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DargonZine - Volume 2, Number 3
From [email protected] Tue May 12 10:33:34 1992
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From: "Avid Reader - Fledgling Writer" <[email protected]>
To: [email protected]
Status: OR
1 /
DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E ||Volume 2
-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Issue 3
DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
-- DargonZine Volume 2, Issue 3 09/22/89 Cir 850 --
------------------------------------------------------------------------
-- Contents --
------------------------------------------------------------------------
DAG Dafydd Editorial
Sons of Gateway 1: Ne'on Jon "Grimjack" Evans Vibr. 17-Fir. 7, '13
Unwelcome Encounter Carlo Samson Melrin 5, 1013
Fortunes Max Khaytsus 1 Yule, 1013
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dafydd's Amber Glow
This will be very short. First, I will apologize to you
loyal (and brand new) readers for the long wait between
Issue 2 and Issue 3 of the second volume of DargonZine. The
fault is purely mine, not our writers: my job has been
rather hectic of late and I just couldn't find the time to
put out an issue.
Second, this is a second call and a confirmation for the
DargonZine T-Shirts, which feature an artist's rendition of
the Title figure of the 'Zine. All of those readers who
ordered a shirt many moons ago, please get in contact with
Rish again. Anyone wishing to order a shirt, please also
contact Rish, who is the instigator and coordinator of this
aspect of the Project. They cost $8 at last estimate, and
final plans will be set two weeks after the date on this
issue: if there aren't enough orders by then, he may have to
scrap the idea as unfeasible at this time. Rish can be
contacted at <[email protected]>.
Thank you, and good reading.
Dafydd, Editor DargonZine (b.c.k.a. [email protected])
------------------------------------------------------------------------
1 Sons of Gateway
Part 1: Ne'on
by Jon "Grimjack" Evans
(b.c.k.a <v047kfz7@ubvms>)
Kald hung his head low. He had been travelling for days in the
cold of Baranur in Vibril. He didn't like the cold. He liked it even
less when he discovered his trip was all for nothing.
"Is there nothing you can do? This means more to him than
anything else. If he can just have a chance . . ."
"Kald, he failed." Marek's eyes were sympathetic. He knew how
Kald felt. He had felt the same way when his son Jordan had failed.
But Jordan had more than failed. Jordan was Drained. "There is nothing
more I can do. He has great potential-"
"Then let him try!" Kald's desperation worked loose of his
morals. He placed both hands on the table and leaned forward. "You owe
me . . ."
The Leaf lowered his gaze. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this,
but he should have known better. Kald always got his way. "Alright,
but after this I can't help you again. IF you decide to take the offer
I'm about to make."
"Anything, I'll do it." Kald sensed he was rushing into this, but
it was too important. His son was too important.
"Hold on. Let me explain something first." Marek was very
nervous; even thinking about the Draining made him flinch. "Chances
are, your son will fail again. If that happens, his potential power
will be drained from him. He will never work magic again. Not even the
most simple magic skills will work for him. In addition, he'll be
instructed by a higher mage, another Leaf most likely, and every thing
he does will have to be perfect when he takes his Branch. Do you
understand what that means?"
"I do; and so does he." His voice trembled at the next thought.
"Let him decide." Kald rose from his seat, his tired bones creaking
loudly. As he strode out the door he turned, "Thank you, Marek."
Ne'on couldn't believe it was happening. Sitting cross legged in
the testing rooms, he contemplated the past two hours. He had arrived
out of the cold Baranurian winter just in time to take the test. His
father, eyes shining, was proud to have a son tested for
apprenticeship. It was the first time he could ever remember his
father being proud of him.
"Ne'on, of Gateway Keep," the testing mage jarred him back to the
present, "you have been accepted into the Nar-Enthruen, guild of
apprentice mages. Congratulations, son of Kald."
Ne'on was irritated by the way he was addressed. "Son of Kald,"
he muttered to himself. His mind filtered back to one of the myriad
times in his life he wished he wasn't Kald's son.
"Ne'on!" Kald's voice bellowed through the manor. His son did not
join in the hunt today, and he wanted to know why. "Ne'on! Come here,
you worthless sack of goat's meal!"
Ne'on stumbled into the main hall of his father's home. Brushing
back his long, snow-white hair and wiping the sweat off his brow with
his sleeve, he stepped forward.
"I am here, father," he gasped. Having run all the way from his
study to the main hall in the short time Kald had been calling him was
more exertion than he was accustomed to. Slightly light-headed with
the effort, he wondered how he would withstand the daily oral barrage
from his father.
"You weren't at the hunt, today, boy. What were you doing?
1Studying?" Kald was seldom happy. He took no pleasure in being Keeper
of Gateway - it was more politics than he considered necessary. The
little pleasure he did get was from his weekly hunt; and today's
excursion proved fruitless. Coming down hard on his sons had become
second nature. 'Besides,' he thought, 'it's for their own good.'
"Yes, father, I was studying." Ne'on's one pride was his
familiarity with as many of the books in Gateway Keep as he could get
his hands on. Cydrian had blessed him with more intelligence than his
father, but an equally proportionate lack of strength. He had learned
at an early age the power to be found in knowledge.
"Knowledge is nothing without the strength to back your ideas!"
Kald saw no use for education beyond learning to read and write. 'A
sword can solve any problem' was his motto. "Strength you've been
doing very little to build. When I was sixteen, I had the strength of
your whole body in my right arm!" As if to prove this, he thrust his
massive arm out in a fist, muscles bulging. "You've barely the
strength to wield a blade, and hardly the skill to use it! Marcus says
you haven't trained in days, let alone touch a quiver an-"
Ne'on had had enough. "Bloodshed and barbarism are not my ways!!
If you wish to kill like an animal, then do so. I prefer intelligence
over strength!" Ne'on looked at himself in awe. Never before had he
spoken out so blatantly against his father. Kald, however, was not
quite so intrigued.
"You prefer . . ." A low rumble, like an oncoming storm, was
building inside Kald. "YOU prefer?! I don't care what YOU prefer!! YOU
are not Keeper, here. And you shall not be. Goren is heir apparent at
Gateway. YOU are to be First Warder. That means leading the men in any
and all battle situations, as well as fortifying the Keep in times of
war. Why should the men listen to you when they don't know they can
trust you?! Why should they listen to you when they don't even know
you? If it weren't for your ghost-like appearance, they wouldn't even
recognize you at all!" Kald had had a long, tiring, and fruitless day.
Obviously, this 'discussion' with his youngest son was proving just as
rewarding. He gave up, and left his son standing alone in the large
hall.
'Ghost-like,' thought Ne'on. His albino-pale skin did leave that
impression, he supposed. 'The ghost of my mother, I'm told. If you had
spent more time with her, and less time with this damn Keep, she might
still be alive today. I wish she had died instead of you.'
"Ne'on, would-be mage of the Guild!" Again, the Leaf's voice
pulled him back from the past. "To be accepted into the Nar-Enthruen,
you must succeed as apprentice to Qord, Leaf of the Guild. Is it your
wish to do so?"
"It is so."
"Do you know what it means to fail the Nar-Enthruen?" The Leaf's
voice was cold and foreboding. Ne'on knew he spoke about the Draining,
the inevitable fate of all unfortunate apprentices.
"I do." A hint of fear touched Ne'on's voice.
"And do you still wish the knowledge?" A last chance to back out.
Marek hoped the boy would take it. If Ne'on were to fail, Kald might
become 'unreasonable', to say the least.
'More than anything', he thought. "I do!" All fear escaping in
his final words, Ne'on stood firmly in his position, a great grin
encompassing his face.
"Welcome to the Guild, apprentice. Let's hope you survive the
experience." A grim frown on his face, the mage shook Ne'on's hand and
turned away.
As his family congratulated him, he noticed a troubled look on
his father's face. 'Why are you not proud, Father? Would that you
1could share my joy with me.' Ne'on began to feel sad for his father;
but then, a voice spoke to him: "Do not trouble yourself with your
father, Ne'on. He is jealous of the power you have which he can never
attain! You should scorn him, for he begrudges you this moment." And
Ne'on felt only bitterness toward Kald.
"Ne'on," Qord's voice was soft with worry, "what do you think is
the problem?"
Qord was, of course, referring to Ne'on's past two months of
study with the Leaf. Ne'on remembered these months well. Vibril, the
month of his testing, had ended as well as its beginning. With the
following Mertz, however, things had gotten much worse. He couldn't
seem to concentrate correctly; and more than once he had started a
fire while mixing potions, a potentially deadly mistake in the grass
huts of the camp. His latest difficulty, last night's disaster
involving a hog and a kitchen knife, turned out to be the worst yet.
The hog was, supposedly, protected from the knife by Ne'on's spell.
Instead, as Ne'on threw the knife near the hog, the hog dove straight
into the knife's path, impaling itself in the head. Firil was not
turning out to be a good month, starting with that catastrophe on the
first. Qord thought it was a bad omen.
"I do not know, Leaf Qord." The Guild mages of this section had a
way of evaluating each other by tree parts. Ne'on was a Root, second
lowest rank above apprentice. He had taken his "Grounding" - a test of
the most simplistic skills - and passed easily. His Rooting, on the
other hand, had not gone so well. He had burned more spell components
for potions than any previous mage, and he might not pass his Bark at
all! And failure there meant . . .
"Do you know what . . . Draining is, Ne'on?" Qord's ancient
visage trembled with the word. What was left of his hair shook in time
with the chill running up his spine, and his eyes seemed almost to pop
out.
"Yes, O Leaf..." Ne'on tiredly replied. Qord had mentioned it
time and time again since he fumbled his first potion. His familiarity
with the word had lessened his fear of it a great deal.
"No, young Root..." Qord's voice was cold and hard. He would
teach this boy what the Draining was like. "You have only heard what
it is . . . you do not know what it is. Let me show you. Close your
eyes . . ."
Ne'on closed his eyes. For a moment, he saw only blackness; then
. . .
He was in a large room, ornately decorated, with a large crystal
on a pedestal. All around him, black-clad mages were chanting in a
low, solemn voice. Up ahead, Qord lead him toward the crystal.
"This is the Crystal of Strength, failed mage!" Qord's voice rang
out strong and powerful in the hall. Ne'on was afraid. "Feel the
Crystal, and know what it is to be Drained!!"
The light of the hall grew dim as the Crystal began to glow a
deep, dark purple. As Ne'on reached his hands toward the Crystal, a
force pulled them closer. Instinctively, he tried to break away, but
he couldn't! He was trapped! Slowly, his hands grew numb, and the
Crystal began to pulse with the beat of his heart.
"No.." Ne'on's voice was hoarse and stifled. The beating of his
heart grew loud, and his arms were numb to his shoulders. Louder and
louder, the Crystal and his heart pulsed faster and faster. He felt
his head pounding - the numbness reached his chest, driving toward his
heart. Desperately, he tried to pull away, each attempt useless. The
noise beat louder, his pulse beat quicker - soon, it would have him!
1 "NO!!" he screamed, scrambling back against the wall. He was
breathing very heavily and his heart was racing. The light of Qord's
room filled his eyes as he recognized his teacher sitting across the
room from him, frowning.
"Your father was wrong, you were not ready for this. Damn Marek
and his eternal debts! He should have known-" Qord caught himself in
mid thought and hoped the boy was too frightened from the illusion to
hear him.
"What's that?" called Ne'on, half dazed from his experience, but
still quick enough to understand. "What are you saying? My father got
me in here? Not my ability?"
Ne'on stared in disbelief. For the first time he could recall,
his father had thought of Ne'on, and not himself. Ne'on did not hate
his father, then; but, again, a voice spoke to him: "Ne'on, do not be
proud of your father. Have you forgotten how he covets your talent?
How he would destroy you and take your power for his own? He does not
send you here for your benefit, but for his! He would consign you to
this hell, rather than let you live your life in peace! But, do not be
dismayed! You can overcome this obstacle and revenge yourself upon him
yet! Him, and your bastard brother Goren who would rob you of your
rightful fate!" And, as before, Ne'on was bitter. He hated his father,
and silently swore to pass the upcoming tests, to become a powerful
wizard, in order to bring about his revenge.
"Your potential is great, Ne'on." Qord attempted to be soothing.
He saw the hatred in Ne'on's face, the likes of which he hadn't seen
in some great time. He attempted to sooth this part of Ne'on, turn it
to good. "Imagine people are mountains, and magic is the wind," began
Qord, his words all but bouncing off of Ne'on. He continued anyway,
not knowing what else to do. "When the wind blows, it goes around the
mountains. Now imagine a few mountains can let the wind pass through
them, affecting it, and shaping it, as it goes through. Most of these
mountains, we mages, can affect and shape magic only to a certain
extent. You, however, can do more than most of us. You can shape and
affect the magic to a greater extent - if only you would concentrate
on what you are doing! Concentrate, Ne'on! You've got the ability! I'd
hate to see it Drained..."
With that, Qord stood up, brushed himself off, and retired for
the evening. Ne'on was left to think alone once more. After a few
minutes of bitter recollection, he left for his own room. In the
morning, he would pack his horse and ride to Gateway. He promised Qord
he would return, and he never went back on his word.
The gentle Firil air fluttered over Ne'on, blowing his long,
unkempt hair behind him. Sitting on his horse, Koros, he removed his
cape so the guardsmen would recognize him. He nodded slightly as he
entered, urged Koros into the main courtyard of the keep, and headed
toward his father's home.
In the dimming sunlight of the evening, he made out the sign to
his second favorite dwelling, the River Snake's Den, where he
sometimes attempted to outlast the tavern keeper's stock of ale.
Sliding out of the saddle, he realized how much he wanted a flask, or
two, before he met with his father. Besides, the class of people one
met in the 'Den had more . . . "character" than those found in the
Riverside Parlor. A class of people he would be needing in the future.
Entering the main room, he signalled Mika and took his usual seat
in the back of the room. After Mika delivered the ale, Luke "the
acquirer" slid into the chair opposite him. Luke was one of those
people Ne'on was hoping to meet here tonight; in fact, he was perfect
for the job. He was looking a little less than wealthy at the moment;
Ne'on decided to make the offer now.
1 "Must have been a slow winter," began Ne'on. He found insulting
Luke's type of person was never profitable - intimidation was the key.
Intimidation, and then an offer. "By the looks of it, you barely kept
the meat on your bones. Didn't make it to Magnus, eh?"
"And what of it?" Luke didn't particularly like the way the past
winter had gone. He was a respectable thief; it wasn't his fault he
got stuck in this rat hole for the season. If he had made it to
Magnus, that would be different. Plenty of opportunities in Magnus,
when you knew where to look for them, and he had connections.
"What if I told you I had a permanent offer for you here? No need
to go all the way to Magnus for funds..." Ne'on's voice shook a little
- he tightened his grip on his mug and took a drink. He was hesitant.
He knew an offer which sounded good and was eagerly offered would cost
him a great deal. And yet, he wanted Luke, not a lesser mongrel. "An
offer that paid well, and gave you status here at Gateway?"
Luke looked around for a moment. 'Status', he thought. 'Status
and money,' he thought greedily. When Ne'on said "paid well", he meant
gold. "Whadda I haf ta do?"
"Find me ten good swordsmen. Not common ruffians; not
back-stabbing mongrels. I want men who know the blade." Ne'on didn't
want to imagine the kind of men Luke would find if he hadn't added
that last statement. Feigning curiosity, "Can you handle a sword?"
"I can make do - killed more'n my share o' mugs." This was true.
Before he had learned to steal quietly, he had killed more men than he
had stolen from. "Whaddaya want wi' swordsmen? And how do I fit in th'
picture? I mean, how do I benefit from it?"
"These men must be loyal to their employer. They are to be my
personal guard. Your part will be to lead them. I'll give you ten
golds for each man you bring me. Their pay will be five golds a month.
Yours will be ten a month. All I want you to do is enforce my will and
guard me. Agreed?" Ne'on offered his hand a bit too quickly, and Luke
knew he could get more.
"I don't know...ten golds isn't very much for a personal body
guard..." Luke was never one to settle for less, when he could get
more. Ten gold coins a month would be comfortable living for him; but,
if he could get more...
"Ten, and not a copper more. There are a dozen others here I
could have do this job for me." Ne'on was mildly annoyed, but he knew
it was his own mistakes to which Luke was responding.
"Yeah, well; maybe you could, and maybe you couldn'." Ne'on's
point was well taken; unfortunately, Luke's downfall had always been
his greed. "'Course, them what'll take ten don't know 'bout your
previous business wi' me. Fifteen seems more 'propriate ta me . . ."
"Fifteen!" Ne'on's eyes flared. Without realizing it, his hand
glowed a hot red, blackening a small portion of the table. Instantly,
subconsciously, Ne'on summoned the magic within him, fully intending
to melt the maggot where he sat.
And for a third time, the voice spoke to him: "No, Ne'on - hold
your anger! Use him now. Kill him once his purpose is served!"
As suddenly as he started, he stopped. This time with eyes
sparkling, "I suppose my life is worth three times the amount a city
guard makes. Fifteen it is, then! It's a deal." Extending his
no-longer glowing hand, they sealed the deal.
"Deal!" grabbed Luke, anxious for money and quite pleased with
himself. "When do ya need these men?" he asked.
"Four months," he said. "If I need more time, I'll let you know."
Tossing a pouch of silver on the table, "Here's a downpayment. It
should last you till then." He got up and left. As he walked out the
door, he heard Luke call Mika for a tankard of ale.
1 Entering Winston Manor - the house of his father - he tossed his
cloak to Horrace, the butler. "Send a meal and some wine up to my
room," he barked. As an after thought, "And get a fire started; it's
going to be cold tonight.
Ignoring Horrace's humble reply, he walked through the main hall,
making his way to his father's study. He knew his presence in Gateway
had been reported. He would have to make a small show of affection
toward his father, at least. Entering his father's chambers, he saw
Kald at his desk, drinking his nightly flask of wine. 'A useful tool,
that flask,' he noted with sudden inspiration.
"Hello, father." As he crossed the room, Kald stood up to greet
him.
"Ne'on, my son! What brings you to Gateway?" Slapping his son on
the shoulder, "Did you miss your old father? Come, sit by the fire.
You look much older since I last saw you." Kald's eyes shone brightly,
and Ne'on thought for a moment that he might not kill him after all.
Then he remembered the Draining, and quickly dispelled his
forgiveness.
"I have recently discovered discipline in my life," was his
response. Sitting down in front of the fire, he poured wine for the
two of them, the red light of the fire flickering off the silver
goblets. "Discipline . . . and purpose." He smiled.
"Purpose, eh?" his father teased him, "what's her name? It's
about time you became interested in a woman!"
"It's not that, father." Seeing the disappointment in his
father's eyes, "but it is something I think you'll like." Ne'on paused
for a moment, letting a wry smile curl the corners of his mouth. "I
want to have a keep of my own, some day. One very much like this one."
"Well, tell me all about it! Perhaps I can help you!" Kald
smiled, finally having something in common with his son. Ne'on laughed
at the irony of it all.
"Yes, father," he said. "Perhaps you can . . ."
Ne'on strode toward his brother's chambers. He knew exactly how
he would rid himself of both his brother and his father, and he
determined to make it as painful as possible. The hallway echoed as a
metal ring struck Goren's door.
When Goren opened the door, he could hardly believe his eyes.
"What are you doing here?" he snapped, as he returned to his seat.
Taking a sip from his flask, he calmed himself. "You are supposed to
be with your magical friends, not haunting this house. What's the
matter, run out of stray cats to torture?" There was no love lost
between the brothers. Goren had realized several years ago Ne'on's
heart was filled with hatred and bitterness. He was surprised nothing
had come of it, yet.
"It is nice to see you, too, Goren," mocked Ne'on. "I see your
wit has improved with your age." Ne'on had also come to a realization,
several years ago. This was the fact Goren was everything their father
loved, and everything Ne'on hated. Taller than the average man, Goren
stood a full head over Ne'on. His shoulders were broader, and he
rivalled even Kald in his skill with the bow. Goren also had the dark
hair and eyes of their father. And, Goren was all that stood between
himself and the keep.
"Enough with the niceties, Ne'on. You are here for a reason. What
is it?" Goren also had all the intelligence and tact of their father,
as well as his stubborn attitude and hot-headed reactions. Ne'on knew
this could only help him.
"Why Goren!" Ne'on sarcastically feigned surprise. "What would
ever possess you to think I was here for any other reason than to
visit our poor, aging father?!" Ne'on took a seat next to his brother.
1"I wanted to sit and talk with him about my plans for the future. In
fact, I just got back from telling him how I planned to have a keep of
my own, some day." Ne'on paused for a moment, "just like this one!"
"Wrong, Ne'on!" Goren flared with his realization. "You'll have
to kill both father and me! Even you couldn't get away with that!"
There was a moment of silence. Ne'on's visage became grim. "I
don't think you understand," he spoke with a voice of ice. "I don't
want you to die. I want you to live! Live to see me Keeper of Gateway,
while you wallow away the days in misery knowing you could have
prevented it." He drew a knife from within his robes. "Here, Goren,"
he offered, "take my blade. Kill me, and save our father."
Goren reached for the knife, stopped, started again, and stopped
again. Finally, the battle ended. "No, Ne'on." He turned away, not
able to determine if he had made the right choice. "I couldn't do
that, and you know it."
With Goren's back to him, Ne'on took the flask from Goren's
table. "Yes, brother," he sneered, hiding the flask in his robes, "I
know it."
"Then know this, Ne'on," warned Goren, softly, "I shall stop you
from taking Gateway if I have to burn it down around you."
Ne'on chuckled as he walked out of the room. "We shall see,
brother. We shall see!"
His laugh stayed in his brother's mind for a long time. Ne'on was
about to cross a line Goren had seen drawn a long time ago. He would
stop Ne'on, when the time came.
Ne'on left early the next morning, riding toward the
Nar-Enthruen.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
1 Unwelcome Encounter
by Carlo N. Samson
Cydric Araesto stood at the rail of the trading ship _Vanguard
Voyager_ and looked out over the deep green waters of the Laraka
River. The mid-morning sun warmed his face, and a gentle breeze
whispered through his short brown hair. For a while he watched a
seagull wheel about in the clear spring sky; then a glint of something
on the horizon caught his attention. Squinting and shading his eyes to
get a better view, he made it out to be a small patch of shimmering
haze. He stared at it for several minutes, then decided it must be a
kind of mirage, similar to the illusions of water reported by desert
travelers.
"Cydric! There you are. Aren't you glad to be done with your
chores? Brynna's been working me like a slave all morning! Pox, if I
didn't know better I'd swear this was a prison ship. Sometimes I don't
know why I ever became her cabin girl."
The young man turned at the sound of the voice and smiled as
Mandi Mercallion approached him, her mandolin slung across her back. A
gust of wind disarrayed the curls of her tawny-auburn hair; with a
look of annoyance, she smoothed her locks back into place. Her
expression brightened as she came to stand next to Cydric.
"I don't know if you should be speaking ill of the captain," he
said, turning to face the girl.
"Why not? She's only my cousin, and if she does anything to me
I'll simply tell Uncle Quill. I'm his favorite niece, you know."
"Not a very mature way to handle it, but effective."
Mandi swatted him playfully. "Oh, you. Shall we get started?
Where do you want to do it?"
Cydric looked around the deck for a place where they would be out
of the crew's way. He settled on a spot further up the starboard rail,
near a stack of lashed-down crates. As they walked over to the space,
Mandi asked him, "How's it going in the galley? Oddfoot didn't give
you anything tiring to do this morning, did he?"
"No, nothing besides the usual kitchen duty," Cydric replied.
"Good," Mandi said. "I mean, if you're too tired to do it right
now, we can always wait 'till we arrive home."
"It's no problem. I've actually been looking forward to it all
morning."
They reached the place Cydric had selected. He took off his vest,
while Mandi slipped the mandolin off her back. "Is there any
particular position you want me in?" she asked.
Cydric took out a charcoal stick and a piece of parchment from
his vest. "Well, why don't you stand next to the rail, and hold the
mandolin like this."
Mandi moved to where he pointed, and copied the position of his
arms. "This way?"
"Yes, perfect. Now hold that pose."
"What if I put my leg this way? Does that look better?"
"That's fine. Okay, now--"
"How's my hair? It hasn't gone flat, has it?"
"Mandi!"
"Sorry. I'll be still now," she said with a slight giggle.
Cydric sat down on a crate. Using a piece of polished wood one of
the crew had given him earlier as a writing surface, he began to
sketch on the parchment. He outlined Mandi's figure, then quickly
filled in the background. As looked out at the horizon, he noticed
that the patch of distant haze had gotten somewhat larger. He didn't
realize that he'd been staring at it until Mandi spoke.
"What is it? Do you see something out there?" she asked, starting
1to turn.
"No, nothing. Just glare, I suppose." Cydric returned to his
sketching. He drew in Mandi's loose tunic and tight leggings, then
worked on her face: a small, pert nose, softly blushed cheeks, an
impish smile.
Just then a tall, sandy-haired man swaggered up to them. "Hey,
dovey, what're you doing?"
"Oh pox, not you Danner," said Mandi, dropping her pose. "Why
don't you leave us alone?"
Ignoring Cydric, the brawny youth stepped up close to Mandi and
laid a hand on her shoulder. "Leave you alone, dovey? Not me. All
through my duty shift all I could think about was you. How about us
going below and--"
"Excuse me," Cydric said, putting down the sketch and rising. "We
were in the middle of something here."
Mandi shoved Danner's hand away. "That's right. Cydric was making
a nice drawing of me. Now we'd like to get on with it, so please just
let us be."
"Oh, so he's an artist, is he?" Danner turned to face Cydric. "He
hasn't been doing naked drawings of you, has he? I'd hate to think
that's why I haven't seen you all week."
"Of course not, you swine! And besides, if he was it wouldn't be
any of your business."
"Look, Danner, maybe you should go visit with someone else," said
Cydric.
"Go draw a seagull, sissy boy," Danner sneered. "And if I catch
you with Mandi again, the only thing you'll be able to draw is breath.
And barely that."
Mandi interposed herself between the two young men. "Don't you
threaten him! What makes you think I want to be with you, anyway?"
Danner grinned. "What about that night back in Dargon? You wanted
to be with me then. I couldn't get you off me until you fell asleep."
"You lying mouthful of fleas! You just wish it were true. We all
know how you can't get a girl--not even a queenie!"
"You want me and you know it." To Cydric's surprise, Danner
grabbed Mandi and roughly kissed her on the lips.
"Pox!" sputtered Mandi, shoving him away.
Cydric swiftly went over and took hold of Danner's shirt. "See
here! Who do you think you are?"
Danner looked down at Cydric and slowly grinned. "I think I'm
about to split your skull."
Just then Cydric remembered that Danner had once punched a hole
in a keg of ale when the cork had become stuck. Releasing his hold,
Cydric said, "I see the light's better on the other side of the ship,
Mandi. Let's go over there, shall we?"
Danner gripped Cydric by the tunic and hoisted him upward. "Ever
see the birds up close, sissy boy?"
Cydric tried to back away, but found that his feet no longer
touched the deck. Smiling frantically, he said, "Perhaps we could
settle this another way?"
"How about with swords?" said a voice from near Danner's
shoulder. Cydric looked over and saw with relief that it was Tyrus
Kayne, First Mate of the _Voyager_, who had spoken. Pressing the point
of his cutlass against Danner's side, Kayne said, "Let's be civilized
about this, what say?"
Danner started and let Cydric go. "We were just having a bit of
fun, sir. Nothing wrong with that."
"He was about to mash Cydric into pudding!" Mandi exclaimed.
"Spend your offshift with your bunkmates, Danner," said Kayne.
"Or you'll be swallowing the anchor cold."
1 "Aye, sir," Danner mumbled. He cast a hostile glance at Cydric,
then walked away.
"Now, what was all that foaming about?" Kayne asked. Mandi
quickly explained Danner's intrusion.
"He's at it again, is he?" Kayne said when Mandi had finished.
"Acting like a snupper so the Captain'll let him out of his contract.
Well, I'll have a speak with him; but meanwhile, I caution you both
keep him upwind until we make port. Think you can stay out of a
wrinkle for a couple of hours?"
"Yes sir," Cydric said. "And--thanks."
Kayne nodded. "Don't mention it. Wouldn't want a new crewman to
end up as pudding." He sheathed his sword and headed astern.
"Maybe we should do this another time," Cydric said when Kayne
had gone.
"Why? Danner won't bother us again. And even if he does, you'll
be able to handle him."
"I probably would have been killed if Kayne hadn't come by."
"I don't think so. You were very brave, to stand up for me like
that."
"Well, why wouldn't I? If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be with
the ship at all--getting seasick, sweating in a hot galley, being
threatened by possessive sailors...."
Mandi giggled and patted him on the cheek. "Yes, and I'm glad you
enjoy it so!"
Cydric grinned. "Now, where were we?"
Mandi started to resume her pose when a long-haired crewman came
up to them. "Hey-o, Cydric! Captain wants to see you--in her cabin,"
he said.
"We're never going to get this done," sighed Mandi.
"We can continue this later. I'm almost finished, anyway." Cydric
carefully folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket. He
thanked the crewman, and headed for the lower deck hatchway.
"Hey, I'm coming too!" Mandi said, hurrying to catch up with him.
"What do you think she wants you for?"
"I don't know." He looked back, but the crewman who delivered the
message was engaged in a dicing game with several others. "Should I
have asked?"
"Better not, now," said Mandi. "They take their gaming extremely
seriously."
They reached the hatchway and descended the stairs to the mess
room. A short, stocky man in his late fifties was wiping off the long
wooden tables with a multi-colored cloth. He appeared oblivious to the
pair's approach.
"Hi, Oddfoot!" Mandi called. The old ship's cook made no reply.
The girl walked up to him and tapped his shoulder; Oddfoot turned and
smiled broadly. Mandi repeated her greeting, making a hand gesture at
the same time. The cook nodded and wordlessly gestured in response. He
turned to Cydric and made the same sign.
"Hello Oddfoot," said Cydric, making the appropriate motions in
reply. "Does the, ah, Captain want to see me?" He signed his question
as he spoke.
The cook frowned and signed to Mandi, who broke into a laugh.
"That wasn't exactly a joke," said Cydric, puzzled.
"You just asked him, 'Does a capstan wet seaweed?'" she
explained.
"I really must practice more," Cydric replied, slightly
embarrassed.
Mandi signed the correct question to the deaf cook. He nodded,
and pointed to the other door out of the room. She thanked him and
left with Cydric.
1 "Don't worry, he knows you're still learning the hand-speak,"
said Mandi as the walked down the hallway.
"Couldn't the Captain just have hired a hearing person?"
Mandi stopped and turned to him, hands on her hips. "I'm
surprised at you, Cydric! Don't you know Oddfoot is considered the
best ship's cook this side of the Valenfaer? We're lucky to have him!
Anyway, what does hearing have to do with making great food?"
Cydric scratched the back of his head and smiled apologetically.
"I don't know what I'm talking about, do I?"
"In two languages, yet!" Mandi said, shoving him playfully.
They continued on. Three doors from the captain's cabin Mandi
stopped. "Let's check on Scarabin," she suggested. They entered the
room of Brynna's Master-at-Arms.
"Hi, Scar! How're you feeling?" Mandi said to the lean, dark-
skinned figure occupying the single bed.
"Ah, Mandi. Cydric. Good that you stopped by," Scarabin said, his
Desert accent nearly obscuring his words. He raised his head slightly,
grimacing as he did so.
"Now, Scar! Remember what Oddfoot said. You've got to rest.
Razorworms don't die overnight, you know." Mandi gently pushed the
Lashkirian back down.
"How everything is, above?" he asked Cydric.
"Just fine. Nothing exciting to report."
"These worms in my gut, how they feed!" Scarabin muttered. "A bed
is no place for a warrior. If pirates attack, the Captain will need me
for battle."
"Brynna wants you to get better," said Mandi. "Besides, it's not
your fault. Danner's the one who put the worms in your stew."
"A dog-skin rug, he is, when I have my health back!"
"We hope you recover soon," said Cydric.
"Relax now, and I'll bring your medicine later," said Mandi.
Scarabin smiled faintly as the two left the room.
They came to Brynna's cabin. Cydric knocked on the door, but
received no answer. Mandi went in anyway, motioning for Cydric to
follow.
A large map hung on the left wall of the room; directly beneath
stood a long desk and a chair. Opposite the door was a bed and on the
right wall hung various objects.
"I suppose she stepped out for a moment," Mandi said, turning up
the lantern that was mounted next to the door.
Cydric went over to the map and located the Laraka River, on the
northwestern edge of the continent called Cherisk. He put his finger
on the town of Shark's Cove, on the Laraka's outlet to the Valenfaer
Ocean, and traced the river's path inland to Port Sevlyn, their
current destination. He continued on past Gateway Keep, and stopped at
the city of Magnus. He shook his head at the memory of his home there,
and the events that had caused him to leave. Pushing the thoughts out
of his head, he turned and examined the Captain's desk. A piece of
dragon's horn scrimshaw weighted down a loose stack of papers; next to
them was a large leatherbound book. Cydric tried to make out the
gold-scripted title, but the words were in an unfamiliar language.
"Look at this, Cydric," Mandi said, tapping him on the shoulder.
He looked up to see a demon's face laughing at him through twisted,
gaping jaws.
"Yaah!" he said, nearly jumping out of his skin.
Mandi removed the mask and giggled. "Scared you!"
"Ah, no you didn't," Cydric replied, trying not to breath fast.
"It's only a Melrin mask from Comarr. If we arrive early enough
today we may be able to catch the festival dance." She went over and
replaced the mask on the other wall. "Here's something that won't
1scare you," she said, taking down a large intricately carved wooden
bow. "One of Brynna's most favorite things."
"Should you be touching it, then?" Cydric said as he joined her.
"She doesn't mind," Mandi replied, holding it out to him.
Cydric took the bow and examined it. Lines of gold and silver
traced complex patterns on the back and face. "Very nice
workmanship--probably made for a prince or a king," he remarked.
"Are you any good at archery?"
"A little. I do better with swords."
A voice from the doorway said, "That's quite all right. I'm not
such a crack shot myself."
Cydric and Mandi turned to see Captain Brynna Thorne enter the
room. She tucked the last bite of a dried fig into her mouth and wiped
her lips with a handkerchief.
"You wanted to see us, Brynna?" Mandi asked as Cydric replaced
the bow onto its peg.
"I only asked for Cydric," she replied. "Haven't you anything
else to keep you occupied?"
"I won't be in your way. Really! Let me just stay."
Brynna sighed and ran a hand through her slightly curled
shoulder-length hair, black except for a streak of blue running down
the left side, by her forehead. "Oh very well. Just don't start
playing that mandolin, straight?"
"Straight! I mean, right," Mandi said, laying the instrument on
the bed and plopping herself beside it.
Brynna sat down behind the desk and motioned for Cydric to come
forward. "Pull up that stool over there and have a seat." When he had
done so, she said, "We'll be docking before midday, so there won't be
much more for you to do until then. I've been watching you all week,
and have made my decision on whether to keep you on or not."
Cydric thought back to the night in Shark's Cove when Brynna had
signed him on. Noting his inexperience, she had accepted him on the
condition that he could be discharged if she found his performance to
be unsatisfactory.
Mandi leaped up. "Yes? Well? What?" she asked excitedly.
Brynna gave her a quiet-down look, then said to Cydric, "You've
done tolerably well, for a landling. I think you could make it as a
shipman, if that was your bent. So I'm going to let you decide your
fate--I'd be glad to have you, but you may have changed your mind."
Before Cydric could reply, Mandi danced over to him and put her
arms around his shoulders. "Stay on with us, please! If you do it'll
be most fun--Brynna's planning a voyage AROUND THE WORLD! Isn't that
the most exciting thing you're ever heard in your life?"
The Captain made a sound of irritation and twisted the blue
streak in her hair. "Gods' breath, girl, I can't tell you anything!"
"Oh!" Mandi exclaimed, putting her hand over her mouth. "Forget I
said that, Cydric. It's not supposed to be known just now. Pretend you
never heard it. Sorry, Bryn."
"It's Captain, when we're on the ship," answered Brynna. "Sit
down and be quiet, all right?" Mandi went back to the bed. "Anyway,
Cydric, did you have an answer for me?"
The young man paused before replying. He had been considering
leaving the ship and finding other employment, but Mandi's revelation
now changed his mind--a voyage around the world was exactly the kind
of adventure he had been yearning for ever since he abandoned his
royal heritage. He decided not to ask Brynna for details about the
trip; she would no doubt tell him were he to become a regular member
of the crew.
"Yes," he finally said. "I've been thinking about it for some
time. I want to stay."
1 "Oh goodie!" Mandi said, springing up once again and hugging
Cydric. "I was hoping you would."
"Very well," said Brynna, a faint smile on her lips. "Now all
that remains is the standard articles of agreement--"
Just then a crewman burst into the room. "Captain! Beggin' your
pardon, but you'd better come on deck quick! There's somethin' you
have to see."
"What is it?" Brynna asked, rising from her chair.
"I don't know, rightly, but master Kayne says it's real strange."
Brynna, Cydric, and Mandi followed the crewman up onto the deck.
"Captain! Over here," Kayne called from the starboard rail. The three
made their way over to him. "What's the trouble, Kayne?" Brynna asked.
"See for yourself, Captain," he replied, motioning outward.
Cydric looked to where the first mate pointed. At first he saw
nothing, then became aware of a large rippling air mass drifting over
the surface of the water about two leagues distant. He surmised that
it was the same shimmering haze he had noticed earlier.
"What do you make of it?" queried Brynna.
"Fog or sea-mist it isn't," the first mate replied. "But stiffed
if I can say what it is. I was watching a flock of barjee birds when
they just went blurry for a second. Thought I was losing my sight, but
then the lookout spotted the same thing."
Brynna frowned. "Peculiar. Mandi, fetch the spyglass please."
The young girl hurried off, and returned a few minutes later with
the requested item. Brynna studied the strange transparent rippling
through the ocular for a few moments, then shook her head.
"You fathom what it is, Captain? " asked Kayne.
"I'm not sure. But whatever it's birth, it appears to be moving
towards us."
"Moving towards us?" echoed the first mate. Brynna handed him the
spyglass.
"Do you think it's dangerous?" Mandi asked.
"Perhaps not, but I don't want to go petting the sharks," said
Brynna. She strode back to the quarterdeck and ordered the helmsman to
steer well clear of the shimmering mass. Cydric felt the ship lurch
slightly as it came about onto its new heading.
Moments later, Kayne shouted, "I think it's still with us,
Captain! Looks like it's getting larger, too."
Brynna dashed to the rail. The rippling entity had apparently
altered it's direction to match the ship's; it was now on a direct
collision course.
"Damn peculiar," said Brynna. She ordered another course change,
but the shimmering mass still stayed with them.
"Still think it might not be dangerous?" asked Kayne.
Brynna bit her lip. "Sorcerous, more likely," she murmured. She
took Kayne aside and spoke to him in a low voice. Cydric tried to
listen but was unable to hear what they said. A moment later, Kayne's
eyebrows shot up and a look of understanding came over his face. "You
fathom that's what it is?" he said aloud.
"I hope I'm wrong," Brynna replied. "But we have to be ready in
case I'm not. Alert the crew, then--battle readiness. Prepare the
scorpion for firing."
"Aye, Captain." Kayne left to carry out the orders.
Cydric looked over at Mandi, who had been staring at the mass and
apparently missed the exchange. He started to tell her about it when
she turned and said, "You know what it looks like, Cydric? Heat waves.
What if it's just a ball of heat coming towards us?"
"Ball of heat, indeed," said Brynna, approaching them. "Mandi, I
want you to go below and secure the cabin, then stay there. Straight?"
1 "Me?" Mandi said, eyes wide. "But Brynna--"
The klaxon bell sounded, followed by Kayne's call to action
stations.
"You'll just be in the way up here. Cydric, take her down, would
you? Go now, please." She abruptly turned on her heel and left to
oversee the preparations.
The deck came alive with crewmen hustling back and forth,
preparing to defend the ship against its possible danger.
"She must think I'm a child or something," Mandi said indignantly
as they headed for the entrance to the lower deck.
"She's just concerned about your safety," Cydric replied.
"We don't even know what's out there, and she's acting if it was
a fleet of pirates or something! It could be just a trick of the eye,
you know. I've heard stories about people being lost at sea for months
who've thought they saw the All Creator riding a horse backwards while
eating a chunk of smoked meat."
"I doubt that's what it is. In any case, you'd be safest down
below."
Mandi stopped and put her hands on her hips. "And what about you?
You've been at sea barely a week. You ought to be down there as well."
"Cydric! Come with me!" Kayne called as he dashed past.
"Hellblaze, Mandi--just go, please? For my sake, if nothing
else?" Cydric gently squeezed her arm.
"But--oh, since you asked nice, I'll go." She started toward the
lower deck hatchway, then stopped and turned. "But only until it gets
exciting."
Cydric waited until she had disappeared below, then hurried to
join Kayne.
The first mate was waiting for him at the scorpion. The large
crossbowlike weapon was swivel-mounted amidships, a little forward of
the main cargo hatch.
"Finally getting a little action, eh Cydric?" Kayne said.
"Yes, sir," the young man replied. "But shouldn't we try to
understand what's out there first?"
"The Captain's got a notion, and if she's right we'll all be hard
up in a clinch."
"Oh. Sorry sir, I didn't mean to be questioning orders."
"Ah, I won't tell. But, it's better to be safe than flotsam,
right? Righto. Well, let me show you how this old girl works." He
turned to the three men manning the scorpion. "Line to bow, forty-five
up, and hold." Two of them turned separate cranks that aligned the
weapon with the bowsprit, and tilted the barrel upward. The third took
a large, heavy spear from a nearby long box, dipped the head into a
pot of tar, then loaded the projectile into the groove along the top
of the barrel of the scorpion.
"When I give the signal, all you have to do is set the spear head
on fire. Then we pull back the bowstring and let her fly! And pray
that it hits, of course."
"I understand, sir," Cydric said.
"Good. Now take these." Kayne handed him an unlit torch and a
piece of flint & steel. "Be ready when the Captain gives the word."
"Aye, sir," acknowledged Cydric. Kayne clapped him on the
shoulder and proceed astern to join Brynna.
The two crank operators started chatting amongst themselves. "So,
what do you think it is?" Cydric asked the spear loader. The large
bearded man shrugged and began chanting a prayer against evil.
"Ah, I see. You could be very well be right," Cydric said as the
man lifted his arms to the sky and begged for deliverance. Edging
away, Cydric looked out again at the mysterious rippling mass. As he
watched, it appeared to lose speed slightly, but continued moving
1toward the ship.
A frantic shout jolted him out of his thoughts. "The wind's
dying, Captain!" The crewman who had made the observation gestured up
at the rigging. Cydric saw that the sails, previously full and
billowing, were now flapping idly. He realized that the ship was
slowing in its forward motion.
The crew began muttering in consternation. The spear loader
stopped his frantic praying just long enough to advise Cydric to light
his torch.
"Hard a-port, while we've still got headway!" called Brynna. "All
hands clear for action. Stinger crew stand ready."
The ship began turning in a slow arc, and soon came to drift with
its port side facing the shimmering mass.
Cydric got the torch lit just as Kayne returned to the scorpion.
"What do you make the target distance, Flix?" the First Mate
asked.
"Hard to say, sir," replied the spear loader. "It's like looking
for a black cat in the dark. I'd say about a league, though."
"Fine," Kayne said. He took a sighting on the nearly invisible
mass using an astrolabe-like device. "Okay, lads-- thirty-five marks
port, down five, and hold." As the men brought the weapon to bear on
the mass, Kayne turned in Brynna's direction and called, "Stinger
clear and steady, Captain! Just give the word."
"Very well, Kayne. Steady on." Brynna raised the spyglass to her
eye.
Cydric shifted the torch from hand to hand as he watched the mass
of rippling waves draw closer to the ship. As it drifted nearer, the
area of distortion it caused became larger and easier to see. The sky
behind it appeared to writhe and undulate like a heap of restless
snakes.
"Close enough, I think," said Brynna, snapping the spyglass away
from her face. "Fire when ready, Kayne!"
The First Mate quickly took another sighting.
"Port plus three, up two, and pull," he said.
The men made the corrections and cranked back the bowstring.
"Light up!"
Cydric set the spear head afire.
"And let her fly!"
The spear shot away into the sky. Cydric watched as the
projectile gracefully sailed through the air, curved off into the
distance and shattered in a burst of flame against the shimmering
mass.
The crew's cheers became shouts of dismay.
"Cirrangill's blood!" exclaimed Kayne.
A dark patch appeared at the center of the shimmering. From it
emerged a bright green globe which darted with amazing speed straight
toward the _Vanguard Voyager_. Cydric quickly predicted the impact
point and flung himself away from the scorpion a second before the
globe struck the weapon and caused it to explode amid a shower of
green flames.
Bits of wood and metal rained down on the deck. Cydric lay flat
on his stomach, sheltering his head from the shrapnel. When no more
fell, he looked up and saw Mandi crouching before him.
"Cydric! Are you all right? Did you get any splinters in you?"
"What are you doing up here?" hissed Cydric, glancing quickly
around. Most of the crew were still covering their faces against the
blast. "The Captain will have my head if she sees you!"
"Is anyone hurt?" Brynna called, brushing debris from her hair.
Flix the spear loader and one of the crank operators reported
injuries. She instructed them to report to Oddfoot for treatment.
1 "Better go," Cydric said.
Mandi nodded and started back. She was halfway to the hatch when
Brynna caught sight of her.
"I thought I told you to stay below, Amanda!" the Captain said,
striding toward the girl.
"I heard the noise--just wanted to see what it was," Mandi
hastily explained.
Brynna gestured for her to be silent. "Cydric, take Mandi down
again. And this time stay with her!"
"Right, Captain," Cydric said. He took Mandi by the hand and led
her to the lower deck hatchway. As they started to descend the stairs,
Cydric looked once more at the rippling mass, now less that half a
league from the ship. Suddenly the shimmering became translucent, then
opaque, and finally resolved itself into the shape of a large black
ship--a war galleon.
Brynna smacked her palm. "I knew it! Damn him."
"A ship!" gasped Mandi. "I never would've guessed. That's the
most amazing thing I've ever seen in my life!"
The men of the _Vanguard Voyager_ babbled in amazement and fear
as the galleon drew closer. Cydric saw the name "Black Swan" on the
prow, and that the figurehead was the namesake bird. Long oars on
either side of the ship propelled it silently through the water.
"You were right, Captain," said Kayne. "It's him, by Cirrangill."
Mandi tugged at Cydric's sleeve. "We'd better hide before Brynna
sends us below." She pointed to some barrels near the hatchway. Cydric
nodded and they both crouched down behind the casks. Peering over the
barrel tops, they watched as the black ship slowly pulled up alongside
the _Voyager_.
On the deck of the _Black Swan_ were assembled the crew, all
armed with steel. By the rail stood four men: one balding and bearded;
the next, large and wearing a rusty breastplate; the third, a
grey-haired gentleman wearing long black robes and holding a large
crescent-shaped crystal object; the last, somewhat younger that the
third man and dressed in green robes. As the _Swan_ drew alongside the
_Voyager_, the black-robed man put a hand to his forehead and
collapsed to the deck. Several crewman rushed to his aid and took him
below. The green-garbed man smiled and retrieved the dropped crystal
object, tucking it into the folds of his robe.
"All hands, prepare to repel boarders!" commanded Brynna.
"Ho there, Captain Thorne!" the armor-clad man called out in a
deep, resonating voice. "What kind of a greeting is that, hey? What
makes you think I wish violence upon you?"
"Ho yourself, Commander Challion," Brynna answered, striding to
the rail. "I suspected you were behind this. And why the freezing hell
did you fire on my ship?"
"Indeed, you fired upon me first. But I only wished to disable
your weapon. I hope no one was hurt."
"As if you actually cared. Now tell me straight, Challion-- what
gives you the right to stop a peaceful vessel in Baranurian waters? Is
piracy your profession now?""
"As you no doubt saw, Captain, I have regained the Cavarnon
Shield; I was merely testing its effectiveness. And judging from your
early reaction, I think it would be better used under cover of
darkness."
"You haven't answered my question. Is this a raid? If not, I'd
very much like to get under way. Tell your mage--the conscious one,
that is--to give us the wind back."
Challion leaned over the rail. "I have one other objective, and I
think you know what I mean."
Brynna shrugged. "Do elaborate."
1 "The Codex Araltakonia, Captain Thorne. I wish to purchase it
from you."
Cydric turned to Mandi. "The what?" he whispered.
"That book you were looking at in the cabin," she replied in
hushed tones. "The one on her desk--it's supposed to be as old as the
Mystics!"
"Sorry. I don't have what you're looking for," Brynna replied,
folding her arms.
"No lies, no games, Captain! I know you acquired it back in
Dargon. But I'm prepared to offer twice what you paid for it."
"In truth, Commander, I never thought our paths would cross
again--the dragon whale seemed rather attached to you, as I recall."
"I got the better of the creature, in the end," Challion
answered. Hitching his trousers up around his ample waist, he said,
"Well, three times your purchase price, then. You'll be making quite a
profit."
"The knowledge in the Codex is beyond price. In any case, what do
you want with it? You're by no means a scholar--neither are your
mages."
Challion rubbed his fleshy face and exhaled loudly. "My final
offer--quadruple the amount you paid to acquire it! A fine trader such
as yourself cannot fail to recognize a wonderful bargain such as
this."
"True, but I also recognize barjee squat when I hear it. And I've
heard enough," said Brynna. "Spear detail, forward!" Several crewmen
went over to the remains of the scorpion and picked up spears from the
storage box. After dipping the points into the tar pot, they lined up
alongside Brynna at the rail. Kayne lit up a torch and stood behind
them.
"It always comes to violence, hey Skoranji?" Challion said to the
balding man. To Brynna he said, "Very well. If you do not wish to sell
the book, then I am afraid I will just have to take it."
"You and what battle fleet? Your men won't set foot upon this
ship," Brynna shot back.
The balding man spoke. "Truly now, m' dear? Be you willin' to
test your pups 'gainst me bloodseekers?"
"Would you be willing to bet on it, Captain Skoranji?" Brynna
asked, smirking. The _Voyager_ crew laughed.
Even from his vantage point Cydric could see Skoranji turn red.
"Please, please, let's not bring my friend's fondness for
gambling into this," said Challion. "I appeal to your reason, Captain
Thorne. Give the Codex over peacefully, and we'll part on friendly
terms."
Brynna shook her head. "You raffenraker, do you seriously think
you intimidate me?"
Challion motioned to the green-robed man, who lifted his arms and
spoke a short phrase. An intense green glow limned his hands, then a
ball of light the same color formed and shot toward the _Vanguard
Voyager_. It came to hover over Kayne, then sped downward to strike
him full in the chest and knock him backwards. It then ringed his
neck, and slowly the First Mate rose into the air.
"Certainly not, Captain. I know better than to threaten you. But
a threat to your friend is another matter," Challion said, smiling.
"True men do not hide behind magic," Brynna returned coldly,
gripping the rail so hard her knuckles turned white. "Let him down,
Commander Challion. Now."
"We are going to board your ship. If you or any of your men
resists, mister Kayne will no longer have the use of his head."
"First let him down, damn you. Then I'll give you the Codex."
"The book first, in exchange for his life. That is your only
1option."
Brynna chewed on her lower lip, then finally agreed.
"I think we deserve a little more for our trouble. We'll also be
taking whatever cargo you have."
Behind the barrels, Mandi wrinkled her nose.
"Don't sneeze!" whispered Cydric.
"I..I.." Mandi closed her eyes and clamped her hand over her
mouth. "Choo!"
Brynna's head jerked at the sound, but she did not turn.
"Now, tell your men to lay down their weapons and move as far
astern as possible. It will only take a few moments for us to maneuver
into boarding position," said Challion.
Brynna glanced up at Kayne. The First Mate twisted slowly in the
air, struggling feebly to remove the ring of magic from his neck.
Sighing heavily, she ordered the crew to obey Challion's instructions.
"Who is this Commander person, anyway?" Cydric whispered to
Mandi. "He looks like an old, fat knight to me. And if Skoranji is the
captain, why is Challion giving the orders?"
"They're not high up on the list of Brynna's favorite people,"
Mandi replied. "Back in--" She looked up as someone sat down on the
barrels.
"It's the Captain," said Cydric, recognizing the silver-blue of
her tunic.
Mandi tapped Brynna's slim posterior. The Captain put her hands
behind her back and made signs with her fingers.
"She's going too fast," said Cydric as he tried to follow the
gestures.
" 'Cydric, shoot the mage,' " Mandi translated. " 'Use my bow and
arrows. Tap twice, understand.' "
"She wants me to shoot their sorcerer?" Cydric said, astonished.
"I said I wasn't much good at archery. There's a good chance I might
miss. What if--"
Mandi tapped twice. "He understands, all right."
Brynna continued signing. " 'Wait for my word,' " said Mandi. "
'Stand up to fire. Get bow now. Be ready.' "
"What if I miss?" said Cydric, gripping Mandi's arm. "He'll kill
Kayne! I don't know if I can do this."
"You won't miss," Mandi reassured him. She tapped Brynna twice;
the Captain rose and strode away.
"I'll go and get everything," Mandi said. "Stay here and watch
out." She quietly edged backwards toward the hatchway and carefully
made her way down to the lower deck.
Cydric peeped out over the barrels again. The _Black Swan_ had
dropped behind the _Vanguard Voyager_ a little, and was now angling in
closer. Brynna went over and tried to grab Kayne out of the air, but
the mage raised his arms higher, and the First Mate floated up just
beyond her reach.
"Kayne will be returned to you, after we have what we came for,"
Challion boomed out.
Mandi silently returned with the bow and a quiver of arrows.
"Here. Now get ready when Brynna says."
Cydric nocked an arrow and sighted on the mage. "I'm not sure if
I can hit him at this range. Maybe a little closer. How far do you
think she'll let them come?"
Mandi did not reply. Cydric relaxed the bowstring and looked
around--the girl was nowhere to be seen.
"Hellblaze!" he muttered.
The _Black Swan_ shipped her oars and drifted on a parallel
course with the _Voyager_. "One more thing, Challion," Brynna said.
1"You have to agree to just take the cargo and leave my ship as it is.
I've heard of how Skoranji's men like to torch the wrecks they
scavenge."
"Your position is highly unsuitable for bargaining," Challion
replied, "but I will respect that. Let it not be said that I,
Commander Artemus Challion, was ever ungracious to a lady."
"As if a lady would ever have you!" a young voice chimed in.
Cydric groaned inwardly. Mandi stood by the bowsprit, waving her
arms. "Yes, you who looks like a pregnant toad. Why don't you just go
home!"
"Who is that?" Challion asked sharply.
"My--former--cabin girl," Brynna said through clenched teeth.
"Look, milord Scullion, we told you we don't want you on this
ship. So make like the wind and blow!" Mandi said, making an obscene
gesture.
"We're all fish food," Cydric sighed.
Brynna walked to the foredeck, giving Cydric a clear line of
fire. "Amanda Lynn, please come over here. Now."
"Now?" echoed Mandi. "NOW?"
"Yes. Now!"
Cydric drew back on the bowstring and prepared to stand. Just
then Mandi screamed. Looking up, he saw Danner standing behind her,
holding her arms back.
"Hey, let me go, you pox-ridden gutter rat!" Mandi shouted,
struggling.
"Commander Challion! I want to make a bargain. Let me join your
crew, and you can have this girl," Danner called to the other ship.
"What do you think you're doing, Danner? Release her this
instant," demanded Brynna.
"It appears, Captain Thorne, that one of your crew is
dissatisfied with his lot," Challion said. "Perhaps your reputation
for running a fair ship is a trifle exaggerated?"
"Let Mandi go, Danner. Immediately." Brynna ordered. "Why the
freezing hell are you doing this?"
"Sorry, Captain. I've told you I want out of my contract. I see
this as my chance."
"Ho, son! Wait until we board. Then we will talk about this,
hey?" Challion turned to Skoranji. "Whenever you are ready, Captain."
"Ayah, Commander," said Skoranji. He turned to his crew. "Right
then, me bloodseekers! Prepare to grapple!"
Cydric tensed, torn between waiting for Brynna's command to fire
on the mage, and trying to save Mandi by firing on Danner instead.
"Don't try to stop them, Captain Thorne," Danner warned. "Or I'll
have to get a little rough with Mandi here."
"Toss lines!" called Skoranji. A moment later, three rope-
attached grappling hooks sailed across and anchored themselves around
the _Voyager's_ rail.
"You're a god-cursed disgrace, Danner," Brynna said. "I ought to
shoot you right now. Do you hear me?" She spun around and shouted in
Cydric's direction, "SHOOT YOU RIGHT NOW!"
Gulping a quick breath of air, Cydric leaped up, drew a bead on
the _Black Swan's_ magic-maker, and let the arrow fly. It sped through
the air in a flash of silver, and smacked deep into the sorcerer's
left eye.
The man screamed, clutched at his face with both hands, staggered
forward, and pitched over the rail into the river.
Kayne fell to the deck as the green ring vanished from around his
neck. "Battle positions!" shouted Brynna. The _Voyager_ crew surged
forward, scooping up their weapons and whooping in defiance.
Mandi slammed her heel hard against Danner's shin. He grunted in
1pain and loosened his grip, allowing the girl to wrench free.
"Codless traitor!" she said, ramming her knee into his groin.
Danner yelped and pushed her away.
Cydric ran over to check on Kayne. Challion cursed as Brynna
severed the grappling lines.
"Are you all right, sir?" Cydric asked, helping Kayne to sit up.
"Never did like wizards," the First Mate replied, rubbing his
throat.
Danner staggered to the rail. "Little slut!" he spat. He reached
into his boot and pulled out a stiletto. Mandi's eyes widened; she
turned and ran.
Brynna instructed two crewmen to take Kayne below, then ordered
the spear detail forward again. She retrieved the torch and re-lit it.
Challion ordered the _Swan's_ oars back into the water, then
directed Skoranji to prepare the ballista for a counterattack.
Cydric was about to report to Brynna when Mandi came rushing over
and hugged him tightly.
"Thank the gods you're safe!" Cydric said, holding her close.
"How'd you get away from him?"
Mandi looked up. "Well, let's just say, he wasn't codless after
all."
Brynna handed the torch to the first spearman, who lit up his
weapon and passed the flame to the next man. After the torch made it
down the line and all the spears had been lit, Brynna gave the order
to let fly.
Several of the burning spears struck the side of the _Black
Swan_. A few of them landed on the deck, and one managed to hit a
sail. The fire spread quickly, forcing Challion to abandon his plans
for a retaliatory strike in favor of saving his ship from the flames.
Cydric and Mandi watched the action from the rail. As Skoranji
dashed madly about the deck of the _Swan_ calling out orders, a breeze
rippled across Cydric's cheek. At the same time the helmsman cried,
"We've got the wind back, Captain!" Cydric looked up and saw the
ship's sails billowing proudly once more.
"Get us under way immediately!" called Brynna.
As the _Vanguard Voyager_ slowly pulled away from the enkindled
_Black Swan_, Cydric could see Commander Challion standing motionless
at the rail, flames licking at his back. Suddenly he shouted out
across the widening gap between the ships.
"I will not forget this, Brynna Thorne! I cannot be defeated so
easily--revenge will be mine, in the end!"
Brynna came over and took the bow and arrows from Cydric. "Wrong,
Challion. It ends now!" she said. She nocked an arrow and fired. It
struck the Commander square in the chest, penetrating his breastplate.
Challion gasped and fell back into the fire.
Soon the _Vanguard Voyager_ had left the doomed _Black Swan_
behind and was sailing clear on the river.
"Excellent work, everyone!" Brynna said to the crew, assembled on
deck. "When we dock, there'll be a bonus in your pay. Right now,
though, I think a double ration of spice ale is in order. You've all
earned it!"
The men cheered her, and began filing below into the mess room.
"I've never had to serve the whole crew at once," Cydric said to Mandi
as they joined the line.
"You won't have to," Brynna said, coming over to them. "You
helped save the ship. Mandi will fill in for you."
"Me?" Mandi said, a look of incredulity on her face.
"That's right. You almost ruined everything with your antics."
"I was just trying to help," Mandi protested. "Commander Challion
1might have figured out what you were planning. I was just helping
distract him. And before you say it, I had no idea Danner was there.
Oh, and besides, wasn't I the one who got your message about having
Cydric shoot the wizard?"
"You were supposed to be in your cabin," Brynna reminded her.
"I'm afraid that was my fault," Cydric admitted.
Brynna sighed. "Well, since everything turned out in our favor
anyway, I suppose I can overlook these things. But next time, I expect
_all_ my orders to be followed. Straight?"
Cydric and Mandi exchanged glances. "Straight!" they said in
unison.
(to be continued)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
1 Fortunes
by Max Khaytsus
(b.c.k.a khaytsus%[email protected])
Taishent walked quickly through the market place, prodling his
young granddaughter along. "Come along, come on. I'll be late because
of you."
The girl ran after him, looking right and left, distracted by the
multitude of vendors and people rushing about.
"Aimee! Would you please move faster!"
She ran to catch up to her grandfather and trailed him to an
enclosed booth a half block away.
A young woman met them at the door and asked them to sit down,
while she announced their arrival. Taishent lowered himself in a
chair, while Aimee lingered by the door, looking at people pass by.
"Why is it you act like you've never been to the market?" the
mage complained. "Each time I bring you here, it's the same story."
The girl sat down in a chair by the door, restlessly kicking her
feet, a short distance off the floor.
"Dyann!" Corambis appeared at the door through which the young
woman disappeared. "I was wondering if you were going to come."
Taishent rose to his feet and greeted the sage. "Aimee made me
late again," he complained. "I can't wait for her father to return!"
"Again," Corambis smiled. "Did you enjoy the holidays?" he asked,
bending down next to the girl.
The girl nodded shyly and looked down at her dangling feet.
"Would you like Thuna to show you around the market?" Corambis
asked.
Aimee nodded, still looking at her feet.
"Good, good. Thuna!" he called for his assistant, getting back to
his feet. The young woman entered and stopped by Corambis. "Take Aimee
to the market for a few hours. Taishent and I have some business to
see to..." Thuna nodded in agreement. "...and if she pick's up any
more of your bad habits..." he warned in half voice.
How I fear what an influence Thuna might be on Aimee," Corambis
told Taishent when his assistant left with her charge. "She's such a
quiet girl."
"She's only quiet in public," Taishent said. "At home she's only
an angel when asleep in a locked room."
The two men laughed for a moment, then Corambis suggested they
get to business and they entered his office.
"I'm very sorry that Roisart Connall died. You've been predicting
a holiday disaster for a while now," Taishent mentioned.
"You know, the Connall twins stopped here for advice just a few
days ago, right before the murder," Corambis said with some irony in
his voice. "I read it on the Wheel and considered our last casting and
warned them lightly and dismissed it all as soon as they left. I
thought Fionn Connall's death was it."
"I hope Luthias recovers," Taishent sighed. "The two were almost
inseperable. I've never seen a place love its nobility as much."
"Quite a tragedy," Corambis agreed, preparing ten wooden discs
for a new casting. "Have you heard that someone killed Terell?"
"Bah! Heard it and didn't feel a bit of remorse," Taishent
snapped. "The only thing we had in common with him were two years in
the same school. I never did like his style. I'd bet he got killed
after striking a bad deal."
"Don't be so negative. I'm sure some people out there consider us
to be eccentric."
Taishent grunted in disbelief. "Let's do the casting."
"Let's," Corambis agreed.
1 After a short ceremony, the ten wooden discs were dropped on the
Wheel of Life. Most of them landed on the symbols of Fox, Torch and
Mistweaver.
Corambis shook his head. "If the last one was bad..."
The discs of Heart, Spirit and Body lay in the center, together
with the red disc representing Dargon. "In the Mistweaver's grasp..."
The ally lay in the clutches of the Fox and the adversary in the
flames of the Torch.
"Too symbolic," Taishent said.
"Trouble. Trouble," Corambis verified. "Our allies won't be our
allies for long and adversaries may crush us. It's very uncommon to
have most land on so few symbols."
"What's the bottom line?"
"Do your casting first," Corambis said.
The two men moved to a small makeshift table and sat down.
Taishent produced a deck of cards, placed a Fate card on the table,
then shuffling the deck, placed an unknown card on it. He reshuffled
the deck and lay out a pattern around the two cards. Both he and
Corambis bent down to scrutinize the pattern.
"Look here," Taishent pointed. "Good present, tense future."
Knight, Wizard and Sorrow decorated the top row. Beneath them lay
Tranquility, Eagle, Water and a hidden card. "The past doesn't tell
much," Taishent ignored the bottom three cards. The card covering fate
was turned over to reveal the ugly face of the Jester.
"Incredible," Corambis said.
"I'll skip the dramatics," Taishent hurried. "I predict a
conflict in Dargon sometime soon."
Corambis stood up and walked over to the Wheel of Life,
contemplating the challenge. "I say an external conflict, but in due
time."
Taishent came back to the larger table, to look at the pattern
again. "I see no resolution."
"The Wheel hardly ever shows the means to an end. Your casting
wasn't conclusive either."
Taishent recast the future row, using the method for far future.
Fire, Air, Griffin. "Nothing," he said. "Conflict."
Silence ruled the room for some time, while the men considered
the fortunes they had cast.
"You know," Corambis finally broke the silence, "we've been doing
this after every equinox for for more time than I wish to account for
and to what results?"
"We've been right most of the time."
"I hope we're wrong now," Corambis sighed. "I couldn't wish a
fortune like this on anyone."
"I feel guilty for making predictions like this too," Taishent
said.
"Let's get some air," Corambis said, sweeping all the wooden
discs with his arm to the side of the table.
Taishent reshuffled the cards.
"May Dargon get through this with its skin intact..."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
(C) Copyright September, 1989, DargonZine. All rights revert to the
authors. These stories may not be reproduced or redistributed save in
the case of reproducing the whole 'zine for further distribution without
the express permission of the author involved.
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