The Seventh was what we know as Nakin, a woman from the Calm Waste. She was the scholar among them, always looking for new ways to incorporate seals in everyday use and discover new methods of using her skills. There are stories that claim she was the one responsible for raising Dadendam, but nowhere have I found evidence of this. Many of her now destroyed works have been the source for my own studies.
Excerpt from Rise and Fall of the Seven by Maïz the Wise.
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Samos woke with a start, dizziness filling his head as he sat up too quickly. He rubbed his head and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark cabin he had been sleeping in. When had he gone to sleep? Memories of what had happened resurfaced. The tribesmen, the spears, the seal… Had he really done that? The door opened and Asmund stepped in, light filling the room as he opened the blinds that had kept the sun out.
“How are you feeling?” his voice sounded concerned but relieved.
“I’ve been better,” Samos answered truthfully, his arms feeling sore and heavy. “What happened? Where’s Yara?”
“We have our sights on Nokoroy,” Asmund answered. “After we repelled the tribesmen with our seals they fled and let us through unharmed. Lucky at that, with all of us unconscious it would have been an easy task for them to board us.”
“Unconscious?”
Asmund nodded. “Apparently we all fainted after using our seals, they must have taken us more effort than ever before. Yara woke up just a few minutes ago, she’s on deck getting some fresh air. I’ll tell her you’re awake.”
“No need,” Samos grunted as he forced himself to stand up. “I could use some fresh air as well.” The first few steps came difficult as if his legs had no strength left in them, but by the time he reached the door his step was already stronger.
The silence that suddenly fell among the crew as they made it on deck gave him an uncomfortable feeling, the looks they gave him and Asmund showing a strange mix of admiration and fear. He ignored them as he made his way to the bow of the ship where both Yara and Captain Morley stood watching what lay ahead. He refrained from whatever it was he was about to say when he followed their gaze and laid eyes upon the pirate capital for the first time.
He had heard the stories of the city that had been built on the slopes of a volcano, of its chaotic pattern and black streets that slithered in all directions. But nothing could have prepared him for the actual thing. Nokoroy was, in lack for a better description, huge. The buildings never reached higher than what he would expect from a four-story house yet he felt as if it was the greatest city he had ever seen. True, most buildings were constructed out of wood and not a single one seemed to have been built in the same pattern with the other, but the sheer size of the area the city entailed boggled his mind.
As far as he could see the entirety of Mount Raeyner’s slopes had been used as building ground, expanding down right onto the shore line where dozens upon dozens of docks had been constructed as far as he could see in both directions. Hundreds of ships of all shapes and sizes were moored there, all of them bustling with life. Beyond the docks and leading all the way up halfway the slopes were nothing but buildings. Most of them where made entirely out of wood, but Samos could see that occasionally, there were those that had been constructed out of stone.
At the highest point of the city stood fortress-like mansions, built on small plateaus that gave them a natural form of defence against anyone coming from below. These buildings were entirely made out of stone, streaks of black obsidian crawling through the walls.
“Do those belong to the pirate lords?” he asked and Yara startled at his voice. She looked worried for a second but relieved right after to find him in a healthy condition. She grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed it, her eyes shining in expectation of what lay ahead.
“Ay, they used to,” Morley answered sombrely. “The northernmost was mine until Ethel showed up. I’d bet my sword on it that’s where we’ll find this Mettias.”
“What will you do once you meet him?” Asmund asked curiously.
Morley only shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea, lad. Probably ask him what his plan with Nokoroy is now that he basically controls the city.”
They rounded the last few miles to the docks in silence. Samos thought he could feel the tension of the men on board grow as they got closer and closer. There were bound to be those on the docks that would recognize the Hullbreaker and the Captain commanding it. How would they react to one of the pirate lords returning? The sound of men yelling, working and fighting grew louder and more prominent with every passing second. Whereas Arrowpoint had still maintained some form of civility on the docks, it would seem Nokoroy had abandoned all notion of regulations. Some docks were worse than others, he noticed, and Morley was steering to one of the calmer ones.
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As mooring lines were thrown and the gangplank was lowered, several men came hastily running towards the Hullbreaker, their hands held firmly on the hilts of their swords. Some carried bows as well, pulling out arrows from their quivers as they ran. Morley cursed as he noticed the approaching men and called for his men to be ready. Some of the crew, Samos noticed, took on a grim expression as they as well laid eyes on those approaching on the dock.
“Whatever happens,” Morley warned the three of them with a stern look, “don’t react. This is somewhat of a personal matter.”
He walked down towards the gangplank and onto the dock just in time to meet the men before they could board his ship. Morley seemed calm and relaxed, but Samos could see his hand quivering over his sword’s hilt. Something was angering him.
“Morley!” one of the men cried out with a smile that just wasn’t quite convincing. “What a lovely surprise to see you back here!”
“Can’t say the same of you, Maeren. You got a lot of nerve showing your face to me.”
The man called Maeren grinned. “I’m here under direct command of Lord Mettias, you better watch that tongue of yours if you want be welcomed into the city again.”
“Lord Mettias?” Morley nearly spat the word. “Who does this fool think he is?”
“Don’t mock him,” Maeren warned with a grim tone. “You have no idea what he’s capable of. He even knew you were coming or he wouldn’t have send me here at this particular time.”
Now Morley actually did spat, missing Maeren’s boots by only an inch. “He sent you to intercept me? I don’t care for his reasoning but I’m glad he did.”
In one swift motion Morley drew his sword, grabbed the hilt with both hands and took off Maeren’s head with one clean swing. Blood splattered the metal and the men standing behind Maeren who were only shocked for a moment before drawing their own swords. The bowmen behind them drew their strings back, arrows knocked at the ear. On the Hullbreaker, Morley’s men reacted as one and drew bows and swords of their own.
“This man,” Morley cried out loud enough for the entire dock to be heard. “Is a traitor! By committing mutiny he has forfeited the right to live and given me the right to take his head.”
The men pointing their swords at Morley hesitated and shared concerned looks between one another and the men on the ship pointing their bows at them. Under command of Mettias or not, they could clearly see how outnumbered they were. When one of them nodded and sheathed his sword, the rest soon followed and the tension that lingered in the air seemed to somewhat dissipate.
“Lord Mettias would like to meet the three of you,” the man who had nodded said as he turned to look at Samos, Yara and Asmund who had been watching at the railing. “He has been expecting you.”
Before any of them could react, the men retreated and disappeared into the crowd once off the dock, leaving Morley with the decapitated body of Maeren. With a disgruntled last look at the corpse, he made his way back up the gangplank.
“Sorry about that,” he apologized with a satisfied tone. “That was my former first mate who joined Ethel’s side the second he saw how powerful he was. Snake of a man, good riddance.”
Samos held his tongue, shocked by the sudden change the gentle Morley had suddenly shown. He had almost forgotten he and his crew were pirates at heart, men who could be ruthless when the situation called for it.
“So…” Morley continued on a lighter tone. “He wants to meet the three of you apparently, I’m beginning to think my presence here is just a side thought. If what Maeren said is true and he is indeed capable of great things, I would think he is exactly like the three of you.”
He chuckled at Samos’ and Yara’s expression. “Asmund told me,” he said. “About your Talents. And more. If what he told me is true, I’d suspect that we will be seeing some interesting things going down here in the next few days.”
“He’s been expecting us,” Yara spoke softly. “He must have felt us coming closer, just as we felt his pull growing the closer we got.”
Asmund and Samos nodded in agreement, the pull had grown stronger than ever now that they were this close. Samos had mostly tried to ignore it, but now it had grown too strong. Mettias was up there somewhere, waiting.
It took Morley some time to ready his crew to leave the ship and prepare for the march up the slopes. The element of surprise that he had hoped to use with his arrival had gone completely, no doubt anyone with some connections already aware that one of the pirate lords had returned. If surprise won’t work, he had told them, a show of force will have to do. He would make his way up followed by the entirety of his crew, their weapons clearly visible to anyone looking.
“There will be trouble,” he warned them as they stood on the docks ready to go. “Having the three of you with me would certainly be beneficial, but if you wish to seek out Mettias out immediately I will not stop you.”
Samos shrugged. “He’s up there somewhere. As long as we go the same direction, we might as well guard each other’s backs.”
Morley nodded satisfied and set off, followed closely by the three of them and the entirety of his crew. None would dare touch his ship, he had entrusted to them, not after what had happened with Maeren. They left the docks and made their way into the city, the streets this low only showing little signs of the black obsidian that made up entire blocks higher up. People moved out of the way as they saw the group marching through, looks of fear, expectation and recognition on their faces. Some even saluted Morley and joined their ranks as Morley returned the gesture. Those he didn’t respond to fled back into the crowd with a harried look.
The streets soon began to incline as they began the mount of the slopes. The ground beneath them grew darker with every step, the obsidian becoming more and more prevalent the higher they got. By the time they reached the first of the fortresses, their group had tripled in size. Out of nowhere, the black street ahead suddenly lay empty.
A single man stood waiting further ahead, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Samos looked at Yara and Asmund and saw the confirmation in their eyes. The pull had disappeared suddenly, only the faint ones to the north remaining.
Mettias was waiting for them.