Malik the Bard

by Moore, Scott

  The soldiers came to a stop in front of a particular boat ramp. It was not the biggest boat on the dock, nor was it the smallest. The portly captain waddled down the loading ramp and looked over the crop that had been brought to him.

  “This is the lot then?” he asked.

  The soldiers held out a small slip of paper, which the captain of the boat took. He read it for a few moments in silence, then crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the lapping waters.

  “That will do it then,” he said.

  He turned to start his way back up the loading ramp and paused halfway up. “Well come on then,” he motioned toward the four of them.

  Malik did not move. The others beside him did not move. He was not going to get on a ship as a captive. Malik wanted to believe he could fight at least this. The captain stopped gesturing after a few moments and looked to the soldiers.

  “They seem to be quite the stubborn lot,” he said.

  The soldiers did not reply but grabbed the three around their arms. Egg was still clasping onto Mollie.

  “Good, bring them up and we will find a place to stow them away quite nicely. Someplace quiet and out of the way,” the captain was talking aloud, but Malik figured he talked to himself.

  The room they found was not extravagant by any means. It was without any luxuries. There were no windows to let in light and when the door shut, with the lock clicking behind the captain, Malik could not see a thing.

  Malik could still hear the captain talking on the other side of the door. The soldiers were quiet or gone, Malik did not know which. Then a second voice came answering the captain.

  “I will work to pay my fees,” the voice said.

  Malik strained to hear, recognizing the owner of that voice.

  “What do you know about boats?” the captain asked.

  “I know plenty about boats,” Khris said.

  Malik felt his heart racing. It had not been enough to get them captured; now Khris worked his way into seeing them all the way to Sweet Tongue. Malik tried to contain his anger, but it did not work. He slammed his fist into the door as hard as he could muster. The door did not budge, but his fist throbbed with the poor decision.

  “Calm yourself,” Mollie said, putting a hand onto his shoulder.

  Malik knew that Mollie was probably right. Punching the wall would not help them. Punching the wall would only leave him with a broken wrist. Then he would be even more useless than he had been before. Malik pulled his hand toward his chest, trying to calm the throbbing pain.

  “We will figure out a way to get out of this,” Mollie said.

  Malik wanted to believe her, but he doubted she would be proven right. Malik slid down the wall, sitting down onto the floor. Khris and the captain had moved along now. He could no longer hear either one of them, but it did not matter. If Malik ever did get free, he would make sure killing Khris was his first mission.

  Mollie sat down beside him. Embre was somewhere else in the room. Malik could not see far enough to know where she was.

  “Is everyone okay?” Malik asked.

  “Other than being scared out of my mind, I am okay,” Embre answered from somewhere in front of him.

  Mollie shifted beside him. “We will be fine.” She sounded distant, even though he could physically feel her right beside him.

  “How far is the trip across the Greay Waters?” Embre asked.

  “It matters how fast this boat is, but normally around two days,” Malik answered.

  “You have ridden this way before then?” Embre asked.

  Malik tried not to think about Abrie again. He wondered if they would meet with Sweet Tongue. Dying was a downfall, but at least he could say goodbye.

  “A few times. I have played in the city a handful of times with Abrie,” Malik answered.

  “It would have been fun to play here once,” Mollie said.

  Malik did not like how her voice sounded resigned to the death at the end of the journey. He did not know exactly what he expected it to sound like, but he hated hearing that tone.

  “I heard Khris,” Malik said after a few moments of silence.

  Malik could not see the others, but he was sure they had to have heard him.

  “He was buying his way onto the ship. Probably to see us handed to Sweet Tongue with his own eyes,” Malik said.

  “I thought he was a friend,” Embre was the first to respond.

  “He was a friend,” Mollie said.

  “Some friend,” Malik chided.

  “Something went wrong with Khris. I don’t know what it was, but something went wrong,” Mollie sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

  “What went wrong is that Khris’ dad was a Tempre Warrior. Malum even said he may have been one of the more sadistic warriors. Can you imagine that maybe he killed our parents?” Malik said.

  “Couldn’t have killed mine.” Mollie shifted beside him. “My parents were killed after Khris’ dad was already dead,” Mollie said.

  Malik supposed she was right, but that did not change a thing.

  “Could have still been my parents, or the parents of countless other children. The Tempre are all ruthless killers,” Malik said.

  “I don’t know,” Mollie said, but there was no conviction behind it.

  Malik decided he would not press the situation. Khris had been closer to Mollie, before his betrayal. Malik had felt something odd about Khris since the day he had joined them. Malik was still on board with having left him at the first village, but it was too late for that now. Now he had put them on a boat toward death.

  “I am going to stretch out and get some sleep,” Mollie said.

  Malik felt tired as well. Standing in the cell all night had been unbearable. Mollie leaned over and laid her head on Malik’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her. Then he leaned his head back against the wall. He did not know where Embre was, but somewhere in the darkness he heard her breathing slow. Malik closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing thoughts.

  The door creaked open only a hair, but Malik’s eyes shot open in panic. He had been sleeping, dreaming of better days, but the light brought him right back to reality. He was still trapped on a moving boat toward the other side of Luberg. There they would all be met by Sweet Tongue and probably his sword.

  Malik watched the door shut again after a shadow slipped in. Malik listened for the footfalls, but whoever it was did not move. He heard them fumbling with something and then the strike of a flint lit a small candle. Malik looked over seeing Mollie’s eyes wide. Across the small room, Embre was lying down, but her eyes were wide open as well. Egg was standing, staring right at the person who had lit the candle.

  Malik jumped to his feet seeing Khris. He would not have to wait until escaping to kill Khris; he could just do it now. Khris held up his hands in a pleading gesture, but Malik was quick. Rage coursed through his veins and he was going to strangle Khris to death. Mollie was quicker; she pressed her shoulder into Malik’s chest.

  “Wait a minute,” she said.

  Malik looked over her, toward Khris who was still back pedaling away from him.

  “I did not come here to hurt you,” Khris said.

  “No, you will wait for Sweet Tongue to do that for you,” Malik replied.

  Khris was shaking his head. He had hit the wall and there was no place to back up any further.

  “That is not true,” Khris tried to keep his voice from wavering. Malik could see the struggle that it was causing.

  “What did you come here for?” Mollie rounded on Khris. “You left us to rot in that cell. You did not attempt to help us,” she accused.

  Khris looked down at his feet, as if he were truly ashamed of his actions. “I know.” He looked up over the ridge of his eyebrows. “I wanted to help, but I am not a fighter. Malum took me to his rooms and tried to get me to talk about you all, but I refused. He sent me to my own rooms, but the doors were not open. He locked me into the room, and I could not get to you,” Khris said.<
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  Malik laughed. “Must have been hard being locked in a room with a fire and a bed,” he said.

  Khris looked up at him, steeling his hands. “It was not my choice. Malum has confused me with someone else,” he said.

  It was Malik’s turn to shake his head. “No he knew exactly who you were,” Malik said.

  “My father was a trader not a Tempre,” Khris defended.

  “Your father was a cold-blooded killer,” Malik shot back.

  Khris was fighting back the tears. “I just can’t believe that,” he said.

  Malik believed him. That made Malik even more upset. He turned away from Khris. Mollie was not going to move out of his way, and he was tired of staring at him.

  “I did not betray any of you,” Khris continued. “I had no idea. If my father was truly a Tempre, then it is news to even me,” he said.

  “You never suspected it once?” Mollie asked.

  “It could make sense, if I stopped to think about it now, but my father was not an evil man. He did well by my mother and I. He always brought me things from his travels. He never struck my mom. The villagers did not like him, but I figured that had always been because he did not work or live there,” Khris said.

  “If you couldn’t tell your father was a ruthless killer, then you are blind,” Malik said.

  “I could tell my father loved his family, and that was all that mattered to me,” Khris retorted.

  “What are you doing here now then?” Mollie asked.

  “I want to help you guys,” Khris said.

  “How?” Mollie asked.

  There was no answer for a few moments. Malik turned back around to face Khris who was still not meeting eyes with Mollie.

  “I am not sure yet, but I bought my passage onto the boat. I will be traveling with you for the entire duration of the trip. The captain said it would take just over two days. I will figure something out to get you all out of here by then,” Khris said.

  Malik doubted that Khris would be helping get them out of anywhere. The most he would do would be to get thrown in here with them. Then Malik could take his opportunity to get vengeance for his parents.

  “I have to go now though. I just wanted to tell you all I was here, and I will help you,” he said. Then he made a clumsy stumble toward the door. No one moved to try and stop him. He opened the door only a smidge and slipped out again, leaving the room pitch-black.

  The room returned to the blackness of before. Khris had not even done the courtesy of leaving them with the candle. Little good it would have done them anyhow. Malik felt around the room for the wall and sat back down. There was nothing to do on a boat but wait. That was true even as a passenger. While a prisoner there was even less to be done. Sleep and wait. They were the two things that were left to them.

  Mollie stumbled and fell, but Malik could not see to help her.

  “Are you okay,” he asked.

  “Just not used to the moving boat,” she replied.

  “Has been awhile since I have been on a boat,” Malik said. He thought for a moment. “I think the last time had to have been three years ago. Abrie and I sailed to a place the natives referred to as the Seeing Eyes. In all reality, it was nothing more than two side-by-side waterfalls overlooking a forest expanse. It was beautiful though. The natives had made up an entire religion around it. There, they did not fall into line with the popular religion of the Saints. They believed that the waterfalls had once been brothers sent to the Earth to keep the forest alive. Hence, the forest provided nutrients and shelter for the people there. They were the ever-watching eyes,” Malik had not been a fan of that place. The natives did not pay well, their food was bad, and they did not believe in ale.

  “Do you think Khris has a shot at helping us escape?” Embre asked, sounding like a hopeful child.

  Malik stopped thinking about his travels and focused back onto the problems they faced now.

  “Khris is probably not even looking for a way to help us,” Malik replied.

  He hated to always be the negative voice of reason, but it was likely the reality.

  “I think that Khris was telling the truth,” Mollie said.

  Malik figured that Mollie had stayed sitting wherever it was that she had fallen. He found himself missing the warmth of her skin. It had been a small comfort.

  “I think we are wishing for things that are unlikely to occur,” Malik said in an almost whisper. He lost conviction of the thought halfway through saying it. Maybe he was just being a negative sore.

  There was no reason to believe any of them would ever see freedom again, but there was little reason to keep hammering it home. To die with a little bit of hope would not be the worst thing to happen to them.

  “Maybe Khris will find a way to help us,” Malik said.

  He did not believe that for a minute, but he tried to convince himself of it.

  No one replied to him. Being in the dark had a way of making one reflect on everything in their lives. Malik could not help but think about everything he had ever done to get to this point.

  He closed his eyes, not that he could see anything with them open anyhow. Against the back of his eyelids, he saw the swirling shapes of his village running from the Tempre Warriors. The Tempre had come from out of the woods next to his village home. His village was small, he did at least remember that much. His mother and father were not important fixtures in the village. He remembered that his father helped in the farms and his mother stayed at home with him, during the day. At night, his mother tended the bar at the local tavern, and he stayed with a young woman whose name he could not recall.

  The Tempre had not come directly for his home, but Malik had only known about the attack once it hit his door. The sitter had screamed, as the Tempre pushed her over onto the ground. Malik was so small that they did not bother with pushing him. He turned and ran out the back door. He knew the village well. He did not remember running through the streets. Most of the night escaped his recall. All he remembered were the hundreds of screams. He did not remember seeing anyone killed, beaten, or otherwise harmed, but he remembered their screams. They grated at his ears and he continued to run. He was running for his mother. He knew she was at the tavern just a small run away from their home. Malik never reached the tavern. The screams rose, and he remembered the smoke curling into the night sky. Somewhere along the way, the Tempre Warriors had lit a fire, consuming most of the surrounding structures. The tavern stood out like a lantern in the black of the night. Malik had frozen there. He did not remember moving. He remembered listening to the screams of everyone he had ever known, but he did not remember seeing them. He did not remember the faces of the Tempre. Malik had closed his eyes and grew roots.

  Sometime the next day, Abrie had found Malik wandering up the road. Abrie did not pressure him into talking. Abrie smelled like smoke and ash, but Malik did not know where Abrie had come from, or how he had found him. It did not matter. After that, Malik grew the grand delusion that he would someday fight the Tempre Warriors. He convinced himself that someday he would be the cause of their demise. He would avenge his parents. He would not freeze to the ground the next time he saw them.

  The image in his mind jumped. He saw the scarred face of Sweet Tongue starring back at him. He was back just outside of the traveling village of the Borrowers. He knew that if he waited long enough Timbre would show up and rescue them. Malik knew that if he had pulled the string and shot the arrow that Sweet Tongue would have never had the chance to attack them a second time. Malik had frozen there again. He had frozen so many times in so many battles.

  He had let his friends down, his family down, and he had let Abrie down. There was no one in the world he had saved. He was a failure, and that was who he was.

  The darkness swirled around him and made it feel like his world was spinning. The waves lapping against the boat did not help him. Malik felt like the walls were closing in on him and he felt like his skin was crawling away from his body. His heart stared to r
ace faster in his chest, and his breath came harder and harder. Malik felt like screaming into the darkness. He had to make it retreat from him.

  Just as he was about to let it go, filling the room with his screams, the door opened again. It let in only a sliver of light, but it was enough for Malik to see the calm face of Mollie starring back at him. He took a deep breath and kept the screams at bay.

  The door slid open further this time. Malik saw two shapes emerging into the light. One of the shapes was their old companion, Khris. The other, Malik did not know. Each of them carried a tray of food and drink. There was nothing ravishing on the trays, but Malik’s stomach ached from the hunger. His throat was dry from the lack of water. He thought of charging Khris again, but Mollie would not have allowed it. Even if he had succeeded, she would scold him for his efforts.

  Khris did not show recognition of the captives. He slid the tray down to the ground, as did the other sailor.

  “Eat up,” the sailor said.

  On the trays was dried bread, cheese, crackers, and bowls of dirty water. None of it looked appealing, but Malik would still devour it all. Mollie and Embre moved in closer to the trays. Khris and the other man started back for the door. The sailor exited first and Khris watched as the three came forward for the tray. He looked like he pitied them at that moment. Malik hated him for that pity even more.

  Khris walked for the door and did not say a word as he closed them back into the blackness.

  Chapter 29

  Fire and Water

  Malik slept again after their meal. There was nothing much left to them and the food had at least sated his hunger. The water had been of poor quality, but it quenched the dryness of his throat. He would never offer the captain his thanks, but he was grateful to have anything at all. Malum had at least instructed the captain to keep them alive until they reached the shores.