“I don’t blame you,” said Svren. “Human alcohol is so sour and bitter. We make it sweet. Want to try it? We have our own bottles on board.”
“No, thanks. It’s not about the taste. The idea of dulling my senses and memory is simply not appealing to me.”
“You have to drink a lot when you’re corrupted to feel anything serious,” said Alex. “Even then it’s only for a short time.”
“My corruption isn’t always so active.”
“Word of advice,” began Isabel, “I wouldn’t speak so openly about your curse once we mingle with common folks. Talking about corruption in general is kinda unseemly.”
“There goes my all-important social life. What else can I talk about?”
“Well, guys will always like your war stories, and, um, the kind of girl who’s right for you will like them equally as much.”
“I see. Be sure to introduce me to any girls you know who enjoy such stories.”
“Ouch,” said Felicia. “Sounds like a rejection already.”
With an angry glare, her twin said, “Shhh! It’s just some friendly banter! Gods, don’t be annoying. That’s Damian’s job.”
Shrugging, Felicia said, “I’ll give him back his job when I see him.”
“Who’s Damian?” I asked.
“Our little brother,” replied Isabel. “He’s an inventor. Not a great one, though. Don’t tell him I said that!”
“I’ve met him a couple of times,” said Lucas. “Nice guy, but unless you can talk shop with him, he’ll easily get lost in his own little world.”
“You can say that about anyone.”
“You’re warming up to our guests pretty quickly,” said Felicia.
Standing up, Isabel said, “Sheesh! I can’t be friendly to anyone without getting the third degree, can I?”
As her sister walked away, Felicia said, “Aww, don’t be like that! It’s just some friendly teasing! Come back and form a meaningful, long-lasting friendship!”
After taking a sip from his green bottle of glass, Xavier said, “She’s extra sensitive today.”
“We all have our days.”
The coldest part of the night put me and my brother in the krewen sleeping quarters. A bird-man himself also came into the room soon after.
Shutting the door, Ishree, in a tone softer than normal, said, “Good sirs, I bring a message from Head Ranger Eri-Eri. She has asked her own questions about the crystals you seek.”
I grabbed the cord of the hammock to pull myself up into a seated position. “This sounds secretive.”
“Yes, a little. We krewen are sometimes seen as spies. One never knows when someone else will twist words wrong.”
“All right, I get it. Proceed.”
“As suspected, the crystals are found infrequently. There are perpetual rumors the northern ice lands hide mines, or that hallions hand over crystals to their followers, but the ones we know of are small pieces scattered everywhere.”
“Pretty much what the vice admiral told me.”
“Yes, but did he tell you there is a single place most crystals go to before they are given to their purchasers?”
“No, he failed to mention that.”
“They go to Osburk. Do you know who lives in Osburk?”
I straightened my head. “The Rathmores.”
“Oh, you already know.”
“Aye, Svren has helped me research some things. So the Rathmores have something to do with the crystals?”
“Head Ranger Eri-Eri thinks they own the company that make the crystals presentable. They can shape them and change their colors. It all sounds innocent enough.”
“Except the part where everyone trusts them with the crystal supply.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Swaying in his dangling bed, Alex said, “Then we know where we need to go once we leave this damn ship.”
“Agreed, though let’s avoid damning any ship we’re presently on. Thanks for the information, Ishree.”
“My commander’s pleasure, I’m certain. It should be in all our interests to see that we send you and your kin home. If you can make it, then maybe we can as well. It’s not like you can make things worse than they already are. This world is as good as dead without miracles intervening, so I’m not sure what humans like Bregman are holding on to.”
“I don’t know, but speaking as someone from the outside, his fear and your hope seem to draw from the unknown. Either my dragon is proof I’m somewhat honorable, or my corruption will end up ruining you all. It depends what part of me you want to focus on.”
“As my kind says, a mute stranger is equally as trustworthy as one who can speak. Your deeds will decide who is right.”
I went up to the top deck in the half-heartedly warming morning to burn off some corruption. The pair of transfers were among the gathering who observed the bizarre flames blistering the air above my hand. With this being my only real opportunity to practice, my audience watched as the fireball changed shape and spun into an unstable ball. Still, my “training” only lasted for several moments. Though my prana training was limited, my muscles got something of an exercise when I was asked to help move supplies around, most of which were in heavy wooden crates or metal boxes.
I later got to watch others sweat and grunt when two of the ship’s crew wasted time and a little blood sparring with fists wrapped in reddish brown gloves several times thicker than normal. People wagered on which “boxer” would win using rectangular parchment paper of different dull colors. The paper notes apparently symbolized their form of currency. I could not officially place bets, but I became pretty good at predicting who would win once I understood what kind of stances, reach, speed, strength, and techniques were needed to win a bout.
Despite the clear day, the swells of the sea propagated in size and hustle. A couple of hours from our destination, the dark clouds caught up with the waves. The pouring rain and gusting wind were not bad enough to force anyone to seek shelter if they didn’t want to, but they tested our balance when topside, something I took advantage of the next time I “trained” up there. The storm also slowed the Orkan down, though it looked like we would arrive at the right coastline sometime in the middle of the night no matter what.
When the seas and gales ebbed into a soother tumult, the major called me, my brother, and his twenty-one subordinates to the open air. He divided everyone into three teams. Six men were to stay on the ship and two teams of nine were to head for the shore. The squad my brother and I joined consisted of the major, Xavier, Bregman, the sisters, and the two krewen. It seemed the major had taken notice about which of his men had familiarized themselves with the cursed brothers the most.
Since they were not going to promote their Vanguard ties with armor, everyone wore varicolored cloth and leather vestments. For now, heavy coats hid their thinner layers and most of their guns, though a few openly slung rifles behind their backs. Without his helmet, I finally got to see Bregman’s objectively flattering face. A trimmed brown mustache shrouded his upper lip. A thick stubble did the same to his chin, while walnut-colored hair somewhere between wavy and curly topped his head.
Each team took a boat, which was lowered to the choppy sea’s surface. As before, Bregman’s water spell moved the boat along. Every few seconds, a barely visible beam of light flashed through the overcast darkness and falling mist. The boats aimed well away from the beam, but it guided us to the coastline all the same. We followed the pebbled shore northward until we found a handful of piers belonging to the village on the shore.
The lights from a larger town a mile or two farther north beckoned. We hurriedly strode on a dirt path toward it. We were alone for most of the path, but one bundled up man on his steed passed us. What he rode looked something like a spotted salamander with a longer neck and taller legs. Except for the white spots and the tip of its tail, its faintly bumpy skin was mainly black. All its webbed feet sported six short toes with stubby talons at their ends. In spite of the cr
eature’s lack of fur or feathers, it appeared unperturbed by the cold.
“What’s that beast called?” I asked to no one in particular.
“An udu,” answered Svren. “They’re the only steed which prospers here. Most wild ones will seek a cave or hole to sleep in during winter, but as long as you feed them well, they will stay awake in the coldest nights and let you ride them.”
“So there are no horses?”
“What’s a horse?” asked Isabel.
“Um, hooved creatures with long snouts and a mane.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“I guess Degosal didn’t have many horses back then.”
“Or they didn’t last,” said Xavier. “I’m sure our ancestors tried bringing everything they could with them. Who knows what couldn’t make it here.”
“Clams apparently did well. Or did this world already have clams?”
“No idea. I do know living underwater is better than living on land as far as running into ghouls is concerned. Try cursing a sea creature and most will drown before they change into their ghoulish forms. Thank lady luck for that. If the seas were as bad as the land, we’d all have died long ago.”
“But don’t forget all those sea monsters that can sink the biggest ships,” said a sardonic Felicia.
“We fight real monsters all the time and you don’t believe in the tales of the great sea serpent Scallog? Or that thousand-armed blob thing the krewen talk about?”
“The Renquee’kwa,” said Svren.
“Hunting ghouls doesn’t mean I have to believe every old fisherman story out there,” said Felicia. “I don’t believe in ghosts neither.”
“What!?” stated her disbelieving sister. “What about those weird whispering sounds we heard? Remember? Mom and Dad missed the train, so we were alone almost all night. You’re the one who climbed into my bed because you heard the creepy noises first! We couldn’t sleep the rest of the night.”
“That doesn’t mean it was a ghost. It was probably a draft or something.”
“Nuh-uh. Even Damian said he heard the raspy whispers. Said it sounded like an old man trying to say something with his dying breath.”
“I always figured he had something to do with the whole thing.”
“Ugh. Proof slaps you in the face and you ignore it. What about you, major? You ever experience paranormal phenomena?”
“That’s privileged information, sergeant.”
“No one is any fun today.”
The town produced as much light as a grander, busier city in Orda did. As we approached the outskirts, I noted much of that light came from the apparent need for signs of all types and sizes to be illuminated by lamps on the streets or exposed glass bulbs sticking out from a building. A handful of people ran from one building to another, but it was a quiet place at this point in the night.
“Lieutenant Gaos,” began the major, “take your team to Noxward’s warming lodge. Split up if you learn about any others. Don’t be too official if you don’t have to be. We don’t want to spook any potential leads. We’ll meet you back at whichever warming lodge is biggest once we’re done.”
The lieutenant, who looked a little older than the major with a touch of gray on his hair and beard, took his men up through the wider street.
“Ladies, can you work your magic in the saloons?”
“Yeah, yeah, we know what we’re good for,” said Isabel.
As the twins went on ahead, the major said, “Ishree, keep watch over them.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
What remained of my group headed east, staying at Noxward’s outer edge. It was strange going through this unfamiliar place without a blade of any kind on my person. The best I could do to feel protected was grip a dragon stone in my left hand.
“Xavier, see that badge there? Ask him where the bounty office is.”
As Xavier jogged toward a man in a bluish gray coat and wearing a hat resembling a flattish, upturned bowl, I asked Eric, “What do you mean by ‘badge’?”
“Ah, a police officer of the law, whatever that happens to mean at any particular town at any particular time. They wear diamond-shaped badges to distinguish themselves from other gun-toting locals.”
“Gives too many amateurs too much authority,” said Bregman. “It’s a good idea in theory, but in practice they’re easy to bribe, and they’re rarely trained any better than a typical mercenary. Policemen with unknown loyalties make me twitchier than ghouls.”
“So you’d really hate me if I wore one of those badge things, right?” I said.
“For the record, ghoul-boy, I don’t hate you. I find you bothersome and I’m ready to shoot at you at the slightest provocation, but there hasn’t been a reason for my prudence to evolve into outright hatred.”
“I guess that leaves my brother as the only one who hates me.”
“Yup,” said Alex. “You forced me away from my friends and trapped me in this frozen asshole of a world. So, yeah, fuck you, brother.”
Xavier returned right then, saying, “We’re going the right way. Just gotta turn the corner at the end. It’s right by the police station. Or maybe right inside it.”
“Close enough,” said Eric. “Let’s go.”
Our stiff skins rushed past the currently irrelevant streets and buildings. We turned the corner to see a two-story brick building with a diamond-shaped white light extending from its green roof. On closer inspection, the sign wasn’t made of the pure light of a rune, but originated from tubes of glass formed into a diamond. There wasn’t another building that marked itself as a bounty office, so we went inside the police station.
Behind an iron lattice that rose from the counter sat a badge-man. A nearby fireplace made the interior warmer than the external world, but he still donned a hefty coat and a cloth hat. Behind him were seven other badge-men talking or scribbling on white papers.
The badge behind the counter asked, “Can I help you fine folks?”
“I bet you can,” said the major. “We’re looking for work. Our last catches can only sustain us for so long.”
“Bounty hunters, eh? You’re gonna need more men if you wanna go up to Rutted country.”
“We’re only the scouts. I can get more men up here if the getting’s good.”
“Oh, it’s good all right. Too good. The smart hunters do better to go up to one of the little towns near the Ruts and wait for a bounty to come down to resupply. Otherwise, all you’re doing is throwing yourselves at their natural fortresses.”
“Only a few come down to resupply at a time? Then either they do it often or there aren’t that many criminals hiding up there.”
“Nah, there’s plenty. It’s just they normally resupply by raiding the trains and caravans out east. Sometimes a few start trouble, of course, but the higher-grade bounties mainly ignore our neck of the woods.”
“I see. Probably means someone has the brains and clout to keep the crooks in line.”
“We think the same. Outlaws were always a problem, but at least we could catch or kill a bunch of ‘em at once when they attacked. Now they’re clever. They hit a train in an organized fashion and run back to their holes before anyone can counter. It’s been this way for five or six years now. Heard the miners might place tracks that go the long way around if this keeps up.”
“Well, you gotta have some known bounties we can still target.”
“Sure, sure…” The policeman leaned to his right to grab a few papers with images of faces on them. Some were sketched, but the rest were of the realistic black and white variety. Handing over the papers, he said, “These ain’t no ringleaders, but their capture or corpse should bring you a fistful of dollars. We know they come down from the Ruts for whatever reason, so be patient, ya hear? Too often I see bounty hunters only once.”
“Thank you for the concern and information. Have a warm night.”
Our night became colder again when we stepped outside. We slowly walked with the major as he studied the informat
ion on the bounties.
“What do you think?” Bregman asked his commander.
Not looking up from the bounties, Eric answered, “That it isn’t only smarts keeping away the outlaws here.”
“Someone is paying them off.”
“That’s what my gut says. The outlaws have been organized for a few years now, so attacking this place on occasion should be even easier than a train or defended convoy.”
“Yet they stay away.”
“It would be the wise option for a town without much in the way of defenses and manpower to simply buy their way to salvation.”
“I’m surprised the crooks are apparently honoring it,” said Xavier.
“It’s one thing to attack trains, everyone expects it at some point, but attacking a town will force the people here to demand reinforcements. As long as everyone can keep up their end of the deal, there can be a tentative peace. Here… Memorize these faces, just in case.”
A little walking later, Xavier requested directions to the warming lodge from the next person we saw. A couple of streets and a few turns brought us to a wide brick structure in a semi-state of disrepair. Its slender chimneys constantly puffed out black wisps, which hastily broke apart in the breeze.
Noticing us through a sliver of glass in one of the wooden doors, a fat, rosy-cheeked man holding a rifle stepped out to meet us. He said, “You’re all welcome to warm yourselves here for free for the night, but be prepared to leave your weapons behind. They shall be stored safely in a separate room. Drinking is also not allowed. We have to keep this a reputable establishment.”
“And we desire to be considered reputable people,” said the major.
On going through the doors, the armed warriors disarmed themselves. Able to keep my dragon stone, I was now better armed than anyone. It didn’t take long to spot members of the second squad, but as they still seemed to be in the process of obtaining information among the crowd, we let them be. We instead stood against a shadowed wall, not attempting to steal a place by one of the coal fireplaces scattered throughout the open room.
Most people benefitting from the gently glowing rocks set in holes or metal fireplaces looked to be the withered type, poor souls who could not afford the wood or coal to craft their own warmth. Scrutinizing all these non-casters at once had me surmising that their lack of useable prana was part of the reason they stood at least half a head shorter than those who possessed the aptitude to cast spells. I noticed a hint of that pattern back on the Orkan when I was told many of the sailors could not access their soul’s energy, but I held back on an inference until now.
The Dragon Knight and the Steam World Page 15