Everybody was staring at him. Mistress Bel’Sara, the ship’s crew – they all just stood there gaping. Some of the sailors close by began to inch away from him.

Fuck.

Mark silently cursed Hermistos. The young man had provided him something of a great entrance. Only he hadn’t wanted one. Great entrances were for movies. For gunslingers and people with superpowers. Not for somebody bringing a stick to a magical deathmatch.

He had to form a new plan, and fast. The original plan of bashing the old woman’s head in from behind while Delios and his man dealt with the crew had just been spoiled.

“Do we rush them?” Delios asked, joining him. The voice revealed that he was unsure about the sensibility of the idea.

Mark quickly assessed the opposition. The sailors were unarmed, but there were more than half a dozen of them. Omiri was carrying a longer knife on her belt while the warrior she was helping out of the hatch seemed to be unarmed as well. Not that any of that mattered if mistress Bel’Sara started slinging fire and lightning.

Mark hadn’t had any opportunity to test his hypothesis regarding the interaction between himself and magic. Let’s try to avoid further tests in live battle if we can, he thought.

“We should talk!” he said in a loud voice, snapping the crowd out of their frozen state.

Heads turned to the sage. The men started to slowly retreat from the space between her and Mark. Their fearful expressions made clear that the crew didn’t want to get involved.

“There is nothing more to talk about,” Bel’Sara said, stepping in front of her captives. “I will take Atissa south to Saggab so she can start her journey. This is how it must be.”

Omiri let the warrior to the ground and joined her mistress’s side. The man used his arms and one leg to push himself to the railing. He was bleeding heavily through a rag wrapped around the other leg’s calf and seemed to be in no mood to join a fight.

Three men against a girl and an elderly woman, Mark thought. Of course, the elderly was a walking flamethrower.

“That is clearly not what she wants,” Mark said, trying to sound calm. “Are you going to force her every step of the way? How is that supposed to work?”

Bel’Sara hesitated. “She will see reason. Once she steps on the foretold path she will accept her role.”

“No, I won’t!” Atissa shouted.

The sage ignored her.

“Her family and friends are here,” Mark said. “Her uncle and everybody she has ever known is behind those mountains. And they are in danger. Under those circumstances, how can you expect Atissa to cooperate with you? To not try to run away at every opportunity?” He made a pause to emphasize the point. “I think there is a compromise here.”

Bel’Sara looked to Delios. “I made an agreement with your father. He will not be happy when he hears of this.”

Delios glanced at Mark, unsure how to respond.

“The anax has seen our point,” Mark said. He had to be careful. On the one hand, he had to convince Bel’Sara and anybody else, that she didn’t have Memnostis’ backing. On the other hand, he couldn’t just announce the anax’s sudden passing. He hadn’t had the time to think through all the consequences of the news yet.

Bel’Sara’s face hardened, her mouth forming a thin line.

Mark could feel himself sweating under her gaze. Could she see whatever Delia had seen in him? He had to move the conversation to a compromise quickly. If the sage felt cornered, she might start lashing out. She still had Atissa. And she still had a ship.

“Let me make…,” Mark started to say when he was interrupted by a muffled scream next to him.

Delios was leaning forward, one hand pressed to his chest.

“It…burns,” he said through clenched teeth.

Following a dark suspicion, Mark’s head whipped back to Bel’Sara.

The sage’s free hand was forming a claw as if she was grabbing something.

“You shouldn’t have brought him with you,” she said. “I am sorry Delios.” Her voice sounded strained. Beats of sweat appeared on her forehead.

Delios went down to one knee. “She…she did something to me back on the market.” His head suddenly snapped up, his eyes wide. “That’s when the snakes appeared!”

As if on command a coil of rope close to them turned.

Even to Mark, whose eyes were jaded by decades of watching movie effects, the transformation was shockingly impressive. The surface structure and color of the rope changed while the coil fell into itself. A second later snakes shot out of the chaotic heap in all directions.

“Ah, snakes!” The shout was repeated by several voices. The men shied away from the hissing reptiles. Two tried to make for the railing but some of the animals blocked their path. However, most headed immediately for Mark’s group.

“With me!” Delios shouted, pushing himself off the ground. His bronze sword cut through two snakes in quick succession. A second later the warrior was by his side, using his spear to nail the hissing animals to the deck, one at a time. “We have this master.”

He probably meant to say, that Mark should focus on his fellow sage. A responsibility Mark himself really didn’t want.

“Leave the ship now!” Bel’Sara shouted. The strain in her voice was now unmistakable. She pointed her claw hand directly at Delios.

The young man groaned but stayed on his feet. More snakes appeared. A sailor’s headscarf turned and the reptile immediately went for the poor fellow’s throat. The man dropped and flailed on the ground, his comrades watching helplessly.

“It’s a curse!” Hermistos called. “It feeds on his victim.”

Bel’Sara glared at him.

Mark watched the anax’s son’s back. Would it help to push him overboard?

The warrior’s belt started to change color, but Delios noticed it in time. He grabbed the forming snake and like a waiter opening a champagne bottle, he cut away the head.

This is so disgusting, Mark thought. He wasn’t particularly squeamish about snakes, as so many were. For him, they were just another perfect example of why he despised nature. People might describe the corporate world as a snake pit, but at least those people showered regularly.

He looked around. Objects were turning into reptiles all over the ship. Most of them crawled in their direction. Some had gathered on the harbor side of the ship, hissing at anybody who tried to flee.

Mark took a breath, gathering his courage. There seemed to be no other choice than to test his hypothesis. He stepped past Delios.

And none of the snakes made for him.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

So far so good, he thought, taking another step. He promised himself, he would jump overboard the moment one of the scaly monsters looked his way. But none did. And so, he slowly walked across the ship. He tried to look calm and dignified while carefully avoiding stepping on any of the snakes crossing his path. They continued to ignore him, heading for Delios and his man instead. And were swiftly cut apart.

The stream of snakes was increasing and while Mark moved forward, his companions had to slowly retreat to avoid being surrounded by the crawling reptiles.

Observing the group of people around Bel’Sara, Mark tried to think of a way to end this confrontation peacefully. The sage’s face looked strained. How much longer could she do this? Long enough, he decided. He had no illusions about the woman’s will breaking before the men behind him were overwhelmed or had to abandon the ship. Glancing at Omiri and the long knife she was holding, he knew how that would end for him.

The sailors holding Atissa and Hermistos were white with fear but held their ground. They were likely more afraid of the sage than of the snakes crawling toward the other end of the ship.

I’m outnumbered, Mark thought desperately. Should he give up and abandon Atissa? She had no integral role in his plans. Her function had been to keep him alive in the wild and she had done so.

He looked at her face and their eyes met.

Fuck.

Atissa was watching him while straining against the men holding her. As he slowly came closer the corners of her mouth turned up a bit.

Mark couldn’t tell what she might be thinking. For him, it seemed as if they were about to lose. He didn’t dare to look over his shoulder to see how his companions were doing. Staying in character was all he had.

From Bel’Sara’s grim expression, it was clear that she wasn’t yet aware of her coming victory. While her arm stayed pointed at Delios, her eyes tracked Mark’s every step.

Mark thought through the situation and concluded that he should abandon ship. He really should. Anything else he could try was really desperate and stupid.

“Is this all?” he said raising his voice. “Look how your snakes are sliced up. Do you really think monsters this small could stop us?” Mark stopped abruptly, his eyes wandering up for a moment. The superior expression he’d adopted a moment ago drained from his face.

He’d continued to slowly walk forward, crossing the ship. Now an obstacle had appeared in his way. Round and thick and long the ship’s mast towered between him and Bel’Sara’s group.

Turning his head his eyes met Bel’Sara’s. He could tell immediately that the cornered sage had guessed his thoughts. Without saying a word in reply her lips pressed together for one last great exertion.

“Ugh!”

Mark didn’t have to look over his shoulder. Delios' suppressed scream told him enough.

The mast slowly started to change. At first, the color started to shift and a pattern emerged. With it, the surface texture morphed from grain to scales.

Then the rigging came down.

Mark, who had expected it stepped back, avoiding the falling crossbeam and sail. None of the people on the other side were hit but Bel’Sara, Hermistos and the sailor supporting him jumped back in reflex and landed on their butts.

Omiri cut the best figure, probably taking her cue from watching Mark like a hawk. She took a sliding step back, avoiding the falling threat but keeping herself between him and her mistress.

Mark decided that he definitely didn’t want to get into a fight with her that involved weapons. The girl would slice him up without blinking.

A big snake head rose from the sail’s canvas. For a moment, it seemed to look around, the tongue fizzling in and out. When it moved it slid forward with unnatural speed. In a split second, it had closed the distance giving Mark no time to run or evade.

And then it was past, gliding over the deck toward his companions.

“Delios, run!” Mark shouted. “Get off the ship!”

Delios looked up from decapitating another small reptile. A mistake. As his anxious eyes searched Mark’s face for an explanation his attention was taken away from the deck below him.

The mast snake bit into his leg. Delios went down, the strength of the monster easily taking him off his feet. The warrior, whose name Mark hadn’t learned, reacted immediately. Standing with his back to Delios at the moment of the attack, he turned and kicked the monster in the head.

The mouth flew off Delios’ leg, and he screamed.

The warrior raised his spear to stab the snake but one of the smaller ones struck out and bit into his exposed calf, distracting him for a second. It was all the large monster needed. It fell on the man and entwined him.

“Ha, ha!” Delios seemed to panic. He’d lost his sword in the fall and was now scrambling backward on his butt.

The sea of smaller snakes perused him except for a couple who went for the coil of monster and human limbs, biting into the exposed pink flesh. The warrior’s screams were quickly muffled below the snake’s body.

Mark forced himself to look away from the struggle. Not what you’re here for, he admonished himself.

All eyes were on the horror show on the other end of the ship. Even Omiri was transfixed at the sight. It was an opportunity.

Mark ran forward and jumped over the rigging. He landed next to Atissa and the two sailors holding her. Snapping out of their frozen state by the sound of his feet hitting the deck, they gapped at him.

Mark pushed the tip of his staff into the first man’s face, hitting him in the mouth right below the nose. Knowing nothing about stick fighting, he brought the staff around to hit the other sailor in the side of the head. The second covered his head with his arms and ducked, letting the staff fly awkwardly over his head.

And with that Atissa was free.

She didn’t waste any time and jumped behind Mark.

“Run!” Mark shouted, pushing her. “Get off the ship.”

She hesitated.

“I have a plan. Go!”

He didn’t but the girl trusted him and so she jumped nimbly over the rigging and ran toward the pier site of the ship.

Bel’Sara slapped Omiri’s helping hands away. “After her!”

The nomad girl threw one cold glance over her shoulder that made Mark tighten the grip on his staff. Then she leaped after Atissa.

Originally, Mark had intended to pull Atissa free and then run for it. But he’d changed his mind. This conflict had to stop here. He didn’t want to be hunted down by the magus.

On the other end of the ship, Delios jumped over the railing. With that, they were basically alone.

The ship's crew was still there but they were too frightened to interfere with the two magi. Most wouldn’t even meet Mark’s eyes.

“Can we stop this now?” he asked in the most conciliatory tone he could manage.

The sage had come back to her feet and faced him. Whatever energy the snake magic had cost her, she wasn’t done yet.

Mark noticed that she hadn’t bothered to pick up her staff. The reason why became clear a second later when her hand disappeared in her rope and returned with a bronze sword.

The hilt and blade had been cast as one piece. It was thin and curved like a sickle with the edge on the outside. It looked very different from the models Mark had seen the Helcenaean carry.

“You are a proficient wrestler”, mistress Bel’Sara said, “but your handling of the staff is quite pathetic.” The sword swung in an elegant circle as she took a fighting stance.

Mark had a hard time staying calm. The woman was half his size but showed no fear. He had no problem imagining what was going to happen if she came at him with that fancy prehistorical machete.

“I would rather come to an understanding,” he said. “Considering how much the situation has changed.”

“Omiri will bring her back. She has hunted much larger game.” Mistress Bel’Sara took a sliding step forward, shortening the distance between them. “And the anax’s warriors will be here soon. I don’t quite believe that Memnostis sided with you and his son. Not over this. Not with his city on the line.”

Mark retreated a full step. “The anax is dead.”

The sage’s eyes widened.

“Ha!” Hermistos shouted. The grinning young man sat on the deck where the fearful sailor had abandoned him, watching the scene with interest.

Mark tried to ignore the troublemaker, keeping his attention on the armed woman in front of him. He needed to convince her that she had to negotiate with him without pushing her to feel cornered. Who knew what else she was capable of? Mark didn’t and he didn’t want to find out. At least not under these circumstances.

“Catch her!” Bel’Sara shouted, waving her arm.

The monstrous snake lifted her head, slowly unwinding itself from the warrior’s mangled body. It stuck its tongue out a couple of times, before gliding over the side of the ship to follow Atissa.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Mark said. “If you would help us, instead of trying to abduct Atissa, she would be far more likely to cooperate with you. She wants to see the world. She just cannot leave her people behind.”

“She is not supposed to have people anymore! Not at this point in the prophecy.” She shook her head. “It is all wrong,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Who are you? A man that the gods cannot see.” She pressed her lips together. “I am talking to you too trickster!”

“Me?” Hermistos asked, looking as astounded as a theatergoer who was suddenly addressed from the stage. “I am just an innocent bystander hoping for a more entertaining, less preordained world.”

Mark wanted to follow up but now was not the time. Bel’Sara could decide to attack him at any second. This conflict had to end peacefully. The truth was that he needed the sage. First of all, he wanted the firepower. The Assanaten had their magi and so his side needed something to counter them. Secondly, and maybe more importantly, he needed to find a way home and that would likely require some magical expertise.

“We can discuss all of that,” Mark said. “How about you lower your weapon and call back your snake. At this point, further fighting makes no sense.”

“You keep saying that,” Bel’Sara said. “But there is something I noticed. The power of the gods might not be able to reach you, but I have never seen you use magic either. And that is Mel’Chor’s staff displaying the pacts he made with the gods. You don’t have magic!” Mistress Bel’Sara smiled grimly.

Mark frowned. Is she still not aware of the situation? Maybe it was exhaustion. The sage’s will might not have wavered, but it was clear to see that the conflict had taken a lot out of her.

“Well, I managed one magic trick,” Mark said, slowly pointing to the heap of sail canvas and rigging. “Even if you catch Atissa…this is still a sailor.”

Hermistos burst into laughter.