Heroes of Time Legends: Murdoch's Choice

by Wayne D. Kramer

  Yancy rolled up his sleeves and bit down on the blade of a dirk. “Aye!” he growled through his teeth.

  “The rudder might not hold, Captain,” said Dippy, watching as Yancy took to the rigging with crewmates Ian and Rowan.

  “A small price to get us out of here, Dip,” Zale replied. “Evette, how many good oars have we left?” he called to the lower deck.

  A few moments passed. “Eight, Captain! We’ve lost four to the flames.”

  Zale turned to Dippy. “Get four up here to stern. Be ready to punch into the water behind the ship on larboard to give our rudder support. Evette, all remaining oarsmen to starboard! We’ll come hard about, lads!”

  “Captain!” shouted Fulgar. “We must make our move!”

  “Fump!” Zale shouted.

  “All set, Captain!”

  “Drop the sail and haul the braces!”

  At long last, the ship started moving. Back at the helm, Kasper held tight to the wheel as it wobbled awkwardly against its lock.

  “Steady! Prepare to bring ’er about!” Zale bellowed.

  “Oars at the ready, Captain!” Dippy shouted from the stern.

  “Ready to hard port, sir!” cried Kasper.

  “Starboard oars ready, Captain!” called Evette.

  “Ready on the sailyard!” yelled Yancy from the larboard brace.

  Zale watched…waiting…waiting…until, finally, the prow was clear of the dock.

  “All hands heave!” he roared.

  Like clockwork, every member of the crew performed their role in perfect unison. Most who didn’t hold to something fell to the deck as the ship turned hard around, creaking all the way. Already they felt the relief of the warm late-Jovidor air sweeping the ship.

  “Quarter-turn ought to do it,” Zale said, mostly to himself. Once satisfied, he called, “Come about!”

  “Oars to port!” Evette bellowed.

  “Resetting the yard!” shouted Yancy, pulling forward on portside. “Starboard full back!” he yelled to his mate across the ship.

  Zale felt a rise of anxiety. The ship was not slowing enough. The last thing he wanted was to inadvertently spin right back into the dock. “Look alive, you grog-guzzling vermin! Pull those oars portside and steady ’er! Pull to the blood!”

  Finally the ship steadied, and they faced away from the harbor. Cheers erupted all over the ship.

  “We’re not out of this yet!” yelled Rosh, who had been helping with the yard braces.

  Indeed, purple flames still licked at the hull of the ship. Fulgar worked to contain them with his bizarre weapon, but they spread faster than he could put them out. Zale heard a shriek from below that could only have come from Wigglebelly.

  “Get those infernal fires off my ship!” Zale ordered, his voice getting a bit hoarse. “Hack off the boards if it comes to that.”

  Without tarry, several men took hold of ropes and chopped off the chunks of the ship’s hull that Fulgar could not relieve of darkfire. Dippy and three deckhands ran their oars back to the deck below to help stabilize their course and make headway.

  “Fump,” said Zale, “let’s get that sail reset. Capital work, sir.”

  “Doin’ what I can with what I’ve got, Captain. On it!”

  “Beeeeeep!” Zale called to his boatswain.

  “Sir!” Kasper answered from the helm.

  “Make use of this easterly wind and steer us to blue water. How’s the rudder?”

  “Seems to be holding, sir.”

  Zale thought they might finally be in the clear. Then, as if fate needed a good laugh, a shard of purple-enflamed wood flew into the air, directly into the sail. It caught like dry straw, as men screamed in shock.

  Fulgar leapt upon the rigging and doused the fire with the soft-white glow of his blade, although not before the fire had left a gaping hole in the sail. Miraculously, the mast, ropes, and rigging all escaped unscathed.

  Fump groaned. “I’ll get the spare sail.”

  “Admirable teamwork, crew,” Zale shouted. “All of you worthy to be Murdoch’s Mates! Once we’re trimmed out and underway, officers to my cabin. You too, Fulgar. Beep, steer us away from the harbor as fast as you can. I’ve had enough of docks for one day.”

  “Aye, sir. I couldn’t agree more.”

  With that, Zale removed his hat, wiped his brow, and entered his cabin.

  Tonight’s events had jostled Zale to the core.

  Sometime after they turned the ship away from the dock he had made a decision. Now he mulled it over quietly, allowing his officers the brief respite of conversation.

  Following their roaring sendoff, he felt obliged to let the men crack open enough rations of ale and wine to calm the crew. Never to the point of inebriation, however. Zale’s tolerance for drunken sailors during an active expedition had been made clear. Anyone careless enough to become intoxicated would be roped naked to the prow until the sea spray rid them of their stupor.

  “And this was going to be an easy voyage,” Rosh mumbled.

  “Chim, if it were too easy, it wouldn’t be a Murdoch voyage,” Yancy said.

  “Do all your jobs start with this much excitement?” asked Evette.

  “Only the good ones.” Kasper took a large gulp from his mug.

  Rosh, the teetotal oddball of the crew, lifted his glass of water. His abstinent lifestyle kept him not only from alcohol but also tea and coffee and basically anything with flavor. “Highest marks to the captain for leading us out of that inferno!”

  “Hear, hear!” cheered the others with a clink of glasses.

  The violet hellstorm still flared in the distance, all too visible through the stern windows. Zale stood from his chair and pulled the window shades, one by one, until the nightmarish sight was obscured.

  “No looking back,” he spoke gruffly. “Too many fine vessels ruined tonight, none of which we can afford to have on our consciences. If we hadn’t already been there with a full and capable crew, the Queenie’d be one of them.”

  Zale walked back to his chair. “Quick status update, please.”

  “I’ve got men on the sail now,” Yancy replied. “They’ll have her hoisted in no time…and by no time, I mean a little time.”

  “We’re sweeping ahead, slow and steady,” Evette said. “One man—Jensen, I’m told—was knocked unconscious after his oar broke.”

  Zale made a conspicuous eye-roll. “Of course he was. Where is he now?”

  “Once we cleared the dock, I had him carried to his hammock. We couldn’t be bothered with it before then,” she replied.

  “If it pleases you, sir, I’ll give him an elixir to ease any aches he might have upon waking,” said Fulgar in his gentle voice.

  “Fine,” said Zale.

  “We didn’t have to shoot anyone,” Rosh put in, “so I don’t have much to report. I’ll make sure the machetes and axes we used to hack the hull are nice and sharp next time we need to attack our own ship.”

  “I’m sure Fump’ll have that repaired in short order,” Zale said.

  “You know me,” Fump replied. “I’m a perfectionist. I’ll oversee that work myself to make sure it’s good and solid.”

  Kasper stroked at his long beard. “Course set northward for Vartu, Captain. With Jensen down, I have Tate currently at the helm.”

  “And you, Fulgar,” Zale said, “how do you explain this weapon of yours?”

  Everyone stared at Fulgar. It was now openly clear that he was more than he had originally purported to be.

  “It is a novidian anelace—a long, triangular sort of dagger,” the healer answered simply.

  Zale eyed him sharply. He’d expected more of an explanation than that, and he was certain Fulgar knew it. “How does a healer come to have such as this?”

  Fulgar smiled, looking almost amused. “Let us say, Captain, that it is in my grasp by virtue of birthright.”

  Zale’s mind was made up.

  The captain stood and paced the semicircular end of his cabin. He felt h
is officers’ eyes on him. “Men…in light of recent events and information, I’ve come to a decision.”

  They all set their drinks down. Now he knew he had their rapt attention.

  “Kasper, we will require a slight change in course.”

  Their eyes became like saucers, all but Fulgar’s, with his ingratiating tranquility. Zale was placing a lot of stock into the words of this man, but every instinct within him rang clear. His thoughts lingered on the object that was intensely desired by the kingdom’s elite…the object his greatest rival hoped to shame him with…the object of unspeakable power…the object—the birthright—that he was uniquely positioned to acquire.

  He was certain, and he spoke without the slightest hint of doubt.

  “We’re going after the Grimstone."

  CHAPTER 6

  BOUNTY OF BOUNTIES

  7/27/3203

  Now they were bound for the Grimstone. Zale had declared it so. His officers’ collective silence upon hearing this decision had spoken volumes. No one argued—perhaps they were too exhausted anyway—and no one voiced support.

  Only Rosh spoke, asking one simple question. “Why?”

  “Tonight’s darkfire event solidified for me just how real these powers are,” Zale told them. He made brief eye contact with Fulgar. “And I’ve just learned there might be an advantage to getting it that we can exploit.”

  Further details could be discussed later. In truth, Zale was still processing his discussion with Fulgar. Zale knew one thing for certain. If his family could be tied to the Grimstone, now being sought by powerful, dangerous people, then he intended to get his hands on it before Seadread or anyone else. Then he could control the outcome.

  Zale could barely keep his eyes open when he heard the knock on his cabin door. He’d been at his desk and was about to climb into his hammock for much-needed slumber.

  It was almost the first hour of morning when Yancy and Dippy entered with two others. One was Yancy’s new quartermaster’s mate, Kelvin, a short man with beady eyes and an expressionless face.

  Seeing the other person nearly knocked Zale from his chair in shock.

  It was his daughter.

  “Starlina?” Zale gasped, standing. “What in Gheol’s blazes are you doing here?”

  Dippy urged her to a chair, looking thoroughly vexed.

  “Sir,” Yancy said, “we found her crouched under the spare sailcloth. Gave the men a real fright.”

  Starlina scowled, her arms crossed, and she refused to make eye contact with anyone. She was a vault, Zale knew. If she would talk at all, it wouldn’t be in front of these men.

  “Thank you, gents,” Zale said. “She’ll be fine here. You two get some rest.”

  The men left without another word.

  Zale remained quiet for many long moments. If a grimkin had rowed up to their boat, that would’ve fit right in with the weirdness from last night. If a teron had fallen from the sky, that they could deal with. If Wigglebelly had fallen overboard from fainting, standard procedure. But this…this flummoxed him completely.

  “Starlina, why are you here? You don’t even like sailing.”

  Her oval face appeared even longer than usual, her hair was frazzled, and her eyes appeared dark and puffy.

  “I didn’t mean to be here,” she replied. “I despise my being here as much as you do.”

  “I don’t despise…. I mean, I’m happy to see you, Starlina, but it’s not safe for you to be here. We’re on a dangerous mission. Sweet Eloh above, I’m just glad you’re okay. You must’ve seen what we dealt with tonight.”

  “The purple flames? I only saw that from a distance before Jensen threw that giant sail over me.”

  “Jensen!”

  Starlina looked at him directly for the first time since arriving. Zale could tell she hadn’t meant to say that, but there was no denying that she had.

  “We were seeing each other before the voyage,” she said, “and he wanted to show me the ship. It was just after I got here that those ghostly-looking fires appeared.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What was that?”

  “It’s called darkfire. We don’t know how it started, or perhaps by whom, but it has injected a certain urgency into our quest.”

  “Darkfire,” she repeated. “It was so…cold.”

  Zale nodded sympathetically. “You shouldn’t be here, darling. Perhaps it’s safest if we let you off at Vartu along the way.”

  She frowned. “I thought you were bound for Vartu, and then heading back home.”

  Well, that was the intent, he mused.

  “There’s been a change of plan. Now we’re sailing well past Grandtrilia. I’m sure you don’t want to stick around for that. It’s not safe. If you can find passage home from Vartu, then great. If not, then keep near the harbor. We’ll swing back through during our return.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Hard to say,” Zale answered. “About a month, depending on how smoothly things go.”

  “A month?!”

  “Better give us six or seven weeks to be sure. Things might get sketchy. If I didn’t feel like he’d somehow get you in worse trouble, I’d be tempted to leave Jensen with you at port.”

  “Where is he now?” she asked quietly.

  “In sickbay, after being banged unconscious by an oar. Maybe he’ll wake up with a fully active brain for once, so I can beat it back out of him.”

  “Please don’t be too hard on him,” Starlina said. “You know he thinks the world of you.”

  “So did my cat, but she had twice the backbone and thrice the instinct of that lackwit. For the life of me, I don’t know what you see in him.” He paced his cabin aimlessly, fatigue getting the better of him. “It’s late. We’ll deal with this tomorrow. You can use my hammock. I’ve slept many a time in these chairs, anyway.”

  Her eyes were downcast, pain in her expression. “I’m sorry to trouble your mission.”

  “Ah, well, at least you finally get to experience life at sea with the greatest crew there is.”

  Starlina pulled herself into Zale’s hammock, already looking seasick.

  Zale breathed in the salty morning air as he looked out upon the open waters. This was the best part about sailing. Beyond the horizon in every direction were lands and treasures aplenty— known and undiscovered, settled and untouched, plundered and plundered to-be.

  Amongst the salt in the air, he detected a hint of sour.

  It had started even before his morning coffee arrived. Kasper had entered his cabin looking sleepy-eyed and hot under the collar, a wad of folded maps tucked in his arms. He slapped the navigational pages upon Zale’s desk, curtly reviewing their new course.

  Their course had been altered from almost due north to a few points northeast, where they would curve around beyond the shoals of Korangar and break due north for the southern coast of Gukhan. If the winds favored them, they would land in about two and a half weeks. This was before factoring their diversion to Vartu to drop off Starlina. It was a simple correction, requiring little review, although to do so was protocol, one that Kasper performed so mechanically that his view on this impromptu, unilateral change was obvious.

  Kasper wasn’t the only one. As soon as Zale stepped onto the deck, he heard Fump grumbling about how they’d provisioned for a voyage half as long, and now they’d have to be more careful with rations. Dippy called out, “Captain on deck,” with such haste that the deckhands barely heard him. Starlina, who had left the cabin even before Zale awoke, still wasn’t looking at him. Any of the men he encountered on deck gave no more than perfunctory nods and brusque greetings.

  He was content to let them stew over a decision they didn’t like, so long as their work got done. Any act of insolence, however, would be dealt a swift blow.

  That reminded him of a certain sailor whose name had come up the night before, the one responsible for bringing his daughter aboard the ship. Zale found him with crewmates Tate and Miles near the starboard rail on the
main deck. Zale approached from behind.

  “Good morning, Jensen.”

  The young man jumped, caught completely unawares, even though Tate and Miles had looked straight in Zale’s direction.

  “I see you’re awake now,” Zale said, “at least in the sense that your eyes are open.”

  Jensen’s hands fluttered about his pockets, like a schoolboy caught with another student’s homework. Curious case, Zale thought, scowling.

  “G-good morning, sir!” Jensen replied.

  “I trust you’ve familiarized yourself with our new bearings in preparation for the night watch.”

  “Yes, of course! Well, I mean, I’ll be going over that with Kasper in advance of my charge. I’ll keep us straight and steady, sir. You can count on that!”

  Zale growled under his breath. “No doubt you will, sailor, or you’ll be rowing your way back home after we bring my daughter to safety in Vartu. Even in ideal conditions, your ill-conceived little stunt will cost us three days of detour, if not five. I hope you’re fonder of coffee than sleep, because that’s about all you’ll be getting.”

  Jensen’s young face paled as Zale turned away.

  Jensen had a feeling he would find Starlina upon the afterdeck.

  “So, you enjoy the view after all,” he said.

  “Don’t speak to me, Jensen.”

  He came up beside her and placed his elbows upon the railing. “You know I didn’t mean for this to happen, right?”

  She kept her eyes toward the ocean. Knowing her, Jensen figured she was looking not at the water but rather for any sign of land. “I should’ve known better than to set foot on this boat. Nothing good could come from it.”

  Jensen bit at his lip, remembering his prior intentions. It felt like so much longer ago than last night. “Looking at the bright side, now you can finally experience the majesty of the open seas. You get to see your father’s crew in action.”

  “I didn’t want to sail the seas, Jensen! What am I going to tell my boss? Amira will be off to university by the time I get back. I won’t even get to tell her goodbye!” Her tears sparkled in the sunlight.

  Jensen sighed and inwardly cursed his recklessness. This was indeed an unmitigated disaster. “I’m so sorry, Starlina.”