She saw the rogue in him and said: “Is this one of those stories that begins with: ‘I fell into bad company’?”
Mithraik guffawed and slapped his knee. “Jus’ what I was goin’ to say, m’ Lady,” he said. “Yuz got ole Mithraik hammered wi’ the first swing a th’ mallet.”
He drank, then grew serious, and said to me: “But that be the truth, sir. More’s the pity. Me family’s been merchantin’ these seas since they was nothin’ more’n a tear in some god’s eye. Honest sailors, sir, doin’ honest trade. Was me father’s pride, sir, and me mother’s as well. Rose to cap’n, I did, and there was a time when it looked like I’d end up ownin’ me own ship. Play the owner’s pipes, sir, ’n buy the first round at the inn.”
The other men had gathered near. They grinned and shook their heads, empathizing with Mithraik’s goals. I saw they were passing their weapons to Janela, who was sprinkling a few drops of magical oil on each of them and handing them back. Pip stood watch while this was going on but his large ears pricked to catch our visitor’s tale.
Mithraik gulped hugely and passed the flask to the men. He continued: “All that mighta come to be, sir, but I was cursed with a wild nature and a quarrelsome tongue. I was al’ays tellin’ the owners their business, thinkin’ I knew best.”
I understood the type. I had captains just like him in my employ. So what he said next was no surprise: “I got fewer berths every year, sir, and poor ones at that. I took to cuttin’ corners, if yuz knows what I mean.”
I did indeed. Certain cargo items would be stolen, the thefts covered by declaring the goods damaged or lost in a storm. Sometimes the ship might be involved in even more illicit goings on.
“I even went a-piratin’, much to me shame, sir,” Mithraik said. “Used the owners’ ship, ’n a hand-picked crew of lads I knew was bent. But me masters weren’t stupid men, sir. They soon caught on and ’afore I knew it I was runnin’ to keep me head on me shoulders, ’n me arms from bein’ stubbed. It was only a matter of time, sir, that I joined the real pirates. ’N I been a rogue ever since.”
“Why the sudden remorse?” I asked. “You sound as if you have seen the error of your ways, and want to repent.
Mithraik nodded, solemn. “That I have, sir,” he said. “That I have. Yuz see, I was marooned here by me mates many months ago. They ’ccused me a holdin’ out on ’em, sir. Said I was keepin more’n me share. And that was a bloody lie!” His glare was fierce, as if he meant to prove the truth of his words by its heat. I gave him the flask, and he sighed deeply, and calmed himself with a drink.
“But there was no talkin’ to ’em, sir,” he continued. “’N they put me down here, ’mongst the beasts. ’N I been runnin’ and dodgin’ ’em ever since. They ain’t that smart, yuz know. ’Specially if’n yer on’y one feller, like me. Yuz can keep low, confuse ’em if they spot yuz ’n gets back to yer hidey hole afore they knows what’s what. So that’s what I been doin’, sir, since me mates played me false. ’N the truth is, sir, for the first months I swore if I ever got outter this port I’d do ’em right proper. Gets me revenge. ’N after that, why I’d become the greatest pirate ever lived, sir. The scourge o’ the seas. But the more time passed, sir, the more I dwelled on me dear family ’n how I shamed ’em — honest folk one ’n all.”
He lifted his head and looked at me with big, cow brown eyes. “So, what do yer say, sir? Will yuz take ole Mithraik off this horrid place? Give him a chance to set things right?”
I nodded. “Fight beside us,” I said, “and if we live you can join us.” Mithraik brightened considerably. So I thought it only fair to warn him, saying, “You should know, however, that it’s no merchant trip we’re on. It’s more of an expedition... to find new markets.”
“Will you be goin’ mostly by water, sir?” Mithraik said.
“Yes,” I said. “We’ll be sailing up yon river as soon as I get back to my fleet.”
“I know the river,” Mithraik said. “Even been up it a few leagues. It’s a bit tricky but it shouldn’t be much trouble, seein’s how yer shallow drafted.”
My hackles prickled. But before I could speak, Janela said, sharply: “How did you know the design of our ships? Were you watching when we came in?”
Mithraik looked puzzled then smote his head a meaty blow. “Why no I didn’t, me Lady. So, I ask meself how’d ole Mithraik know they was shallow drafted? ’N I gots no answer. It just came to me. Popped inta me head. Like somebody whispered it inta me ear.”
He looked around the temple corridor and shivered. “I gotter get outta this port, sir. The ghosts ’re drivin’ me barmy.”
Then Pip shouted a warning and those strange, hooting war cries shattered the night.
We leaped to the barricade and saw a gray mass of beastmen charging out of the darkness. They came from all sides and behind them were a host of others, shambling forward to take the places of those who would fall.
The Cyralian brothers volleyed arrows anointed with Janela’s sorcery. They exploded just before they reached their marks and I heard all-too human shrieks of agony. But it made no differences to those who lived and the shaggy wave of gray rolled on, absorbing shock after shock as the brothers rained death into their ranks.
Just before they overran us, Janela pulled the little box from her boot. She opened it, muttered some words of a spell to the firefly and cast her “little sister” into the air. Then her sword scraped out and she joined us in the hand-to-hand fight.
Our magically-aided weapons made it butcher’s work, cleaving skulls, splitting torsos, with blood spraying everywhere — and those of us who lived would be cursed with violent dreams from that day on.
I killed until I was gasping, my arms leaden, my legs like stone; and then I killed more. Mithraik proved his mettle in the first wave. One of the beastmen hurdled the barricade before we could tighten our line. But Mithraik wrested the club from his hand and broke his head. Then he fought like a wild thing — a borrowed sword in one hand, the stone-headed club in the other. He jumped in wherever he was needed, filling gaps caused by the press of the fight, stabbing over Pip’s head in one instance to spear an oncoming beast through the throat.
But there was no relenting. The creatures fought on. Some died just to drag one stone away from the barricade. Others died by deliberately offering their bodies to our swords so a comrade would have time to get us before the sword could be withdrawn. One of the ex-Scouts was killed this way, Otavi avenging him by beheading his slayer. Another was mortally wounded early in the battle but continued fighting as relentlessly as our enemy — his own blood pooling at his feet. Then he slumped over the barricade, sword jutting from his dead hand as if to help stave off the gray horde.
Finally there came a time I realized we wouldn’t last another hour, much less the night.
A dry wind blew up and I heard a rustling sound above the din.
I heard Janela shout: “Come little sister!” I looked up to see a black cloud settling over the battlefield — living cloud — and it was from there that that the dry blew and made the noise of countless insect wings, a chitinous scratching at the ether itself.
The night turned to golden day as the cloud lit up, making a small sun above us.
It was so bewildering — this magical firefly mass — I nearly forgot the battle and dodged just in time as a club hammered the space where my head had been. As I cut my attacker down the glorious cloud spread out like an enormous net drawn up from fiery, tropical seas.
Janela shouted something in a strange language and the net descended. It settled down and down, falling over the heads and shoulders of our enemies. They howled in agony, flailing helplessly and sinking to the ground to shudder and die.
Few escaped the flaming net and those who did either scattered into the darkness or were slain by us at the barricade.
Janela clapped her hands... and the net vanished... leaving a great harvest of gray corpses for the Dark Seeker.
We collapsed the barricade, exha
usted.
But there was no time to rest that night, much less mourn our fallen friends or praise Janela’s quick-thinking and powerful sorcery.
We wanted to make haste to reach the shore before the beastmen could regroup and so we had to chance that most dangerous of all retreats — by night and through a jungle. If we hurried and were not ambushed we would just meet Quatervals when he landed with the rescue party at dawn. As we retraced our steps along the wall, however, I did ponder that in many ways Janela was Greycloak’s equal at sorcery. And even if she wasn’t she had his same strange turn of mind that would see a magical, death-dealing net in something so small and innocent as a firefly.
Then we were running down the stairwell and out on the muddy shore. The new sun was gleaming on the shields of our comrades from the fleet. Quatervals loomed at their head and when he saw me relief flooded his features.
He rushed over, but instead of the expected: exclamation of: “Thank Te-Date, you’re safe,” he said, “You must make speed, my Lord. The lookouts have spotted an approaching fleet!”
* * * *
Aboard the Ibis, Kele was issuing orders in a violent stream, making sure everything was ready in case the ships were unfriendly.
“What flag do they fly?” I asked, although I suspected I already knew the answer.
She shook her head. “Not close enough to make out as yet, my Lord,” she said.
“How swift’s your pinnace?” I asked.
“It wins its races.”
“Your best oarsmen... and stand by to lower,” I ordered, then took Janela aside.
“If this is who we fear we’ll be trapped in this harbor before we can make our way upriver,” I said. “A delaying action is what we need.”
Janela nodded. I told her what I hoped her magic could provide.
She frowned. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “There’s already a very powerful spell in place. It was created to guard against all the storms that have blown against these shores.” She sighed. “I don’t think much of my chances... but we don’t have a lot of alternatives, do we?”
“One other thing,” I said. “Can you make it happen on command?”
She snorted. “You don’t want much,” she said.
Janela hurried forward, shouting for the ship’s carpenter and in a few moments she returned, carrying a small balk of wood.
The crew was already standing by their oars. We clambered over the gunwales, Kele shouted orders and the crew sent our boat dropping into the harbor waters.
The coxswain raised a small spritsail and the oarsmen set to, sending us skimming across the water, tacking alongside the mole with the prevailing east wind until we reached its end where the monolith stood.
As we sailed, Janela carved on that balk of wood with a small golden scythe. I noted the wood seemed to have suffered from dry rot. Every now and then she swore and I heard her mutter once she was gods-damned if this looked anything like it was supposed to.
We pulled up to the mole and scrambled onto the ancient cobbles. Janela ran straight to the statue’s base and began her spell.
I went on to the end of the jetty and peered out and saw the ships. It was the same ten Orissan ships I’d seen before in my vision. Except now they flew two banners above our city’s flag — the blue coiled serpent set on a golden sunburst that was the emblem of Vacaan and below that the red and black that were the colors of the Warders.
The ships were close enough now for me to see the quarterdeck of the flagship. Once again I saw Cligus, but somehow the blow was greater in person. Worse still, beside him stood Lord Modin. My son was hunting me down and he’d made an ally of a powerful black wizard — a wizard with men and designs of his own.
I imagined I saw my son spot me and lift his eyes in surprise. The distance was too great for such small detail, but he did point in my direction and Modin turned his head to look. Instantly he threw up his arms and sorcerous lightning forked from the heavens, barely missing the mole and making the seas hiss with the fury of its blast. I smelt the reek of ozone.
I heard a cry from Janela and turned to see her slip back into the pinnace. I ran to join her and we pulled hard for the Ibis. I looked at Janela, who was waiting for my order and holding that bit of rotten wood in both hands. I saw that it was a crude model of the monolith.
“Now!” I said.
And Janela snapped the model.
Fire sprayed up from the base of the statue, sheeting above the ghastly head itself. An explosion like a volcano roused from its sleep ripped out, powdering the base of the statue and showering us with stinging small debris.
Slowly, the statue toppled — hesitating a moment in mid-fall — then plunged over, sending up a mass of water that lifted the pinnace high above the distant trees of the jungle as the wave passed under.
Then we were coming down and I saw the fallen monolith had blocked the entrance. Beyond I saw the sails of our pursuers plunging about on the other side like sea dragons raging to get at their prey.
We didn’t give them a second look but were clambering aboard the Ibis and my three ships were speeding down the channel into the river’s mouth.
Within an hour we were sailing up the river that Janela’s map said would lead us to our goal. Except, now it wasn’t a gateway — it was our only means of escape.
CHAPTER NINE
THE RIVER ROAD
I had no doubt Cligus and his forces would soon find a way to clear the blocked channel so it was imperative we travel fast. I’d had just two hopes — first, Cligus wouldn’t continue the pursuit beyond Irayas and second, that if he did he’d be handicapped by not having an Evocator as skilled as Janela. Those hopes were dashed when I saw him off the ruined city with Modin.
Our weapons were our wits and our ships. Our shallow-draft sweep-equipped vessels would have an easier time on the river than Cligus’ hastily-converted merchantmen. They needed deep water under their keels to keep from running aground. Cligus would also be dependent on the wind’s vagaries which could only blow from a few points of the compass.
At the moment, however, the wind seemed to prefer one direction — directly upriver toward those distant mountains, perfect to fill the sails of Cligus’ wallowing ships. I was beginning to regret my prayers for winds blowing constantly east. My seamen naturally didn’t share this feeling. They knew that soon enough we’d be unlashing the sweeps from where they were fixed below the railings and the real work would begin.
If we had not entered this gigantic river from the sea it would have been easy to believe we were on but one of many smaller rivers. The waters of the delta were like fingers; twisting, crossing, meeting or joining into others and then, quite suddenly, we would be traveling on a current so vast the further shores couldn’t be glimpsed. An hour later we’d be forcing our way down a waterway so narrow our ships had to travel in a single line.
We knew we were on the right course though, because regularly we saw, set either on islands or driven directly into the riverbed, pillars topped with the same awful double-faced head as the monolith that marked the river’s entrance.
This river was the highway to the Kingdoms of the Night.
To confuse our pursuers, I considered landing men to topple the monoliths on land or use a cable from ship to ship to rip the ones in the water away to confuse. I dismissed the notion when I realized it would take too long. Also, something inside me was bothered by destroying monuments this old, especially ones used to help travelers find their way through the wilderness.
The river was alive. Schools of fish frothed on the surface hunted by unknown enemies below. We kept lines out and frequently had to cut them loose as a fisherman would hook something that seemed more intent on catching him. Pip was once nearly pulled overside by a sudden strike, only saved by Otavi grabbing him around the waist and bellowing for the stubborn little fool to let go the blessed line.
After that my diminutive complainer forswore piscatorial pleasures — “I don’t have no truck
le wi’ anything more innarested in eatin’ me than I him.”
Once I saw a motion in the water and looked out to see a wedge-shaped creature swimming toward us. I thought it might be a mink or otter but then the wedge lifted on a long snake-like neck, became a head and looked at me curiously. I swear there was at least as much intelligence in its gaze as in any of the awestricken men and women who stared at it. Then it was gone and the water swirled from the great creature’s passing.
We spotted another strange animal crossing the river just in front of us. All we could see was a gross head, looking, as Pip said, “uglier nor a fishwife in Cheapside, e’en wi’out th’ gold teeth.”
Mithraik told the men around him it was as ugly out of water with its bulk exposed as it was in. “Great and fat, sir, just like yer fishwife. And movin’ as fast when it minds as any peddler seein’ someone in the till. Never get ’tween one when he’s grazin’ ashore and the river, sir, ’less yuz like bein’ used as a gangplank.
“Uster hunt ’em from canoes. ’Twas a rare sport. Used harpoons and make the lines fast to the thwart. Give us a tow, sir, faster’n a matched pair a’ horses. Unless they turned on yuz.” He grimaced. “Saw one of ’em take a canoe and bust it like a paper boat and then take a man and crunch him like a sweet. But we paid him back in kind, sir, by killin’ him and havin’ him fer supper.”
“Were they good eating?” Otavi wondered.
“Fattish,” Mithraik said. “Had to parbroil ’em then grill ’em. Even then, tasted like whale blubber.”
“Ne’er could see th’ point of huntin’ somethin,” said Maha, my kitchen apprentice turned cook. She was someone I’d suspected before of doing a little sedate poaching on some of my neighbor’s estates, “that isn’t tryin’ to eat you, that you can eat or sell th’ furs for profit.”
“Th’ hide makes decent whips,” Mithraik said. “And wet, tied around somethin’’, it’ll dry like iron.”
Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) Page 21