The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock

by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  So Malock said, in a strained voice, “Jenur, stay where you are. You don't need to deal with lowlife scum like this Pirate.”

  Jenur stopped and looked over her shoulder. “What? But if I don't, she'll—”

  “She wouldn't dare touch a hair on my head,” said Malock. “Right, Garnal?”

  “What are you babbling about?” said Garnal. “This isn't Poetry Day, gold blood. You don't win prizes for spouting nonsensical gibberish.”

  “I know that,” said Malock. “I also know that you need me alive so you can ransom me off to my parents back on Carnag. If you kill me, then you won't get the million coins you want so badly.”

  “Don't tempt me, gold blood,” said Garnal, though there was a hint of doubt in her voice. “I've killed people more important than you for much less.”

  “But you wouldn't kill me now,” said Malock. “Consider your situation, Pirate. By now, my men have probably made short work of what little of your crew remains. You don't have a ship, not even a small rowboat to call your own. Your own funds are obviously depleted. And even if you kill me, my men will slaughter you and bury your corpse with the rest of your sorry crew. I'm the only bargaining chip you have left and I know you're too smart to kill me that easily.”

  Malock didn't know if talking her down would work. Garnal was a bloodthirsty pirate and bloodthirsty pirates rarely listened to reason. Still, he also knew that she was a coward who would do whatever she needed to preserve her own life, even if it meant losing. It was the only chance of survival that he had.

  The seconds ticked by slowly. Malock didn't know what to expect and based on Jenur's expression, she didn't, either. What either of them did next relied entirely upon what Garnal did next.

  Then, without warning, Garnal's claw let go of his neck entirely. Her other claw let go of his right arm and he staggered forward against the desk. He turned around to see Garnal still standing there, her arms at her sides, looking far more defeated than Jenur had.

  “I'll give you this, gold blood,” said Garnal. “If you were a pirate, I'd fear for my very life on these sorry seas.”

  At that moment, the sounds of feet beating against the wood floor reached Malock's ears and then a dozen or so sailors spilled into the stateroom. They all looked like they had been through a war, with torn clothing, bleeding wounds, broken noses, and their weapons at the ready. Those who had guns, about half, aimed them directly at Garnal, while those with swords moved to apprehend her.

  “Don't kill her,” Malock told the sailors who were approaching the desk. “Tie her up and lock her up in the hold. I want to talk to her.”

  To Garnal's credit, she didn't fight back. She allowed the six sailors to bind her with some of the rope that had bound Malock and allowed them to lead her out of the stateroom. She held her head high the entire time, however, much like Malock's mother did whenever she was walking about the capital. The other sailors, the ones with the guns, moved Daryh's corpse out of the doorway to let the others through easier.

  Jenur had stepped aside to allow the other sailors to enter, but when they took Garnal out of the room, she went over to Malock and sliced the few ropes still binding his hands together. The ropes left marks around his wrists, but other than that they were fine.

  “Thank you, Jenur,” said Malock, looking at her with appreciation as he rubbed his wrists. “There are not enough words in the language of the gods to describe my thankfulness to you.”

  “It's nothing,” said Jenur, sheathing her knife. “I have a special hatred for pirates, so the pleasure of killing so many is all the reward I need.”

  “But you deserve far more,” Malock said. “When we return to Carnag, I'll ask my parents to make you royalty. How does Duchess Jenur sound?”

  “Seriously, you don't need to do anything,” said Jenur, shaking her head. “Like I said, killing pirates is reward enough.”

  “But I insist,” said Malock. “At the very least, please let me praise you in front of the entire crew. You are an example to them all, a true sailor to your Captain.”

  Jenur shrugged. “Whatever. I'm going to go find Kinker. He was supposed to free the prisoners from the hold. Should be done by now.”

  “I will go with you,” said Malock. “I want to make sure Vashnas is okay. I also need to see Banika and get her back to work overseeing the clean up and disposal of the pirates' corpses.”

  “Okay,” said Jenur, already making her way to the door. “Try to keep up.”

  ***

  Chapter Eight

  Kinker awoke a few hours later, his head still pounding, to discover that Banika had stayed behind to take care of him while Bifor and Vashnas went to join the rest of the crew in mutiny. Banika apologized to Kinker when she saw he was awake, explaining that she, Bifor, and Vashnas had been planning to jump any Pirates that came to check on them. She had mistaken Kinker for one of them and had only realized her mistake a moment too late.

  Kinker forgave her for that, even though he had a feeling that, between being beaten by Jenur and getting thwacked on the head by Banika, his head was going to be pounding for the rest of the voyage. So he and Banika made their way to the top deck, where they discovered that the mutiny had been successful and that all of the pirates were now dead, except for Garnal, who was taken to the hold for further questioning.

  It wasn't without some losses, however. During the mutiny, a few sailors had been lost, among them Daro Loman and Magnisa. These losses hit Kinker and the surviving members of the fishing crew hard, but Gino seemed to be hit the hardest of them all. He and Magnisa had been married for fifty years, which surprised Kinker until he remembered that aquarians had a longer lifespan than the average human.

  As with the sailors they lost on Ikadori Island, a mass funeral was held for those who lives were lost. They lost about five sailors overall, so on that day, five bodies, wrapped in some extra sail cloth that Vashnas had found in the hold while being held prisoner down there, were dropped into the sea. Gino gave the eulogy for them. He was fine for the first three sailors, got emotional when talking about Daro, and broke down so completely when he got to Magnisa that Malock himself had to finish the eulogy for the widower.

  No one broke down for the Pirates. Their bodies were looted for clothes, weapons, and anything else useful they might have on them, and then frozen together by Bifor's pagomancy. The block of ice was dumped into the sea without much fanfare or ritual and was lost from view as the Iron Wind continued its voyage.

  Regarding the injured, most of the crew suffered minor injuries during the mutiny, though nothing worse than a cut or some bruises, surprisingly enough. Those few who had suffered broken limbs were healed by Telka and Bifor with little trouble.

  The ship itself had suffered some damage. Bullet holes riddled the deck and the middle sail, which they had to take down for a few hours to patch. The top deck reeked of blood and death, even with the wind blowing in the cool sea air. The Iron Wind already smelled awful, but it was even worse now.

  All things considered, however, Kinker was surprised at how smoothly the mutiny went. His heart ached every time he thought about Daro and Magnisa, of course, and their food supply was even lower than before, but it seemed like the Gray Pirates had done little lasting damage to the ship itself. They had lost a few days, true, but the wind was blowing unusually hard recently and the ship had been turned around back south, so Kinker figured they would make up that pretty quickly.

  When he mentioned that to Jenur, as they sat together at the stern during breakfast two days after the mutiny, Jenur nodded.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Though really, it's not that surprising. There were only a dozen of them and half of them were mostly drunk most of the time and the other half were completely drunk all the time. I'm surprised they had control over the ship as long as they did, to be honest.”

  Kinker took a bite from his fish, grateful to be to eating even this much, and said, “Makes me wonder what happened to their ship. The Gray Pirates
are supposed to have had over a hundred members, right?”

  “Right,” said Jenur. “And did you see how hungry they were? They looked even worse than us. Something on these seas must have got 'em good. Don't you agree, Gino?”

  Gino was sitting near them, quietly eating his fish. He had been quieter since Magnisa's death, at least during the day. At night, Kinker heard the aquarian fisherman singing a song in the aquarian language. Kinker didn't understand the words, but the tone was always sad, so sad in fact that Kinker himself had a hard time not shedding a few tears as he slept.

  When Jenur spoke to him, Gino looked at her and said, “I wish that whatever had gotten them had gotten all of those bastards. And I wish Malock would let me have a go at Garnal. I just want to beat that scum to a pulp. Is that such an unreasonable thing to ask for?”

  “You know Malock,” said Jenur. “Seems to think Garnal might know something about the seas that could help us.”

  Gino looked at her with flagrantly unsympathetic eyes. “You're just defending him because he praised you for rescuing him.”

  Jenur blushed. “I already said, I don't care. I don't care if Malock thinks I'm the best sailor ever or if he hates my guts. I'm just saying that I agree with Malock that beating Garnal to a pulp isn't going to help us avoid whatever decimated the Gray Pirates.”

  Kinker smiled. After the collective funeral for the fallen pirates, Malock had praised Jenur in front of the entire crew for her bravery and courage in the face of the Gray Pirates. He had even offered her a promotion to third mate (Banika was first and Vashnas was second), but Jenur had declined because, in her own words, she “would rather play with fish guts than boss around a bunch of surly sailors.” Despite that, Kinker noticed that her opinion of Malock had improved dramatically since that day.

  “If it's any consolation, Gino, Malock might let you beat up Garnal when she tells him what he wants,” said Kinker. “I've heard Malock is starting to lose his temper. Been interrogating her for two days now and she still hasn't told him anything.”

  “I doubt she ever will,” Gino said, looking disgusted. “I know her kind. Their mouths can close even tighter than their claws. Malock could shove a burning iron rod up her ass and she still wouldn't tell him anything if she doesn't want to.”

  “She'll have to talk eventually,” said Deddio, sitting down next to them, his meager breakfast of one fish in his hands. “I heard that Malock is starting to starve her. Even a tough pirate like her needs to eat occasionally, right?”

  “I doubt it,” said Gino, taking a bite out of his cooked circle fish. “Lowlife like her feed off the thrill they get from murdering innocent people. She probably got enough of that from us to last her a lifetime.”

  “That reminds me,” said Kinker. “We need to find replacements for Daro and Magnisa.”

  Gino almost dropped his fish. “What?”

  “New members of the fishing crew,” said Kinker. “Preparing food for the whole crew is a six person job. We're down to four now.”

  “Oh,” said Gino, looking down at his lap. “Right. Well, who do you think we should choose?”

  “Not sure,” Kinker admitted. “Malock is usually in charge of assigning sailors to specific jobs. Deddio, have you spoken with Malock about it?”

  “No,” said Deddio. “Been so busy over the past couple of days that it's slipped my mind. Besides, Malock's been so busy. He spends almost all of his time in the hold, interrogating Garnal. Sometimes I wonder if he sleeps down there all night, just in case Garnal mutters something in her sleep.”

  “He's interrogating her right now, isn't he?” said Kinker. “I wonder how that's going.”

  “Probably not very well,” said Gino. “I'm sure we would have heard by now if he was making any progress.”

  -

  The air in the hold was dull, damp, and heavy. The walls creaked and groaned, threatening to break apart and sink the entire ship, yet they held as they always had, reinforced by a basic repair spell Bifor had cast on it a few weeks back before the Iron Wind had entered the southern seas. Boxes and crates of various sizes—many of them empty, though several were full of things like ammunition, fishing equipment, and a couple of other odd objects—were scattered everywhere.

  Malock sat on a stool, his boat cloak traded in for a much cooler white long-sleeved shirt that breathed better, eating some lime fish soup that Banika had brought down for him. Banika sat on a nearby crate, eating her own bowl of the foul-tasting soup, though far more discreetly than he was.

  Sitting opposite Malock, with her arms and legs bound so tightly together that she probably couldn't even feel them anymore, was Garnal. She watched with hungry eyes as Malock slurped his soup, burped, and generally made noises that indicated he was enjoying his meal immensely (even though it actually wasn't that good). He saw saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth, but pretended not to notice.

  Putting his bowl down on his lap, Malock wiped the remains from his lips and said, “Hungry, Garnal?”

  The Pirate scowled and looked away. “Of course not. Crustaceans like me can go weeks without eating. Your sloppy table manners hardly tempt me.”

  Malock smirked. “Are you sure? I'd be willing to share if you'd just tell me about the thing that completely decimated your entire crew and ship.”

  Garnal made an angry chittering sound with her teeth. “You don't want to know about it. If you are lucky, you will never have to face it. I'd rather die than give you information you could use to save yourself, knowledge that I could have used to save my own crew if I'd had it.”

  “And by withholding this information, you are surely not dooming yourself to death if that happens to us,” said Malock. “For such a big-time pirate, you sure are stupid.”

  “You don't want to know it,” said Garnal. “If I tell you about it, it will haunt your dreams and you will never be able to sleep peacefully again.”

  “I didn't know you cared about my wellbeing,” said Malock. “Maybe you aren't such a bad person after all, Gar.”

  “Shut up, gold blood,” Garnal said. She shuddered. “That thing ... telling you about it would force me to relive it. And trust me when I say that you only want to experience that kind of thing once.”

  Malock leaned forward, being careful not to drop his bowl, and said, “Here's the deal. You tell me all about the thing, as much as you can remember, and I'll let you go. You will be free to terrorize the seas again. Doesn't that sound like the kind of thing a pirate like you would want?”

  Garnal inclined her head, as if thinking about the offer.

  Then she said slowly, “Fine. I am getting tired of being tied up and forced to sleep in this hold like a cabin boy. I'll tell you what you need to know. You promise to let me go when I do?”

  “Of course,” said Malock. “In case you forgot, I am not a pirate. I actually keep to my word.”

  Garnal snorted. “The last time I heard a royal say that ... oh, never mind. I will just begin. The quicker I tell you this story, the quicker I get my freedom.”

  “Just don't skimp on any details,” Malock told her. “Banika here is a telemancer who specializes in truth-detecting. If you leave out even one detail, she'll know.”

  Of course that was a lie. Banika didn't know any magic (at least, as far as Malock knew, she didn't). She didn't know anything about telemancy, a field of mind magic that covered subjects like telepathy, telekinesis, and so on.

  But Garnal didn't know that. She just glanced at Banika uneasily, who was still eating her soup as if Malock had said nothing, and then looked back at Malock.

  “Fine,” said Garnal. “I'm sure you know that we, the Gray Pirates, are the longest-lasting and most successful pirating group in the history of Martir. We have stolen the Golden Scepter of Nargode, a priceless historical artifact valued by all humans; defeated the Shikan Navy; and successfully raided the treasury of the aquarian city of Nemo, among our many other fine exploits.”

  Malock nodded. He remembered he
aring about all of those tales growing up. His own island, Carnag, had once lost an entire shipment of their finest boots to the Gray Pirates, which was what caused his father to pledge ten thousand coins to anyone who could bring Garnal's head to his throne.

  “But haven't you ever wondered what we did with all of that?” said Garnal. “None of the money or objects we stole ever ended up on the black market. Countless bounty hunters, government officials, treasure hunters, and others have tried to find our loot and failed.”

  That was also true. It was also why the Gray Pirates were so feared. It seemed like every time they stole something, it disappeared forever, never to be seen again. Malock had privately assumed they simply destroyed everything they stole, though now that he thought about that, it was a silly assumption to make.

  “We hid it all on a tiny island in the southern seas,” said Garnal. “We discovered the island when we fled from our first successful theft. I won't tell you where the island is located, but I will say that it is not far from our current position.”

  Good old pirate greed. Malock had no intention whatsoever of taking Garnal's loot or visiting her island, but she apparently believed he did.

  “There is a large underground cave there,” said Garnal. “Very thick walls with an entrance so well-hidden that even a topomancer would have a difficult time finding it. Because no one lived on the island and it was unknown to everyone else, we turned the cave into our treasure vault. We'd dump our loot in the cave after a successful theft and hide on the island itself if the Northern Isles became too hot for us. It is how we managed to avoid capture and disappear whenever we needed to.”

  That was another thing about the Gray Pirates that no one had ever understood. Every time a bunch of bounty hunters or government navies got together to hunt them down, the Pirates would always disappear as if they were ghosts. Malock remembered the speculations, most of them centering on an aoramancer cloaking the ship in an obscure part of the Northern Isles. Hiding in the southern seas made so much sense that Malock felt stupid for not thinking of it himself.