The galley had been moving along the coast for eleven days since leaving the Nevan capital. But the wind blowing in from the port-bow meant they could only crawl along under the oar.
Gracchus was glad to be rid of the purple robe. It had made him feel disgusting wearing it. Looking around the galley, he felt a pang of regret, recalling the lines, the rigging and crew of his ship. All gone now. He would have to start from scratch. He didn’t know how he could afford another ship. That meant going overland to capture some new inventory. At his age? He wasn’t relishing the thought.
Marcus interrupted his musing. “Why the long face, Grackie boy? You have a unique opportunity here! You’re free! Untethered. You can choose whatever path you want. I mean, hell, you could even get out of slaving. Dirty business, that anyway.”
“It’s all I know. I’m too old for soldiering, so my options are limited.”
“Well, you can always stick with me. I could always use a good man who knows the sea as well as you do. If we play our cards right, we could have you back at the helm of your own ship.”
Gracchus looked at Marcus. He tried to discern if he was sincere. To discern some ulterior motive, or if it was just talk. “I’ll give it some thought. Thank you, Marcus.”
“Do. Business is on the up and up for me, me ol’ son. You know what they say, ‘a rising tide lifts all ships’. Well, you’re on one now, so…” Marcus gave a hearty laugh and slapped him on the shoulder. Gracchus winced and gave a wan smile in response.
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
They had said their farewells and had boarded their respective ships to begin the journey to Penbach, only now they had with them a multitude of ships. Both Orn and Gereld had planned it out, and they decided they would form a ‘v’ formation and stand together on the rearmost ship. Gereld handling the currents, with Orn handling the wind.
It slowed their speed by half, however, they still made the trip to Penbach in two days. Orn and Gereld had exhausted themselves moving the small fleet, so they both slept for the better part of the next day.
Once they had recovered, the Halder fleet prepared to depart for Paqurineva. As they set sail, the bicolour sails stretched out over the horizon as one hundred ships moved as one, with a single purpose. The rhythmic chanting to keep time echoed its haunting melody over the water’s surface and through the town streets. The docks lined with teary-eyed loved ones of those few locals among the fleet.
Jarl Sigtrin’s ship was now toward the front of this armada. The fleet was too large for Orn and Gereld alone to move along, so they were leaving this leg of the journey in the God Durren’s hands.
Erik was having a quiet argument with Selti. The normally shy girl had at some point formed a rod of iron in her spine. She sat up straight, looked her betrothed in the face and told him point blank that she was never leaving his side again and that was final. He looked at Brenda and Venna for help, but they both pretended to be in too deep in conversation to notice. Once they had faced away from their children, they shared sly grins as Brenda quipped, “Married life seems to have brought out some fire in my daughter.”
“Well, she’ll need it, because my boy can be a handful. But it is nice that she can balance his exuberance with her sensibility. Although being here…I do have to agree with Erik. It is dangerous where we are going, and likely there will be battle.”
“I know. I was a fool too, but I couldn’t bear being at home while all of you are risking your lives. We will find a way to be useful, but we will not be separated again.” At that, Venna put an arm around her friend and drew their heads together as they both fell silent. Both ladies enjoying the view, while feeling the apprehension of what is to come.
After a short while, Venna pulled away as she approached Orn. “Grab some food and come with me.”
Orn looked at her quizzically, but complied. After grabbing some buttered bread and honey, he followed Venna to the mast, where Vannur was secured. They had been allowing him some freedom once every couple of hours to stretch his legs and relieve himself, but then they would tie him to the mast again.
Venna looked at one of the crew and inclined her head toward Vannur. The crewman tapped another’s shoulder. They both untied Vannur, and then stood aside, axes at the ready. Venna passed Vannur the food and through Orn said, “This is crunch time for you. My people, I can say, are not better than yours, nor are yours better than mine. Only different. But what you did, I take personally. What you had planned to do to me, my friends and their children that were murdered, the destruction, taking my husband away from me. All these things are personal to me.”
“What do you want from me, lady? I wasn’t in charge. I am just a man. I have no more say than he does,” Vannur indicated one of the crew, staring warily at him. Vannur took a bite out of the bread, and once he swallowed, he continued. “I warned Gracchus, but he wanted to go ahead. Someone paid him a lot of gold to do it. For what it’s worth, you are beautiful. I am not sorry for my intentions, but I am sorry for your people. You probably won’t believe me, but I didn’t kill anyone. You saw to that. I don’t think I have ever been hit that hard in my life.” He touched his nose with a sardonic smile.
Venna mulled that over as Vannur finished eating. She looked him in the eye. “Now we must decide what we will do with you.”
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Vannur started shaking slightly as a hit of adrenaline coursed through him, believing that the end was about to come. He looked at her, a slightly pleading expression on his face. “Please, make it quick. You may think I deserve death…so be it, but please, make it quick.”
“We shall see.” Venna nodded to the crewmen who stowed their axes as they refastened Vannur’s restraints and tied him to the mast.
After a couple of days at sea, they came within sight of the Nevan coastline. With the south-easterly wind, although they were quartering, they were making excellent time. Then one of the crew shouted, “SAIL HO!”
Heads craned to see what direction, and sure enough, they could see a Nevan ship in the distance. It looked like a ship with a sizeable crew. Orn moved to Thayn and suggested, “Should we take a couple of ships along? Safety in numbers.”
“Good call.” Thayn answered, signalling two of the ships. The three of them peeled away from the fleet. With Gereld and Orn channelling, they closed the gap in minutes. As they drew closer, they could hear desperate cries as the Nevan ship frantically tried to pull into shore to escape. The three Halder ships surrounded the galley and Orn called out in the voice. “Drop your sail, put up your oars and prepare to be boarded. Do not resist, or you will all ‘Become the Dragon’ and shown to your capital as a demonstration of our displeasure with your empire.”
The man at the helm nodded resignedly. He replied once they were closer. “What is this about? We have done nothing to you. Surely we can both be about our business and avoid anything unpleasant?”
“Prepare to be boarded. Do not resist us.”
With that, Holvelan sailors launched grappling hooks across the intervening space and pulled the two ships together. The other two Halder ships stayed close by. Orn, his family, Mswali and Thayn boarded. Orn walked up to the man who spoke earlier. “I am Orn. What is your name?”
“I am Marcus. What is this about? You have no right to stop us. This is our waters.”
Orn’s grey eyes regarded him cooly. “Order everyone up on deck.”
“Sure, but I…” Orn’s expression flattened, and so Marcus gave the order.
“What is this ship’s purpose?”
“We are a humble merchant ship, transporting goods.”
“I don’t see any goods. I do see a lot of armed and capable men. Are you sure you are not a slave ship?”
“Good sir, I must protest! That is a terrible accusa…”
Suddenly Vylder roared, “YOU!” and leapt down into the section where the galley slaves manned the oars. Orn leaned slightly to see what the commotion was. He could see his father’s face set in an expression he had never seen before — pure hatred.
Vylder climbed back up, dragging a short, rotund, balding Nevan man. He threw him to the ground and pinned him there with one of his large feet. He said to Orn through clenched teeth, “Ask him why this-this…man is on his ship.”
Orn obliged and Marcus responded, “He is someone I know from a long time ago. He asked me to take him to Disipica. Please, what is this about? Is it money? I don’t have a lot, but you are welcome to take it. Please, no trouble.”
Marcus was visibly shaking now as he regarded the gigantic man who, with one hand, dragged Gracchus from below deck up onto the fighting deck. He looked desperately from one to the other. “Please, ah, good sir, what is this about?”
Orn narrowed his eyes speculatively as he eyed him up and down, before saying, “Your old friend here raided my village. That man you see there is my father. Your friend used a six-year-old boy as a hostage, forcing my father to surrender, and then, instead of letting the boy go, he shot the boy with an arrow and left him for dead.”
Marcus looked at Orn, his eyes widening slightly. Marcus was a hard man, but some things were beyond the pale, even for him. Some of the fear left him as he spat on the ground near Gracchus’ head. “Take him. I wash my hands of him. I knew some of it, but I assure you I did not know that. I am not entirely a good man, but I would never…” He swallowed visibly, before continuing, “Just take him. Search my ship, I am no slaver, I have nothing to hide.” Marcus sighed and sat down heavily on the bench next to the rudder.
Orn approached Thayn and outlaid the conversation he had with Marcus to him. Thayn asked Orn, “What do you think? We can sink him now, no witnesses.”
“I think it would be better to establish as much good contact as we can. We don’t want these people to hate us. They are at our mercy; I think that is what we should show them.”
“All right. It would seem we are done here. Tell him he can go.”
Orn nodded and told Marcus as he pointed to Gracchus, “We’re taking that one, but you’re free to go.”
The Haldermen took Gracchus back to Sigtrin’s ship and pulled away from the galley. Marcus looked after them for a few minutes, then sighed and shrugged his shoulders. He moved about the ship, issuing commands to get them back underway.
Onboard Sigtrin’s ship, Vylder was holding Gracchus by the head. Gracchus’ feet kicked helplessly, trying to find purchase on the deck, unaware that the deck was some twenty inches away. “Father, put him down! We need to question him!”
Orn, Erik, Thayn and Mswali were all trying to pry his hands off, but his face expressed his hatred, red with fury, and his eyes were becoming dangerously bloodshot. Vylder’s voice, considering the rage he was exhibiting, was strangely calm. “I will crush his skull and then peel it open. I made a promise and I keep my promises.”
Vannur was trying not to look. Gracchus was screaming, and it sounded like something cracked. Suddenly Vylder’s face returned to normal, and he let Gracchus fall to the deck in a heap. From behind the now completely calm Vylder, Briga emerged. Her tear-streaked face and enigmatic smile and radiant skin, plain for all to see.
Vannur was struggling against his bonds as he felt the full weight of the presence before him. She felt, rather than saw him, and she crouched before him until their faces were a few inches apart. She spoke into his soul so that only he could hear.
“You know who I am.” it was not a question.
Vannur nodded, fear clearly written on his face.
“My child, you have strayed. But all is not lost, for you can still mend your ways. Know that Salarius sees all, and will know your heart when at the end you are judged.”
Vannur was sobbing deep and heart wrenching sobs. All of his life, pulled to the surface and pushed in front of him. Surrounding his heart, the carefully constructed barriers he had erected were torn asunder. In an instant, Briga forced him to feel all the pain he had caused others.
Then she bent down to look closely at Gracchus. She spoke so that all could hear, “This man has committed great evil against you. But I ask you to stay your hand and not yet pass judgement on him. He can identify the man behind this all. Because this man’s sponsor is working for demons. I have faced them, as has my Orn.”
She looked at Orn and moved over to him, and this time, he took her in his arms. Wordlessly announcing his decision to accept her designs on him. Burying her face in his chest for a moment, she reluctantly pulled away, gazing up at him as though storing his image in her mind’s eye. She then moved to the nearest gunwale and her skin began glowing brighter. She said finally, “The Nevans are mobilising, but worry not. Their leader is a good man. Talk to him,” and then she turned into silver liquid and poured into the sea, disappearing into the depths.