them to work in an effort to take their minds off the ordeal they had been through. He ordered an extra-large rum ration be given to every deckhand, and personally went among his crew to offer them reassurance and help.

  It was as this was going on that Lann finally felt his aunt stir in his arms. Relief poured through him when he looked down into her face just as her eyelids fluttered open. She looked terrible. She was barely breathing, and was so weak it was as much as she could do to raise her own eyes to meet his.

  ‘I didn’t think you were coming back,’ he whispered.

  She gave a small cough, a hint of a smile touching her corners of her mouth. ‘Neither did I. It was not easy to do so.’

  ‘That creature … How did … ?’ He stopped, and turned his head at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching them. Captain Fariz’s face was a mask of conflicting emotions. Relief was there, but so too were anger and fear. He stood before them, staring down at the woman before slowly sinking to his haunches.

  ‘Was that your doing?’ the captain eventually asked her, gesturing with his head to where the pirate ship had been.

  She parted white lips. Her voice was barely a whisper. ‘I raised the kraken, yes.’

  The man nodded and got slowly to his feet again. He gathered himself before he spoke. ‘I suppose I should thank you for saving the lives of my crew … but I cannot bring myself to do so. I wish I had never seen the things I did today. I will take you to Stromgard as agreed, then I will use your gold to repair my ship and pay my crew. I hope I never encounter you again, Fleya Gudbrandr.’

  With that, he turned his back on the pair and walked away without another backward glance.

  Stromgard

  16

  As the Ra’magulsha and her crew limped into harbour at Stromgard, Lann peered out at the place through the small porthole set in the cabin wall. He was struck by the sheer number of ships approaching and leaving the port, unloading or loading their holds with goods before setting off to sea again. And behind the bustling port rose the city of Stromgard itself: a vast, sprawling place that had expanded and grown over the years to become what it was today. He mused how he’d thought the port of Muslvik to be large. In comparison to the capital, it was little more than a village.

  Lann was glad to get off the ship. The crew treated the pair with an equal measure of fear and distrust, and while the remainder of the journey had been uneventful, it was clear they were keen to get the witch and her nephew off the vessel as soon as possible.

  The pair’s travel sacks were unceremoniously thrown out over the bulwarks on to the wooden planks of the quayside before the ship itself had been fully brought to a halt and secured. Having paid Fariz, Fleya and Lann walked along the gangway and off the ship, feeling the eyes of each and every sailor at their backs.

  The pair were soon in the heart of the city, walking up streets lined on each side with dwellings built close enough that they almost touched. They were squarer than any dwellings Lann had come across before, not like the oval or ship-shaped Volken houses he was used to.

  Although the day was cool, Lann noticed the thin sheen of sweat on his aunt’s forehead. Despite his ministrations on board the ship, it was evident Fleya was still weak.

  ‘Do you need to rest?’ he asked her when she paused at the base of a set of steps. ‘We could find an inn and—’

  ‘No. There is no time for that, Lannigon. Terrible things are already afoot in this place, and I fear we might be too late to stop them.’

  Coming to the top of the steps, the pair found themselves looking at a small tree-lined square where a few traders were selling food to passers-by. The smell of the fish cooking on grills made Lann’s mouth water and he realised they had not eaten in some time. The place was busy. People gathered to talk or sit at the small tables outside, some of them playing a game that involved moving stone pieces around on a square wooden board. At the centre of the space was a small fountain, and Lann, as thirsty as he was hungry, hurried towards it. Putting his head into the flowing water, he drank greedily from it. It was the sweetest water he had ever tasted. His thirst slaked, he turned and saw his aunt standing beside him, her expression thoughtful.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘There is something wrong. These people are so angry. Angry and sad.’ Fleya walked away in the direction of a woman who was standing a short distance from them.

  ‘Good day, mistress,’ Fleya said. ‘Could I ask—’

  ‘And how, pray, could today ever be considered good?’ the woman responded, shooting her a look.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Fleya said. ‘My nephew and I have just arrived by ship and—’

  ‘My apologies. I did not realise you were new here.’ The woman’s smile disappeared from her face almost as quickly as it had appeared. ‘But I’m afraid you will find Stromgard a poor place to visit right now. King Mirvar’s son has been found guilty of his father’s murder and is to be executed this afternoon.’

  Lann saw Fleya’s face whiten. ‘The young queen has decreed this?’ Fleya asked.

  The woman nodded. ‘So it seems. At first she insisted on his innocence, but then something changed. Jarl Glaeverssun and the high council put him on trial while she was out hunting. Hunting! Can you imagine that? When her brother is in prison for patricide!’

  ‘From what I know of the girl, I find it hard
to believe the shield maiden would do such a thing. It is said her love for both her brother and father is as deep as the mountain lakes.’

  The woman gave a little shake of her head. ‘These are dark days. Many Stromgardians don’t know what to think or believe any more.’

  ‘Rumours abound that the boy really did kill the king,’ Fleya said, watching the woman’s reaction carefully. ‘Surely the people of Stromgard welcome the verdict.’

  ‘Many do, it’s true. But there are others, those who know him, who think Prince Erik incapable of such a thing. They believe the true killer is still at large.’ She shrugged, her honest face troubled. ‘I only know my heart is sad that such a thing has happened to our beloved King Mirvar. He was a great ruler.’

  They thanked the woman for her news and left the square, seeking out somewhere they could sit and talk quietly.

  The inn they found was thin on customers at that time of day. They ordered food but left most of it untouched, their appetites forgotten in light of everything they’d been told.

  ‘Astrid is still the key,’ Fleya said finally. ‘We have to get an audience with her if we are to stand any chance of reaching Erik.’

  ‘But she believes her brother guilty – she went out hunting and left him to be sentenced to death.’

  ‘No. That I do not believe. Despite what we have been told, I think something else is at work here.’

  ‘Or someone.’

  Fleya nodded.

  Lann considered what his aunt had said. ‘I’m assuming audiences with queens are not easy to come by. Especially at a time like this.’

  ‘No. But weak as I am, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.’

  Astrid Rivengeld’s removal from the throne had been swift. The jarls, under Glaeverssun, had come prepared, bringing their own armed guards. The soldiers outnumbered her shield maidens by three to one. Seeing the situation was hopeless, and not wanting her sisters to be hurt, Astrid had called for them to stand down. Many did, but some refused to let their queen be deposed in this way and they fought. Maarika, the shield maiden who was also the queen’s closest friend, battled hardest. She took down six guards and valiantly defended her queen until she was rendered unconscious by a blow from behind and dragged from the place.