Heroes of Time Legends: Murdoch's Choice

by Wayne D. Kramer

  “Insolent Seadread,” he grumbled. “No, traitorous Seadread. Now you’ve got ol’ Pop-Pop locked in a prison. You’ll get your reward for this….”

  A Gukhanian guard approached from outside, dressed in a uniform that appeared like black reptilian scales and a flattish, conical, chinstrapped hat. The man’s face was square-shaped and pale but held an aura of darkness as he looked upon Zale with extremely hard and unfriendly eyes.

  The guard thrust a metal spear halfway into the cell. “Shti’qu-ta!”

  “Hey!” Zale hopped back and held his hands up. “I don’t know your language.”

  Scowling, the guard held a finger to his lips. “Shh!”

  Zale sat slowly upon the stone bench, and the guard walked off.

  It was nighttime. He could tell by the soft glow of ringlight coming through the thin slit of a window on the back wall of his cell. His breath steamed in the chilly air.

  He rubbed his arms for warmth and looked into the neighboring cell, where a bunk was mounted above the floor. He felt certain something was hiding underneath.

  “Hello?” he called softly. “Is someone there?”

  A small, furry, raccoon-like creature slowly walked out from under the bunk. Most of its fur was the color of rust, with white streaks in its face, a handsome ringed pattern in its bushy tail, and black all about its legs and torso. As it stood upon its hind legs and walked closer to the bars, Zale saw that it was dressed in a white, sleeveless tunic and dark, grayish-blue trousers, with a utility belt around its waist. Its ears poked through a dark-red bandana, and a golden earring dangled from its left ear. At full height, its head came up to about Zale’s midsection.

  “You’re an anthropod, then?” Zale said.

  There weren’t many anthropods in Grandtrilia, although there was known to be a decent concentration of them in Holbrook and some of the Crescent’s lesser islands. Anthropods came in a large variety of animal species, differentiated from their feral counterparts by traits such as bipedal walking, wearing clothes, and the ability to speak.

  “Re-re-re pa-pa-re-pa-da,” the creature chittered.

  Great, Zale thought. The ability to speak intelligibly varied greatly between anthropods. Some spoke with perfect clarity. True to Zale’s current streak of luck, this appeared to be one that spoke gibberish.

  “What was that?” Zale asked. “Slowly, now.”

  The critter rubbed at his rust-colored fur. “Re-re….” Then he gestured more broadly to his entire body, adding, “…pa-pan….”

  “Re…pan…? Red panda?”

  The creature nodded. “Yee! Pa-pan…DA!”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Rakakeetacha!”

  “Well…I had to ask, didn’t I? Been here long?”

  Rakakeetacha held up two claws.

  “Two…days?” Zale guessed. The red panda shook his head, holding up his two claws again, more forceful this time. “Two…months?”

  Agitated, the creature stomped the floor. “Wee! Rakakaka…!”

  “Okay, okay!” Zale said. He lifted his hands to calm the beast. “You’ll attract the guards wigging out like that. Two weeks?”

  “Yee!”

  “You must be quite the adventurous little fella to be in Gukhan all by yourself.”

  He shrugged his furry shoulders.

  “Or, perhaps, you didn’t come alone.”

  Rakakeetacha shook his head sadly.

  Zale heard a hinged door swing somewhere beyond. The red panda scurried back into the shadow of his bunk. Two men approached, including the guard he had previously encountered. They stopped in front of his cell.

  “You!” snapped the additional man. His face was also squarish and hard, like it could’ve been chiseled from a block of stone. “Where from?” His words were fast and choppy.

  Zale sized up the guard and wondered just how heavily fortified this place was.

  “What is this place?” Zale asked.

  “I ask questions, not you!” the man snapped. “Where from?!”

  “Grandtrilia.”

  The man drew an angry breath. “Which nation?”

  “Tuscawny.”

  “Why have you come to Gukhan?”

  “My family lost something valuable in these islands on a prior voyage. I came looking for it. I did not mean to get so close to your mainland.”

  The man hissed through his teeth. “Nothing of your family is here! Tuscawny—bah! Your blood is a tainted, filthy stain to our land.”

  Zale gave a light shrug. “For what it’s worth, my father was from Korangar.”

  “Your father was a dog!”

  “Anatomically speaking, I would probably look much different if that were true.”

  “Quiet, dog! Your fate will be decided by our judge. All men die.” His mouth stretched into a wicked grin. “Some men die sooner—some more fun to watch.”

  The two men walked away.

  As the night deepened, so did the cold, and Zale found himself shivering upon the stone slab. He glanced into the neighboring cell and saw that the anthro-panda was asleep, curled into a ball upon the bunk. The little fuzzball actually has a blanket, he realized.

  “Psst!” Zale said.

  Rakakeetacha drowsily lifted his head.

  “Hey, buddy. You wouldn’t mind lending ol’ Pop-Pop that blanket, would you?”

  Zale flinched as the red panda bared his teeth and unleashed a series of irate, high-pitched chatters that could easily have been curse words in some animalistic language.

  “Okay!” Zale whispered. “Cool your kettle. I was just asking.”

  Knowing there’d be no sleep for him, he kept himself upright.

  “Right fine mess I’ve got myself into. We were going after luxorite, you know. It was decided. One quick stint to Korangar, one quick stint to Akkadia. Done. But I brought us here instead. Got myself worked up over a prize of legend, you might say.”

  He was met with silence, but the sound of his own voice was soothing, so he continued. “So close to that mastery bar. All I really wanted was to spend more time with my wife. She’s more patient than any man deserves. I wanted to spend more time with my grandchildren…be a better father…maybe even find some kind of higher purpose for my life than just retrieving valuables for high-paying clients.” He half-smirked. “Although, don’t get me wrong, I do like the high-paying clients. They want to spend the cash, I’ll find the stash. That’s me—always helping others.”

  Still, there was not a sound from the other cell. “I’m not even that worried about getting out of here, to be honest. It’s more a matter of when. The Gale always finds an opening to breeze through. If not really soon, though, that ratbag Rummy will beat me to the bar. Or, we’ll neither one reach it before the deadline, and the kingdom will make it that much more unreachable.” He sighed. “In the end, it’s all about serving the kingdom until you’re too feeble to do any more. Then you just hobble along till you’re dead.”

  More silence. He looked sidelong in the other cell and saw that Rakakeetacha was staring at him.

  “Ah, you probably don’t even know what I’m saying,” Zale said.

  Zale allowed himself to lie down, uncomfortable as it was. Occasionally he drifted off to sleep, only to shiver and jolt awake. At some point, while straddling that line between sleep and consciousness, he felt an increase of warmth around him. He opened his eyes and realized that the tattered, woolen, yet wonderfully comfortable blanket had been laid over him. He smiled, warmed by more than the blanket, and closed his eyes to find rest.

  Zale sprang awake, the blanket sliding to the floor of his cell.

  “Boomer!” Zale said with a snap of his fingers.

  Rakakeetacha gave him a sideways look, chittering in tones that Zale took for grumbling.

  “That’s what I’m calling you,” Zale said. “I’m sure, where you come from, your ‘Raka’ name is the norm. It’s not just you. I make new names for lots of people. That’s just part of the charm of Po
p-Pop.”

  Boomer fisted one of his paws, scowling. It was hard to tell if he was actually angry or just making a show. “Boo-Boo-Boom!” He hissed with laughter, something borderline maniacal. “Yee!”

  “Ha! I daresay you like that.”

  Zale jumped at the sound of impact. It came from underneath the floor. Having no idea what was happening, he reasoned the safest place was atop the raised stone slab and flung himself upon it.

  Moments later, pieces of the floor crumbled away around the front and middle part of the cell. The head of a large hammer pounded through. Fump’s familiar face popped up from the hole, white dust from the floor in his ginger hair.

  “Fump!” Zale shouted.

  “Ah, I told you guys this was the right place!” Yancy shouted below. “What’s up, Captain? We were just passing through. Thought you might like to join us.”

  “You thought right, sir! How in blazes did you get here?” Zale peered through the hole and saw that Fump was propped up by Jensen and Hookknee.

  “Yancy!” Jensen called from below. “Hurry up!”

  “C’mon, Cap, we’ll help you down,” said Yancy. “Hope you don’t mind making this a quick getaway.”

  “That’s the best kind,” Zale replied, lowering himself into the hole.

  He looked back. Boomer was holding the bars of his cell and chittering softly, a longing look in those dark, beady eyes.

  Zale turned to his men. “Men, the anthropod is coming with us!”

  “We don’t have any way to get under that cell, sir,” Yancy said. “This place is very strangely built, like it was just carved out of a massive outcrop. We just barely got to yours. Do you want to try the hammer?”

  “That’d be lots of noisy bangin’,” Hookknee said.

  “Captain!” Jensen dug in his pockets. “Here—try this!”

  He tossed Zale something small, round, and gray. It was the resilite Zale had reprimanded him for having.

  “Stand back, Boomer.” Zale stretched out the substance until it was much thinner. “This about right?”

  “Pull it a bit more, sir,” Jensen said. “Then hold it steady a few moments.”

  Zale followed the instruction and soon sawed away at the bars. It took agonizing minutes to finally clear a large enough space for Boomer to fit through. The anthro-panda chirped in triumph and jumped into the hole. Fump caught him. Zale promptly followed, carefully lowered by his crew.

  “I can’t believe we haven’t been discovered by now,” Zale said as they made their way through some rocky, winding passages.

  “Fulgar and the rest of the crew have most of the fort’s forces preoccupied outside,” Jensen said.

  “That man’s got some wild sorcery in his bones,” Fump said. “Comes in useful.”

  Boomer halted, staring into a room off the passageway. “Raka-Raka bo-kakaka!” He made a peculiar aiming motion with his arms before darting into the room.

  “Um…what’s he doing?” Jensen asked.

  “Boomer!” Zale called. “We’ve got to move!”

  A minute later the critter returned, bearing the smallest crossbow Zale had ever seen and wearing a bandolier loaded with tiny bolts. He had also stuffed a small cutlass into his belt.

  “Boo-Boom, Boo-Boom! Kakaka!” Boomer cackled with a riotous grin.

  “The little blighter’s armed to the teeth!” Yancy said with a laugh. “And with teeth!”

  “This way!” Hookknee bellowed, leading them onward.

  Some winding passages later, they finally emerged at the ground level of what indeed appeared to be a towering rock formation.

  “Fulgar’s map was tried and true,” Jensen said.

  The fort behind them was at the top of a gently sloping hill covered in feathery reed grass. To their right was a small grove of trees, and to their left a broad expanse of land which leveled off along the bank of a river.

  They jogged downhill toward the open land. In the field ahead of them, about a dozen men were locked in combat. Zale saw the occasional burst of light, knowing it came from Fulgar’s dagger. The Queenie was anchored in the river beyond, close enough to the bank that a gangway had been lowered from portside.

  “We went full sail,” Jensen said, “me at the helm. Kasper and Miles watched from the beams, Evette from below, and we navigated those islets as if we’d known them our whole lives.”

  “Wasn’t long before we spotted land and the river mouth,” Fump said. “We didn’t really know if that’s where they’d gone with you, Captain…but we also didn’t know that they hadn’t. Plus, that’s where we needed to go per the map.”

  “You piloted through the islets, Jensen?” Zale asked. “I admit…I’m pleasantly surprised.”

  “Thank you, sir!” Jensen replied, beaming.

  “What about Starlina? Is she okay?”

  “Safe aboard the ship, sir.”

  They broke southward, toward a scraggly forest of evergreens, intending to give the battle a wide berth. That way they could get closer without being seen and join their comrades along the riverbank.

  “That fortress must’ve been lightly manned,” Zale said, breathing heavy. “But, if we keep this up for long, the might of their army will be upon us. Grimstone or not, we need to put this land to our backs.”

  Three of the Gukhanian soldiers noticed Zale and his comrades as they came out from the trees and moved along the river. Zale knew that he was the slow one of their group, and he felt much inner gratitude as they remained close, matching their pace to his.

  Jensen, Fump, and Hookknee drew steel as the soldiers sprinted toward them. To Zale the soldiers’ conical hats made them appear something like running tent stakes, and their black, scale-like armor looked uniquely unbreathable.

  The cries of Zale’s battletested crew dominated the air.

  “For the Queenie!” shouted Fump.

  “For Murdoch!” yelled Jensen.

  Fump glanced at Jensen, then to Zale. “Well, naturally, by extension.” With the composure of someone in a training exercise, he lifted his blade against a soldier.

  Zale felt utterly exposed with no weapon. Moving with deft agility, the Gukhanians wielded short one-handed, double-edged swords.

  He heard a bizarre, high-pitched sort of gurgling sound from behind. Boomer darted ahead of him in a blur and leapt into the battle with blinding, animalistic aggression. He sunk his claws into the face of one Gukhanian, causing the man to scream and flail. With surprising strength, he whipped the man’s neck sideways with a crack and jumped, spinning the soldier limply to the ground. Boomer whirled into another soldier like a flying squirrel soaring between tree limbs, drawing his cutlass in midair and slashing the man’s throat. Before that man hit the ground, Boomer had pulled himself onto the soldier’s conical helmet, drew his mini-crossbow, and aimed a bolt directly between the remaining soldier’s eyes. The anthro-panda had subdued all three soldiers without ever touching the ground.

  “Rakakakakaka! Boo-Boo-Boom, kakaka!” he cackled upon landing, reloading his crossbow.

  “Holy hell,” breathed Fump.

  “He’s a spritely little fella,” said Zale. He bent slightly forward, as though speaking to a favored pet. “Who’s gonna help ol’ Pop-Pop kick some ass?”

  “Rakakeetacha, kakaka! Yee! Yee!” Boomer cheered, Zale chuckling with delight.

  “Captain!” Fulgar shouted from down the riverbank.

  The rest of the crew had managed to prevail against the remaining soldiers, but it would be short-lived solace. Fulgar and Dippy motioned toward the fortress, where a platoon of easily fifty soldiers marched out in a perfect square formation, their black uniforms glinting in the sunlight.

  “Capital rescue, crew!” Zale said.

  All of Zale’s officers and most of his crew had disembarked to fight the battle. The Queenie was right beside them along the river. Just to be in its presence again gave Zale a profound feeling of relief.

  Zale could practically feel the steps of the Gukhani
ans marching toward them. His crew had beaten the odds on many a mission, but he feared pushing their luck too far.

  “Hell’s fury is upon us!” Zale said. “I say let the Grimstone wait for another day. Let’s turn from this place! Quickly, now!”

  The crew exchanged glances. Dippy stepped up. “With all the greatest respect, sir, we came for the Grimstone, and we want to leave with the Grimstone.”

  “We found the pointed structure on Fulgar’s map,” said Kasper. “There is a riddle on it he says only you can solve.”

  “It is more of a monument,” Fulgar said, “and it is not the location of the Grimstone as we thought might be the case. It is more of a starting point.”

  “It’s just within that forest.” Kasper pointed northward, to an area thick with trees.

  “Fulgar explained it to us,” said Evette, “how the Grimstone’s filled with power against the Light, how it’s rightfully yours to claim…. It seems only you can retrieve it, Captain.”

  “Not to mention,” Fulgar said, “that Gukhan is a haven of the Void. I can feel it everywhere in this land, stronger than I ever anticipated. It is safer anywhere other than here, even if it must be with Vidimir. At least then it’s where the Order can keep careful watch.”

  They were out of time anyway. Now the soldiers sprinted toward them, running with swords raised, probably less than a minute away.

  “I hope you have a real ripper of a trick up your sleeves, Fulgar,” Zale said.

  Fulgar pulled back his shoulders and rolled his neck, looking fully confident. “I’ve been known to play a trick or two, sir.”

  “Father!” Starlina shouted.

  Zale turned toward the Queenie, where she stood by the rail.

  “Starlina, get to safety within the ship!” Zale shouted.

  “Take this first!” She picked up his coat from the deck, wrapped it around his hat and saber, and tossed them over the rail. They flew home to their target, right into Zale’s awaiting arms.

  When he donned his coat and feathered tricorn he was suddenly more than the man he’d been moments before. He was Zale “the Gale” Murdoch, captain of Murdoch’s Mates and scourge of the seas.