This is a story
written specifically for a contest on Gaiaonline, the characters Sabin Duvert
and Ambrose Maurlias and their associated backgrounds belong to Jenny Biggs,
a.k.a Arania. All other characters and settings belong to me. This is a work in
progress, I will be posting the chapters raw, and
having them edited after being posted here. Any reviews will be appreciated and
considered with due thought.
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright
DREAMLAND - Edgar Allen Poe (1844)
A gust of wind
licked along the outside of his muddied coat, finding with ease the place where
his pale fists clutched at the edges and forcing its way inside. A slight frown
marred his smooth brow and the wind ceased its assault, dying down peacefully
to merely ruffle his sandy brown hair as he trudged along the beaten road.
Mere meters away the
tempest was still strong enough to catch and blow away the teasing comment of
one of his companions, but he nodded and laughed none the less. They were good
folk, his fellow travellers, mostly musicians and dancers on their way home
from the summer festivals. They’d been with him almost since
The wind was still
pushing at their winter cloaks as they stood at the crossroads and said their
farewells, promising to save him a fine Spanish wench if he ever showed his
face in Gibara. His destination was a fair bit closer than the sheltered port
city, less than an hour down this dirt track and he would supposedly find one
of the most dangerous and debauched ports in all the known world.
The French man
doubted this, having seen many of the world’s infamous dens of sin in his
travels, and most of them had much better road access than this one for a
start. Even
His mind turned
inwards while his feet still carefully walked the sludgy ground, remembering
with fondness some of the more interesting cities he had visited in his quest
for knowledge. It was almost funny to think how it had all started, back in the
tiny
Small wonder that he
should have been afflicted with such great wanderlust, an isolated childhood
such as his would give any man the desire to travel. Perhaps not so far nor so long as the grey eyed youth had gone, certainly not
halfway around the world. Sabin himself had almost been surprised when he found
himself in
He had taken nearly
two months to do so, loitering in the north during the warm summer months,
waiting for an interesting tale to catch his ear. Until one
finally did. By then it was almost too late to hope that a ship would be
leaving this far into the storm season, as no sailor with a jot of common sense
would risk his livelihood so foolishly. But Sabin Duvert had never been one to
let common sense interfere with his plans.
So it was that he
found himself turning the final corner on the twisting path, sturdy English
made boots sinking into the soft mud of the main street. All his dismal
assumptions had been correct; this tiny port was no doubt a hive of illegal
activity when the less honest merchants tied at its considerably large docks in
summer, but though the temperatures were still relatively warm (Sabin compared
them to the snowed in days of his youth and smiled) most ships were moored in
safer bays this time of year.
A smirk still twisted
his lips upwards as strolled down the “street” towards what was obviously the
best tavern in town, judging by the chorus of cracked voices floating out the
open door. Sabin let his strides slow to a leisurely pace as he mentally
recounted the myriad stories he’d heard of this town, filled with inhuman
creatures, devilry and witchcraft, clearly tales designed to spook authorities
away from the small time smugglers that made trade here. Then he fell in a
puddle.
Wiping the grey muck
from his face (mildly surprised that a puddle could be so deep), the French man
got quickly to his feet and headed directly for the warmth of the tavern.
Neither the conversation nor the singing stopped as he entered the dim room,
indicating that every single scar puckered face in the room had noticed him and
was subtly trying to discern his purpose. In a town filled with smugglers and
pirates, he could hardly expect less.
Trying to drip as
unobtrusively as possible, Sabin found an empty table and settled in as best he
could. No serving maids were in sight, so he simply got straight down to
staring at the tavern’s patrons, considering the information that had first
brought him here.
Monsters. Not just any monsters, Sabin Duvert
was a connoisseur of the supernatural and was after something a little
more exotic than a caged merman or performing elf. The rumour that had led him
to this town was that of whispered nightmares, creatures of pure dreamstuff
that haunted the
The Shadow Coast
itself was a fascinating subject, said to exist only when it wanted to and
accessible only by a ship leaving from this particular bay, crewed by fearless
men willing to feast upon their own souls and become their worst fears. For all
the fabled horrors that inhabited it, the
Sabin doubted the
shores of gold part, though some lesser spirits were known for stealing shiny
objects, and he rather suspected the feasting upon one’s soul bit was simply a
cautionary tale. Nevertheless, his storm grey eyes had read many accounts of
travellers to that realm and creatures that originated from it, so he had faith
enough to strike up conversation with a burly man and slip the
The reaction was not
quite the shifty eyes and furtive hints he’d imagined.
“The
Shadow coast?! You want to know
about the
Several free drinks
and a small army of drinking buddies later, Sabin’s head was buried in his
arms. The conversations had ranged from humour to outright disgust at his
‘foolhardy ideas’, and not one had yet offered up any information as to
possible creatures from the mythical place, let alone actual ships leaving for
it.
He was eying the
dark wood inches from his nose philosophically when a rough shove to his
shoulder caused him to start upright, mutter a German curse and masterfully
slop cheap beer all over himself. Turning to face his attacker, Sabin was
confronted with the cheery visage of a pale faced boy under a mop of matted
brown hair. No, it was a girl. But then the nose suggested a lad… with the
cheekbones of a woman. The generously curved lips belched companionably. Definitely a boy.
He opened his own
finely crafted mouth to enquire as to the boy’s desires for physical
punishment, when he was interrupted by a decidedly feminine voice from the very
same lad.
“I understand you’re
after a bogeyman.”
Sabin was puzzled,
beer fogging his usually sharp mind. “Bogeyman?”
The girl rolled
her mud-dark eyes, swiping his mug and drinking the remains. “You know. demon, ghoul, boggart, spectre. A dark
creature. From the
He felt that she was
being rather too free with his information (and alcohol) but fortunately
had enough common sense (or alcohol) to remain seated. He grudgingly realized
that this ridiculously upbeat child was the source he had been looking for.
Straightening up, he directed a quick line of subtle questions at her.
After a few minutes
of nodding to thisand that , she stood up and offered
her hand. “Look, the Quite Jovial Adam is leaving for the
He stared at the
dirty outstretched palm. Mortal peril awaited him should he take it. Dangers beyond the earthly planes. The ship was probably
dealing illegal goods on the side. Any future at all aboard it was uncertain.
He grasped her hand
firmly. “Isn’t it bad luck to call a boat by a man’s name?”
A scant hour later,
Sabin found himself extremely bored of the seafaring life. So far they’d
visited three hovels and a grubby furniture shop, apparently trading small
lumps of wood for pieces of a heavy gold plated dinner set. When he dared to
ask what in god’s name they were doing, his new employer simply said “supplies”
with a small shrug.
They had exchanged
introductions shortly after leaving the tavern, the girl wrinkling her nose
over the foreign syllables and Sabin wondering if ‘Katherine Kruel’ was
actually born with that name. She was certainly outlandish enough to create her
own moniker, nattering endlessly about trivial subjects, randomly bursting into
song mid sentence and even skipping when the mood apparently took her. Sabin
suspected she’d had a good deal more to drink than he had, but politely tried
to keep up his half of the conversation (when she was talking to him and not
some invisible companion) anyway.
At length, they
turned another grimy corner and beheld the astonishing vista that was the
docks. Rotten planking stretched out miles into the bay itself, creating what
would have been decent mooring if not for the fact that the headlands sheered
off abruptly at the beach, leaving virtually no protection from the weather.
The few large ships that were brave or desperate enough to dock here were
anchored close together in the small shelter granted by a generous rock
formation further out in the bay.
The jetty itself was
littered with nets, barrels and assorted maritime detritus, which Katherine
crunched through carelessly and Sabin nimbly picked his way around. As they
passed each intimidating hull, Sabin expected to be led up any of the narrow
gangways, but the dark haired girl simply walked on past frigate after sloop
after barque.
Suddenly Katherine
stopped and shouted. Sabin, having once more retreated into his mental pathways
was startled at this outburst. A tense moment later an answering shout floated
down through the night air, proving that his companion was neither injured nor
mad, so Sabin could relax.
The shout had
apparently come from the decks of an aging brig, smaller than most of its model
and with a few interesting renovations. Sabin’s untrained eye didn’t catch this
for several weeks, all he saw on his first impression
was a hulking derelict of a ship, too small to possibly make a months long
voyage and not looking seaworthy enough to make a trip about the bay.
His desperate hopes
for a mere friendly greeting to a trading partner were dashing when a rope
ladder was thrown over the side, Katherine scrambling up it in her inimitable
graceless style. When she reached the top and gestured for him to toss his bag
up, he could barely suppress the heartfelt groan that the prospect of
travelling aboard the wallowing vessel brought to his lips.
The minute he was
dragged unceremoniously over the lip of the splintering rail, Sabin was
bombarded with commands from a muscle bound giant of a man with almost no
teeth. Not feeling particularly suicidal that day, he jumped to obey the lisped
orders, grabbing his finely woven travel bag and stowing it under a wooden
crate.
He didn’t see it
again for three hours, when he was finally granted a break from loading and
securing cargo to catch a brief snatch of sleep before they sailed. As he
wearily plodded below decks after Katherine’s still jaunty footsteps, he
wondered exactly what a ‘peaceful exploration mission’ as she’d put it was
going to do with all the barrels of gunpowder he’d helped store in the hold.
Sabin assumed that
Katherine had already cleared him with whoever was in charge, while he was
working with the many diverse crewmen he had never once been challenged or
given a second look. Clearly new faces were not uncommon aboard the Quite
Jovial Adam, suggesting a higher turnover rate of employment than the French
man was quite comfortable with.
The dingy crew
quarters were simply a cleared space in the cargo hold with hooks in the low
hanging beams for hammocks. They had passed a few staterooms on their way down,
but those were clearly reserved for higher ranking or merely more physically
imposing crewmembers. Sabin had observed during his stint as a forklift that
the hierarchy on board was a fascist system of the strong ruling the weak.
Katherine was not particularly strong but clearly held some other function that
allowed her a certain leeway with the supervising bosun.
As she
enthusiastically hung him a hammock clearly not far from her own, Sabin asked
he exactly what her position was.
“I’m a repair boy. Girl. Person.” she said with a grin. “I report to the ship’s
carpenter.”
Sabin nodded sagely,
this explained the hunks of wood she’d made him carry. “Are you good with your
hands then?” he asked, extracting his bedding and trying to assemble it in the
swinging canvas.
She gave him an
appraising look, scouring his body with her dark eyes from head to toe. “Only if you’re good with giving out gold.” She replied
succinctly.
Sabin floundered, face red, trying to grasp a way out of this
embarrassing conversation. He was saved by Katherine’s boisterous laughter as
she hopped effortlessly into her own hammock, snuggling into a comfortable
position in minutes.
“You’d best be
getting some shut eye, Sabby, I wasn’t fooling about the sailing with the dawn
thing.”
Hiding his
irritation at the irreverent mangling of his name, Sabin struggled for a good
ten minutes longer before he could arrange his hammock adequately for sleeping
purposes. Katherine was already fast asleep and snoring atrociously, ‘probably
solely to annoy me’ he though uncharitably, and so he forewent the goodnights
and settled in himself.
He fell into the
familiar realm of dreams to the oddly comforting sound of water slapping
against the hull.
*** Chapter 2 ***
Sabin was awoken
roughly by a sudden lurching motion. Thinking it was merely the rocking of his
hammock, he grasped for the trailing edges of sleep for a few moments before
another, bigger lurch rolled him out onto the floor.
Struggling to
reorient himself as he dressed and made his way to the
forward hatch, Sabin realized the ship itself was in motion. Which
meant they were already under sail. Which explained
why there was not a soul below decks.
He emerged onto the
deck, expecting bright morning light and squinting against it, disappointed
when a dark sky and a shower of rain greeted his brown haired head. Much to his
surprise, the second he stepped onto the rain slick decks he was struggling for
balance as the world swayed from side to side.
Sabin had travelled
by boat before, but never on a ship small enough to really feel the ocean swell
and toss its passengers about like the Quite Jovial Adam was currently
doing. He had nearly mastered the trick of standing still with his legs spread
when he was smote from behind by a great fist. As he skittered forward, he
heard the booming tones of the bosun and realized the blow was supposed to be
an encouraging shove forward.
The bosun was a
giant of a man, ham fisted and strong enough to bash six heads together at once
(which he was often called on to do, as acting second mate), though his
threatening persona was undermined by his essentially amiable personality and
gummy smile. Of course, there was also his name. Sabin had at first taken it
for a joke when a one eyed deckhand related their superior’s names, but had
quickly learned that anyone who questioned “Becky” soon became as gap-toothed
as the owner of the name.
Becky’s helpful hand
had sent Sabin in the general direction of Katherine, who grinned and handed
him a line with an indication to start pulling. Between the steadily rising
wind, pattering of rain and shouted commands of sailors, he didn’t have any
chance to ask exactly why they were leaving in what seemed to be the
dead of night during a storm.
By the time the sail
they were helping to raise was up and a series of other brute strength tasks
assigned to them were completed, the sun was peering through the dismal clouds
and the rain had died off to a baby’s enthusiastic dribble.
Katherine’s mop of
dark curls was bent over a hunk of fresh bread when he finally sat down long
enough to talk to her. He was beginning to doubt the sanity of his decision to
join this particular crew, and some of his mood showed through.
“Why in god’s name
did we have to leave in the middle of a storm?”
Katherine blinked at
him. “It was just a squall, pretty boy. We’re bound to see much worse than a
pissing of rain before we reach the Turk islands.”
“We’re heading for
the Turk islands then?” He asked, only frowning slightly at her comment on his
looks.
This earned another
blink, accompanied by what he was beginning to recognize as her
how-can-anyone-possibly-be-this-stupid-unless-they-were-dropped-on-their-head-as-a-child-wait-did-that-happen-to-you
look.
“Of course we are.
How else do ye get to the
He pressed his lips
together. In preparation for this journey Sabin had studied many accounts of
the
Katherine scrambled
back against the bulwark as the grey skinned man passed by, careful to keep any
part of her body or clothing from touching the webbed feet. Sabin was surprised
by the sight of the merfolk as well, having seen only a few from afar and none
at all the night before during loading. He surmised that the fish eyed creature
had been elsewhere, perhaps collecting supplies or running some other essential
errand. Or perhaps he had been avoiding reactions such as Katherine’s.
Sabin was somewhat
surprised by his companion’s apparent distaste for the aquatic man. While
prejudice against non-humans wasn’t uncommon, he had been told that sailors
were a diverse folk, well used to accepting those would otherwise be misfits
and outcasts, as those who sailed the sea were themselves on the fringes of
society.
Then again,
seafaring people were often given to superstition, having to trust their lives
and livelihoods to the capricious nature of the vast oceans. Sabin wondered if
Katherine’s dislike was just particular to merfolk, non-humans or all
“unnatural” things, as his mother had been. He wondered if this included magic.
He watched the rest
of the crew’s attitude to the merfolk, noting that there were almost no other
non-humans among them (unless they were hiding it cleverly, as they were wont
to do these days) and few had a friendly word for their web-fingered shipmate.
Sabin was just
pondering a way to gently broach the subject when Katherine appeared to get
over her spooking and stood up, briskly brushing down crumbs
uncharacteristically for such a messy person.
“Best be to work
then, first sailing day is always the most troublesome – everyone’s waiting for
something to break while we can still swim to shore.” This chance to upset
Sabin’s peace of mind seemed to restore her mood, and she offered him a hand
up.
Smoothly ignoring
the proffered hand (still a tad miffed about where it had gotten him last
time), Sabin stood by himself, tossing the heel of his breakfast to the gulls.
“What are we supposed to be doing? More grunt work?”
Katherine grinned at
him gleefully. “Oh no, we’re quite done with that. I’m going to
go help with the stuck door in the galley, and you, lucky thing, get to
report to the mate. He’ll decide what to do with you.”
“The
mate?” He questioned with some
suspicion, knowing that whatever chore awaiting him could not be pleasant.
“First mate
Maurlias. Pointy ears, can’t miss him. Oh yes, he’s a
frenchy too. I have a feeling the two of you will get along like wenches and
whalebone.” This last was said with such suppressed mirth that Sabin’s sense of
foreboding hightened to a painful cramping in his gut.
Katherine had
already shown a sadistic streak when she earlier laughed at the misfortune of a
fellow deckhand who got his finger caught and near shredded by a flying line.
As she swaggered aft, Sabin couldn’t help but glare at her brightly clothed
back before stalking off himself.
Sabin eventually
found the first mate on the foredeck, observing the well ordered chaos of the
crew with enough haughty disdain to float an armada, holding his blonde head
high enough to support a crown. Sabin suddenly had the distinct impression that
this was a private ambition of the mate’s.
Unsure of shipboard
decorum, Sabin waited patiently to the side and waited for the elf to address
him. For indeed, the tightly pulled back hair displayed proudly the two damning
marks of the rare elvish species: finely pointed ears. Sabin spent several
minutes mentally speculating on just how good the first mate had to be to gain
and hold such a position, especially over a crew almost entirely comprised of
humans.
He had almost
exhausted this line of thought (he really didn’t believe such a man would do that
to a melon for a rank) when the first mate finally saw fit to break the
silence.
“So. Another hapless deckhand.
You’re late to report.” The disdain carried through the cultured accent with
surprising sharpness, given that the voice was so soft.
Sabin stared at the
elf’s back. “I’m sorry. I—“
“I did not
give you permission to speak.” The reprimand masked in genteel tones was as
strong as a backhand in a silk glove (which, Sabin noticed, the first mate was
wearing).
Then, as inevitably
as a cresting wave, the elvish first mate turned to fix Sabin with a
contemptuous stare. The icy blue eyes seemed to hold an ethereal power to
freeze his soul in its tracks, and for a moment Sabin
believed every fantastical story he’d ever heard about elves.
“You are a deckhand.
Your station is so far below mine that should I wish it, you would lick the
dirt from my boots and be grateful for my gift of sustenance.” His fine lips
curled, then smoothed suddenly. “Go. You report to Becky, tell him you
requested to swab the decks until sunset.”
And with that, the
first mate turned his well proportioned back and effectively ended the
conversation. Sabin cursed those pointed ears every time he bent to scrub a
determined stain from the planking that day.
As the first stars
twinkled their way onto the velvet painting of the evening sky, Sabin collapsed
onto the well-scrubbed decks with a deep sigh. Every muscle in his body ached,
including some he had never suspected he possessed. Who knew cleaning could be
so backbreaking? The grey eyed French man had a new respect for his mother.
He was seriously
considering just falling asleep where he was, as his hammock in the hold seemed
continents away to his weary body. Lids nearly closing on sleep-fogged eyes, he
had almost a second’s warning before Katherine’s small but powerful fist
impacted with his shoulder.
“aargh.”
He said tiredly.
“Good evening to you
too, good sir. How do you fare this fine evening?” Katherine had affected what
he supposed she must think was an imitation of his accent. He closed his eyes
once more.
A sharp jab to the
ribs was his reward. “Wake up, you have work to do.”
Back to normal tones, but the words themselves were still horrifying enough to
rouse Sabin’s anger.
“C’est
une blague ou quoi? How can
there possibly be more work? I scrubbed every plank on this godforsaken ship.
You could eat off these decks!” He cried.
“You’re on watch
with me tonight. Orders from above.” She grinned and
offered him a hand up.
Not really having a
choice about taking it this time as he was unsure whether he could stand on his
own, Sabin took it. “What did I do to get in his bad books so quickly? I barely
talked to the man for a minute!”
Katherine started
walking towards the foredeck, gesturing for him to follow. She talked over her
shoulder, still failing to hide her amusement. “With the first, you don’t have
to do anything. He’s just like that. A right royal bastard
who runs the ship like a naval man-o-war.”
As they reached a
ladder she again offered him a hand up. Sabin took it gratefully.
“So it’s not just me
then. You don’t like him either?” he asked.
Katherine let out a
raucous laugh that echoed off the night waters. “I don’t think anyone aboard
likes him. Not even the captain. We might be daft buggers to be sailing for the
Sabin carefully
ignored the last remark and the derisive snort that accompanied it, focusing
instead on the mention of the elusive captain. Despite having been aboard for
almost a full day now, Sabin had seen neither hide nor hair of the man who
supposedly owned the ship he was sailing on.
“What’s the captain
like, then? Is he an elf too?” he enquired politely.
“Captain Roberts? Oh
lord above, no! The poor fool couldn’t find his own rear end with two hands and
a map, let alone double cross you like a pointy eared bastard would.” She
laughed softly, almost fondly. “No, he’s an alright fellow, our captain is. Not
the best sailor, but he has his priorities straight.”
Sabin nodded as if
he understood the association of elves with treachery. He’d only met a handful
of the handsome folk in his travels, but they had seemed trustworthy enough.
“So why did the
captain decide to sail for the
She shrugged,
leaning on the bow rail, looking out into the invisible horizon. “Same reason
ever sailor does, I suppose. Treasure, adventure.
Mostly treasure.” The wistful look on her plain face suggested other
motivations for herself, but Sabin did not press.
Before he could ask
another question, Katherine shook herself and began the real work of watch
duty. “Right then, do you know how to use a sextant? No? Bloody
useless things anyway. Just pick that up and do what I do.”
The next few days
passed in an uneventful manner, the first mate’s wrath steadily guiding Sabin’s
chores but not taking any form that could truly be considered unfair. He was
assigned to many mindless tasks, mostly involving
cleaning, but instead of slacking off and doing them sloppily as the mate
probably expected, Sabin made it his goal to accomplish every minor duty with
perfection.
This was mostly to
annoy the blonde elf as he strutted along the poop deck, calmly issuing orders
and inspecting Sabin’s polishing jobs, but also because he was certain that
Becky would not hesitate to break a finger or two if Sabin looked the least bit
relaxed.
Rough calluses
formed on his delicate writer’s fingers, previously accustomed to ink stains
and soft gloves. He developed rather severe sunburn across his cheeks and nose
before Katherine took pity on him (not without a great deal of mockery first)
and gave him a bright red bandana to cover his head. He wasn’t sure how this
worked, but the burning ceased and his skin returned to normal, if a few shades
darker.
Katherine herself
was his near constant companion, always finding convenient jobs that required
her to be in the same area as he was. She mostly insulted him and made rude
implications about his relationship with the bosun, but he found that her
casual assumption of friendship allowed him to let these things slip and he
bantered back with equal humour. She talked to him as if they were old friends,
and sometimes it was hard to remember that they had met less than a week ago.
One bright
afternoon, almost a day since land had been visible,
Sabin was laboriously rubbing oil into a block so that the lines would run more
smoothly. Katherine sat above him, carving lumps of rose hued wood with a small
knife and keeping up a running commentary on the rigging rats’ physical appeal.
He was just
congratulating himself on ducking one of her swinging feet when a lump of wood
clonked him in the head. He didn’t bother to ask why she’d thrown it, she
either wouldn’t have a reason or she’d have some deep philosophical rant
prepared about the nature of wooden lumps.
Rubbing his head, he
picked up the small wooden shape and examined it. It looked… like a lump of
wood that had been savagely attacked with a knife.
“What exactly is
this supposed to be?” He asked her, honestly curious.
She shrugged, still
swinging her feet. “Oh, nothing really. Mattias just
wants me to practice.”
As it turned out,
Katherine was not particularly good with her hands at all. She had secured the
position of repair boy with a mixture of charm, bribery and blackmail. Her
handiwork around the ship was easily told by its poor quality, but another
telltale was the rude words and images frequently carved into it.
Sabin had just
picked up his oil rag again when another lump smote his head. He cursed in
French and turned to give the little brat a piece of his mind. But to his
surprise she wasn’t grinning down mischievously at him, instead her attention
was focused somewhere out to starboard where the foremast blocked his view.
He couldn’t believe
she was actually taking the innocent tactic. It wasn’t as if there were neither
any other malicious repair boys around nor any birds who conveniently shat
wood. He was still staring incredulously at her when her voice was once more
directed at him.
“A
ship! South-east,
about three furlongs from here. No, five. Maybe ten.
Hell I don’t know, but it’s a ship!”
Sabin stared up at
her in confusion, thinking that surely if such a thing were true that the
lookouts would have spotted it already. A moment later he realized that the
lookouts had been shouting excitedly for several minutes, but having no ability
to understand the jargon of their constant calls, he had developed instead an
ability to fade out their long shouts. He listened closely now, but could still
not decipher what the commotion was about.
Katherine, however,
seemed to have no trouble comprehending them, and noting his puzzlement related
the information to him with barely constrained glee. “It’s a merchant, Dutch by
the looks of it. Coming from Saint Kitts, loaded with sugar!”
Sabin nodded, then paused. “Why are you interested in its cargo?”
There was a sudden
silence in the space between them. Katherine became intensely fascinated with
her swinging toes.
“This is a pirate
ship, isn’t it?”
The curly head
nodded.
This only confirmed
his growing suspicions. No “free trader” carried as many cannons as the Quite
Jovial Adam did, and no mere sailors wore three bared blades a piece. Then
there was the constant talk of looting and pillaging. That was sort of a big
hint.
Sabin heaved a sigh.
He didn’t really mind on a moral level, but it would have been nice to be clued
in before the killing and the dying started.
“Alright, but do I
have to fight?”
Katherine grinned.
*** Chapter 3 ***
Sabin’s grip on time
loosened after the merchant was sighted. It must have taken at least a half
hour for the Quite Jovial Adam to catch and out manouver the smaller
Dutch vessel, but the minutes passed in a blur to Sabin until he found himself
holding the rough hemp of a grappling line in his hand.
Katherine stood next
to him, holding her own line in one hand and a disproportionately large axe in
the other. He didn’t ponder too long on the logistics of such a weapon in close
quarters, instead pulling his own dagger from its hidden sheath in his boot. He
was absurdly glad that he had yet to take Katherine’s advice about no boots on
deck, as he wasn’t sure he would have remembered about the small blade
otherwise.
He tried to focus on
the approaching hull of their prey, but the bloodthirsty shouts of both his own
crewmates and the terrified Dutchmen kept distracting him. It took a long
moment for him to realize that Katherine was saying something.
“What are you going
to do with that pig-sticker? Threaten to poke them mercilessly?” The laughter
in her voice was oddly disturbing when she was holding a sharp object.
“I… it’s all I’ve
ever needed.” He replied simply. Sabin had only used the small dagger - well,
kitchen knife really – once before on a particularly determined thief. He’d
left a pretty serious looking cut on the young man, and at the time he’d been
proud of his mad skillz.
Katherine scoffed. “Lets find you something that might actually leave a scratch.
Manny! We need a sword over here!”
There was no
discernable reply to this, though Katherine’s own shout had nearly been lost in
the din so it was doubtful that they would have heard the master-at-arm’s
response anyway.
They waited
patiently for the Spanish man to appear. Sabin had encountered his brusque
nature before, so while he waited he mentally prepared himself for angry
shouting and perhaps physical assault for the horrible crime of asking a weapon
of the weapon-keeper.
He was very
surprised when a blade came whirling out of the throng straight past his nose
and buried itself in the mast behind him.
Sabin was still
struggling for breath when Katherine tugged it free of the wood, cursing about
gouges and sanding. She placed it in the hand that had until seconds ago been
holding a dagger, pressing his fingers around it when they refused to grip.
“Here.” She said
comfortingly. “You just stick the blunt end in the soft bits.”
“Don’t you mean the
sharp end?” He asked warily.
She shrugged.
“Whatever works for you.”
With this reassuring
thought, she turned to watch the fast oncoming battle. A moment later she
turned back again.
“You might want to
take the braid out. I was wrong, it doesn’t make you
look more manful and scary.”
Then she was over
the side and gone.
Sabin raised a hand
to his hair, tied into a braid by Katherine not less then ten minutes ago. At
the time she had all sorts of good reasons, like not being mistaken for a wench
and raped, but he had been rather distracted and hadn’t really considered them.
He was just trying
to figure out how to hold the sword and untie the thick plait at the same time
when Becky’s mighty hand once more clapped him on the shoulder and sent him
staggering forward. Sabin really had no choice once he was pressed against the
bulwark with twenty men behind him screaming for their chance at violence, so
he swung across into the fray with no further protest.
The battle was
nothing like he expected. There were no elegant sword manoeuvres or daring
rallies as the stories told. It was just blood and confusion, and blood. So much blood.
The crew of the Dutch ship were obviously at a disadvantage,
even to Sabin’s untrained eye. While the Quite Jovial Adam’s crew
charged at the frightened merchants with vicious enthusiasm, they still
displayed some small amount of skill, if skill could be the word used to
describe the efficient dismantling of a living body. The Dutch sailors had no
such talent, wielding their improvised weapons ineptly with trembling hands.
Sabin briefly saw
people he recognized, Katherine swinging her not-so-ridiculous axe, Becky using
his meaty hands as brutal weapons in themselves, the
first mate watching with a cool eye.
But all of them were
transformed by the battle. There was no time to consider the ethics of
slaughtering innocent men for the wealth they were transporting, only a breath
between dodging a flailing sword and throwing up your own in defence.
Sabin was horrified
when his notched blade accidentally caught an aging man in the eye as he spun
around. The gurgling scream that issued from the man’s lips was so inhuman that
Sabin mindlessly dropped his sword and turned to run.
He ran right into
the path of a trio of bulky Dutch sailors. Sabin cursed his luck,
he must’ve found the only sailors on the entire merchant vessel to know their
way around a sword. And a crossbow too, he noted with some dismay.
As the middle man
raised his bow to eye level and the other two hefted their swords, Sabin did
the only thing he could think of.
He raised his hand.
Straight out from
his body, palm outstretched as if the pale flesh alone could stop the
descending blades. He wished it were true, that his hand was made of iron, he
wished that the swords were made of butter, he wished that he had never signed
up for this stupid quest, he wished that he didn’t have such an idiotic
obsession with monsters and the Shadow Coast that held them.
Sabin closed his
eyes, and wished.
When the roaring in
his ears had stopped, he heard the metallic clang of two swords dropping to the
deck, followed by the more wooden clatter of a crossbow.
He opened his eyes
to find the deck in front of him bare of anything but a smear of gore and
shredded clothing. He quickly turned to scan the rest of the ship, expecting
everyone to have witnessed the horror of the past few moments. But no one had.
The battle continued unabated, away from his little bubble of obscenity.
Sabin turned the
corner of the wheelhouse and huddled down in the shelter behind it. He closed
his eyes and ears to the violence outside and let his head rest on his knees.
He hadn’t used that
spell since he left home. That spell was the reason he left home. His
promises to never use it again had meant nothing to his distraught mother, and
clearly they had meant even less to him.
He squeezed his eyes
shut tighter and waited for the screaming to stop.
Years, or maybe just
hours later he jerked awake to the feel of something on his shoulder. After a
few moments of blind panic wherein it was the hand of a deceased Dutch sailor,
Sabin woke up enough for the colours swimming in front of his eyes to resolve
into the familiar shape of Katherine’s face.
Katherine’s very
concerned face. He had no idea how to handle the softness in her look, so he
just sat there as she reached out to stroke his face. The tenderness and pity
in the gesture was enough to make him close his eyes again.
“Don’t worry, my
pretty boy. It happens to the best of us the first time.” Her voice broke
through his eyelid barrier nonetheless, irritating in its reassuring tones.
“Why, when I first bloodied my blade I nearly fainted on the spot. Poor Becky
had to half drown me with a bucket of bilge water before I could get my wobbly
knees walking again.”
Her harsh laughter
fell hollowly on his ears. In it he heard the echoes of the rushing wind and
wished she would just stop talking. He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t.
“Alright
then. Sulk. But at least come sulk with the rest of us so it looks like you’re crying
because the rum’s so good. Can’t have you ruining your manly image now can we?”
At this, Sabin’s
eyes flicked open. “Rum?”
Katherine smirked. “Knew that’d get you. Boozehound.”
Sabin didn’t have
time for her petty insults right now. “Rum? Is there
rum?”
She rolled her eyes
but held her hand out to help him up nevertheless. “Yes, there is. Two extra
thumbs for every hand, three if you managed to gut more than five Dutch
bastards. It’s the Captain’s way of celebrating the haul we brought in.”
Sabin really didn’t
care enough about the politics of accepting a hand up once more, he just wanted
to drink something that would make him stop thinking. He knew from experience
that rum was more than sufficient for this task.
As he turned to
follow Katherine’s swaggering steps, cramped muscles protesting, he
concentrated on not looking at the carnage left in the wake of the battle. Not looking not looking not looking.
He couldn’t help but
notice the significant lean in deck underfoot though, and asked Katherine about
it.
“Oh yes, it appears
our silly trader decided to scuttle his boat rather than let pirates have it.
The fool did a half-arse job though, so it’s still seaworthy. We won’t be
taking her with us though because Mr Pointy Ears declared it was too much
effort for ‘too little gain’. Bastard.”
She then went on to
describe the nature of the prize they were keeping, which equated to a three
pound sack of sugar each. Sabin ignored her rapturous chatter in favour of
focusing the gangplank they were crossing to the Quite Jovial Adam. He
had little interest right now in the rewards of murder.
He crossed to the
other ship in a haze, being led to one of Katherine’s preferred nooks and made
to settle on a barrel. He barely noticed when a tin cup was pressed into his
hand.
“If you aren’t going
to drink that, give it here.”
Sabin was about to
protest this when Katherine dunked a small strip of cloth into his rum without
asking further permission. Baffled, he watched in confusion as she knelt before
him and gestured for him to take his shirt off.
“I don’t…what are
you doing?” he rasped.
“Oh don’t fear for
your virtue pretty boy, I’m just gonna fix up that there hole in yer carcass.”
Sabin looked down in
surprise. Indeed, there was a spreading blotch of red over his chest. Bemused,
he didn’t struggle when Katherine yanked his linen shirt over his head and
proceeded to inspect the wound site with her fingers. He did yelp when she
prodded it with a fingernail though.
“’s just a scratch,
quit yer bitchin.” She said, mangling the words a bit. It occurred to Sabin
that some people’s accents became more pronounced when they were in their cups,
and he wondered just how much Katherine had already had to drink. He was
suddenly not so sure about having her poke at his injury.
Heedless of his
worries, Katherine picked up the rag and slapped it directly onto the cut.
Sabin cried out in
surprise.
Eying him with a
mixture of shock and amusement, Katherine dabbed more gently with the alcohol
soaked cloth. “Where did ye learn to screech like a girl?
Sabin scowled,
bearing the stinging of the rum manfully now that he’d managed to drink a sip
or two as well. “I’ve never even been to
Katherine shrugged. “’s all the same t’me. Paroble, Grenis. Funny places with
girly men and too much perfume.”
Sabin hissed as she
dabbed a ragged edge of both the cut and his pride. “They’re completely
different. My village was a place of natural beauty, we knew nothing of
society. We never had any perfume but the scent of the wildflowers.” Sabin knew
he was verging on the dangerously cliché, but couldn’t stop. “We never had to
strut about like the Parisian peacocks, we knew how to
appreciate the wonderment that surrounded us.”
Katherine raised a
brow. “’f it was so poetically inspiring, why’d ye leave it for this shithole?”
she asked, a hint of honest interest in her voice.
Sabin frowned,
taking a moment to swallow down the rest of his rum. Katherine had never before
asked about his past and though he had been dying of curiosity himself, he had
never asked about hers.
Clearly he had
misunderstood the unspoken rules of their friendship. Perhaps there were no
unspoken rules of their friendship. It was likely that Katherine had just
forgotten to ask until now.
He shrugged,
stepping out into the abyss. “All my life I wanted to see a monster.”
Sabin thought this
would have been explanation enough, but Katherine’s puzzled face suggested
otherwise. He sighed. “I was interested in the unknown. Magic,
monsters, mythical places.” He noticed her face turning sour at the
mention of magic and quickly continued. “I wanted to see other cities too, go
to the places I’d read about in books. One day I just decided to go. My father
was a traveller you know. Guess it’s in the blood.”
Katherine was silent
for a long moment after this, and Sabin began to feel uncomfortable about his
little speech. He decided it was only fair to ask the same of her. “What about
you?”
“What about me?”
He rolled his eyes. Then rolled them again because the sky looked so amazing when it
whirled like that. “Why did you leave home?”
“Felt like it.”
“When did you
leave?”
“When I felt like
it.”
“Why did you become
a sailor? A pirate, even?”
She shrugged. “Felt
like it.”
Sabin frowned,
irritated now. “Pour l’amour de dieu, just tell me something real! Where did
you come from, what was your family like, why do you hate magic so much?
Anything!” he snapped, breathing more harshly than he’d like.
Katherine glared at
him, and then continued ‘cleaning’ his forgotten wound with renewed vigour.
“I’m from Cheapside,
Stunned at the
barrage of information, Sabin was quiet for a moment. Then the rum got the
better of him again. “Aren’t priests supposed to be celibate?”
“Yes.” Came the short reply.
“Then how—“
“Seeing as we’re
sharing like old biddies,” she cut him off, “how old are you really?”
Sabin sat back,
baffled. “Well, I left home when I was sixteen and I’ve been travelling for
four years.”
Katherine squinted
for a moment, then nodded sagely. “Ah,
a lad of eighteen then. Not too far from that meself.”
He squinted back at
her. She had clearly learned her mathematics too at the knee of her father.
“How old are you then?”
She grinned,
mischievous mood restored. “I left home when I was fifteen and I’ve been
travelling for a year and a half.”
Sabin quickly did
the arithmetic. “Sixteen then?”
Katherine gave him
the so-stupid look again. “Don’t be daft. I’m seventeen and a quarter.” She
chucked the rag at his head and stood up while he sat in confusion once more.
“I’m going to pinch another round off the lads in the galley. Are ye with me?”
Sabin rose on
unsteady legs and tried to nod his consent. When his head nearly fell off with
the effort, he merely grunted instead and wobbled after her.
*** Chapter 4 ***
Thunder boomed
through his head like a chorus of the dead, crushing thought and dream alike,
leaving nothing but devastated wasteland behind. Nausea rose in his stomach,
the taste in his mouth like that of a nine day old corpse left to bloat in the
sun. He tilted his aching head and the pain was like a thousand bloodthirsty
barbarians driving their spears into his temples at once.
“Oh stop being such
a drama queen.” Katherine’s chipper voice was nearly enough to provoke Sabin to
murder. Or it would have been, if his eyeballs weren’t melting out of his
skull. For some god-cursed reason Katherine was apparently immune to hangovers.
Sabin was not.
She had awoken him
early that morning with a swift jab to the ribs and a cheerful command to get
up off the capstan before they decided he’d make a good anchor. He had
responded in kind by vomiting on her bare feet.
He had thought that
would have put her off, but she’d simply dumped a bucket of water on her feet,
incidentally catching Sabin in the face with a few cupfuls too. Since then
Katherine had been merciless in her enthusiasm, forcing him to wash and dress
like any other day, though thankfully Becky appeared to be suffering from the
same fate and had eased up on morning duties.
They sat now, for a
mid-morning breakfast on some spinning clicky things that Sabin honestly
couldn’t be bothered recalling the name for nor dared asking it of the
abominably happy Katherine.
She had tried to
force some sugar laden porridge on him but he had neither the stomach nor the
patience for food right now, instead he sat very still, enduring the sunlight
and Katherine’s mean-spirited commentary on the crew’s behaviour last night.
He was finally
curious enough to interrupt her joyful recounting of the surgeon’s high stake
gambling to ask a question. “I didn’t… do anything really stupid, did I?”
She gave him a look.
He sighed. “I mean more than usual.”
“Oh
no, not at all. Unless
you consider that touching rendition of the French national anthem to be
embarrassing. I thought the accompanying dance was quite inspired, myself.”
Sabin groaned.
“Yes, all the
rigging boys agreed that you have quite a pleasant baritone. I think you’d be a
hit in the
Sabin buried his
head in his hands. The day could not possibly get any worse.
A pair of familiar
highly polished boots stepped into his line of sight. Except that it just had.
“Duvert. I saw you fighting yesterday. Meet me on the
afterdeck at noon.” The crisp tone of the first mate sent shivers down Sabin’s
spine. Did he mean he’d seen the spell?
He lifted his eyes
to divine the answer from the mate’s eyes, but the blonde elf was already gone.
“ooooohumumum.
Somebody’s in trouble.” Katherine chanted like a small child, complete with
silly grin and feet swinging.
Sabin glared at her.
Sometimes he felt that though Katherine was a good friend and a fine sailor,
public execution would be too kind a fate for her.
Two hours later,
Sabin’s mood had not improved much. He thought his headache may have actually
gotten worse.
He skulked his way
past a crew that all seemed to be enjoying his impending doom, and though Sabin
had never made much of an effort to befriend them he felt that they owed him
slightly more comradeship than this.
He finally reached
the appointed place, cursing the sun that glinted off the coin-bright hair of
the first mate. Of course he would be punctual.
“You’re late. Do
they not have time-telling devices where you come from or are you just ignorant
as well as lazy?”
For once, Sabin kept
his mouth shut in reply. He couldn’t stop himself from grinding his teeth
though, despite the magnified ache it produced.
“I see you didn’t
even bring your sword. Pathetic.”
Sabin blinked. “My sword?”
The taller elf
sneered. “What did you think you were going to use in a fighting lesson?
Your
hands?”
Sabin bristled at
both the insulting tone and the possible implication that the first mate had
witnessed his magic. “I wasn’t aware this was a lesson, sir.”
“Of course you
weren’t.” The first mate snorted. “You have potential, more than the other
half-wits that crew this tub. Potential to be, if not a great
swordsman, at least not a terrible one. Here, catch. If
you can.”
Sabin barely caught
the sword as it came spinning out of nowhere towards him. Stunned at the
backhanded compliment to his previously non-existent skills, he stared down
blankly at the shining blade.
“I prefer the
rapier, but we’ll be using cutlasses for obvious reasons. Then again, they may
not be so obvious to you. Do you know why the blade is curved?”
Sabin shrugged. He
already looked like a fool, he had no pride left to salvage. “Aesthetics?”
The blonde elf’s
expression became even more derisive. “Oh yes, it’s very pretty. But you have
clearly never tried to wield a broadsword correctly on a ship. Or land, for
that matter.”
He drew a long,
finely made rapier from the decorated sheath at his side to demonstrate. The
hilt was of platinum and the blade of very high grade steel, even to Sabin’s
eye. The first mate swung it lazily through the air in broad strokes, the
singing blade declaring its quality as loudly as the practiced ease of the
elf’s handling displayed his skill.
Sabin was so
entranced by the shining sword that he was slightly startled when the first
mate spoke up again. This time his voice was softer, a French lilt showing
through as affection for swordplay showed through. “What do you notice about
this, other than how beautiful Imperion is?”
Sabin ignored the
pretentious notion of naming one’s sword and watched for a few moments more as
the aimless strokes continued. “It… takes up a lot of space.”
The blonde head
nodded in approval. “Very good. Do you see now the
advantage of a shorter blade?”
Sabin nodded,
turning his gaze now to the curved cutlass in his hand. He waved it through the
air a few times experimentally, noticing for the first time how useful it would
be in the cramped confines of a shipboard battle. Even with his arm fully
extended it would not catch in the lowest of riggings.
A disgusted noise
from his superior caught his attention and he lowered the blade uncertainly.
“No,
not like that. Like this.” The elf
repeated his earlier motions, slowing them down and simplifying them so that
Sabin could catch on. Once Sabin was moving his own
sword in time with the movements of the longer Imperion, the first mate nodded
and stopped.
Sabin stopped too,
drawing his brows together in confusion as the elf sheathed his sword and
walked past Sabin to leave.
When Sabin stilled
his own sword motions, the first mate gestured for him to continue.
“Keep going, I
expect you to learn something you know.”
Sabin gaped. “But I
thought you were going to duel with me? Or at least teach me something…”
The first mate
snorted. “Don’t be stupid, you don’t have the muscle for it. You couldn’t hold
your sword long enough to raise it against me, boy. Keep doing that for an hour
and tomorrow we shall see about learning some forms.”
Sabin glared at the
elf. The cutlass did not seem particularly heavy to him at all. Nevertheless,
he raised it defiantly and continued to slice at the air with the curved blade.
Smirking, the first
mate nodded at him and walked off. Sabin cursed him and took an empty
satisfaction from pretending the slight breeze was the blonde elf as he stabbed
at it.
Much to Sabin’s
dismay, the next week and a half was more of the same. He awoke early every
morning to cram all his allotted chores into the morning hours, as neither
Becky nor the first mate were willing to ease his schedule, only to practice
swordplay for an excruciating hour after noon.
Well, it was
officially only an hour, but first mate Maurlias was so obsessed with
perfection that if Sabin did not achieve every exercise with absolute accuracy,
he had to do it twice over. This often resulted in Sabin getting to bed well
past dusk, covered in sweat and aching from head to toe.
In fact, Sabin found
that since starting his ‘lessons’ he had become better acquainted with muscle
pain than he had ever thought possible. Worse, it was all from endless swinging
of a blunted blade at the air, or perhaps a wooden dummy if the first mate felt
that Sabin was having a productive day.
Still, Sabin refused
to give the blonde elf the satisfaction of seeing him quit. Sabin wasn’t
entirely sure that he’d even be allowed to quit, so for now he thought
of it as a matter of pride. Pride that the elf had in spades,
and Sabin was determined to match.
It was during one
such lesson that Sabin first saw a crack in the icy elf’s demeanour. Sabin had
been hacking at a dummy in the same agonizing pattern of attacks for well over
an hour, finally completing the routine and looking to his surperior for
approval.
He didn’t get it.
The haughty tones of the first mate rang out in the swifty cooling evening air,
“You’re still forgetting the second followup strike to that motion in the third
pass. If that had been a real foe you’d be split from nose to navel.”
Sabin glared at the
first mate, not missing the slight upward curve of the elf’s lips. He’d grown
accustomed to reading the nuances of the first mate’s body language, they were
far more subtle than most people’s expansive gestures, but they told the moods
that the pale lips would never spill.
Right now, the first
mate was amused enough to be laughing outright, if he had been any other man.
The slight smirk was enough to set Sabin fuming though, as bad as if he had
been insulted to his face. He turned back to the dummy with renewed vigour,
attacking it with enough force to leave deep gashes in the straw padding that
had once protected it, even gouging the wood below once or twice.
Almost as soon as he
had started the first mate moved forward to stop him, dangerously stepping into
Sabin’s strike area.
“Now you’re just
hacking at it like a child. Enthusiasm does not make up for a lack of finesse.”
Sabin groaned,
leaning forward to rest his hands on his thighs. Sweat dripped off his bared
chest, the combination of blazing tropical sun and physical exertion having
proved too much for him hours ago. The first mate was, of course, still fully
clothed in his shirt and frock coat.
Sabin growled under
his breath. He was tried of the heat, tired of training and tired of the
constant derogatory remarks. “Finesse does not make up for a lack of breaks.
Surely your teachers never worked you this hard when you were learning the
sword?”
The mate snorted.
“When I was a student I was a child, and therefore could afford the
luxuries of both breaks and mistakes. You are a man, or so you claim.
Your physique and constant whining suggest otherwise.”
The sneering look
down the aquiline nose that accompanied this derisive comment was almost too
much for Sabin to bear. He straightened up, glaring directly into the glacial
blue eyes of the first mate, his own eyes sparking with defiance. Such a direct
insult to his masculinity was not to be borne.
He stepped closer to
the first mate, encroaching on the elf’s personal space and charging the small
space between them with violence.
“If I am such a
child why are you so afraid to fight me? Even the dummies have more balls than
you.” He ground out angrily, knowing even as he did that such an insult could
well cost him his life.
First mate Maurlias
leaned in close, cool breath mingling with Sabin’s own heavy pants. “Because I
would no more fight a child than sleep with one. Real men have honour enough to
overcome their juvenile instincts.”
They held each
others gazes for a long moment, pure hatred dancing between them. Just when
Sabin was sure the mate was going to stab him in the chest, the blonde elf
smirked and walked away.
Sabin stared after
him, bewildered. He couldn’t believe that he would get off scott
free after directly defying the first mate.
“Oh, and Duvert –“ the elf called over his shoulder, “you aren’t leaving this
deck until you’ve completed that exercise another fifty times. Perfectly. Becky will keep watch.”
Sabin cursed,
knowing very well that once again, he would not see his bed before well after
dark.
*** Chapter 5 ***
The thought that
first mate Maurlias knew of Sabin’s magic haunted the young Frenchman day and
night. Every look, every offhand phrase was cause for suspicion. He lay awake
for hours at night imagining scenarios of the first mate’s reaction. Being an
elf, the mate should be sympathetic to a mage, but it was hard to be
certain in such intolerant times as this.
Childhood friends
had turned on Sabin when they had discovered his natural talent at hide and
seek was more than just a knack for finding good hiding places. The horrified
look on Renee’s face when he offered her a rose painstakingly crafted of pure
shadow still plagued Sabin’s dreams. The tide was turning against those who
were not entirely human, and Sabin often felt that he was right beneath a
cresting wave of hatred, simply because he was not as others were.
Sabin rolled over in
his hammock, seeking to turn physically away from his thoughts even as he did
so mentally. Of late he was finding that despite the exhaustion the constant
swordplay wrought in his body, sleep was often elusive. On the rare occasions
when he did find his way to the arms of Morpheus, Sabin fell into a deep
slumber that was stalked by strange shadows and was curiously difficult to wake
from.
Shadows were no
stranger to Sabin, but he had never felt such… fear when faced by them
before. While he often gave the darkness the appearance of life, never before
had he felt it staring back at him. Watching him with
sinister red eyes.
Shrugging it off as
merely the peculiarity of dreams, Sabin gave up his quest for sleep for the
night and rolled out of his hammock. A good stroll in the night breeze would
clear his head of the clinging shadows and make the night watch think he was
being enthusiastic in his duties.
As his bare feet
thudded against the pleasantly cool planks of the upper decks, Sabin breathed
in deeply the scent of sea life. Tarred ropes, oiled winches and piles of
drying fish made for a pungent undertone, but the tropical breeze swept their
strength away, leaving only the more delicate smells of sealed wood, damp hemp
and the all pervasive tang of sea salt. There was something to be said for
getting away from the industrial stench of the cities. Good for the soul, to
smell something fresh for once.
When a one eyed
deckhand started giving him strange looks indeed Sabin realized he’d been
standing there whiffing for slightly too long and hurriedly walked aft, trying
to look like he had a destination in mind. In truth, he wandered aimlessly
around the decks for a good half hour before settling down in a nook that the
watchmen were unlikely to check, but offered a good view of the night time
scenery.
The stars swirled
across the deep purple of the sky like a swath of richest fabric from the
finest markets in
He was just poised
on the brink of a poignant observation, possibly even a really deep thought
when the shuffle of boots on wood startled him enough to force a slight squeek
from his throat.
The amused chuckle
that issued from finely curved lips placed Sabin in no doubt at to the
intruder’s identity. Just his luck that he should be busted
by the one man aboard most likely to whip him for no particular reason.
Sabin was frantically plotting his escape when the first mate’s lilting voice
filled the night air.
“What are you doing
awake at this hour, my young apprentice? Don’t you have duties to fulfil in the
morning?”
Stunned at both the
warmth in the elf’s tone and the odd reference to Sabin being his apprentice,
of all things, it took Sabin a minute to find his own voice.
“I… I couldn’t
sleep.” He gave himself a mental slap for such an inarticulate response.
Expecting a barbed reply, Sabin eyed the moonlit figure with trepidation.
“Might as well toss
and turn out here as below, eh?” the tone was companionable, and the first mate
nodded absently rather than directing any sort of glare at Sabin.
Sabin was
speechless. Had the first mate finally gone mad? Had all those endless sword
exercises been as wearing on his mental welfare as it was on Sabin’s? Perhaps
the blonde elf had simply been drinking. A lot.
Treading carefully
so as not to wake the sleeping beast of the elf’s personality, Sabin leaned
against the rail and followed the mate’s gaze out to sea. “You don’t get much
sleep either?”
The
elf’s head shook, moonlight making a sculpture out of the planes of his face. “Not on nights like this. When the moon is out like
this it seems as though the devil himself lurks beneath these waters, waiting
to drag us down to live with the merfolk.”
Sabin didn’t reply,
not daring to break the spell of comradeship that seemed to have been woven
without his notice.
“Do you believe in
that sort of thing, Sabin? Magic, I mean?”
The glint in the
elf’s shining eyes could have been moonlight or suspicion, but both set Sabin
on edge. He turned his own eyes firmly to the water and shook his head,
affecting a disinterested air, in blatant contrast to his true feelings on the
matter.
“I believe in it,
sure. But I don’t much care for it. They don’t bother me and I don’t bother
them.”
The first mate’s
tone was eerily flat as he replied. “Them. Yes, them. Magic
users and non-humans. Merfolk, dragon-kin, elves.
Others.”
Curious as to
whether or not the lack of emotion expressed in the elf’s tone would carry on
to his expression, Sabin once more looked up. Only to see the first mate
standing curiously still, as if trying to be in truth the statue that the
moonlight made of him.
As though he was
completely unaware of Sabin’s presence, the first mate continued in the
disconnected voice.
“They burn them you
know. In
Sabin froze. The
moment spun away from him, the first mate’s icy gaze holding him in place,
knowing, accusing. He reached frantically for a reply, even as they both knew
he had taken too long to think of one for it to be truth.
“It’s true I’m from
Desperately trying
to redirect the first mate’s glacial scrutiny, Sabin spoke up again. “I am
sorry for your loss, if you were witness to such things.”
It was a terrible
thing to say, but thankfully it closed off both the moment and the elf’s face,
the situation diffusing as the first mate turned away.
“Yes, I was. My
brother… he never screamed.” The devastating nature of the statement was belied
by the dead look in the elf’s eye, and Sabin once again did not know what to
say. He was only pitifully grateful that he would not have to face revelation
that night.
The quiet stretched
and was broken, the first mate seemingly breathing in vitality as he turned
once more to Sabin. “Best be getting to bed then, yes? We’ll be in the Turk
islands by dawn. Does not the prospect of fine wine and women excite you,
Duvert?”
“Yes first mate
Maurlias, it does.” He replied warily.
“Oh come now, no
need for two such as us to stand on formality. Call me Ambrose, and I shall
call you Sabin. At least when we are alone.” With a
wink and a grin, he was gone.
Sabin stood stunned
and confused for another long while, pondering the sudden changes in the first
mate’s personality. Ambrose’s personality. That
alone was enough cause to call the ship’s surgeon on complaint of
hallucinations.
Shaking his head,
Sabin retired to his hammock for the evening, for once tired enough to sleep
without dreaming.
.o.
The day dawned
clear, if not bright. Overcast skies dimmed the lookout’s line of vision, but
once the islands were spotted nothing could dim the crew’s excitement. Being in
port after so many weeks was a wondrous prospect, and all hands went to their
tasks with enthusiasm, the better to bring the Quite Jovial Adam in
sooner.
Katherine, free of
duties for the day (or merely ignoring them), stood precariously on the prow
and occasionally shouted back descriptions to Sabin, who was laboriously
splicing lines on the foredeck. She couldn’t possibly be able to see the half
naked women dancing on coals from this far out, so Sabin assumed that she’d
visited the islands before.
Even Sabin had to
admit that the port market on
Sabin didn’t have
time to think in the brief scurry as they docked, he was too busy being yelled
at and hauling lines to stare in wonderment at the lush vegetation that
stretched almost to the wharf itself. The tropical atmosphere that permeated
all of the
Less than an hour
later Sabin was clomping along the dirt street that fronted the docks, his feet
feeling uncomfortably squished in his finely made boots after so long in the
open. He would have stopped to check for blisters had not his eyes been
occupied with gaping at the street vendors.
Heavily tanned
merchants hawked their wares at the top of their voices in several different languages,
promising fine silks, fresh fruit, exotic perfumes, delicious nuts, exquisite
jewelry and all so many other tantalizing prospects that Sabin was overwhelmed
by the sheer number of possibilities.
He had considered
himself a well traveled man, and used to such spectacles as this, but never had
Sabin witnessed a market that while founded on shady dealings, practically
throbbed with vitality. A child ran up to him, tumbling over her own feet and
babbling incomprehensibly, and in that moment Sabin was filled with the joy
that seemed to fill the island, the joy of being alive.
He was jolted out of
his reverie by Katherine’s light smack across the child’s hand, which had
somehow wormed its way into Sabin’s pocket.
“Lay off, we don’t
have anything yet. Come back once we’ve been to the produce markets.” She said,
hefting her bag to demonstrate.
The child made a
face and let out a stream of what where presumably curse words, judging by
Katherine’s responding gesture to its retreating back. Then again, the child
might have been apologizing and Katherine might just be making rude gestures
for the fun of it.
The exchange
reminded Sabin that he had his own sugar to sell, which he then realized he’d
left on the ship. With a sigh, he turned to Katherine. “I’m going to have to
back to the Adam, I’ve left my sack of sugar aboard.”
Katherine blinked.
“Don’t be silly, Becky will take care of it. See, I left our sugar with him and
he gave us our share of the profits in advance.” She opened the bag this time,
revealing that not only had Sabin been wrong about the contents but that she’d
lied to the child about how much gold they were carrying. Which
was a fair amount, if Sabin had any eye for it.
He gaped at her.
Leaving their well earned loot with a pirate, let alone one that was not
known for his counting skills? She must be even more mad than usual. “Are you
sure that’s the wisest idea?” he enquired politely.
“On any normal ship,
it’d be bloody stupid. But,” she cut him off before he could agree, “that
bastard elf runs a tight ship. He’s a real stickler for rules and all that
rubbish, even though he’s a thieving elf.”
Sabin ignored this
contradictory statement in favor of sighing heavily. Katherine had already been
compensated for their sugar, however incorrectly, and he really didn’t feel
like challenging Becky or the first mate, no matter how strange the latter had
been acting.
“Alright then, how
much of that is mine? I want to get some new clothes while we’re here.” Sabin
firmly ignored the snorted response to that, his conservative city clothes had
long been the source of much mockery from Katherine, and she would no doubt
delight in seeing him dressed like a ‘real buccaneer’.
“Enough.” She
replied primly. “I’ll give you whatever’s left when I come back from the
pleasure markets.”
“There won’t be
anything left when you come back!”
“So?”
Sabin glared at her
impish brown eyes. He frequently felt that he was dealing with a toddler rather
than an almost grown woman. A toddler with a worldly appetite, he mentally
amended as he considered Katherine’s destination.
The curly headed
girl had spent well over an hour that morning expounding on the various
hedonistic experiences that
The keen light that
came into Katherine’s eyes when she mentioned them belied her actual age, and
set Sabin’s mind to wondering. Shrugging off the distracting thoughts, Sabin
stretched out his hand expectantly towards Katherine.
She ignored it for a
full minute, examining a passing sailor with convincing interest, but
eventually caved in and filled his hand with shining coins. When he didn’t
immediately pull his hand away, she snarled and dumped a further pile of coins
in his hand.
“Happy now?” she
asked with no small amount of resentment.
“Very.” He replied
with an equal amount of satisfaction. She still had enough in the bag to please
herself, but not enough to go completely overboard. Sabin considered that she’d
still probably try, and the thought of budget whoring amused him long enough
for Katherine to have vanished when he next looked up.
With a shrug, he set
his aching feet down a new road and let himself get lost in the wonders of the
market.
.o.
*** Chapter 6 ***
During his travels,
Sabin had discovered that marketplaces all over the world had one thing in
common: smell. Whether it was the heavy perfumes of the upper-class
As he wandered from
booth to booth, Sabin’s nose was caught and intrigued by scent after scent; the
tantalizing smell of warm bread led him to the rich fragrance of eastern oils,
the pungent tang of metal being worked in the open mixed with the languid
sweetness of over-ripe fruit, and the fresh burst of local vegetables overlaid
the more subtle traces of pipe-smoked opium.
It was however the
heady aroma of hot food and strong spirits that led him to the door of what
appeared to be a very popular tavern. All the talents of a one legged cook
could not make hardtack and dried fish the equal of fresh vegetables and
roasted meat. Sabin was in the door and ordering a meal before he even had time
to read the name of the place.
As he generously
laid out gold to encourage faster serving, Sabin deduced that the name of the
roiling pub would most likely be something along the lines of The Fighting
Cockerel or The Raging Bull, if anything could be judged by the
clientele.
As he examined the
surly brutes that made up the majority of those hulking over tables in the
smoky common room, Sabin realized that more than a few of the weathered sailors
were his shipmates. Just his luck that the first chance he had to see some
fresh faces, he winds up in the Quite Jovial’s
favourite watering hole.
Sabin was just
turning his soured attention back to the impending arrival of the serving girl
when a glimpse of familiar green-grey flesh made him jerk his head back up.
There, sitting alone in a dark corner of the tavern was the merfolk that had
been his elusive sailing companion these past weeks.
Sabin stared in
wonder; it wasn’t often that one saw a single non-human in such a crowded
public place, especially a tavern such as this. He caught himself thinking
there must be other gathering places for their kind and gave himself a
mental slap. These days it was becoming more and more clear that Sabin was of their
kind and would be treated as such should he reveal his abilities.
Deciding to have
some moral backbone for once, Sabin stood up and signalled to the serving girl
that he was switching tables. He could feel countless eyes on him as he
traversed the endless distance to the other side of the room, and though the
noise level did not raise or drop, Sabin was sure they were whispering about
him.
He was so sure that
all attention was on him that it took several minutes once he reached the
merfolk’s table for him to figure out that the gilled man was actually unaware
of his presence. Several awkward coughs and long
silences later, Sabin had been offered a seat and a place to rest his now full
plate. After that, the silence stretched.
“What do you want?”
The oddly burbled
voice caught him by surprise. Trying not to stare at the webbed fingers toying
with a mug of ale, Sabin gathered his courage to reply. “I just wanted to be
friendly.”
“Friendly? To a non-human? Perhaps you are in need of a surgeon, not a
fish-man.” The watery voice carried the chill of arctic flows, the carelessly
spoken slur jangling harshly between them.
“There’s nothing
wrong with being friendly to a… to a non-human. Sabin ignored the blank look,
“I have met many of our differently specied brethren in my travels, and they
have all been just as fair or foul company as any red blooded human.”
The too-round eyes
narrowed shrewdly.” Then why did you pick me to harass, if I’m no different
from them?”
Sabin scrambled for
reply that wouldn’t offend the prickly merfolk and settled on an old strategy
that his father had inadvertently taught him while dealing with his mother. The
best defence is a good offence. Leaning close, he whispered theatrically in the
spined ear, “Honestly, I couldn’t stomach the smell.”
He accompanied this
by waving his hand in front of his face in the childhood gesture of stench.
There was a long moment in which Sabin was sure his lame ploy would fall flat
in the face of the merfolk’s cool fish-eyed gaze.
Then a strangely
choked gurgling sound erupted from the merfolk’s slitted throat and Sabin was
terrified that he had killed the man or worse – invoked some sort of bizarre
war cry.
His puzzlement
lasted a fair moment longer, until the webbed fists banging on the table
finally clued Sabin into the fact that the merfolk was helpless not with rage,
but with mirth. He tentatively smiled, then with an unsure grin joined in the
laughter. This only caused the merfolk to clutch his stomach and cackle harder.
Sabin thought the
green-skinned man probably would have been crying with hilarity if not for the
fact that merfolk could not shed tears. Or at least, that was what the legends
told. Sabin was suddenly intensely curious as to whether it was true or not,
and let his laughter trail off as he studied the merfolk’s face for traces of
salt water.
The merfolk didn’t
seem to notice this, and when his laughter eventually died down he held out a
hand for Sabin to take. Sabin did so heartily, ignoring the unnerving sensation
of holding a snake and the clammy stickyness of the webbing between the other
man’s fingers.
“I cannot tell
whether you are the most simpleminded or most arrogant fool ever to walk the
mother’s shores, but either way you have some enormous balls! You’re crazy, but
where I come from we can admire that. I am Kaimana, and you are Sabin Duvert.”
“Ah, so I’m famous.”
Sabin recovered from the sudden change in the merfolk’s personality by taking a
deep drink from his mug. Who knew saying something stupid could so endear one
to a merfolk.
An odd look came
into Kaimana’s flat eyes before he responded, making them seem even more
foreign than before. “More than you know. Far more than you know.”
Sabin raised a brow
and was about to reply when Kaimana spoke up again, loudly calling for another
round of drinks for his ‘friend’.
He chattered
aimlessly until the drinks arrived, burbling voice now warmed in odd contrast
to his earlier coolness. Sabin played along with the banter, curious enough
about merfolk to let himself be drawn into
conversation.
It turned out that
Kaimana was something of a traveller himself, though he took the more aquatic
routes to many of his destinations. Sabin eagerly traded tales of his land
bound adventures for those of the deep, as Sabin had never had the luxury of
gills in order to explore the ocean and no merfolk had ever been comfortable on
dry land.
As they talked Sabin
satisfied his ever growing curiosity about non-humans, and Kaimana seemed to
gain some special pleasure from their exchange. Sabin reflected later that it
was unlikely that the merfolk had much of a chance for companionship aboard the
ship, and his conversation with Sabin was probably the first pleasant
interaction he’d had since the voyage began.
What had earlier
been a tempting array of steaming food had turned into a congealed mess of
leftovers by the time the tavern started to empty, but though Sabin’s appetite
had been left for dead the conversation between he and Kaimana was still
lively.
When the proprietor
came around with a stern look and a big stick, the pair paid their bills and
quietly stumbled out into the street. Sabin was feeling on the tipsy side of
pleasant from the cheap beer, and he had no way of gauging the merfolk’s
sobriety but Kaimana seemed happy enough.
Most of the stalls
were closed for the night, and the street echoed oddly as Sabin’s booted feet
clopped down on it, Kaimana’s bare webbing providing a slapping counterpoint.
The tropical breeze had taken a cooler turn, and it helped blow away some of
the alcohol induced haze in Sabin’s head. It only made him walk instead of
staggering.
At length they came
to the wharf (though not without many wrong turns) and after getting angrily
booted off the decks of two fishing boats and a barge, found the Quite
Jovial Adam. More than a few figures were coming back from the day’s
carousing, at least half of which were in much the same state as Sabin, if not
worse.
Squinting blearily
at the gangway, Sabin realized that there were rather more people going aboard
than he recalled coming ashore. Some of the men shuffling aboard looked very
suspicious indeed, uniformly shrouded in heavy clothing and one or two walking
with and odd gait.
Suspecting foul
play, Sabin stopped in his tracks and nudged Kaimana sharply.
“Mother
of all! What’s your problem,
landlegs--“
Sabin ignored
Kaimana’s moaning and leaned in to whisper. “Do you recognize any of the men
boarding the Adam?”
Kaimana’s luminous
eyes narrowed at Sabin. “No. Nor do I care.” he replied, clutching his ribs
sulkily.
“You don’t care?”
Sabin exclaimed, “What if they’re robbers or worse, come to raid us in the
night?”
The merfolk rolled
his eyes – a little too far back to be normal – and continued walking. “They’re
just new recruits. Maurlias probably hired them to fill in for those killed in
the battle.”
Sabin attempted a
quick shuffling-walk to catch up, attempting to look inconspicuous while still
matching Kaimana’s swift pace. “I don’t remember that many deaths. Surely there
was some ceremony for them…?”
Kaimana only
shrugged and continued walking. “Piracy is a tough game. The sea takes its
dead, and we do not fuss over what is rightfully hers. If the first mate wants
to fill out the ranks a little before we face the dark lands, then who is blame
him?”
“And the captain
approves of this?” Sabin questioned, doubt colouring his tone.
Kaimana actually
laughed, this time less raucously than in the bar so Sabin could tell it easily
for what it was. “What does it matter if he approves or not?
Captain Roberts has about as much authority as the figurehead on this ship.
Less actually, I heard Grimy Pete drank a gallon of his own piss one night on
watch duty, because he said he heard the figurehead tell him to.”
Sabin shook his
head, too preoccupied with his suspicions to laugh at the tale. Knitting his
brow, he spoke up again. “But doesn’t it seem odd to you? They all look a bit,
well, shifty don’t they? Untrustworthy.”
Kaimana stopped
abruptly then, turning to give Sabin the full benefit of his incredulous
fish-eyed stare. “Pirates. You do know what
that means, yes? You know that you are one yourself?”
Sabin sighed and was
about to give in, when a painful shove caught him in the side and sent him skittering
forward. When he’d caught his balance, he turned to give Kaimana and earful of
his wrath for such uncalled for shoving. Much to his surprise, it was
Katherine’s angry visage that met his blue-grey eyes.
“What in Christ’s
holy name are ye thinking, abandoning me for a watercorpse? Is my company
really that awful that you’d rather be tainted by a fish-man?!”
The outrage in her
voice caught Sabin completely off guard. Sputtering, he tried to figure out
where exactly he had wronged her. A well muscled lad hung behind her unsurely, clearly he had been anticipating a much different
sort of encounter when he followed her back from whatever tavern they’d been
in.
“Nothing
to say, eh?” She poked his chest
angrily, “Ye were supposed to meet me at the sign of the Dancing Donkey at
sundown! Instead ye was out consorting with creatures
o’ the night!”
At this, Sabin
blinked in confusion. “No, I wasn’t. You never said anything about a Dancing
Donkey.”
Katherine glared at
him for a moment, then softened in confusion. “Are ye
sure about that?”
“Quite.” He replied
dryly, noting her thickened accent and realizing she was a fair bit worse for
drink.
Katherine was quiet
for a long minute. Then she seemed to gather herself, puffing on the embers of
her anger. “Still! Ye should know better than to hang
about with the likes o’ him!” She pointed a quivering finger at Kaimana, who
had backed off during the confrontation to stand quietly.
Now he raised his
hands in a universal gesture of surrender. “It’s quite alright Duvert, I should be getting some rest anyway. We have an
early rise tomorrow, wouldn’t want to get in the first mate’s bad books by
waking late.”
Before Sabin could
get another word in he was gone, Katherine glaring at his back until it was
lost in the darkness.
Turning to face her
Sabin felt a great anger, but couldn’t find safe enough words to express it.
Defending Kaimana would only bring suspicion on his own head, and while he
longed to know whether Katherine would still be friendly towards him did she
know the truth, he could not risk exposure on the ship.
Superstitions about
mages were more than justified, god only knew what the
crew might do in a storm if they knew a true mage with control over the winds
was aboard. Frowning severely, he reigned in the majority of his anger and only
let his eyes go cold at Katherine.
“That was hardly
necessary.”
She snorted and
started sauntering towards the ship. “He’s a merfolk.” She said, as if that
were all the explanation needed. “Where did Kurt go?”
Sabin pressed his
lips together but followed her, wanting nothing more than to just go to sleep
and wake up somewhere far away. “He left, right about the part where you
started jabbing me in the chest and screeching like a banshee.”
“I did not screech!
That bloody merfolk must have scared him away.” She pouted dramatically, which
usually would have made Sabin laugh and forgive her, but now only made his
hackles rise further.
“It’s not like you
needed another round tonight anyway. You already smell like a brothel.” He said
cruelly. It was true though, Katherine did stink of cheap perfumes and more
earthy musks under the overpowering scent of wine.
Clearly she’d drunk
more of the latter than was healthy, as she blithely ignored his tone and
laughed loudly. “No such thing as too much. ‘S my
motto don’cha know.”
Sabin sighed and
continued on towards the ship and his beckoning hammock. “I know.”
.o.
A/N: I don’t know if
*** Chapter 7 ***
A/N: Travel times
are just beyond me. Please don’t go check any maps; it’d be embarrassing for
all of us.
.o.
Though they only
spent a single night in port, the good cheer that the brief stop had produced
in the crew lasted well into the next week. Sabin could not say the same for
Katherine’s mood, which had worsened the longer they’d been at sea and Sabin
had still not shown any signs of regretting his new association with the
merfolk.
As it turned out,
Kaimana had many similar tasks to Sabin, and it was a wonder that they hadn’t
become acquainted before
While Sabin didn’t like
causing Katherine strife, he also disliked having to choose his friends based
on what other people said. He thusly made a point to laugh even louder at
Kaimana’s quiet wit and grin especially widely when Katherine was around.
On one such breezy
morning, Katherine had eventually given up and gone to sulk
belowdecks, probably harrying the cook for spare spoons, and Sabin was left
practicing knots on the quarterdeck. Kaimana, who was much more experienced in
the world of reef knots and carrick bends, sat next to him and consistently
beat Sabin’s fastest knots.
After some minutes
of this, Kaimana lifted his head and gave the surrounding deck a suspicious
check. No one else was within easy sight, so he turned to Sabin and his face
took on a fey cast.
“Have you ever
wanted to breathe underwater?” his burbling voice asked.
Sabin grinned, sure
this was a joke. “Have you ever wanted a rich and even tan?”
A smile twitched
Kaimana’s grey lips, but quickly vanished as the mysterious look returned. “I
mean have you ever truly thought about it. What it’s like to swim beneath the
waves, witness the wonders of the deep and never have to worry about your frail
lungs gasping for air?”
Sabin frowned. Not
sure where this was going, he nodded hesitantly. Kaimana seemed to smile at
this, and standing, began to shuck off his clothes. Sabin dropped the double
diamond knot in his lap and scuttled backwards, startled by the merfolk’s
sudden and apparently randy mood.
“What are you…”
Kaimana grinned
nakedly, picking up one of the spare lines and securing it tightly. “You didn’t
think they hired me for my good looks and remarkable dancing skills, now did
you?”
Before Sabin could
say another word Kaimana had grabbed a chisel from Katherine’s abandoned
toolkit and was over the side, rope in hand. Sabin scrambled to the railing to
watch what he was sure was the desertion of his friend.
Instead, he found
Kaimana cheerfully waving to him before dipping beneath the waves, diving under
the sparkling waters to scrape at the unseen barnacles that surely clung to the
ship’s hull. On a bright day like this, the water was clear enough to see
almost straight to the shallow bottom, and Kaimana’s every graceful dip and
turn was visible to Sabin’s eye.
He watched the
merfolk work for a long while, fascinated by the way Kaimana utilized his
webbed fingers and toes to flit effortlessly alongside the ship, turning an
everyday task into an elegant ballet. The chisel was put to good use, no doubt
ensuring the Quite Jovial Adam would not need to be careened for a long
time. All without taking a single breath.
At length, Kaimana
returned to the surface and grabbed the dangling rope, climbing swiftly up the
side and back onto the sun baked decks. He sat on the deck grinning, panting
slightly from exertion but clearly enjoying Sabin’s amazed expression.
“That was
incredible. I would never have thought to do something like that. The way you
moved…” he trailed off, wordless with wonder.
“We merfolk have our
uses,” Kaimana said, grinning, “scraping hulls is just
one of my many talents. I can cook a mean Sheppard’s pie if you’re hungry.”
Sabin sank to the
deck, still filled with childlike awe for this amazing creature. “What I would
give to be able to swim like that, without coming up for air… it’s just stupéfier.”
The fey look from
earlier came back into Kaimana’s flat eyes. “You could.”
Sabin scoffed. “Not hardly. I’m about half as graceful underwater as I am
on land, and that’s saying a lot.”
Kaimana waved a
webbed hand negligently, still focused on Sabin. “All you humans are hopeless
in the sea. I meant the breathing part.”
Sabin ignored the
slight to his species and quirked an eyebrow. All traces of a smile vanished,
Kaimana lowered his voice. “Have you ever thought of using your… gift in this
manner?”
Sabin instantly
became wary, unconsciously shifting back from the merfolk. Denials were
useless, obviously Kaimana had seen something to make him speak with
such assurance, and the only question was what he had seen and how sure he was.
Voice flat, Sabin
denied the implication anyway. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kaimana didn’t
blink, only regarding Sabin with those intense eyes as if he could see right
through the petty defences. “Your gift. You could use
your power over the air to form a bubble around your breathing holes. You could
even learn to take air from the waters as we do.”
Sabin wanted to
persist in his denials, but couldn’t help but be intrigued by the possibilities
the merfolk had suggested. Heedlessly throwing his caution to the winds as his
curiosity demanded, he cocked his head and considered the idea.
“I’ve never tried
anything like that. I suppose I have enough control to hold the shape around my
mouth and nose, but I don’t think I could… take air from the water.”
Kaiamana smiled
gently now, eyes filled with promise. “No time like the present to try.”
He stood up then,
gesturing for Sabin to lose his simple sailor garb also. Sabin looked down at
his rough shirt, newly bought at
As he moved to
follow Kaimana over the railing, the merfolk raised a questioning brow at his
pants. “You won’t get any more graceful wearing those.” He said, smirking.
Sabin shrugged.
“That’s true, but it will make me feel better around the sharks.”
At this Kaimana let
out a burbling laugh and dived cleanly over the side in an impressive display
of athleticism, leaving Sabin to follow more cautiously down the rope. When he
reached the bottom Kaimana was waiting, gesturing for him to jump the last few
feet into the clear blue water.
The water hit him
with a pleasant chill, cool but much warmer than any English waters he’d
dallied in this time of year. Sabin hadn’t realized how much swimming Kaimana
was doing simply to keep up with the ship, and was almost left floundering in
its wake before Kaimana tossed him the hanging rope.
Kaimana looped it
securely around Sabin’s waist, grinning as he commented on not losing the poor
landlubber. Sabin rolled his eyes but was privately grateful for his friend’s
quick thinking, despite suspecting that it may have been planned all along.
There was more than enough rope to accommodate any adventurous forays under the
sea, and it gave Sabin cause to wonder how long Kaimana had known of his magic.
Shrugging it off, he
decided to focus on the more interesting task of breathing underwater. With
Kaimana watching him intently, he felt a little uncomfortable, but attempted to
go through the necessary motions of creating air magic regardless.
Focusing on the idea
of a bubble, Sabin thought very hard about the precise mechanics of it, turning
the image over and over in his mind until he could visualize a bubble
surrounding his mouth and nose. There was no sparks or shining lights to tell
him if it had worked, not even a tingling sensation or
exotic smell.
Eventually, Kaimana
spoke up. “Did it work?”
Sabin shrugged. “Only one way to find out.” And with that, dove beneath the
waves.
.o.
At first he held his
breath, unsure of his success and not wanting to test it so dramatically. When
he realized he couldn’t feel any water around his mouth, Sabin cautiously
brought his fingers towards his face. Encountering no resistance, he kept
moving them until they touched his lips.
It took a few
moments of rubbing and waving, but Sabin eventually decided that he had either
successfully created an unburstable bubble of air, or he had failed and was
about to run out of air. Finally, lungs burning, instincts screaming against
what he was doing, Sabin opened his mouth and took a deep breath.
When his throat did
not immediately fill with water, the feeling of sheer joy that erupted in Sabin
was indescribable. Always had his magic made him different, and occasionally it
had saved him trouble, but never before had it given him such pure pleasure as
it did in that moment.
When he finally
lifted his elated eyes to meet the knowing gaze of Kaimana, he couldn’t help
the silly grin that spread across his face. Feeling a playfulness overcome him,
Sabin kicked his legs and swam smoothly downwards, twisting and turning as he
went, luxuriating in the freedom of movement that water allowed.
The underwater vista
that lay before him was stunning in its beauty. Dazzling pink coral jutted from
pale sand, fish of all colours and sizes darting in and out. They weren’t close
enough to any to truly appreciate the splendour of the sea kingdom, but even
from afar the landscape outstripped any that Sabin had seen on land.
LAME LAME OH MY GOD
LAME
He experimented with
underwater acrobatics for a while, laughing as he completed a ridiculous flip
that he would never have accomplished in dry air. Sabin had just perfected a
series of twisting rolls and was feeling quite accomplished when he became
aware of Kaimana’s laughing eyes on him.
He blushed briefly,
but was simply too happy to be embarrassed for long. “Do you want to play tag?”
he asked, grinning.
Kaimana stared at
him in confusion for a moment, then gestured to his
mouth and ears, gills pulsating. Sabin immediately caught on, realizing that
there was no way for them to communicate clearly with so much water between
them. Theycould try going back to the surface to talk, but Sabin wasn’t sure if
he could make the bubble again.
Instead of trying
again more slowly, Sabin cocked a brow and tilted his head challengingly. Then,
smirk on face, he reached out a hand and tapped Kaimana on the shoulder,
kicking off immediately to race away from the merfolk.
Kaimana figured it
out quickly enough, and soon they were playing a lively game more devoted to
aquatic play than competition. They swam and dove, twisting, rolling and
lunging, darting to and fro in the tropical current. Kaimana’s native
familiarity showed through in every graceful move he made, webbing making his
every stroke twice as powerful as Sabin’s, giving him both a speed and agility
advantage.
At length they grew
lethargic and simply enjoyed the feeling of trailing behind the boat, Sabin
supported by his rope and Kaimana kicking occasionally to maintain momentum.
They passed over a particularly shallow area, broken coral and sand mingling to
create a tantalizing view that taunted Sabin with its distance. Experimentally
he swam down, realizing he could not have reached the bottom even without the
restraining rope.
Kaimana noticed his
efforts and smiled toothily. In two rapid movements of his legs he was away,
propelled forward rapidly by his deceptively strong muscles. Clearly he had
been holding back earlier, as the speed and depth he could achieve as he dived
towards the sandy bottom were astounding.
Sabin watched in awe
as the merfolk reached the sea floor and hesitated over the litter of rocks.
Reaching down, he retrieved a brightly coloured shell and quickly brought it
back to Sabin, who held it, astonished at the size and brilliance of the shell.
There was nothing living in it, fortunately, and Sabin clutched it like a
precious treasure.
After another half
hour or so of simple swimming, Kaimana jerked his head towards the surface and
indicated that they should go up. Reluctant to leave the sea but unable to
ignore the pangs of hunger anymore, Sabin nodded and followed the merfolk up
towards the distant light.
When they finally
sat, dripping, on the warm decks again Sabin couldn’t help but look at Kaimana
with a newfound wonder. To think that the merfolk lived like that, all
the time… it boggled Sabin’s mind.
Kaimana, obviously
uncomfortable with the bug eyed stare he was receiving, pull on his clothes
without looking at Sabin. “What?” he asked a little sharply.
Sabin shook his
head. “Nothing just…thank you.”
Kaimana finished
dressing and turned to lock eyes with Sabin. He looked like he was going to say
something else but settled instead for a significant look. Sabin felt that a
moment of understanding had passed between them, and smiled as Kaimana walked
off to his other duties.
Sabin sat on the
deck, surrounded by his abandoned attempted at knot work. Looking down at the
exquisite shell still held gently in his hands, an idea occurred to Sabin. He
fished excitedly in his discarded shirt pockets for the glass beads he had
bought as an intended gift for his mother, picking up a thin bit of rope as he
did so.
An hour, several
filched tools and much French cursing later, Sabin sat back to admire his
handiwork. It was a little shoddy, but the simple necklace he had constructed
around the shell held a subtle elegance that he was sure the intended recipient
would entirely fail to appreciate.
Still, the glass
beads glinted in the sunlight and even though she had no eye for actual value,
Katherine had always delighted in shiny objects. Grinning in satisfaction,
Sabin grabbed his shirt and went below to look for her.
He found her where
he had predicted, in the galley gibbering happily over her spoons and the cook
nowhere in sight. He tapped lightly on the doorframe, wincing internally as
Katherine’s expression turned from gleeful to icy as she spotted him.
“Fish-man
not with you?” She sneered.
Sabin sighed and
stepped towards her. “No, he’s not.”
The silence
stretched and trembled on the verge of becoming something more violent, but
Sabin reached into his pocket before it could blossom. He stretched out his
hand to her, a peace offering of shimmering glass and shell held in his palm.
Katherine eyed him
suspiciously, but her natural lust for treasure quickly overcame her
reservations and she snatched it from him, turning it this way and that to
examine the beads in the dim light.
“Where did you get
this?” she queried, the pirate in her ever concerned about theft.
Sabin shrugged,
knowing she wouldn’t like the fact that Kaimana had a hand in it. “The market.” It was loosely true, anyway.
“This doesn’t make
your dallying with fish faces fine and dandy, you know.” Said
Katherine, narrowing her eyes.
Sabin simply
shrugged again, noting that she had already secured it in a hidden pocket. When
nothing more was said Katherine turned back to her spoons, clearly dismissing
Sabin from her presence.
Sabin hid a smile
and made his way back up through the forward hatch, knowing that he was
expected for sword lessons a good ten minutes ago
*** Chapter 8 ***
As he made his way
towards where the first mate was surely waiting impatiently, Sabin could not
help but be uncomfortably aware of the new faces aboard the Quite Jovial
Adam. The new recruits had proved to be average sailors, doing their fair
share of work and generally keeping to themselves. This didn’t stop Sabin from
keeping an eye on them whenever possible.
The rest of the crew
seemed indifferent to them. It wasn’t unusual for new hires to take some time
to integrate with existing crew, and as they didn’t seem particularly surly or
trouble-making, no one bothered with the new men much. Still, Sabin could not
bring himself to trust them fully, though he was ashamed of his own paranoia.
Today they were
working hard alongside the original crew, and to an outside eye there was
little difference between the two. Sabin frowned and hurried
forward, not eager to greet the wrath of Ambrose but even less eager to give
cause for that wrath to grow.
“You’re late.” The
crisp tones broke the afternoon air, filled with the usual primness but oddly
lacking in venom.
Sabin was
momentarily taken aback; surely the mate was simply hiding his anger. “I
apologize. I had to—“
“Meet with the arts
and crafts club? This is not a pleasure ship, Mr Duvert. I would appreciate it
if in future you kept your hobbies to your leisure time. Now,
en guard.”
Even as he obeyed
the order and fell in to position with his cutlass in hand, Sabin was
perplexed. Did the first mate just make a joke? About the necklace he had made?
Just how closely was he watching Sabin’s movements?
While he was still
puzzling over this when the first mate lunged forward, only reflex saving Sabin
from a nasty rapier wound in the gut. Astonished, Sabin stared over the crossed
swords into the elf’s blue eyes. “You’re going to duel with me?”
Ambrose grinned and
shoved, pushing Sabin back and freeing his sword. “I think you’re ready.”
Sabin held his sword
limply at his side, confused. “But I didn’t even beat Lafferty yesterday!”
The first mate had
eventually seen fit to match Sabin against real opponents, albeit dim and
downright mean dregs of the crew. Sabin was made to duel with them until he
defeated each one, then moving onto a more challenging opponent – or even two
if the mood struck Ambrose.
The
day before had been a particularly brutal bout with a snarling tiger of a man,
all wiry muscle and no teeth. It
was the third time Sabin had been put against him and he had yet to get past
the smaller man’s whirling defences.
Sabin had expected
that the blonde elf would only duel him after he had defeated everyone else
aboard, if at all. This sudden decision was as boggling and unnerving as much
of Ambrose’s mood had been that day, and Sabin was beginning to think that
there might have been something extra in the first mate’s afternoon tea.
“Are you going to
stand there like a mindless ape all day or are you going to put that sword to
good use? If you’re going to be an ape, let me fetch you a dress and some
cymbals so you can at least be entertaining.”
Sabin narrowed his
eyes. To hell with reasoning, he’d been waiting the entire voyage to damage
that pristine little face, he wasn’t about to waste a good opportunity. He
lunged forward, waving his sword wildly and immediately forgetting everything
he had been taught. Within seconds he found the razor sharp tip of Ambrose’s
blade at his throat.
“Would you like to
try that again?”
Sabin growled and
brought his foot up sharply, missing his intended target but achieving his goal
of forcing Ambrose back.
“That wasn’t a very
honourable move, Mr Duvert. Perhaps I was wrong to let you train with the bilge
rats after all.” The first mate smiled as he said this, voice cool as ever.
Sabin refused to reply and the silence expanded, filling the deck with dormant
energy.
Neither said a word
as they circled each other, taunts hanging in the air unspoken, flashing eyes
and tense postures doing all the talking for them. Then the first mate smirked,
and the duel began in earnest.
The fight was fast
and dirty, blades cutting sleeves and air, blows never quite connecting. For
all his weeks of training, Sabin was still no match for his tutor, and they
were both well aware of the fact. Ambrose was merely playing with him.
Each thrust was
goading, every parry was mocking. It built Sabin’s irritation into real anger, burning away his inhibitions and making him forget
his precious control, drilled into him by hours of these exact moves. His
swings grew sloppy with his ire, less accurate but more dangerous. Sabin moved
faster as his fury built, even the elf with his unnatural agility was pressed
to avoid his slashes.
As the duel grew
more serious, the first mate’s lazy sneer dropped, revealing the intense
concentration beneath. He cut down on his fanciful footwork and began making
more aggressive moves to match Sabin’s own.
They danced across
the deck now, a furious blur of shredded clothing and flashing swords. They
were unaware of the looks the crew were casting their way, completely absorbed
in the deadly acrobatics they performed.
Ambrose finally let
go of his iron control, lunging forward to make a deadly cut across Sabin’s
torso. The move wasn’t intentional enough to catch Sabin fully, but a line of
red still opened across his pale chest. His shirt fell away, revealing tightly
coiled muscles trembling at the effort of keeping still.
Sabin looked down at
the cut, bringing his free hand up to touch the trickle of blood. It was barely
a scratch, but the insult to his pride was clear. He looked up at the first
mate, rage colouring his face and turning his grey eyes a frighteningly icy
blue.
A heartbeat, two, then he flew forward, blade raised to strike. Ambrose barely
had time to raise his own sword in defence before the crushing force behind the
blade came down on him. They stood locked in a battle of sheer brute strength,
faces inches from each other with the deadly swords between.
Then the first mate,
still straining to hold Sabin back, spoke. “Such rage, such
passion. Why must you direct at it me, when your people are suffering?”
Sabin’s glare faded
from his face, confused at the quiet intensity of Ambrose’s words. What was the
mate talking about? Had
“What are you
talking about?”
Ambrose kept up the
force on his side of the swords, but his eyes were focused only on Sabin’s
face. “Every day, another one of us is killed in mindless hate. We are taunted
and beaten, driven from our homes. Where is your passion when it comes to
defending your people?”
The use of the
inclusive words caused a light to dawn in Sabin’s mind. The first mate was
talking about non-humans; elves and merfolk and dragon-kin. And magic users.
Sabin let his arms go slack, stepping back at the same time so the first mate’s
sword drifted uselessly to his side.
“I don’t know what
you’re talking about.” He said tonelessly, preparing to walk away.
“I think you do.
When you deny your own heritage you deny the pain of our people.” Said Ambrose
to Sabin’s back. “You walk away like a coward now, which I can understand and
forgive. But when the time comes, will you stand up for what is right? Are you
brave enough to fight back, or will you accept a lifetime of subservience?”
The sharp words
pierced Sabin like poisoned arrows, cutting through his self deception and
fear. He whirled around, once more pressing his blade to the elf’s unprotected
throat. He lowered his voice to a hiss, tarnished pride making his eyes burn.
“Not that I would
expect a bâtard à oreilles pointu to understand, but I am brave enough
to fight whenever it is necessary.”
Ambrose said nothing
for a long moment, smiling strangely even as Sabin’s cutlass drew a fine line
of blood across his throat. His voice, when he finally spoke, was filled with
quiet satisfaction and an odd hint of pride. “You may find that opportunity
sooner than you expected.”
Sabin frowned, and
then realized the faint shouts he’d been hearing for some time were those of
the lookouts. Another ship had been sighted, a flute, English merchant by the
sounds of it. They were closing in on the heavier ship and would be within
firing range in an hour.
The first mate
gently pushed aside Sabin’s cutlass and stepped up to the railing to give
orders. Sabin watched him go, incredulously. “We’re not really going to persue
a flute, are we? It’s too big! Flutes can carry far more men than a brig!”
Ambrose merely
cocked an eyebrow at him. “’tis a good thing we hired those extra hands then,
isn’t it?” He turned away from Sabin then, clearly dismissing him.
Sabin glared at the
elf’s back and walked down to join in preparations for battle.
.o.
Sabin began to
suspect he was being avoided when they were nearly upon the flute and he had
encountered neither Kaimana nor Katherine. The Quite Jovial Adam was not
an overly large ship, so even though he wasn’t actively looking for them, in
the normal course of events Sabin should have run into one of his friends by
now.
He tried to keep
busy and not think about it, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that they were
about to enter a deadly situation, and one or more of them might not make it
out. Sabin did not particularly savor the idea that his last words with
Katherine might not be on the best of terms.
Apparently she felt
much the same way, as mere minutes before they came into range of the English ship
Katherine appeared out of the crowd, eyes lowered. Before Sabin could get out a
word, Katherine thrust her clenched fist out towards him.
Bewildered at this
apparent attack, he stepped back uncertainly. Katherine raised her eyes and
sighed in exasperation.
“Take it,” she said,
opening the fist to reveal a small iron crucifix. It was of good quality, if a
little plain, and by the tension in her stance it obviously meant something to
Katherine.
Hesitantly, Sabin
did so. He wasn’t very fond of religious symbols and wasn’t quite sure what to
do with it. When she still looked at him expectantly, he grasped for
appropriate words of gratitude. “Thank-you, it’s very
beautifu—“
“Just put it on you
idiot. It will protect you from… evil spirits.” She sputtered out, avoiding eye
contact. The seashell necklace glinted at her throat, and Sabin smiled as he
accepted it for the truce it was.
He barely had the
cold iron chain around his neck when Becky’s booming voice ordered the
grappling lines across. Sabin was confused as to the lack of cannonfire,
surely they could not expect the pirate crew to overcome such a large ship
without at least a bit of grapeshot to subdue the merchants.
Still, it wasn’t his
place to question orders from above, though they likely came from Ambrose and
Sabin would more than love to give the elf a good questioning. Even as he leapt
across the gap between the two ships, Sabin was still pondering the exact
meaning of the first mate’s earlier words. He obviously hadn’t been as careful
about his magic as he’d imagined, and he could only wonder what the elf would
do with the information.
Then a heavy sword
came out of nowhere to engage his cutlass and he had no more time for
wondering.
.o.
The differences
between this battle and Sabin’s first were so vast as to be incomparable. The
first had been a terrifying whirlwind experience of desperate defense and wild
attacks. This second battle was a lethal dance of blades of blood, all
unfolding smoothly to Sabin’s trained eye.
The speed and the
desperation were still there, but Sabin now knew exactly what was happening,
like a book in a foreign language had suddenly become readable. He could spot
the different styles used by various fighters, and those who had no style at
all and were merely slashing away in fear.
He noted that those
who he had identified as non-human among his own crew stayed back from the
worst of the fight, clumped towards the afterdeck with the new recruits. He
understood their hesitance, even from his position he
could plainly see that all of the English crew were human.
Sabin did a quick
head count and frowned, it was hard to tell in the fury of battle but he was
certain the flute’s crew was much smaller than he had feared. He smiled at
their good fortune, clearly a plague or some other
incident had decimated the merchants before the Quite Jovial had ever
sighted them.
It became
ridiculously easy to defeat his screaming opponents, using elegant forms for
those with some skill and the more practical kicking and stabbing for those
with none. The first mate’s tutelage had been thorough, and perfectly adaptable
for this kind of warfare. To Sabin’s faint horror, he found himself enjoying
the swift disembowelment of his foes, if only because of the chance to display
his own superior skills.
Despite his
teacher’s constant warnings, Sabin soon lost himself in the rhythm of striking
and dodging, abandoning higher thought in favour of slaughter. Bloodlust
wreathed its way through his mind, turning all his goals to the next throat
waiting to be slit, the next arm needing to be severed.
It was with some
surprise that he came back to himself to the sound of one of his crewmates
calling his name with awed horror. When he turned, annoyed, to face the voice
he found the entire fighting crew of the Quite Jovial watching him silently. At
some point there had apparently been a surrender, as
many of the Englishmen were still alive and well, standing peaceably beside the
pirates. There had evidently been some controversy over this, as several men
knelt tied and gagged on the bloodied decks.
“They’ve given in?”
he asked, panting.
“Not quite” came the cool voice of the first mate, moving out in front
of the crowd to stand before Sabin.
It was then that
Sabin realized the tied prisoners were not of the foreign ship, but in fact the
trussed members of his own pirate crew. He stared incredulously at a red faced
Katherine, not comprehending the enormity of this revelation. How could they
have been beaten when he had been fighting so well?
“We’re surrendering?”
he queried, disbelief stark in his voice. But even as he asked, the
disconcerting facts that had been bothering the back of his mind all connected
in sickening understanding. “A mutiny.”
All the prisoners
were human. All the faces of both the Quite Jovial Adam’s crew and the
surviving merchants were distinctly non-human. Looking down, Sabin swallowed
his nausea as he realized every broken body lying on the decks was human.
He raised his eyes
once more to meet the triumphant gaze of the first mate. “You were brave enough
after all, Sabin. This is a proud day for all of us.”
Sabin dropped his
sword with a clatter, stepping back in dismay. His booted heel slid in a smear
of gore and he had to take another three steps backwards to balance himself. “I
didn’t know… I never…” he pleaded brokenly, trying to avoid Katherine’s burning
eyes.
Ambrose’s smile
faded, turning into a frown as he observed Sabin’s reaction. “How could you not
know? You saw the faces you killed, you saw us hanging back. Don’t ruin this
day by feigning ignorance for the sake of your little human wench here.”
He indicated
Katherine with a negligent flick of his hand, and Sabin’s heart gave a lurch. He had unwittingly betrayed his friend, sentenced her to death or
worse simply through his own idiocy. All the signs had been there, the
new recruits, the disregard for the captain, the first mate’s hints and
suggestions. He looked into Katherine’s brown eyes and the angry hurt there
struck him like a blow. Sabin shook his head mutely, unable to form words.
Ambrose noted this
exchange and frowned deeply. “You are one of us, Duvert, like it or not. Your magic,”
he emphasized, obviously relishing Sabin’s agonized expression, “separates you
from these humans. You can never be like them, why bother trying? Come with us,
start a new world were we can be our own masters, obedient to no worthless
human.”
He stopped speaking
when he noticed Sabin’s attention was not on him at all, instead Sabin was
watching the shock etched into Katherine’s features. The first mate took this
all in and smirked, comprehension dawning.
“Oh yes Sabin, let’s
discuss your magic. How could you ever hope to blend in with these
weaklings when your power over air and shadow makes you so much more? You can
blast through their flesh with a single thought, yet you persist in defending
them. You walk among them as a mere mortal when you could be swimming with your
merfolk brothers, breathing underwater as one of them.”
Every word was a
dagger through his chest, forever severing his friendship with Katherine. Her
eyes were dark with rage and repulsion and hate, twin fires of fury that cut
Sabin to shreds with their intensity. Even as he accepted her disgust into the
cavity that was his heart, Sabin realized with a queasy stomach exactly where
Ambrose had gotten his information.
A glance at
Kaimana’s guilty face confirmed his suspicions. Suddenly the hallowed day
they’d shared beneath the waves turned dirty and foul, no longer a gesture of
friendship but a ploy to confirm his abilities. Twice betrayed and made a fool,
Sabin closed his eyes to the wrenching emotions surging in him.
Sabin stepped
forward, picking up his cutlass and holding it threateningly. The hideous pain
that ripped through him poured into his voice, making it a terrifying hiss of
pure venom.
“I would never join
the ranks of a traitor and a meurtrier.”
The first mate
nodded, unfazed. “I suppose I should never have expected you to. You are far
too stupid to understand my goals. Very well, if you are not for me you are
against me.”
Sabin lunged
forward, but before his raised blade could even get into striking range he was
caught and restrained by three burly elves and a merfolk woman. He struggled
against their grasp to no avail, his hand slowly being crushed in the elf’s
grip until he dropped the sword.
“You didn’t think I
was going to duel you to the death or something equally dramatic, now did you?
You’ve been fraternizing with humans for too long, your mind has gone to merde.”
Laughed the mate.
“Va
te faire enculer.” Spat out
Sabin, straining against the ropes that were being bound around his wrists.
Ambrose gave one
last mocking laugh. “Oh believe me, I intend to.”
*** Chapter 9 ***
The next few days
redefined Sabin’s view of hell. It wasn’t so much the lack of food, or being
chained to the Captain’s table, or even the occasional careless blow to head
from a former crewmate when Ambrose wasn’t looking. It was the walks outside
that really slew him.
Sabin had thought he
knew the depths of personal anguish when he had been cast out of his home for
the very thing he loved most, but when he was made to stroll
the decks of the Quite Jovial Adam at the side of ‘Captain’ Maurlias, he
felt a sort of deep seated despair that soaked into his very bones.
It was far different
than the sharp, stabbing guilt he had felt when he was made to watch the deaths
of his human shipmates, slaughtered on the decks of the ship they had only
hours ago been sailing. They died simply because they were of no use to ships
now fully manned by creatures they despised. Ambrose could not afford to feed
and shelter so many extra bodies, especially ones which posed a threat to his
command, so he slaked his pirate crew’s bloodlust with their lives.
The remaining human
crew that the former first mate had decided to let live were scattered over the
two ships and made to scrub the decks like scullions. The higher ranked men
were of course kept well away from the Quite Jovial, but Ambrose made a
point of having Katherine in plain sight of Sabin during their little walks.
She scrubbed tirelessly,
all her good cheer and vague optimism sucked out of her like marrow from a
juicy bone. Katherine’s worldly ways and streetwise attitude were stripped away
from her, leaving only a frightened, shivering little girl. The way she
steadfastly kept her eyes on her bleeding knuckles cut Sabin to the quick.
The purposes of
these outings were multiple, not just a chance for Sabin to stretch his legs
and be made to witness the misery he had wrought, but also an exercise in
propaganda. The haughty elf was now charming and amicable, explaining the
advantages of an entirely non-human crew even as he bemoaned the deaths it took
to achieve it.
And there were
indeed advantages. Nimble elves danced in the rigging as though they were born
aloft; handling the canvas with such speed and efficiency that Sabin could
scarcely believe his eyes. Merfolk made themselves invaluable in ways other
than the obvious barnacle scraping, using their finely tuned weather sense to
warn about and, Sabin suspected, control the weather. Fish had also never been a more plentiful food stuff than when merfolk hunters
provided a rich harvest for the larders of both ships.
But the most
astonishing aspect of all had to be the way in which the dragon kin were aiding
the ships. A pair of the mythical creatures were
harnessed to the ships, each using their incredible strength and enormous wings
to drag the ships through the water. Sails were hardly needed as the ships cut
their way speedily through choppy seas towards their destination.
Sabin often went
silent as he watched the dragon kin, tuning out the would-be Captain’s endless
promises of glory to focus on the creatures that seemed to have stepped right
out of myth. Sabin had heard many third and fourth hand accounts of dragon kin,
but almost none that were recent.
In the last few
centuries the lizard like men had become scarce as the tide turned against
inhuman folk. With features far harder to disguise than other non-humans,
dragon kin were an easy target for hate and violence. Seen as more beast than
man, they had been hunted nearly to extinction by overzealous humans, and even
a few elves. Watching them now, Sabin could not believe that anyone could harm
such magnificent creatures.
“Have you ever tried
to fly like that, Sabin? You could be of great use to us if you could.”
Sabin scowled at the
blonde elf, hating the familiarity with which he was addressed. The campaign of
gentle words masking brutal actions was beginning to wear on his nerves, and he
turned angry eyes on the elf.
“I don’t have that
sort of power. Even if I did I would not deign to use it to serve your
purposes.” He said disgustedly, spitting as he said it.
Ambrose merely
looked at him with unreadable eyes. “Are you so sure?” he asked softly,
sounding almost hurt by Sabin’s vehemence.
Sabin rolled his
eyes and tugged at his wrists, raw skin under harsh ropes a solid reminder of
why he should not trust the elf. “Quite. I find you despicable. The lowest of humans
have more honour than you.”
Captain Maurlias
flinched at the word honour, and Sabin felt a slight pang of guilt for his
harsh words. He knew Ambrose held himself to higher moral standards than most
pirates, higher than most knights of the realm in days of yore. Sighing, he
sought words to explain himself.
“It’s not your goals
I disagree with, just the means you use to achieve them. Surely there is a
better way to grant your people freedom and relief than this murdering of…
mostly innocent men.”
Ambrose smiled a
bitter smile then, eyes looking out over the sea. “I appreciate the sentiment
Sabin, oh how I do. But I was actually asking whether or not you had tried
using your magic to greater extent. Your power over the wind could surely fill
our sails better than even the best efforts of our merfolk brothers.”
Sabin bit back a snarl
and turned away. Clearly the topic of the mutiny was not up for discussion. He
said nothing to the new Captain’s suggestion, staring stonily at the planks
beneath his feet.
“Very
well then.” Came
the voice of the elf, once more chipper and warm with implied friendship. “I’m
sure we’ll convince you to help us, one way or another.”
The suggestive eye
he turned on Katherine then did not comfort Sabin in the least.
.o.
Three days later,
Captain Maurlias was considerably less patient with his errant protégée,
storming into the captain’s cabin noisily and waking Sabin from an uneasy
dream. He spent much of his days sleeping now, drifting in and out of listless
rest wherein he was haunted by dark dreams filled with unholy creatures.
When Ambrose came in
that morning Sabin thought he was an apparition from his dreams, come to steal
his soul away and possess his body. He certainly looked the part, hair for once
unbound and flowing freely down his back, wind tussled like the halo of a
furious angel.
Of course it might
have been the absence of food that was inducing these mad half-dreams, but an
empty stomach didn’t stop Sabin comparing the golden locks of his captor to his
own dreary brown tail of hair. He was half way through a fantasy about cutting
off those too-long locks when the hand of god grabbed him by surprise and flung
him up against the wall.
It took Sabin a long
minute to realize that it was actually the Captain’s hand, and the icy blue
eyes only inches from his own belonged to someone who was very, very annoyed
with him. The stress of handling a violent crew of men who had already tasted
the darkly glorious taste of mutiny was telling on the blonde elf, and it was
obvious by his shaking hands that he was becoming more and more unhinged as the
days dragged on. Madness at sea was not uncommon, but it was unforgivable in a
commanding officer and Ambrose well knew it.
“You were in my
dream last night.” Said Ambrose, calm voice belying his
raging expression.
Sabin raised his
chained hands defensively, too weak from starvation to lift them any higher. “I
don’t know… what are you talking about?”
“You chased me, in
my dream.” A hard shove forced Sabin to pay attention to Ambrose’s words,
clearing the sleep fog from his mind.
Frowning, he began
to get annoyed himself. “I don’t see how I’m to blame for that.”
The elf’s face
twisted uncharacteristically, adding to the strangeness of the situation.
“Elves don’t dream unless we wish to. And I certainly didn’t wish to dream of you.
Not like that. What manner of magic have you used on me to curse me so?
If you think to control my will through my dreams you are sorely mistaken.”
Sabin was about to
refute this ridiculous implication when the hazy remnants of his dream arose in
his mind. He had been… back on the English ship.
Fighting against those humans, those poor betrayed humans. But his hands had
not been his own. Strings had risen straight from his arms and legs, cutting
gorily through the flesh like the strings of some grotesque marionette.
It had been
terrifying in its strangeness; Sabin had cursed himself for his actions even as
some foreign part of him revelled in them. Eventually he had stopped making
distinctions between friend and foe, human and non-human. And yes, he had
finally turned his blade on Ambrose, full of fury and intent on the kill.
Shaking his head
silently, Sabin looked into the confused and shaken eyes of his once-tutor and
felt himself mirror the emotions.
A cabin boy
interrupted the tableau before it could progress further, crashing through the
door in a ball of eagerness and energy. He paused to sober himself at the sight
of the Captain, pointed ears trembling as he realized his breach of etiquette.
The Captain sighed
and cast a weary glance on the cabin boy. “Well?”
The young elf bowed
and blushed, excitement once more filling his voice. “We’ve reached the
coordinates you set out, sir. You told us to inform you of it immediately. Sir.”
Ambrose frowned and
let go of Sabin, ignoring him as he sank back to the floor gratefully. Stepping
over towards the boy, the Captain questioned him, irritation showing in every
line of his body.
“We’ve reached the
The boy blushed and
edged back from the taller elf, trembling again in fear. “Because
there is none, sir. We already circled once and we don’t see no signs of land or nuffin’. Even the fishy faces can’t
smell land. The uh, merfolk that is. Sir.”
Ambrose snarled and
slammed his hand down on the map table, shaking rattling the chains that bound
Sabin to it. “Tell the mate to keep circling. Find someone who knows something
about the
The boy was a blur
as he left the room, fear causing his usually agile elvish legs to carry him
even faster from the thundering Captain. As the door slammed shut behind the
cabin boy, Sabin let out a cracked chuckle.
“You can’t just sail
to the
Ambrose whirled on
him, scattering maps as he did so. “I suppose you have a better idea?” he spat,
anger dripping from his voice.
Sabin shrank back
against the table, not feeling up to another round of wall hugging. “In all of
the books I read, they all said something about not being able to see it with
mortal eyes. I had theorized that it might be something to do with weather
phenomena, perhaps fog or something similar…”
To Sabin’s dismay
Ambrose grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to his feet. “You know how to
find the
Sabin shook his
head, struggling futilely against the Captain’s grasp. “No, I don’t remember… I
thought someone else aboard would surely know. I’m sorry.”
The Captain dropped
him abruptly and turned to leave, sneer on his lips. “Unfortunately for you
we’re sailing under clear skies, not so much as a lick
of fog. Perhaps if I forget to feed you for a few more days it will jog
your memory.”
Sabin whimpered in
despair and curled up on the hard wooden floor, sinking gratefully into sleep
once more.
.o.
He knew he was
dreaming the instant he opened his eyes and felt his limbs unburdened by chains
or weakness. He didn’t question it too closely, as nothing in dreams truly
mattered and in that strange detached way that you think while sleeping, Sabin
dismissed this small fact from his mind and went about enjoying himself.
Everything in the
captain’s cabin looked exactly as it did in life, but for a strange heightening
of colour. Every hue and tone was ten times more intense, shadows were deeper
and the sunlight brighter.
As he rose to his
feet, Sabin found himself entranced by the vivid peach of his own hand, blue
veins looking like alien vines growing beneath the skin. When he gathered his
attention enough to open the cabin door (not locked, of course), he was
astonished to find a ship alive with colour, every shade of brown imaginable
making the planks beneath his feet the very embodiment of wood.
So enraptured by the
wood was he that it took a long moment for Sabin to realize that there was no
one else aboard the ship. Sails hung untended in the breeze, flapping uselessly
(but prettily) against their ropes, while the wheel creaked back and forth with
no one at the helm. Sabin shrugged, deciding that as he didn’t very much like
anyone aboard right now anyway, it wasn’t such a big loss.
Curious about
exactly where this dream-boat was sailing all by its lonesome, Sabin strolled
to the railings to look overboard. His lips twitched in amusement, it seemed
that his subconscious was a cynic. With no one to man the helm, the ship had
beached itself on a ridiculously attractive island, just far enough in the tide
for the rudder to flap back and forth with a school of too-bright fish.
Looking out over the
island, Sabin felt himself drawn to the shady depths beneath the deliciously
green trees. Surely the sand would feel delightful on his feet, a pleasant prelude
to what waited in the shadows. A deep assurance of something magical
waiting for him filled Sabin with anticipation, and before he could stop
himself he was balanced on the railing, ready to drop onto the warm sand below.
He hesitated,
wondering if the fall would hurt in a dream, and whether or not broken legs in
a dream would mean broken legs in life. This consideration of his situation was
enough to drag his mind back from the grasp of sleep, an unpleasant reality
firmly re-establishing its claim. To his surprise, Sabin found that reality to
involve a quickly moving ship, a very narrow railing and his unsteady feet atop
it.
Crying out in fear,
Sabin toppled back into the waiting arms of a sailor with particularly bad
breath. “Ello ello, what ‘ave we got here?”
As much as he would
have liked it to still be a dream, the faded and almost dreary colours of the
world now surrounding him confirmed that Sabin was definitely awake once more.
Awake and not where he had fallen asleep.
Short minutes later
the Captain had been summoned and his steely blue eyes were boring into Sabin’s
own confused grey orbs. “Explain yourself. How did you get here? Who let you
out? Were you hoping to jump ship and escape by drowning?”
Sabin shook his head
slowly, dazzled by the barrage of questions on top of his bewildering
experience. “No one did anything. I must have… sleepwalked.”
Ambrose’s fine mouth
turned into a moue of disapproval. “Don’t lie. You can’t have sleepwalked right
out of your chains. Unless you have some magic you have previously seen fit to
hide from me?” his tone turned dangerous.
Sabin stepped back,
shaking his head even as his mind worked furiously. How had he gotten
rid of his chains? He knew his wind attacks weren’t strong enough to cut that
sort of metal, and no key of shadows would force a solid lock. And then, just
like magic, the answer came to him. “I didn’t dream chains.”
“What?” By the sound
of his voice Ambrose was quickly losing patience, and Sabin raised a hand to
forestall another accusation or worse.
“I’m not in chains
because I didn’t dream any. I’m not in the cabin because I dreamt that I walked
out of there. The ship isn’t beached because… we didn’t dream it. That’s it.
Not with mortal eyes!”
Ambrose growled and
folded his arms, a sure sign of ire. “What in god’s good name are you talking
about boy? If you’ve gone mad I will not hesitate to kill you. I can’t have a
crazed mage on my ship.”
Sabin looked up at
the Captain, wonder filling his eyes, all the torment of the past days
forgotten in the wake of his discovery. “I’ve found the
*** Chapter 10 ***
“So what you’re
saying is that the
Sabin sighed. They’d
been over and over the same questions for three hours now, and his arms were
starting to ache under the weight of the new chains. “For
lack of a better term, yes.”
“Then how is it that
we had to sail all this way to enter it? Surely dreams are accessible from your
bed home in
“I told you before,
I don’t know! All I know is that my dream was… more real here. Like visiting an actual place. Ask the crew, surely someone else
has fallen asleep since we entered this area, they
must be able to confirm it.”
Ambrose waved his
hand and nodded. “I already did, while you were eating.”
Sabin scowled at the
reminder. The elf had finally seen fit to feed Sabin a proper meal after days
subsisting on water and scraps, finding his incoherent ramblings hard to
understand. Once he had a bit of gruel in him, Sabin had opened up to the
Captain’s interrogation, eager to share his information despite his hatred of
the elf.
Sabin could not believe
that the answer was so simple, but it fit all the books he had read and stories
he had heard. The phenomenon of closing one’s eyes to travel to another place
that was technically located exactly where you already were was a hard concept
to grapple with, and Sabin was not really surprised that accounts of it had
been so vague. Even the name made sense now.
He suspected that
many sailors had gone off course and fallen into the
He was jolted from
his reverie by the Captain standing up, casually stretching his lithe limbs
like a predator preparing for the hunt. “Nothing for it then.
We’ll have to try it today.”
“Today? Try what?” Sabin asked, puzzled.
Ambrose turned to
give Sabin a brief look of ire, collecting his coat and unlocking Sabin’s
chains on the way to the door. “Try getting through, of course. We can’t very
well lollygag around here for the rest of the day.”
Sabin followed the
Captain out onto the deck, wobbling unsteadily against a railing while the taller
elf called for his acting first and second mates. When they arrived, Sabin
stared in shock at a guilty looking Kaimana, completely ignoring the man next
to him.
“He’s your first
mate?” he sputtered out, voice filled with incredulity.
Ambrose tutted and
rolled his eyes. “Of course not, he’s my second. Willock here is the first
mate. Do you have a problem with that, Mr Duvert?” he needled, obviously trying
to get a rise out of Sabin.
Sabin sneered at
Kaimana, not willing to dredge up the thick emotions between them and instead
fixed his eyes on the man named as Willock. To his surprise, he really was just
a man. Neither gills nor pointed ears marred his face, and the obvious lack of
wings denounced him as a dragon kin.
“Is he…” started
Sabin unsurely.
The Captain seemed
to pick up on his confusion and answered succinctly; “Mr Willock has talents in
other areas. Such as the one we require help in at this very moment. Gentlemen,
if you step into my chambers we may begin.”
Half an hour later
they were through with both an entire pot of tea and the explanation of their
current situation. Kaimana had kept silent throughout, but the fire haired
first mate had kept up a steady stream of sceptical remarks. Sabin’s patience
was through with him by the first cup of tea, but Ambrose remained calm well
into his third.
It was around that
time that the Captain interrupted yet another of Sabin’s weary descriptions of
the
“But how in blazes
do you expect us to just nod off right now?” asked Willock coarsely.
Ambrose smirked and
leaned back in his chair, aristocratic features settling smugly. “I believe the
valerian in your tea should have taken care of that by now. Ah, I see it has
already taken effect on our second mate here.”
Kaimana was staring
vacantly into the air in front of him, sleeping in the unnerving manner of his
kind. His cup was empty, still clutched in his hands.
“You…you drugged
us!” cried out Sabin, feeling the tug of drowsiness even as he fought valiantly
against it.
Ambrose nodded
amiably and settled himself into a comfortable position.” Indeed I did. It was necessary, don’t fret so much my boy. I’ll see you on the
other side.”
Willock had already
slumped in his chair, and from his spot on the floor Sabin had the most
singularly unpleasant view of the first mate’s behind
as he himself succumbed to sleep.
.o.
For a moment, Sabin
thought it hadn’t worked at all and he was doomed to a sound beating or worse
for failing Captain Maurlias. The chains around his arms and legs were
depressing in their solidness, proving to him that his earlier escapade had
been nothing but an extraordinary dream.
“Blimey! Look at my
hands!” the excited voice of the first mate caused Sabin to look up,
immediately taking in the vivid scenery. He checked his hands again quickly,
realizing that though the chains were still there they shone with the unreal
quality of dream.
“Hmm. That’s interesting.” Came
the genteel tones of the Captain. Sabin raised his eyes to meet those of
Ambrose, glowing eerily blue with an imagined fire. He nodded at the chains,
expression thoughtful, before wandering over to open the cabin door.
Much to Sabin’s ire,
the three officers went about exploring the empty decks without him, leaving
him to sit in silence as their exclamations rang out in the thick air. At
length they came back, Kaimana’s clothing wet and
Willock’s boots dusted with sand. Clearly their explorations had been far more
thorough than Sabin’s own.
“This is a great day
for all myth-kind.” Said Ambrose, utilizing the word that
he’d often used to describe his compatriots, supposedly to combat the negative
connotations of ‘non-human’. “Today we discover our salvation. I propose
a toast, to celebrate. Willock, would you kindly fetch the liquor from the
cabinet? It’s the one on the left.”
The first mate stood
there, puzzled. “We can drink here?”
Ambrose shrugged
eloquently. “I don’t see why we should not be able to take sustenance. Though
one might wonder what happens to it as it passes through the body, if it does
at all.”
Sabin spoke up then
for the first time, unable to resist the temptation of a mystery. “What happens
in dream must have some affect on reality. If I can move my body from point A
to point B then surely I should be able to do other things to it.”
Captain Maurlias
raised a finely manicured eyebrow. “That is weak logic, even for you. But I
propose an experiment. Drinking wine and seeing it processed takes far too
long, let us instead perform a more immediate trial.”
With that, he strode
across the room and with a flash of his dagger, opened a line of furious red
across Sabin’s hand. Sabin yelped and tried to leap back, but the chains
restrained him.
“Was that really
necessary?” he asked ruefully, turning angry eyes on Ambrose.
“Of course it was.
Seeing you bleed is of vital importance to my peace of mind.” He replied,
smirking all the while. “But to see the effectiveness of this trial we must
send someone back through to check. Not you Mr Duvert, you’re hardly any use
all chained up like that now are you?”
“I’ll go.” Offered Willock, obviously off put by his environment.
“How
generous of you to offer, Mr Willock.
Please, wake yourself now and examine our mage friend’s hand for sign of injury
and then return to us. I would be most pleased if you could bring along one of
the human prisoners.”
Willock nodded his
shaggy head and turned to leave, but paused half way through the motion. “Just
how am I to wake meself again?”
Ambrose sighed, but
before he could answer Sabin cut in, pain in his hand ignored. “Just think
about being asleep.”
“I don’t see how
that will wor—“ before he could finish the sentence,
Willock was gone.
The Captain smiled
and turned to inspect the view out one of the windows. “You have done us a
great service, Sabin. I hope you know that. Generations from now, young elves
will gasp your name in wonder.”
Sabin rolled his
eyes, carefully keeping them from settling on Kaimana. “I don’t know what
you’re talking about. Your dreams of grandeur are tiresome, Ambrose.
Couldn’t we discuss something more practical, like the loosening of my chains?”
Ambrose turned back
to him, smiling in an oddly affectionate way. “Of course my
dear boy, all in good time. I can’t very well have you running off into
dreamland now can I?”
Sabin only scowled
at the Captain and turned to face the wall. Moments later he felt a tugging at
his chains, and looked up to find Kaimana’s unblinking eyes staring into his.
Fighting his initial response, that of cursing or moving away, Sabin waited
patiently as Kaimana pulled and tugged at the metal bonds.
“What are you doing,
second mate?” The elf’s voice had a rapiers edge, mistrust seeping through to
land heavily on the merfolk’s shoulders.
“I’m only making
your prisoner more comfortable, Captain.” Replied Kaimana steadily, unceasing
in his work.
Ambrose narrowed his
steely eyes. “Perhaps he would be more comfortable with his head removed, do
you think?”
The threat was
understood, and Kaimana dropped the chains, stepping back demurely. Sabin
opened his to say something angry in return, but just at that moment Willock
started cursing.
Surprised to see the
mate back so soon, Sabin looked up to find Willock kicking the limp body of the
Quite Jovial Adam’s previous master-at-arms. “The damn Spaniard wouldn’t
come quietly. He wouldn’t drink his tea, so I had to smack him over the head a
bit. Sorry Sir.”
“Not to worry.
Manuel always had quite the fighting spirit. Now, did you check Mr Duvert’s
hand?” asked Ambrose.
Sabin’s ears perked
up for the answer, fascinated despite the morbidity of the subject, or maybe
because of it. Thinking about his body being elsewhere, lying like a corpse as
his hand bled freely was an unsettling thought indeed, but and intriguing one.
Willock shrugged.
“He was bleedin’ all over the place. I almost called the surgeon but I didn’t
think you’d want such doctoring for the likes of him.” The sneer the first mate
directed at Sabin was not missed.
“That is very
interesting indeed, thank you Mr Willock. We must watch our step around here,
if this is true. But I wonder…”
Once again using his
elvish speed, Captain Maurlias was across the room and bending over the groggy Spanish man before anyone could blink. The former
master-at-arms only managed a gasping cry in his native language before his
throat was slit. Sabin stared in horror as the blood welled from the gaping
wound and spilled towards him in a crimson flood. The blood was an especially
lurid red here, glowing like a lantern at some grim carnival.
“Mon dieu…” he
uttered, unconsciously raising a hand to the iron cross hanging around his
neck. The chains prevented him from completing the motion, but Sabin was too
transfixed by the cooling body to take much notice.
“Don’t be so
shocked, Sabin. It was necessary. If we are going to make any sort of progress
here it is important that we first know how fatal this place can be to us.”
Said Ambrose, casually wiping his rapier on an obscenely white rag
Sabin only shook his
head, reeling from the death of the man. It was different to watching them fall
under his own blade in battle, he thought to himself. This is cold blooded murder, that was self defence. It was different, Sabin told
himself firmly. It was different.
Ambrose looked
likely to issue another order, but Kaimana anticipated his command and spoke
up. “I’ll go. To check.” He said somberly.
“That’s very noble
of you my merfolk brother, but I think we shall all go. We have no further
experiments to make just yet and I think it is high time we announced this
joyous discovery to the crew.”
He winked out of
existence even as Sabin was absorbing the last of what the Captain had said.
Willock followed soon after, but Kaimana lingered, casting a mournful look
first at the body and then at Sabin. Somehow Sabin thought that the merfolk saw
little difference between them.
After Kaimana had
gone, Sabin stayed for a long minute, eyes fixed on the Spanish man’s corpse.
He wanted to stay there forever, suspended in dream and surrounded by death,
but a faint sensation of shaking jolted him back to his physical body.
.o.
When Sabin emerged
into reality again he found his chains unlocked, his waker gone, and his hand
stinging like crazy. The wound appeared somehow worse, a grinning mouth of red
rather than the tiny slit it had been while he was sleeping.
Binding it carefully
with a strip of cloth from one of Ambrose’s fine shirts (feeling pettily smug
about it) Sabin was almost ready to attempt a trip outside when his bare foot
almost tripped over the warm body. He stumbled in shock, pausing for a moment
between turning to face the corpse or fleeing like the
coward he felt.
The blood squishing
disturbingly through his toes decided for him, and Sabin was out in the bright
sunlight bare seconds later. He panted as he stood on the quarterdeck,
realizing some sort of commotion was going on. All hands appeared to have
gathered amidships, and Ambrose stood not far away from Sabin, posing nobly
before his crowd as he gave a speech.
“…a new dawn for our
people, a new beginning, a chance to live our lives without oppression or discrimination!”
the crew responded noisily as sailors were wont to do, cheering madly before
quieting at a expansive gesture from their Captain.
“The
Sabin watched, unimpressed
as the blonde elf wooed his audience. It was small wonder that Ambrose had
managed a mutiny if he could make such speeches and have them ring true. The
Captain practically oozed sincerity and charisma all over the decks,
enrapturing the men below him.
Looking into the
faces of the assembled merfolk, elves and even the odd dragon kin, Sabin could
for a moment not find his previously solid reasons for hating Ambrose.
These people needed a saviour to liberate them from their unforgiving lives, they had all experienced the bitter taste of hatred
from a human, just as Sabin had. Who was he to fault them for simply doing what
was needed to free themselves from injustice? How
could he ignore the centuries long cruelty of humans
but rise to anger at Ambrose’s bold actions?
Sabin’s eyes fell on
those of Katherine, bound to the base of the mast, and he had no answers for
those questions.
*** Chapter 11 ***
A/N: Just to make
some things clear, when they travel from reality to the
.o.
The bustle on deck
increased exponentially as the Captain’s odd orders were given out. First, two
men in a jolly boat were sent on an experimental foray into dream, the purpose
of which was to find out if crafts could be taken along with bodies into the
Shadow Coast.
When the drugged tea
finally worked and the boat vanished, excited shouts rang out from both ships.
Crew crowded along the rails to watch the guide rope that had been attached to
the boat, which extended out to a distance of about twenty metres before
disappearing completely. The air was so thick with tension that when the boat
and men reappeared, a short hour later but much closer to the ships, an over
excited merfolk leapt straight overboard to welcome them.
After that the decks
exploded with activity, with lots being drawn to decide who would remain on the
English ship to observe the Quite Jovial’s passage, as Ambrose was
curious to see what would happen. There was a brief scuffle as some confused
this with being left behind for good, but a quick speech from the Captain about
building a kingdom together soon resolved that.
Next came the trouble of getting everyone aboard the Quite
Jovial Adam to fall asleep at the same time, in the middle of the
afternoon. The surgeon’s small supply of sleep aids was no way near capable of
knocking out so many people, so the quartermaster eventually gave in and handed
out extra shares of rum. It was slow, but finally the hush of mass dreaming
overtook the pirate ship.
Sabin stood near the
helm, where the poor helmsman had been lashed to the wheel in order to stay
upright while the Captain and high ranking officers waited to all drink their
tea together.
Finally, unable to
resist the pull of a question that had been bothering him, Sabin spoke up. “You
truly mean to go through such efforts, such criminal measures to gain a bit of
gold, Ambrose?”
Cold blue eyes
settled on Sabin, seeming to consider him more intensely than the question, as
though the elf was interested in the fact that Sabin had asked it. “That’s
Captain Maurlias to you, Sabin, until you’re a sight more co-operative.”
“But I have been
co-operative! I’ve done everything you’ve asked!” protested Sabin, narrowing
his eyes both in anger and against the bright sun.
“But you’ve been
holding things back, keeping secrets. You know more about the
Sabin sputtered and
exhaled loudly, trying to find words for a denial but knowing that there was a
possibility Ambrose was right. Even as he mentally flinched away from the memories
of the nightmares he’d been having, Sabin could feel the tug of that dark
something, that intangible pull just behind his eyelids that called to him
night and day.
Still, Sabin would
rathr be angry than afraid of things inside his own head. He focused on his
irritation, on the feelings of being accused by the non-humans of being
unhelpful and despised by his former crew for being a traitor.
“There’s no way to
please you, Elf.” He spoke the word as a curse, but didn’t get a reaction from
Ambrose. “Besides, you’re simply changing the subject! What is your greater
motive here? Gold? Magical objects? Some sort of test
of faith?”
The captain’s face
went back to its unreadable natural state, turned away from Sabin to look out
over the slumbering forms crowding the forecastle. “If you haven’t deduced that
by now then I’m not certain your lumbering little mind could handle it.”
Sabin ground his
teeth and stepped forward, longing for his confiscated blade and a chance to
stick it right in the elf’s arrogant throat. Ambrose noticed this with a quick
glance and a corner of his mouth lifted, apparently amused enough to inspire
him to further speech.
“There are some
things,” he said imperiously, “that are far more valuable than mere gold, Mr
Duvert.”
“Yes?” snarled Sabin,
“Care to give an example?”
“Hope. Freedom. A country of our own.”
Sabin wrinkled his
brow at the odd tone the captain’s voice had taken on, confused at both that
and the words spoken. He stuggled to put this together with the promises
Ambrose had made to the crew, and other hints he had picked up from the elf’s
behaviour. “You plan to invade somewhere?”
Ambrose sighed in
exasperation and shoved a teacup in Sabin’s hand. “I wouldn’t expect you to
understand. You’ll see it all soon enough in any case. Drink your tea.”
Sabin made to argue
further but realized that all the upper crewmen around them were long into
slumber, and the edges of the ship were turning curiously translucent. Afraid
of being left behind, Sabin gulped down his luke warm
rum-tea and found a place to rest comfortably.
Looking up, he met
the satisfied gaze of Ambrose, leaning against the helm and sipping his own
brew of sleep inducers. Sabin drifted off to sleep, still wondering just what
the elvish captain had in mind.
.o.
Sabin did indeed
find out soon enough what the non-human pirates were planning, as it became
immediately apparent the second Ambrose set foot on the white sandy dunes that
he intended to stay.
Before Sabin quite
knew what was happening he was helping to haul supplies off the ship,
everything from food to spare timber and tools (which they had in unusual
plenty). He couldn’t understand the need for so much material simply for a
temporary camp until halfway through unloading the second ship, when it hit him
like a pile of bricks. Or in fact, like a pile of unused canvas which did
indeed fall directly onto his head at that moment.
Looking around at
the laughing faces and joyful atmosphere, Sabin finally understood the purpose
of the Quite Jovial Adam’s endeavours, realizing why it was the only
ship willing to brave such a dangerous passage for an almost mythical
destination.
The non-humans
pirates didn’t plan merely to visit and loot the
The idea was so
absurd that for a moment Sabin could only stand there, doubting his own
conclusions. But then a tall dark haired elf tossed a sack of grain at Sabin,
telling him roughly but playfully to get a move on, showing a lightened
attitude never before directed towards him, and Sabin knew he had discovered
the truth.
He dropped the grain
and pushed past the elf, too distracted to worry about the curse shouted back
at him. “I have to see the captain.” He muttered, unmindful of the traffic his
disturbed as he made his way to where Ambrose was standing on a tall rock,
overseeing the proceedings.
“…and I believe we
should sink the well there, in case the river dries up. Yes, I know you think
it’s ridiculous but one should always be prepared.” Came
the elf’s cultured voice, talking to the blazing red hair of the shorter first
mate.
“You can’t be
serious.” Said Sabin, flat with disbelief.
“Ah,
Mr Duvert. And what might you be
referring to, young man? There are a great many things I am serious about. Good
water supplies are only one of them.” Replied Ambrose, cocking his head
inquiringly even though Sabin was sure the captain knew very well what he was
talking about.
“Settling
here. Living here.”
He ground out, trying not to let out the stream of
imprecations and curses he felt building inside.
“Oh yes, I’m quite
serious about that. Far more serious than anything else, in
fact. This is my destiny, my future, and I would not joke about that.”
Said the captain airily, waving aside his mate to go carry out his orders.
“You must be mad!”
Sabin blurted out. “Do you have any idea of the dangers that haunt this place?
The ghosts and demons and ghouls and creatures you can’t even imagine of such
evil that to look upon them would melt your eyes right out of the sockets!”
“Was that last line
out of one of your faerie tale books?” Asked Ambrose coolly, smirking slightly
as he regarded Sabin.
Sabin fought a blush
and ignored the comment, determined not to admit his habit of quoting directly
from textbooks he enjoyed. “Even to stay here for a day is risking death or
worse! How could you subject your people to this?”
The captain smiled
at this, actually smiled, baring his teeth in real mirth. “I’m sure there is
nothing here more dangerous than a few wild animals or perhaps relatives of
myth-kind, and I’m sure we are more than well equipped to deal with those. I’ll
leave the tall tales and nonsense warnings to you, Mr Duvert.”
The elf gestured
towards a huddled lump on the sand, indicating that Sabin should take it.
“She’s in your care too. As long as you don’t do anything stupid you are free
to roam as you please.”
Sabin looked again
at the lump and realized to his startlement that it was in fact Katherine, who
had apparently taken a bit of a dunking as she came ashore. Knowing her bent
towards mischief, Sabin was not entirely surprised that someone had finally
tossed her in the drink. God knew he’d wanted to do it himself many times, and
would probably soon like to again.
Still, the shivering
bundle of pirate was a rather pathetic sight, and Sabin felt the stirrings of
guilt and protectiveness rising in his chest again. He suspected that children
from larger families would feel like this after pushing their sister in the
river for a lark. In an attempt to distract himself from the unpleasant sight,
Sabin focused on Ambrose’s orders.
“You aren’t afraid
we’ll escape?” he asked warily.
Showing an even more
disturbing change in temperament, the captain let out a bark of laughter. “And
where exactly would you run to? The stomach of one of your monsters?” he said,
still smirking as he walked off to give more directions.
.o.
To Sabin’s dismay,
the captain’s point was proved most soundly not long after, when a scowling and
wet Katherine made a mad dash for freedom, ending about ten minutes later with
a scowling and now even more wet Katherine.
There was more
laughter than punishment, though a set of irons were clamped about her wrists
more for the look of it than any real measure of security. For Ambrose was
quite right, there was nowhere to run to. If they woke themselves now, they’d
drop directly into freezing seawater in the middle of nowhere, as Katherine’s
attempt had proved. Even the
Katherine seemed
eager to try the jungle, but the queasy feeling he got whenever he looked too
closely at the shadows beneath the leaves kept Sabin, holder of Katherine’s
leash, far away from the edge of the foliage. She sulked and glared at him as
they trailed around the busy construction site, not saying a word but
communicating her position on matters quite adequately nonetheless.
Sabin was distracted
enough by the construction itself not to be very bothered by Katherine’s pouts,
watching in faint horror as the superhuman strength of the dragon-kin was put
to use hauling logs into rough formations of houses. Ambrose was driving the
crew hard, in less than half a day he had explored, selected and cleared and
small patch of jungle for use as their “village”.
Plans had apparently
been drawn up for the settlement long before they ever set foot on the sandy
shores, leading Sabin to believe Ambrose knew more about the Shadow Coast than
he would have Sabin believe. The documents with these plans were currently
being modified to suit the rough maps that the search parties were bringing
back, all hidden away in the captain’s canvas tent. Sabin longed to explore the
dark interior of the makeshift headquarters, but every time his casual stroll
brought him even close to the tent walls, a hulking sentry would growl at him
to get back.
In fact, that seemed
to be the general attitude towards Sabin and his charge now. They could wander
in and amongst the busy worksite, but if he tried to help or even talk to the
piratical crewmen he was plainly ignored or told to go away. It was
frustrating, and worse; it was boring.
Sabin had finally
arrived on the mythical goldmine of his life, and he wasn’t allowed to touch
it. He longed to join one of the exploration parties, curious about what
secrets hid beneath the trees even as he felt uneasy about the strange
sensations the shadows woke in him, perhaps because of it. He tried, briefly,
only to be headed off by a tall elf with a very sharp machete. It was clear
that Sabin was under house arrest. Or more accurately, sandy foreshore arrest.
And he was stuck
there with the world’s worst prison mate. Katherine skulked and scowled as she
followed around behind Sabin’s aimless footsteps, refusing to move unless
dragged by the rough rope attached to her manacles and bolting if Sabin so much
as loosened his grip. It made Sabin feel even more wretched about his
not-quite-betrayal but he feared what would happen if he let her go only to be
caught by one of the non-humans.
So the day
continued, until a few hours before dusk when one of the explorers came dashing
out of the trees towards the captain’s tent, disappearing inside with a cloud
of dust. Sabin, sure that the rest of the party had been consumed by some
fearsome beast, ran to follow the elf inside. He was deeply surprised when this
actually worked. Both Sabin and Katherine slipped into the canvas tent
unnoticed, will all the occupants too engrossed with the scout’s breathless
report. Sabin edged in as close as he dared, eager to
hear what harpy or gremlin had attacked.
“…more gold than you
could imagine, piles of it just lying there, waiting for us. They’re not down
too far and Jameson said he was sure a couple of merfolk could fish out at
least three chests before dark.”
“And where did you
say this wreck was, again?” came the cool voice of the captain, bending over
the map table from the Quite Jovial Adam to mark down the co-ordinates.
The young elf almost
bounced with excitement as he replied hurriedly. “Wrecks, Sir. Hundreds of them. All up and down the
coast about a mile from here, against the cliffs.”
Ambrose looked up
then, sharp eyes appearing to scour the explorer for the truth of his
statement. After a moment, he set down his pen and stood straight. “I see. This
is good fortune indeed, my brothers. Willock, organize three teams of ten
merfolk, and both the dragon kin to help. You there, take them immediately to
where you saw the gold. I want five chests before dark.”
The orders were
instantly obeyed, the tent emptying rapidly until only Sabin was left facing
Ambrose. The captain did not look surprised to see him, giving Sabin the
suspicion that he had been aware of his presence all along. Frowning, Sabin
stepped forward to confront the captain.
“I thought you said
you weren’t here for gold. That the land was more important.” He said coldly.
Ambrose settled an
amused look on Sabin, unperturbed by the accusation against his integrity.
“Waste not, want not.” He said simply, returning to making fine adjustments to
the papers on his table.
Sabin was annoyed by
the glib reply, and was about to force some further remark from the elf when
Katherine spoke up, startling them both. Sabin had quite forgotten she was
there, and it took him a few moments to understand what she had said because
her voice was so rough from disuse.
“I want a cut.”
Ambrose was silent
for a long moment, then another of those unnatural
smiles crept across his face, ripe with mirth. “Of course my dear, you’ll get a
copper penny for every day you served.”
“I want a full
share.” Came Katherine’s rusty voice again, low with
intensity of purpose. Sabin was briefly disgusted that she wouldn’t speak to
him for days but the slightest mention of gold opened her mouth with ease.
The grin faded then,
and the captain set his pen down very, very gently, to give his full attention
to the girl. “You are a prisoner. Prisoners do not get shares. The only reason
you are not locked up in the hold right now with the rest of your scum sucking
compatriots is because you make such a wonderful leash for Mr Duvert. Now get
out of my sight before I do something you’ll regret, petite
fille.”
The ice in his voice
was enough to shake Sabin, and he unconsciously took a step back. Katherine
held the captain’s gaze for one long, horrific moment before turning to run
madly from the tent. Sabins hand was still wrapped around the rope attached to
her, so he was dragged out behind her before he could get out a single word of
protest.
Before the tent flap
closed fully, he had one last glimpse of the interior, all dark except for the
twin orbs of Ambrose’s eyes, burning with a hatred that was terrifying to see.
*** Chapter 12 ***
Katherine eventually
settled on a high rock overlooking the slight dip in which the camp was
settled. Sabin could think of nothing to say to salve her wounds or his own, so
they sat in silence and watched the salvage teams come and go. They did indeed
bring back five chests before dusk, even dragging a few waterlogged pieces of
ships back to help construction.
But even the dull
gleam of recovered treasure was not enough to lure Katherine from her brooding,
nor did it spark Sabin’s interest. So they sat and observed the joy of the
pirate crew, watching dreams finally made real for the merfolk and elves and
others who had been spurned all their lives by ‘normal’ society. Sabin could
not begrudge them this brief happiness, as he knew they well deserved it.
Eventually, after a
blazing sunset more stunning and brilliant than any Sabin had ever seen, an elf
and what looked like a normal man with some strange twitch in his leg came to
rouse them. They were taken to a hut made half from a piece of fractured hull
from some long forgotten galleon and half from woven palm fronds. It could
barely be called a hut, as loosely built as it was, but Sabin observed that it
was far more shelter than many of the non-human pirates were enjoying that
night.
Two bowls of thin
soup and bread were left at their feet, and Katherine didn’t hesitate to gulp
hers down. Sabin ate more slowly, considering the strange idea that what he was
eating wasn’t quite real, but at the moment, neither was he. Did he even need
to eat? He examined himself closely and found that he wasn’t all that hungry, he was eating more out of habit than any real need.
He put down his bowl half way through and found himself content to leave it at
that, though Katherine’s was licked clean.
After that,
Katherine immediately scuttled into a corner against the curving wood and
curled into a ball, leaving Sabin to stretch out on the cooling sand. After a
moment he noticed that the elf had not gone away, and was standing only a few
feet from the entrance to their ‘hut’. Sabin sighed and turned on his side,
understanding the need to be guarded even as he disliked it.
He shifted
uncomfortably on the sand for a long while, searching for the heaviness of eye
and relaxation that would summon sleep to him. It was only as he settled down
for the tenth time that he realized how absurd it was, trying to sleep in the
realm of dream already. Sabin once again carefully determined that he was not
in fact tired at all, and he couldn’t imagine what falling asleep in the
Sabin sat up,
looking around for the first time and noticing that though all the forms strewn
throughout the camp were still, no snores arose and few had the boneless look
of true sleep. Sabin looked over to Katherine and noticed that she was sound
asleep, snoring faintly. This puzzled him and it took a long moment of hard
thinking to sort out the knot of information. Finally, he got it.
With a laugh of
discovery, Sabin stood up and headed without thought to the captain’s tent, the
only real structure in the settlement. He paused briefly, stunned by the sheer
beauty of the night. The moon shone fat and heavy, glowing with enough pure,
ethereal light to read by. Stars twinkled like piles of scattered diamonds in
the sky, ridiculously plentiful and brighter than they had any right to be.
Even the cool night air tasted sweeter than should be possible, a rising sea
breeze lifting Sabin’s hair gently of his neck and playing with it in the
radiant moonlight. He could understand why anyone would want to stay here, no
matter the danger.
Several of the
higher ranking pirates were already gathering inside, and with the help of
shadows Sabin managed to slip into the tent as just another figure. There was a
bit of awkward mumbling going on, as many felt odd coming to their captain with
sleep complaints. Ambrose spotted Sabin immediately, standing up to greet him
swiftly.
It was odd to see
the captain so undressed; he looked like a common scrub boy with only his
breeches to preserve his modesty. Although, Sabin noted, it would be hard to
mistake the milk-white skin of Ambrose’s chest for the toughened brown hide
that most sailors sported.
Still, underdressed
or not, everyone in the tent deferred to Ambrose as soon as he stood, going
quiet to hear what wisdom their leader could dispense. Instead, he asked Sabin.
“Ah, Mr Duvert. Perhaps you could enlighten us as to
why so many are experiencing... sleeping difficulties.”
Sabin was momentarily
taken aback. He had been expecting that he would have to beat his discovery
into the captain’s head, not be welcomed as the bringer of knowledge. Clearing
his throat, he stepped forward to address not only the captain but all the
various officers gathered there.
“It’s quite simple,
actually. We can’t sleep because we are asleep.” He said.
There was a long
silence as the assembled pirates digested this, coming up with confused faces
and puzzled looks. Ambrose broke the silence again, staring patiently at Sabin.
“Would you care to elaborate?”
Sabin looked around nervously, he didn’t know what else to say. It was hard to
explain something so obvious and hard to imagine that the others hadn’t figured
it out by themselves. Still, the urge to share his discovery was strong, and he
unconsciously dropped into the teaching pose his mother had adopted when she
taught him to read.
“This place isn’t
real. Well, it’s not quite as real as reality is.” This statement was also
greeted by silence, so he hurried on. “When you dream you may do anything, but
you aren’t actually doing it. You may eat but not gain any sustenance. You can
drink but not slake your thirst. You can bleed, but not shed any blood.”
Ambrose interrupted
then, filling the obvious gap in the logic left by Sabin as part of his
lecturing method. “But you did indeed shed blood, on the ship.”
“aha!”
cried Sabin. “But that’s just it; we are now doing more than dreaming, more
than mere imagination. We’ve eliminated the other half of the equation, nullifying
all needs so that we become dream itself. We are no longer slaves to our
bodies, but the true masters who may do what we wish only when we wish
it!” He exclaimed, almost breathless with the wonder of the truth he was
describing. He waiting for the rapturous cries from
the pirates, ready to answer disbelieving questions.
“I have no idea what
you’re talking about.” Came the gruff voice of
Willock.
Sabin deflated. He
tried to find more words to make the first mate understand, but the captain
interrupted before he could even begin. “Mr Duvert is saying that we no longer
need to sleep. I believe he is correct in this, so you have no further need to
be here. I want everyone roused and back to work this instant.”
The crew obeyed
grudgingly, grumbling as they trudged out into the glorious night. “Be not
angry, my brothers, for we have become like gods! As you work, think of how
much faster you will be finished with no need for rest.” Said Ambrose gently as
they left, responded to only by more grunts.
Sabin turned to
leave but Ambrose’s voice once again stopped him. “You stay here, Mr Duvert.”
Sabin waited until
the last of the pirates filed past him, then turned to
face the captain fully. “What do you want?”
“Now now, no need
for rudeness.” Said the captain quietly, sitting back down on his cot.
Sabin rolled his
eyes, knowing the dark would hide the gesture. “What do you want, sir?”
Ambrose sighed
heavily and closed his eyes, running his hand through his unbound hair in an
uncharacteristic motion so strange that Sabin was almost sure this was not the
same elf he knew. “There is something about this place, Sabin. Something strange. I believe you may be right about the
stories.”
Sabin smirked, ready
to claim satisfaction in his own predictions but the captain again cut him off.
“Not the monsters. Not exactly. There is something…
else, I can’t quite define it. I feel myself changing, reacting to it in ways
that disturb me.”
The weariness in
Ambrose’s voice was quite jarring to Sabin, and he hurried to pass it off. “Perhaps
you are just tired, sir?” he asked quietly.
Ambrose opened his
eyes and scowled at Sabin. “You know very well that none of us are tired. Get
out.”
“But—“
“I said get out.”
Sabin reacted to the
order without thinking the second time, almost out the door before his own
defiance rose in him. “Why did you ask me to stay if you only wanted to spook
me with what I already know!”
Ambrose smiled
tightly at that, perhaps recognizing the amusement value of doing just that. “I
wasn’t trying to spook you, Duvert. I mean for you to be aware, to keep an eye
on the shadows. You are the only other man here who is canny enough to know the
dangers of this place.”
Sabin was spooked
then, wondering how the elf knew of his fears about the shadows turning on him
here. He left the tent without another word, retreating to his shelter to sit
quietly for the rest of the night, watching the shadows.
.o.
The crew worked hard
all through the night and into the next day without rest, setting the pattern
for the next few days. The hours blended into each other with a depressing
routine, unbroken for Sabin by the catnaps that Katherine seemed to delight in.
It was still possible to fall into a sleep-like state, dreamless and light, but
Sabin disliked the strange feelings that filled him when he awoke.
None of the others
seemed to suffer from these sensations, but few took the opportunity to rest as
often as they normally would. They seemed to enjoy the superhuman feeling of
working hard without need for rest or food, and some even placed wagers on who
could resist the inviting jungle fruits or shady huts the longest.
A kind of fever
overtook the camp, the crew working with endless enthusiasm to construct their
small settlement and haul up the sunken treasures. The two ships that had brought
them there were cannibalized, anything that could be
safely taken without making the ships unusable was hauled out and used in
building.
Sabin privately felt
that those in the village were wasting their time, why bother building houses
if you didn’t need to sleep in them? But most everyone ignored his comments,
focused more on the vision that their captain presented them with than anything
practical.
The piles of
recovered treasure grew enormously every day, residing in a specially built
shelter in the center of the village, watched night and day by guards who we
chosen by drawn lots. Unusually for pirates, there was little infighting or
argument over the treasure. The crew was seemingly held together by the strange
bond that Ambrose’s ideals wrought in them. He himself was a gentleman to his
boots, and expected no less of his crew.
Treasures other than
silver and gold were also brought back from the wrecks in abundance; yards of
perfectly preserved fabric, wood of all kinds, tools, furniture, sailcloth, boxes
of spices and some things that no one among the crew could recognize. Sabin was suspicious of the way that few of the goods recovered
showed any sign of water damage, nor did the ships show any sign of violence
other than the obvious places where they had smashed upon the rocks. Again,
none listened to the raving traitorous mage.
Sabin was ill suited
to watching all the wonders being unearthed and explored around them without
being able to interact with them himself. He walked restlessly around the village,
desperate for some books or parchment to keep himself
occupied, but none seemed to be available. Sabin was certain that this was the
captain’s doing, and made sure to share this opinion with his silent shadow.
She only sniffed and rattled her chains.
It was on the fith
day, or maybe the seventh when something unusual happened. Sabin was sitting on
a sand dune, Katherine making castles not far from him, when a cry rose up on
the edge of the village clearing. Activity nearby ceased, and Sabin hurried to
join the bustle when people started to move towards the cry.
As they neared, it
became apparent that there was no animal attack or any foul play (as Sabin
suspected) but in fact a sail had been sighted off the cliffs where the wrecks
were, sailing dangerously close to the rocks. Hope rose in Sabin then like the
unfurling wings of a phoenix, thoughts of rescue flooding his mind. His brief
joy was crushed, however, when the news came that it was but a sloop and quite
wounded at that. Such a ship would never make it away from the
It was enough to
excite the interest of the captain though, and Ambrose stood in front of the
messenger with a considering gleam in his eye. Finally, he turned to the crew
and gestured at his officers. “You, you and you. Come
with me. You too, Mr Duvert. Willock will take care of
your pet.”
Sabin was startled,
letting his hand go slack on Katherine’s rope even as the first mate took it
from him. Sabin expected Willock to be angered at being left behind, but
instead he was eyeing Katherine with a gleeful leer. The terrified look on
Katherine’s face was enough to make Sabin almost reach for the rope back, but
Ambrose stopped him with a word.
“Follow.”
The cold command was
powerful enough to make Sabin start walking after him, ashamed of himself not
only of abandoning his friend but of secretly being glad of it too. He was
curious about the ship, still holding on to the desperate hopes of salvation
that it promised. To salve his conscience, Sabin silently vowed that if there
was any way for the sloop to take him away from the
So consuming were
these thoughts that Sabin didn’t realize how far they were into the jungle until
the messenger said they were nearly there. The trees loomed above them, more
ancient and strange than anything Sabin had seen before. They were similar to
normal plants, but subtly different in a threatening way that Sabin could not
define. The thick shadows beneath the tree canopy were worse, shifting and
leaping in ways that unnerved Sabin, despite his considerable experience with
shadows.
He was thus very
glad when they emerged from under the trees to find a vista of tragedy, mile
upon mile of broken beams and tattered rigging caught on the rocks at the feet
of the cliffs. Those who had not seen it before were stunned into silence at
the very magnitude of the wrecks, a silence that was unbroken for a long minute
until the exploration leader spoke up.
“There.” He said,
pointing to the base of a particularly jagged cliff. To Sabin’s dismay, the
sloop was already upon the rocks, crashing further onto them with every swell.
“Looks to be english navy, Sir” came the piping voice of an elf boy with
particularly sharp eyes.
“Indeed.” Replied Ambrose. “Send out a salvage crew as soon as
possible. If it’s a navy ship it will have arms, and we need as much ammunition
as we can get.”
Some of the
assembled crew dispersed then, but Sabin was eager to question further. “But
what do we need ammunition for?”
The captain fixed
Sabin with a cool look, showing nothing of the fraying man he had shown that
first night. “To launch our empire.” He said flatly.
Sabin was stunned. “Empire? What empire?”
With an irritated
sigh, Ambrose turned to watch the sloop wreck itself slowly. “The
empire of myth-kind. It’s time for us to take our rightful place as
masters of the world, Sabin, and the
Sabin struggled to
make sense of this horrific idea, turning it over and over in his head. “Wait,
what do you mean? How can you reach any point on the globe from here?”
Without turning to
look, Ambrose pointed out towards the horizon. “You see that? Those currents do
not match any on the charts of the
He turned then to
look at Sabin with eyes that burned with an almost religious fervor. “Think,
Sabin. We have not yet even fully explored this country. What must await us on
the far side of this land, where do the waters flow from there? We are
everywhere and nowhere, and it makes us invincible.”
Sabin stepped back,
shocked into silence. It could not be, yet it was. The captain would not play
around with matters such as these, and though it was a terrifying thought it
would well explain why Ambrose was so eager to conquer this land. Sabin saw the
future unfold before them and it was filled with righteous retribution on the
behalf of myth-kind, blood and destruction covering the whole earth until it
was as strange and frightening as the
Sabin stared mutely
as the merfolk went about salvaging weaponry for their bloody plans, and knew
he must stop them but despaired that he could not.
*** Chapter 13 ***
Sabin was barely
aware of the trees and shadows this time as they walked back to the village, his mind was still reeling with the implication’s
of the captain’s grand designs. The sloop had indeed been well stocked, and the
salvage teams had worked quickly enough that those going back to the settlement
were carrying several barrels of shot, with many more to follow later.
Sabin was almost
surprised when they came upon the village again, having been so lost in thought
that the journey had passed unnoticed. Ambrose waved an elegant hand to dismiss
him, so Sabin set off immediately to find Katherine. He searched the whole
half-built village over until at last he discovered her, huddled in a dark
corner of their hut.
“Are you alright?”
he asked rhetorically, not expecting a response.
There was a long
silence, and Sabin was just about to give up and go find some food, but then
Katherine’s soft voice disturbed the thick air in the hut.
“He does things with
fire.”
Sabin, puzzled, took
a step forward but Katherine flinched back immediately without looking at him.
“What… what do you mean? Who does things? Willock?”
“He does things with
fire.” She said again, staring intently into some middle distance, refusing to
meet his eyes.
Sabin tried to get
her to answer more questions, but Katherine clammed up after that and would say
nothing more. Eventually, Sabin gave up and settled down next to her to rest.
He hadn’t intended to fall asleep, so he was confused when he felt the familiar
darkness pressing in all around him.
Weird whispers and
voices rattled in the darkness all around him, and he struggled frantically to
wake up before the really bad part started. Sabin knew he was too late when he
felt his limbs rise up in front of him and start moving of their own accord,
drawing strange shapes in the air and on the ground. Wherever his fingers
traced a symbol they left trails of unholy fire burning in the darkness, and
Sabin knew in his bones that they were calling something.
It got worse when he
heard his voice start chanting meaningless words that twisted horribly in his
mouth and left a faint film of foulness on his tongue. Sabin knew that the
dream would get worse the longer he stayed there, but as strange and terrible
as it was to have someone else using his body as a puppet to perform this
ritual, he also longed to see the end. To see how it finished, to find out just
what these dreams were calling. Surely it would be something bizarre and
fantastic, perhaps some faerie or long forgotten myth.
The scientist and
story teller in Sabin clung to the dream, causing him to be most disappointed
when he felt a hand shaking him awake. Cracking open an eye, Sabin was startled
to find the rather disturbing upside-down visage of Katherine looming over him.
“You were making
weird noises.” She said simply, moving away from Sabin and allowing him to sit
up.
He put a hand to his
head, wondering at the peculiar feelings inside it. “I… was having a dream.”
Even as he said it, the details faded away as they usually did, leaving only
the memory of darkness deeper than anything he’d felt before and the
half-remembered echoes of voices. Sabin grasped for the disappearing tendrils
of memory and could only remember the promise of something extraordinary, with
faint gestures and words jumbled in.
He looked over to
Katherine and saw her hunched over again miserably, and in her he saw just what
would happen to humanity if the non-humans ever had the chance to get their
just revenge. He knew very well that Ambrose was capable of training an army
fit to conquer the world, with every soldier sinking a fine blade into flesh
with perfect form. And every one of them had a grudge against humans.
Suddenly Sabin was
filled with the urge to do something, and as he sat there in the beautiful
twilight watching his friend suffer, plans that had been half formed since the
sloop wrecked on the cliffs now crystallized and hardened.
“It was an English
naval ship.” He said quietly, speaking more to the silence than to Katherine.
“Where there’s one navy ship there’s always a fleet. If one disappeared they’ll
still be searching the area for it.”
Katherine ignored
him some more, apparently absorbed in the trail of ants at her feet. Sabin
spoke with more urgency now, feeling the pull of time as his plan required
speed. “If I drop out of dream somewhere off those cliffs, then I can find one
of those navy vessels and get help.”
Katherine looked up
then, eyes narrowed. “Are you mad? Do you have any idea what those filthy
creatures will do to you if you turn them in? Pirates hate traitors.”
Her words were laden
with meaning, but Sabin ignored the accusation in them. He looked into her dark
eyes and saw himself reflected with a crazy glint in his own eyes. Perhaps he
was mad to be trying this. “Then I’ll just have to avoid being caught.”
Katherine held his
gaze for a long moment, protests and arguments passing unspoken between them
like the busiest of trade routes. Eventually, she gave one sharp nod and looked
away.
“Go then. Don’t come
back.” She said harshly.
“Come with me.” He
said quickly, trying not to think about how difficult it would be to sneak her
out with the clanking chains.
She snorted and gave
him a cool look. “Don’t be stupid. If you do get caught, and you will,
the punishment will be very, very painful. I’d rather keep my hide intact,
thank you very much.”
Sabin looked at her
then, feeling a rush of affection at the familiar way she cloaked concern in
self interest. Or perhaps she really did think he was just getting himself
killed. Either way, he renewed his determination to get her out of the
“I’ll come back for
you.” He said.
Katherine just
shrugged and turned away.
.o.
Sabin slipped out of
the village with ease, old tricks with shadow and wind helping him to evade the
sentries set at the edge of the jungle. He walked quickly up the rough hewn
path through the dense foliage, trying not to think on the twisted shadows that
edged his footsteps.
The jungle seemed to
come alive at night, the vivid intensity of the
After an
interminable amount of time, Sabin finally reached the cliffs where the English
ship had been wrecked. Even now, fragments of it were being hauled away by the
sleepless night crew. Now that he was here, Sabin felt his plan becoming more
complicated and less feasible than it had seemed in the safety of his hut.
There was no way he
could grab one of the salvage boats for his own use with so many pirates down
there without being seen. He knew Ambrose would be very interested in just what
Sabin was doing out there in the middle of the night, and no explanation could
save his skin from at least a whipping. He had the distinct feeling that being
caught interfering in the captain’s plan could well be worse than being tried
for murder.
Sabin stared down at
the small boats waiting below, wishing that the crewmen loading and unloading
them would simply disappear. Abandoning the plan was not an option, so Sabin
sat down in the bushes to wait. He knew that eventually there would be a shift
change or a team taking a load back to the village, but it could be hours before
the tireless men decided to break.
To Sabin’s
misfortune he was right, it was several hours before the merfolk signaled the
last haul and all the pirates started up the path to the top of the cliffs.
They had worked so long that the sky was now tinged with pink, threating a dawn
that Sabin could ill afford. He felt every minute tick away like grains of
hope, knowing that the longer he was gone from the village the more likely it
was that his absence would be discovered. Finally, the last elf passed Sabin’s
hiding spot with the last bales of silk, and Sabin used the opportunity to flit
out of the shadows and down the cliff path.
It was rough going,
though wide to accommodate large pieces of ships, and Sabin was cursing the
time it took him to stumble over the rocks even before he was halfway down. He
felt sure that any second a rock would slide out from under him and smash to
the ground below, drawing the worker’s attention back to the cliffs.
Sabin was deeply
relieved when he reached the foot of the cliffs without incident, and he
grinned when he saw the loading boats tied up neatly to the makeshift docks.
The sailor’s knots were easily undone and for once Sabin was grateful for the
mindless work Becky had set him long ago that allowed him to undo them.
The boat he chose
was small, probably taken from the merchant ship, but it was sound enough for
the task he had in mind. Sabin set out to sea with determination fueling him
past the heavy breakers, rowing hard to get far enough out that he would not
share the same fate as the other wrecks that scraped his hull.
After a long hard
struggle, he was finally out enough that the current was no longer a danger but
he was still in the rough area where the sloop had appeared. Sabin took one
last look at the sheer beauty of the dream-night surrounding him, and wished
that he had a better chance to explore it. Closing his eyes, Sabin sought the
long unused path in his mind that would take him back to full wakefulness.
It took longer than
he had expected, having become so used to considering himself awake in the
For a moment Sabin
thought he had been struck with some lesser form of blindness, as the sea and
sky seemed as grey and washed out as old laundry compared to the vivid colours
of the
Sabin wasn’t sure
where he was, but from what little knowledge Katherine had imparted about the
sea and sky, he was fairly certain he was heading in the right direction to
find the swiftest current that any ship would be sailing on in this area. To
his delight, only a short while after setting out a white smudge on the horizon
proved to be the longed-for sail.
Sabin thought his
luck too good to be true, but rowed all the harder for it. At one point he
stopped to signal the ship with his shirt, but if a reply was sent he could not
see it. Fearing that it might pass him by without stopping, Sabin rowed for all
he was worth, directly into its path.
The night was too
dark to spot the colours, but Sabin felt sure that it was at least large enough
to be a part of the English fleet. It slowed as it neared, and Sabin felt a
rush of mingled relief and joy as a rope was tossed overboard to pick him up.
He had to abandon his boat to reach it, but soon he was climbing hand over hand
up the side of the ship.
He was exhausted by
the time he reached the top from the combined effort of rowing and climbing,
but he was still relieved enough to crack a grin as he hooked a hand over the
balustrade. A hand grabbed Sabin’s own in a firm grip, hauling him up and over
with little effort. Sabin looked up to thank his rescuers and came face to face
with the frosty blue eyes he had tried so desperately to escape.
“Did you really
think I’d let you ruin everything?” said Ambrose coolly.
Sabin said nothing,
feeling the cold barrel of a flintlock pistol slide against his neck. He
scanned the deck and found a sorrowful Kaimana holding a blade against
Katherine’s pale throat. Her hands were cradled to her chest and oddly crabbed,
but she held Sabin’s gaze without emotion.
“Take them below,
and set a course for those islands.” The captain strode from the deck swiftly,
leaving Sabin and Katherine to be dragged belowdecks.
.o.
The islands they
were taken to were little more than barren rocks, jagged teeth rearing out of
the sea to claw at the horizon. They were taken ashore in jolly boats and frog
marched along the rocky beach to the entrance of a cave. There, Katherine and
Sabin were forced deep into the dark recess and locked into ancient, rust
covered chains.
The captain’s foot
brushed a bleached white skull as he stood before them, and he smirked down on
it briefly as he addressed them. “As you can see, this cave has long been the
final destination for mutineers and traitors among the brethren of the coast.
You too shall meet your fates here when the tide rises.”
“You’re a
hypocrite!” snarled Sabin. “There is no greater mutineer here than you!”
Ambrose stared Sabin
down with a blank face. “History will not remember me as a traitor, Mr Duvert.
Goodbye.”
And with that, the
pirates left the cave.
There was nothing
but the sound of the gentle waves lapping at the entrance of the cave,
disturbed only by the clanking of chains as they both quietly tested their
bonds. It was a strange thing to consider that this might be the last dawn he
ever saw, and Sabin watched in sad fasincation as the Quite Jovial Adam
disappeared into dream right in front of the cave.
Sabin reviewed the
series of events that brought him to this point, and could not help but wonder
how he had been discovered. “What happened?” he asked Katherine quietly.
She shrugged, chains
rattling with the movement. “There was an attack, not long after you left.
These… things came out of the forest and right into the village. They
were so frightening. Some of them could just touch you and you simply wouldn’t
be there anymore. Some of them could snap you up in just one bite. So many were
lost…”
Her voice was oddly
flat as she recounted the horrors, and Sabin guessed that she was still in shock.
“One even bit the captain before we figured out how to hurt them. They don’t
like iron.”
Sabin lifted a hand
to the cross still at his neck and wondered what it would have been like to
face such creatures. Terrifying, yes, but also very interesting. Curiosity
nudged him onwards and so he had to ask, “But how did they find me?”
Katherine looked
down at her hands then, seeming to be absorbed in the cramped digits. “They
counted the survivors, and when you weren’t to be found Captain Maurlias had me… questioned. He was so angry.” She said quietly.
Sabin didn’t
understand for a moment, then a cloud shifted to let more light into the cave
and he saw that the skin on her hands was blackened and charred, burned beyond
recognition into wizened claws.
He was speechless
with horror for a endless minutes, then numb shock set
in before the guilt and shame could overwhelm him. “I’m sorry.” He croaked out,
barely able to express himself with such simple words.
Katherine said
nothing, watching the tide slowly turn until it was mere feet from them. At
length, she spoke up again, bitter irony filling her voice. “The mate gave me a
key.” She held up one blistered wrist to show the thin rope tied above the
manacle, attached to an iron key.
Sabin could see even
from where he sat that there was no way she could use any key with her hands
like that, and he was too far away to open the locks for her. “Maybe it opens
mine.”
Katherine smirked
bitterly, but tossed him the key anyway. She only laughed raucously when it
failed to free him. Sabin had not really been expecting it work either, but he
could not let go of hope just yet. He looked at her burned hands once more and
was filled with a wash of remorse. “If there was anything I could do…”
“I know.” She said
quietly. “Me too.”
Sabin scoured his
brain for ideas as the tide crept onwards, searching through his memories of
endless books and stories to find some that mentioned escape from this
particular situation, but none surfaced. He desperately searched even the
deepest memory for something, anything that could save them, but to no
avail.
Sabin sat silently
wishing that he could call some mythical hero to their rescue, to break their
chains and fly them to Elysium. Then it hit him like a bolt of lightening. He could
call someone.
Standing up, Sabin
scuttled around in the little space that the chains provided him for a bit of
rock suited to his purposes. When he found one he seized it with a cry of
delight, quite startling Katherine out of the slight doze she had fallen into.
“What on god’s good
earth are you up to?” She questioned irritably.
Sabin smiled tightly
and knelt down to brush sand off the rock beneath him. “I’m getting help.” He
replied simply, starting to scratch out arcane symbols and diagrams on the cave
floor.
“With
a rock? Are you going to knock
down some birds?” asked Katherine skeptically, though her eyes sparked with ill
concealed hope.
“I don’t know. I’m
not sure if this is even more than a dream.” Said Sabin, pulling fragments of
memories straight out of his head onto the stone, putting words and lines
together that he had never been able to recall in waking, but now they flowed
from his hands as easily as water from a cup.
“All hail, king of
the sane.” Said Katherine sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
Sabin ignored her
and continued drawing out the strange symbols, occasionally scuffing one out to
be replaced by what felt more accurate. It was as though some unseen
hand was guiding him, and Sabin felt a deep thrill of discovery making him more
alive than he had ever been.
Finally, it was
done. The dawn light broke into the cave, bathing the cave floor with Sabin’s
markings upon it in a warm red glow. “Stand back” he said to Katherine
unnecessarily, who was already backed against the cave wall with a brow knitted
in suspicion. Sabin didn’t have time for her religious prejudice so he firmly
blocked her out from his mind, focusing only on the words that now came
perfectly to his mind.
Sabin stood in the
middle of the layered circles and spoke the words that would summon their
savior. They fell from his tongue strange and foreign, twisted with an accent
he couldn’t place. Sabin waited, expectant, exultant in his power. Nothing
happened.
He looked over at
Katherine, who seemed on the brink of laughter and he frowned deeply. This was
not what was supposed to happen. Sabin was about to try saying the words again
when a bolt of pure nothing hit him straight between the eyes and the
darkness collapsed in around him.
*** Chapter 14 ***
Sabin was trapped in
darkness for a long while, or a short while, he didn’t know. Time fell away
from him and all he knew was fear, and anger. Rage and bitter disappointment
consumed him, and though Sabin didn’t know why he was so furious he longed for
something to take out his anger on. He dreamed, or perhaps only wished, and
those dreams were filled with blood.
.o.
Random sounds and
words began to filter down into the darkness; the sound of waves slapping
against a hull, the snap of canvas in the breeze, a fragment of a shanty. Sabin
struggled to find the source of these noises but he was so weak, so tired that
he could barely lift a hand before the darkness sucked him down once again.
.o.
“…put him in the
bilge and make him drink it, put him in the bilge and make him drink it, oh
earl-aye in the morning…”
“He’s waking up!”
“Get the swords,
Jeremiah.”
“Oh please, as if he
could even move with those bloody great chains on him!”
The familiar tones
of Katherine’s voice finally helped draw Sabin to the surface, light blossoming
around her eager face as he eased open his eyes. The light hurt, but as he
lifted a hand to shield his eyes he noticed not only that everything
hurt but that he was indeed weighed down with heavy chains.
A surge of
irritation rose in Sabin, he was really starting to
get sick of manacles. Looking around for some clue as to where he was, Sabin found himself starting at the horizontal deck of the
merchant ship they had so fatefully attacked just over a week ago. He was also
surrounded by well armed, wary looking men.
“What happened?” asked
Sabin, curious as to how a life and death situation had turned into a captivity on a pirate ship. His question was greeted by a
universal silence, even Katherine only watching him carefully. Frustrated, he
tried again. “Where are we?”
Still more silence.
Exhausted, sore and
very hungry Sabin was now also irritated beyond measure. “Could somebody please
tell me what the BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!” he shouted, voice raw and
angry.
This finally
inspired a response, unfortunately it was exactly the
kind Sabin would rather avoid. Before he could get an appeasing word out, the
crew rushed him with swords bared.
“No don’t—“ cried Katherine uselessly, as a large fist had already
collided with Sabin’s head.
Darkness swallowed
him again.
.o.
Some time later, Sabin
awoke to a hand shaking his shoulder roughly.
“…that was really
unnecessary.”
“But he was turning,
miss! You could see it in his eyes.”
“See what in whose
eyes?” Sabin asked grumpily, as sore and tired as before but now with a
thumping headache.
Katherine snatched
her hand back and retreated several feet, much to Sabin’s annoyance. He was
bound even more tightly than before, this time to the mast. A link of chain dug
painfully into his hip, exposed by his shredded clothing. Still deeply confused
and desperate to understand what had happened, Sabin carefully controlled his
voice this time when he asked.
“What happened?”
“Well, Mr Smith here
overreacted to your little tantrum and true to his manly instincts, knocked you
out.” Replied Katherine with some ire.
Sabin sighed and
tried again. “Before that. How did we get here? Why am
I chained to the mast?”
“Oh, that.”
Katherine looked away for a moment, chewing her lip nervously. “After you did
that silly thing with the rocks and the chanting, you fainted. Then Kaimana
rescued us.”
Sabin blinked in
surprise. “Kaimana?” he repeated incredulously. “The
Kaimana who betrayed us to the mutineer elf and even now serves as his second
mate?”
“I no longer serve
under Captain Maurlias. He is not a noble man.” Came a
burbling voice from behind Sabin. He twisted his head to stare at the merfolk
in disbelief.
“You don’t say.” Said Sabin faintly. Now even more confused than before, he
tried the more important matters. “Where are we?”
Katherine squinted
at the sky, and seemed to count under her breath before she answered. “About a
day’s sailing from the Turk islands. We’re trying to make port before those
bastards catch up, we holed the Quite Jovial but that may not last
long.”
Sabin stared at the
surrounding sea disbelievingly. “Only a day? How long
have I been out?!” he cried.
“A
week. Maybe
more. It depends if you count the times when you were… awake.”
Sabin furrowed his
brow at this, only more puzzled than before. Sometime in that supposed week his
hair had come loose from its sailor’s braid, and he reached a hand up to brush
it out of his eyes. Only to be stopped by the thick chains binding him to the
mast.
“And why exactly am
I chained up?” he asked irritably.
There was silence,
but before Sabin could get angry again Katherine spoke up hurriedly. She talked
quickly and without looking directly at Sabin, toying with a block of wood in
her hands. He noticed with astonishment that the skin on them was no longer
charred but pink and shiny. He was about to ask about it but her next words
knocked the thought right out of his head.
“Right after we went
back to the
Sabin’s brow
wrinkled. He didn’t recall any of that, and he hardly saw how they could take a
ship of that size by themselves with no weaponry. “But how?
Ambrose still has my sword.”
Katherine briefly
looked up to meet his eyes but then her gaze skittered away again, settling on
his feet. “You didn’t need it.”
Sabin stared at her,
puzzled. He looked around at the gathered crew for more information,
recognizing the few human captives who had not been killed. Mostly they were
officers or those with enough connections that ransom would be feasible, but
none of them greeted him with familiarity or spoke up.
“What are you
saying?” asked Sabin uncertainly. “Do you mean I went… mad?”
Katherine shook her
head. “We don’t know. But until now when you woke up you weren’t… you. I
think it has something to do with your hair going white.”
Sabin frowned,
confused. Then a stand of his his blew into his face and he was shocked to
discover that it was indeed white. From sandy brown to purest white, almost
colourless, how could that have happened? Now even more confused than ever,
Sabin mentally recounted all the events that could possibly have produced such
an effect. Finally, he was left with one question.
“What happened in
the cave? Did the ritual work?”
Katherine shrugged,
casting him an unreadable look. “I was hoping you could tell me. Help did
arrive, but Kaimana says he was planning to save us long before you even tried
to escape. Whatever happened to you… it’s nothing the surgeon can fix.”
Sabin went slack
against his bonds then, numb with shock and confusion. “Can you at least
unchain me?”
Katherine closed her
eyes and turned to walk away. “I’m sorry Sabin. You’re just too dangerous.”
After that, much of
the crew left to go about their tasks, leaving only a handful of men with sharp
pikes and staves to guard Sabin. He was further disheartened by this, but
understood when he saw the dried blood and gore under his finger nails. Sabin
was desperate to know just what had happened to him, but the answers lay beyond
his reach. With a heartfelt sigh, Sabin let the exhaustion take hold again.
.o.
He awoke several
hours later to the jarring sound of a frantic cry from above. Squinting in the
dimness of the approaching evening, Sabin spotted the same thing the lookout
had. A sail on the horizon, approaching quickly.
Katherine came
hurtling past, shouting orders as she went. To Sabin’s surprise, every man
aboard obeyed the small statured girl without question. Having no time to
wonder on this, Sabin called out to her. “What’s going on?”
Katherine paused,
face tight with stress. “It’s the Quite Jovial Adam. She’s caught up
with us and she has the dragon-kin to help speed her. We’re undercrewed,
outnumbered and barely armed.”
“So we haven’t got a
hope in hell?” asked Sabin flatly.
“Not a one.” Burbled Kaimana, hurrying to hand Katherine her axe. “They
won’t be on us until full dark, we have time to find a
better battle ground.”
Katherine shook her
head, frowning off into the distance. “If we got close enough to one of those
islands we’d have a chance, but she has the shallower draft. We’d never outrun
her.”
“Then face them we
must.” Said Kaimana solemnly. There was a short
silence heavy with the dire nature of the situation, and the way that Katherine
and Kaimana exchanged glances made Sabin wonder just how far the merfolk’s help
had gone to breach the gap between their species.
“Let me fight with
you.” Said Sabin suddenly.
“That’s out of the
question. The men don’t trust you anymore.” Said Katherine immediately, lips
pressed together.
“You need me.” Said Sabin confidently. “No one else aboard can fight half
as well as I can, and you know it.”
Katherine,
irritated, arched a brow at that. “I think we can do well enough without having
to guard our backs against you.”
Sabin sighed and let
himself fall against the chains pathetically.
Something in him was pushing him to get his own way, to convince Katherine to
let him fight by any means possible. He let his shockingly white hair fall into
his eyes for extra effect and paused a moment for drama.
“Please. If I’m
going to die let me at least have the chance to defend myself. Let me not die
chained up like some… animal.”
That last word
seemed to trigger something behind Katherine’s eyes, and she at last gave a
brusque nod. “Fine then. But you’ll have to find your
own damn sword.” She stalked off without another word to Sabin, throwing out
orders left and right to slow crewmen.
A rush of mad joy
filled Sabin at Katherine’s consent, the idea of being
allowed to once more have his sword taste flesh was disturbingly thrilling.
Wordlessly, Sabin nodded his thanks and waited patiently as Kaimana unlocked
the numerous chains and ropes that bound him. Blood rushed back into limbs
confined for too long and Sabin gasped as his too-weak legs crumpled beneath
him.
“Are you alright?”
asked Kaimana gently.
Sabin looked up into
the all too foreign eyes of his once-friend and could not decide how to feel
about him. He shrugged and slowly got to his feet, leaning heavily on the mast
for support. “It’s nothing, I’ll be fine once I have
my sea legs again. Don’t you have some task to attend?”
Sabin regretted this
last rudeness immediately, but Kaimana nodded sadly and walked off before he
could apologize. Sabin frowned at himself and wondered where this sudden
irritability came from. Yes, he had been through trials that no man should have
to endure, but snapping at a savior was far from the gentlemanly manners he’d
tried to pick up in his travels.
Sabin stretched and
practiced with a rusty but serviceable sword for a while, and though the
weakness in his limbs did not entirely go away he certainly felt better for the
exercise. Sunset came quickly, and with it an intense kind of anticipation
aboard the humans’ ship. They had a fair breeze to run with but even as the
wind filled their canvas the Quite Jovial Adam’s white sails loomed ever
closer in the dim twilight.
Weapons were handed
out, some little more than kitchen knives or wooden staves, but every man
clutched his with grim resolve. It was almost a relief when the sound of heavy
wings beating the air became audible and the first boom of cannon fire sounded
behind them.
“It’s just a
warning!” cried Katherine from her position above the crew. “Hold your fire
until it can be of some use, we have limited munitions remember!”
Most of the crew
recalled this, and so the one time merchant ship gained a few injuries from
chain shot before they were close enough for their own cannons to start firing.
Smoke and darkness combined to make an almost impossible battlefield, shots
going wide enough to strike unsuspecting seabirds five ship lengths away.
Somehow the non-human pirates still managed to land many crippling blows, so
many that the humans’ flute was well on its way to sinking before the first
grappling line even hooked itself over the side.
A hundred terrifying
war cries rang out in the darkness, men being distorted into shapeless horrors
by the light of gunpowder explosions as the leaped the divide between the ships
with pistols and swords drawn. Though the confusion of the darkness aided the
humans, Katherine had spoken true when she said they were outnumbered. The fact
that they were fighting non-humans only worsened their luck, as the advantages
of superior sight and hearing leveled any help the darkness lent.
Sabin had barely
touched steel to flesh before the fight was already over. Every human had a
knife or pistol held to their neck but for Sabin, and the smoke slowly cleared
until clear moonlight revealed just how overwhelmed the humans truly were.
Finely tailored boots thumped down the deck towards Sabin, coming to a stop
only a few feet in front of him.
“Well now,” said
Ambrose genteelly, “Isn’t this a familiar tableau.”
Sabin spat on the
deck and advanced quickly, sword drawn, meaning to force the elf into a fight
before he had time to prepare himself.
Ambrose took in the
upraised sword and Sabin’s fighting stance with an elegantly arched brow,
breaking into abrupt laughter as he put it together. “Oh no, you can’t mean to
fight me with that.” He said, amusement colouring his voice.
Sabin frowned,
confused but wary enough to keep his guard up. “I’m sorry, no other swords were
available.”
The captain only
laughed harder, disturbing in his mirth. “No no, Mr Duvert.
No sword on earth would do you any good against me now.”
Sabin narrowed his
eyes and ceased circling Ambrose. “Whatever delusions of grandeur you harbour,
they won’t save you from the bite of cold steel.”
“Oh yes, they will.
You see Sabin, when you left so fortuitously that night of the attack,
something happened. I was bitten by a creature most supernatural indeed, one of
your monstres de conte de fees. It changed me.” Ambrose grinned
ferociously, baring his teeth in a way that spoke of true, feral madness.
Sabin was about to
cast some cynical remark against the elf’s apparent insanity when he noticed
something disturbing. The captain’s teeth were pointed. Sabin backed away
carefully, sensing that something was amiss.
Ambrose noticed this
and stepped forward with an even larger grin, shedding coat and hat as he did
so. “Come now, my french comrade, do not back out of a fight now. Not before I
get to display my enhanced features.” As the captain spoke he lifted his
hands into a strange fighting stance, and as he did so the moonlight picked out
the rapidly thickening hair on the back of his arms.
Sabin watched in
horror as the captain seemed to grow in stature and muscle density, features
elongating into the visage of a wolfish nightmare, nails growing so obscenely
sharp they appeared to become claws. Ambrose stepped closer to Sabin on
feet more like paws, with the heels turned high into the air to give his large
form perfect balance. Shreds of clothing tattered by the rapid growth of the
flesh beneath it blew off in the breeze to tangle in the wild golden hair.
Finally, the former
elf was close enough for his snout to blow hot plumes of air into Sabin’s face,
gold eyes gleaming with primal malice.
Ambrose spoke then,
strange new vocal cords twisting the words into rough growls. “Are you afraid
of me, human?”
Silence reigned on
the ship, no one daring to breathe a word in the presence of this monster, all
hanging tightly onto the tension of the moment, Sabin couldn’t breathe,
astonishment and wonder warring with outright fear inside him. He had waited
all his life to find just such a creature, and now one was about to kill him.
Frozen in
indecision, Sabin almost didn’t notice the strange sensation rising in the back
of his mind. Then, without warning, he felt control of his body being wrested
from him. Sabin had never before been awake to feel this, but he instinctively
knew that whatever was trying to gain control now was exactly the thing that
had caused him to go ‘wild’ and be chained to the mast.
He grappled
valiantly with the malign presence, feeling intimately its hatred and
resentment of him. But in the end Sabin’s inexperience and confusion were his
downfall, and the dark presence took control of his body like an overly large
hand squeezing into a leather glove.
Sabin felt the
presence trying to surpress him down into unconsciousness again but he refused,
he was far too absorbed in trying to understand what was happening to him to
let it pass unobserved. He felt the other thing turn its attention away
from him to lurch his body forward. Sabin watched in fascinated dismay, unable
to do anything as his legs staggered forward in a desperate charge towards
Ambrose.
Sabin desperately
tried to regain command of his limbs, trying to steer himself out of danger,
but to no avail. The dark being now in control paid no heed to Sabin’s mental
flailing, slapping his attempts away like irritating flies. To Sabin’s horror,
his outflung arms became twisted shadows as they reached towards the wolf
creature.
Ambrose stepped back
in alarm, startled by the irrational rush. His golden animal eyes widened in
surprise as writhing shadows overcame Sabin’s body, pitch black and fear
inspiring as they stretched shadow claws towards him. Six red eyes glowed from
the center of the shadows like the fires of hell, ghastly in their infernal
light.
Sabin watched as
Ambrose flung up a thickly furred arm just in time to avoid the heavy blow from
his body’s shadow-stuff arm, dancing back to gain some room before Sabin’s body
charged again.
Once Ambrose had
absorbed the fact that the fight was on, he fought back with feral enthusiasm,
snarling and snapping at the tendrils of shadow that trailed behind Sabin’s
body. Sabin had dropped his sword some time ago, but he did not need it, his
body fought with claws and teeth, matching Ambrose blow for blow.
The fight was fast
and dirty, two nightmare creatures clashing in a blur of shadow and fur,
neither appearing to gain the upper hand as they hurtled across the deck. This
was an illusion though, for every time Ambrose slashed at the shadow he drew no
blood, though his own was flowing freely from multiple wounds. Sabin saw this
through his eyes like windows, and wondered how long it would before those
wounds took their toll.
It was not in fact
that long after all, for the shadow creature took the slightest opening, the
slightest slowing in motion to land strike after strike, pushing the wolflike
captain further and further towards the edge of his endurance. Forced into a
corner, Sabin expected that Ambrose would surrender any minute, and he wondered
if whatever was controlling his body would show any mercy at all.
Sabin saw his arm
draw back in what he was sure would be the final blow, but felt it pause midway
when Ambrose failed to lift an arm in the appropriate block. The reason for it
soon became apparent as blood dribbled out of the wolfish mouth, dripping down
to the bloodsoaked shirt, which had a rather prominent blade point sticking out
of it. Sabin saw the light in Ambrose’s lupine eyes fade as the huge wolf
creature collapsed, revealing his killer standing sheepishly behind him.
“Silver,” said
Katherine, hefting the bloody dagger, “like in the story you told me.”
Sabin wasn’t sure
what to feel, but any emotions of relief or remorse were immediately
overwhelmed by horror as he saw his shadow arm indiscriminately raise to strike the same violent blow to Katherine’s
unprotected head.
He felt his heart
almost stop in his chest when a look of surprise flitted across her face, the
complete trust she had in him failing to let her understand what was about to
happen. Just when Sabin was sure the act that would forever mar his future was
about to occur, something heavy and solid thumped him in the side of the head.
The blow was too
sudden for the shadow creature to pull itself back adequately, and it landed
soundly with a jarring shock. He felt the presence loosen its grip in surprise,
but before Sabin could wrest control back for himself unconsciousness took them
both.
The last thing he
heard was Katherine’s smug voice.
“Should’ve
seen that one coming, pretty boy.”
*** Chapter 15 ***
When Sabin finally
came to, he was utterly surprised to find a complete lack of chains or ropes of
any kind. Looking around blearily in puzzlement, he found Katherine sitting on
a nearby chair with a pistol pointed neatly at his head.
Backing up in alarm,
Sabin got tangled in the sheets and almost fell off the side of the bed.
“…bed?” he asked in
surprise. This was a vast improvement on the mast.
Katherine nodded
cheerfully and grinned at him. “Yup. The crew agreed
you deserved the captain’s cabin, as long as there was someone in here with an
ole’ flintlock at all times.”
“Ah.” Said Sabin quietly. His head ached abominably, in fact
nearly every muscle in his body felt like it had been strung out and stretched
like taffy. He sought back for why he might feel so wretched and suddenly the
image of overly large teeth and fierce golden eyes leapt up in his head.
“What…happened?”
Katherine arched a
brow and sighed. “After you did the silly thing with the rocks and the
chanting, you fainted and Kaimana had to rescue—“
“No,” said Sabin
hurriedly “I remember all that. What happened after I-- what happened after
Captain Maurlias was attacked?”
“Oh, we dragged you
onto the Quite Jovial and set off immediately.”
“Without a fight?”
asked Sabin incredulously.
She shrugged
eloquently. “They’d rather be on a wounded ship with a werewolf than a hale
ship with you. In fact, some our own felt the same way.”
The mention of the
werewolf brought Ambrose back to the forefront of Sabin’s mind. “Is he… dead?”
Katherine’s mouth
twisted in distaste. “I’m not sure. He stopped moving and everything but there
was something…” She sighed in frustration. “You can never trust those unholy
beasts anyway.”
Something in the way
she said it triggered memories of the dark creature in Sabin’s own mind, and he
wondered whether it was there now, waiting beneath the surface. He recoiled from
the memory of almost killing Katherine, and looked up at her with guilt ridden
eyes. He was afraid of what she would think if he told her just what was
happening to him, but at the same time he felt a strong urge to get it out in
the open.
Also, he had to
admit he was curious as to what her religious sensibilities would make of it.
“Katherine… there’s
something wrong with me.”
She looked
unimpressed with his profound statement. “Aye. Thus the pistol.” She hefted it meaningfully.
Sabin felt she
wasn’t taking him seriously enough and tried again. “There’s something else…inside
of me. Controlling me. It almost hurt you. I don’t
know if it will happen again”
She nodded, seeming
to take this in stride. “Then we’d best make sure I don’t lose the pistol.”
He threw down his
hands violently in frustration and looked her in the eye. “Don’t you
understand?! I’m a monster! An unholy beast! I could kill you,
I could kill everyone aboard without a thought!”
Katherine’s
companionable smile faded then, and a grim look overtook her face. When she
finally spoke, it was with the gentle resignation of an undertaker. “And that’s
why we’re putting you off in the next port.”
It took Sabin a
moment to fully comprehend her words, and then they hit him like iron fists. He
hadn’t realized how much he was enjoying life at sea, no matter how dangerous,
until the moment he was facing losing it. The idea of going back to wandering
in search of rumours and folk tales instead of seeing the real thing was almost
too much to bear, and Sabin desperately sought a way out.
“Can’t you reason
with them? Tell them I’ll work harder and—“
“It was my
decision.” She cut him off with a firm but grave tone, eyes dark as night.
This second blow
hurt far more than the first, and for more intimate reasons. Sabin knew their
friendship had been short lived and rocky, and he knew well that her prejudices
would affect it negatively, but he had no idea it would be so abruptly ended.
He looked at her
wordlessly, blue-grey eyes filled with raw pain and confusion. The moment spun
out endlessly, filled with unsaid accusations and excuses. Sabin waited for her
to apologize, to laugh it off as some tasteless joke, but no words left
Katherine’s chapped lips, and eventually a cold resignation took his heart too.
Finally, Katherine
broke the painful eye contact and turned to leave. Before she reached the door,
she tossed him a small sealed pot. “It’s for your burns. Kaimana made it from
some secret merfolk recipe.”
Sabin opened it in
confusion, touching the white goop hesitantly. “What burns?”
Katherine raised a
brow, gesturing with her pistol towards his chest. “The one
from the cave, when you did that stupid ritual.”
Sabin looked down,
moving his shirt aside to reveal an angry looking cross shaped mark directly
below the meeting of his collarbone. It took a moment for him to realize it
where it was from. “The iron cross…”
“I took it back.” Said Katherine shortly. “It wouldn’t do you any good now.”
The words were like
jagged glass in the fresh wounds he had already sustained in her presence, and
Sabin simply couldn’t find the strength in him to look up as Katherine left the
room.
.o.
When Sabin finally
dressed and prepared himself to face the day, it was a bright afternoon on
deck. It was obvious that the Quite Jovial Adam was severely
undermanned, but the wind was steady enough that it didn’t seem to matter.
Sabin thought of the new recruits that might be hired aboard in the next port,
then remembered with a sharp pain that he would not be there to see them.
He walked slowly towards
the bow where Katherine was talking quietly with Kaimana, and Sabin was
reminded of the burn cream he had used. It had worked surprisingly well,
clearing the redness and turning the burn into a pale scar in such a short time
that Sabin suspected it of having some magical properties.
He was interested in
asking Kaimana about this, perhaps talking would sooth their enmity, but
Kaimana backed away and departed quickly at Sabin’s approach. Sabin stared off
after him in confusion, and was startled when Katherine spoke up behind him.
“His kind have myths about you. About what you
are.”
“Really? What do they say?” Sabin replied without thinking,
innate thirst for knowledge taking over.
Katherine stared at
him expressionlessly. “Nothing good.”
Sabin frowned and
went to ask for specifics, but she spoke again before he could. “Storm’s
coming. We’ll try to make port before it hits. You’d best get below.”
“What? Why?” asked
Sabin puzzled, knowing from his brief lessons in seamanship that above decks
was the best place to be during a storm lest the ship capsize.
“You’re disturbing
the men.”
Sabin nodded
tightly, and went below without another word.
.o.
Sabin sat in the
dark of the hold and listened to the crates rattle and slide around as the
storm started to wreak its havoc outside. He listened to the howl of the wind
and the shouts of the men desperately trying to control the ship, and felt that
it neatly reflected his own inner turmoil.
Sabin wondered how
his life would change, how this thing inside him would affect his
future, and whether or not he would be able to deal with it at all. Still, his
born curiosity stopped him from considering any darker paths, firming a resolve
in him to find out just what was sharing his body with him and what he could do
to gain control.
Plans to find old
sources of information and revisit various private libraries built in Sabin’s
head, so lost in thought was he that when the forward hatch finally cracked
open he was startled by it. A wash of water flowed down over him as he climbed
out, but the storm had abated in strength somewhat due to the shelter they had
found in the natural harbour of the turk islands.
As they cruised into
port, Sabin stared about the deck, nostalgia rising only to be crushed by the
bleak knowledge that he would probably never set foot on these planks again.
All of his sparse belongings were in a sack over his shoulder, mostly books and
papers that told less about the
As Sabin stood on
the rickety docks, staring up at the ship that had lead to so much joy, pain
and discovery, he felt a sharp hurt in his chest that was hard to ignore. When
Katherine failed to appear to say even the meanest goodbye, the hurt magnified
a hundredfold.
Resolving not to
dwell on things he could not change, Sabin crushed the pain and turned to walk
in search of a tavern. Before he could take a step, he felt a tapping on his
shoulder and whirled around to find Katherine standing there sheepishly.
“I just thought you
should know, that well, I’m not going to name my
firstborn or anything after you, but you’re… you’re alright.”
Sabin stared down at
her, unsure how to react to this vague statement. Still, he was glad that she
was there at all and he endeavored to return the sentiment. “Thank you. You’ll
make a fine Captain.”
She looked up
sharply, doubt and hope shimmering in her brown eyes. Suddenly, she thrust a
clinking bag into his hand. It was heavy, and Sabin knew from his experience
among pirates that it was more than his fair share from the journey. Before he
could protest, Katherine spoke again. “You’ll need it. It won’t be easy, being…
what you are.”
Sabin nodded,
swallowing harshly. He searched for more words to express his gratitude, his
anger, even his sorrow, but none came. Katherine appeared to suffer the same
difficulty, so after a moment he held out his hand in a silent offer of
goodwill.
She took, shaking
his hand firmly and blinking away what looked suspiciously like tears. Then
with a flurry of tangled brown curls, Katherine was gone.
Sabin sighed and
turned to walk up the path towards the town, feeling his future start to unfurl
beneath his feet.
.o.
DREAMLAND
by Edgar Allan Poe
(1844)
By a route obscure
and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule-
From a wild clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE- out of TIME.
Bottomless vales and
boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the tears that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters- lone and dead,-
Their still waters- still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that
thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead,-
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily,-
By the mountains- near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,-
By the grey woods,- by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp-
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls,-
By each spot the most unholy-
In each nook most melancholy-
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past-
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by-
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth- and Heaven.
For the heart whose
woes are legion
'Tis a peaceful, soothing region-
For the spirit that walks in shadow
'Tis- oh, 'tis an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not- dare not openly view it!
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringed lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
By a route obscure
and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.
THE END