The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock

by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  There was a reason he couldn't feed himself. When the Gray Pirates took over the ship, Garnal had taken Malock to his stateroom and tied him up to his chair behind his desk. Despite her clawed hands, Garnal was extremely good at tying knots, so good that Malock could barely even feel his arms and legs anymore. The chair itself was not nailed down or anything; however, that was a useless fact because every time he tried to move, his chair would tip over and he would remain that way for hours until Garnal decided to check up on him.

  Malock had not yet eaten today because Garnal had gone to discuss something with her first mate, Daryh. They were standing just outside the stateroom, but all he could hear were their muffled voices. He had no idea what they were talking about. All he knew was that it probably wasn't ways in which they could improve their treatment of the crew of the Iron Wind.

  A few minutes later, Garnal returned. She walked up to Malock's desk and took a seat opposite him, on the chair that Vashnas usually sat on. It reminded Malock that Vashnas was in even worse conditions than him, being locked up in the hold with no food or water at all. It made him angry, so angry he wanted to spit on Garnal (although he didn't, knowing from experience how she would react to that).

  On the table between them was a bowl of cold lime fish soup. It was the only thing Malock had been allowed to eat day in and day out and he was getting sick of the taste. He now understood why the rest of his crew despised the dish so much.

  “My precious prince looks hungry today,” said Garnal, as if she were speaking about a child. “Want mommy to feed you?”

  “I'd rather starve than accept food from you,” Malock said, snarling.

  Garnal shook her head. “That's a nice sentiment, but I'm afraid we still need you alive until we get north. You dying on us would ruin our plans, and frankly I dislike it when my plans are ruined.”

  Malock gave her the most skeptical, scathing look he could muster. “Oh? And may I ask what your plans are?”

  “Sure,” said Garnal. “Won't hurt to tell you, since you can't do a thing about 'em and you'll find out what they are soon enough anyway. I was just discussing them with Daryh, actually, so they're fresh on my mind.”

  Garnal leaned back in her chair, folding her claws across her chest and looking quite pleased with herself. “You see, my precious prince, we Gray Pirates are not in a particularly good situation. I won't tell you the specifics, but we are in desperate need of men, money, and a good ship.”

  Malock raised an eyebrow. “So you're going to take the Iron Wind and turn it's crew into pirates?”

  Garnal laughed. “Ha! As if. Not even I could whip these wimps into pirates. They're hardly better than plankton, if that. No, I will kill them all eventually.”

  “And the ship?”

  “This chunk of flotsam and jetsam?” said Garnal. “We'll sink it and get another. This lady is clearly on her last legs and it would be far more merciful to let her die in peace rather than try to fix her up.”

  “I don't understand,” said Malock. “How are you going to get men, money, and a good ship if you're going to kill my whole crew?”

  “That's where you come in,” said Garnal. “You're the Prince of Carnag. That makes you worth a lot of money, thousands of coins, perhaps even millions. I imagine your parents are probably worried sick about you right now, praying to Grinf that you will have a safe voyage and that you will return alive and whole.”

  “Hold on,” said Malock. “Are you going to hold me for ransom?”

  “Looks like you royals aren't so dumb after all,” said Garnal. “Yes, indeed. Once we return north, we'll offer your parents a deal. We'll return you, alive and whole, in exchange for a million coins. Seems like a reasonable deal to me, especially if your parents care about you even half as much as I think they do.”

  “A million coins?” said Malock. “That would bankrupt Carnag. It would make Carnag look like Ruwa.”

  “And what's so wrong about Ruwa?” said Garnal. “Lawlessness, poverty, perpetual hunger, and constant strife. Sounds like a pirate's paradise to me.”

  “You'll never get away with this,” said Malock. “Kano is on my side. She'll drag you to the bottom of the ocean and torture your broken soul if you even so much as touch me.”

  Garnal's expression changed from amused to angry in a flash. “Don't you dare mention that divine bitch to me, gold blood. Why, if she were here right now, I'd throttle her, chop her into pieces, ground those into fine power, and scatter it across the entirety of the Crystal Sea personally. After what she did to us—”

  “What did she do to you?” Malock said, not caring if he was interrupting. “Is she the reason you don't have a ship and only have a dozen men left on your crew?”

  “Shut up,” said Garnal. “You may be a prince, but that doesn't mean you are entitled to know everything about everybody. All you need to know is that Kano will not save you; if she wanted to, she would have already done that by now.”

  Malock opened her mouth to correct her, but before he could say anything, the door slammed open and Daryh walked in. Garnal looked over her shoulder in irritation and said, “Daryh, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to—”

  Daryh let out a long, shuddering gasp and then fell face first to the floor. Blood leaked out of his back like a spring, but that wasn't what caught Malock's attention. What caught Malock's attention was the young woman standing just behind the now-dead pirate, the woman who held a long, deadly-looking knife like she did this sort of thing every day.

  Garnal rose to her feet, knocking her chair over in the process, and said, “Who in the Crystal Sea are you?”

  The woman smiled. “Jenur Takren. And I'm here to take you out.”

  -

  Five minutes earlier ...

  With the knife hidden up his sleeve (Jenur had shown Kinker how to hide it so he could easily draw it when he needed it), Kinker made his way from the stern to the main deck. He tried to look as casual as he could, hoping against hope that he would not be stopped and searched by one of the Pirates, that he could make it to the hatch without being noticed. If any of the Pirates stopped him, the entire plan would probably fall apart.

  To calm himself, he recited the story in his head again and again, the exact reason he was going down to the hold.

  I am going to the hold to retrieve some supplies to repair the trawl, Kinker thought, climbing down the steps from the poop deck to the main deck. I am going to the hold to retrieve some supplies to repair the trawl. I am going to the hold to retrieve some supplies to repair the trawl. I am—

  “Hey, you!” said a voice, causing Kinker to freeze. “Where are you going?”

  Kinker turned and saw Daryh above him, standing just outside the stateroom, near the helm, where a couple of sailors were steering the ship. The eel-like aquarian's eyes almost burned him, but Kinker tried to look as innocent as he could.

  “I am going to the hold to retrieve some supplies to repair the trawl,” Kinker said. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”

  Daryh didn't look convinced. “Did Hino give you permission to go wandering about the ship like this?”

  “Yes,” said Kinker. “He threatened to beat me to death if I didn't return in ten minutes, so I must be going, if you'd let me.”

  Daryh shook his head. “No way. I know exactly what you're trying to do. You can't fool—”

  Jenur appeared behind Daryh just then and stabbed him in the back. The first mate let out a loud scream, causing the rest of the crew—Pirates and sailors alike—to turn and look at him in surprise. Even Kinker was too stunned to move for a moment.

  Still driving her knife into his back, Jenur shouted, “Everyone! The time has come to kick these pirates off of our ship! Fight for your freedom!”

  Everyone was still too surprised to react, but Kinker realized that he had a rare opportunity here to go below deck before the Pirates recovered from shock. He ran as fast as he could to the hatch, pulled it open, and climbed down the ladder below deck
even as the sounds of battle and cries of pain began to fill his ears.

  As he made his way down the hall, he passed several sailors, telling them as he did, “Go top deck and help the others fight the pirates,” but didn't stop long enough to tell them the whole story. Not that he needed to. When the sailors he passed heard that, they let out big whoops and dashed in the opposite direction that he was going. Kinker would have joined them, but he had his own job to complete right now.

  As he climbed down the ladder that led to the hold, he realized just how stupid he'd been. In his rush to get to the hold, he had forgotten to get help from some of the other sailors. He was so focused on the original plan, which involved him discreetly killing the guard and freeing the prisoners, that he had forgotten that things had changed, which meant the plan had changed, too.

  But Kinker kept climbing down anyway. He didn't have time to go back up and find someone. All of the sailors in the lower decks were probably already on their way to the surface. Right now, the guard probably didn't know about the fighting and if he saw Kinker climbing down with three or four other armed sailors, he would probably realize what was happening and attack them. Kinker hoped that Jenur's earlier advice to him would work.

  The lowest deck, where the hold was located, was much darker than the middle deck. Kinker had never been down here before, never having a reason to, and he now wished he didn't have to. While light would stream through the ceiling of the middle deck, down here, the only light was a lamp at the end of the hall, in front of the door to the hold, leaving the rest of the deck in darkness.

  Not only that, but Kinker could feel the ocean currents better down here, too. The ship lurched slightly, sending him staggering to the right. He leaned against a wall and realized it was wet. He realized that he was technically underwater and that, if a hole was busted open down, he would undoubtedly drown. It was not a pleasant thought.

  Doing his best to retain his balance and hide his fear, Kinker made his way down the hall. Through the walls of the lowest deck, the slightly muffled sounds of the ocean currents drowned out most of the other sounds, which certainly worked in Kinker's favor because that meant that the guard would not hear the noises from the fighting above. And with luck, the guard would never learn about the battle at all.

  Kinker reached the end of the hall sooner than he wanted, stopping a few feet away from the guard. The guard looked to be asleep at first, his eyes closed and his shark-like head lowered onto his chest. He was sitting on a chair, which was leaning against the door to the hold, a key ring tied to his belt. Kinker wanted to reach out and take those keys, but he refrained from doing so. It was not yet time.

  Then the guard's eyes opened and he looked up. Kinker wished that the guard's eyes would look more human and less shark-like because right now the old man felt like he was being scrutinized for lunch.

  “What are you doing down here?” said the guard. His arms, Kinker noticed, were quite large, probably thicker than Kinker's entire body. “Garnal said no one was allowed down here except for Gray Pirates.”

  “Yes, well, you see, I am in desperate need of supplies to repair the trawl with,” Kinker said, his voice accidentally trembling over the word 'trawl.' “Daryh sent me down here to retrieve some rope we could use to fix it. It's in the hold, so if you will just let me in—”

  “I smell fear,” said the guard. He raised his head to sniff the air, exposing his neck. “I don't think you'd be afraid if you were telling me the—”

  Kinker didn't let him finish. Just as Jenur showed him, Kinker let the knife slip out of his sleeve and into his hand. And then, again as Jenur had showed him, Kinker leaped forward and rammed the knife straight into the pirate's exposed throat.

  The Pirate lashed out with a kick, hitting Kinker in the knee and sending the fisherman falling to the ground. Yet a moment later, the Pirate slumped in his seat, blood pouring from his neck onto his shirt, staining it and making it look even uglier than usual.

  Rubbing his knee, Kinker stood up and looked at his knife, which was covered in blood. He was surprised at how easily the guard had died. It made him wonder how Jenur knew the right place to kill someone instantly, but he decided that was a question for another day. Right now, he had to free the prisoners.

  The shark pirate was as heavy as a log, but Kinker eventually pushed the Pirate's body onto the floor and pushed the chair aside. He fished the key ring from the Pirate's body and fiddled with several different keys until he found one that fit the hold's lock. He turned the key and opened the door.

  As soon as he opened it, a terrible smell of unwashed bodies, rotting food, and seawater entered his nostrils, making him gag. He had little time to recover, however, because Banika appeared in the doorway, holding a chunk of wood, and brought it down on his head even as he held up a hand and said, “Wait! Its me, Kinker! Stop!”

  His words did little to stop her. The chunk of wood slammed into the top of his head and he crashed to the floor, losing consciousness instantly.

  -

  Currently ...

  Now Malock didn't know Jenur very well, but he was so glad to see her that he could have kissed her. The sounds of battle raged behind her, but that didn't matter right now because he was certain he was going to be saved now.

  “You're going to take me down?” said Garnal, her back to Malock. “That's a funny joke, young girl. You may have killed Daryh, but he was always an idiot despite his academic credentials.”

  “I didn't just kill Daryh,” said Jenur. “Killed Hino, too. Oh, and the rest of your band of dirty thieves is currently fighting for their lives. I imagine the rest of the crew is showing them no mercy at the moment.”

  For the first time, Garnal's claws shook. “Impossible. You sailors are too scrawny and weak to defeat my men.”

  “True, we haven't had a good meal in a long time,” said Jenur. “But we still out number you— two to one—and all of us are incredibly pissed off, which is a pretty good combination in any fight. We might suffer a few losses ourselves, but it'll be nothing compared to the losses you will suffer.”

  “Big words for such a small girl,” Garnal said. “Besides, if knives are the best you got, I'm afraid you'll be losing your head tonight. My armor, if you haven't noticed, is extremely thick. Not even Grinfian knives can pierce this hide.”

  Garnal tapped her shell as she spoke, a hollow ringing sound echoing as she did that.

  Jenur shrugged. “My knives have pierced things much thicker than a crab shell before. Like the skulls of idiots.”

  Garnal immediately moved behind the desk. With her claws, she snapped the ropes tying down Malock as easily as string and then forced the prince to stand. Malock struggled to escape her grasp, but he felt one of her claws close around his throat, causing him to cease struggling.

  Jenur took one step forward, but Garnal tightened her claw around Malock's neck, making her stop. Malock felt the nails of her claw pierce his neck slightly, enough to make it bleed but not enough to cause any serious damage.

  “Take just one more step forward, girl, one more step, I dare you, and your Captain will lose his head,” said Garnal. “Quite literally, in this case.”

  Jenur gave her a hard look. “You wouldn't dare.”

  “Many people have said similar things to me in the past, girl, but every one of them has been wrong,” said Garnal. “I wouldn't be the most wanted pirate in the Northern Isles if I didn't dare to do things that lesser pirates would never even dream of. And let me tell you that I have dreamed of killing royalty before.”

  Malock met Jenur's eyes. He tried to look as in command and confident as he could. But frankly, in this situation, he didn't feel confident that he or Jenur could get out of this with his head still attached to his shoulders.

  “Drop your knife, and I'll spare your precious prince's pampered life,” said Garnal. “If you don't, then we'll see if the color of the blood of princes really is gold, as the old song says.”

  Jenur looked tor
n. For a long moment, Malock thought Jenur would attack anyway.

  Then Jenur tossed her knife to the floor. “Fine. I'm unarmed.”

  Garnal chuckled. “Now tell your fellow mates to stop slaughtering my men. I can still hear them fighting outside. And if I don't hear them stop in five minutes ...”

  Her claw tightened around his neck again. It was getting harder and harder for Malock to breathe, not in the least because Garnal smelled exactly like a crab that had spent too much time lying under a rock.

  “What?” said Jenur. “That wasn't the deal, Garnal. You said—”

  “So long as I hold Malock's life in my claws, I decide what the 'deal' is, girl,” said Garnal. “Now call off your mates. Tell 'em this little mutiny of yours is over. For good.”

  “Don't,” said Malock to Jenur, daring to speak for the first time. “Don't let this lowlife pirate—”

  “Shut your trap,” Garnal said, tightening her grip once more and forcing him to stop speaking. “Stop trying to play the hero. We know what you royals are really like. You care only about saving your own skin. You'd step over this naïve girl's corpse if you thought it would save your own life.”

  Malock didn't dare speak. He had a feeling that if he spoke even one more word, Garnal would drop any pretense of making a fair deal and behead him in one swift stroke.

  “All right, then,” said Garnal. “Now, girl, remember the deal. You step outside, call off the mutiny, and I won't kill this spoiled brat. Deal?”

  Jenur looked defeated. Her shoulders slumped and she turned to leave when Malock remembered something very important. Saying it might get him killed, but it was the only opportunity he had.