A few days earlier, the sound of the waves lapping against the hull of the boat would have brought him joy. The Durgu weren’t usually known for their sailing prowess, preferring to stay on the safety of solid ground, but S̆ams̆ādūr had always felt drawn to the sea. There was something about the gentle rocking of the waves, the salty breeze, and the wild, unpredictable weather that appealed to him.
But right now, the sea’s gentle knocking was a little more than an irritant. With a grunt, he turned away from the railing and stalked down the deck. His entourage had shrunk greatly since he was forced to flee from his father’s capital.
After “defeating” his brother, he’d returned to the ship unharmed and given them a choice. His friends had left as one, which was to be expected; as the sons of minor nobility, there was no need for them to go into exile. His mistress had also abandoned him and that had been a dagger through his heart. She was no noble, a simple farmer’s daughter who he’d taken a fancy to. He’d loved her, and he’d thought she loved him too, but it seemed he’d been mistaken.
In the end, the only ones who had stuck with him were his crew, and he half-wondered if they had been ordered to by his brother. He knew he could check, read their minds to soothe his curiosity, but frankly, S̆ams̆ādūr was afraid of what he might find. I’d rather not know.
Reaching the end of the short deck, he mounted the stairs to the captain’s wheel. The captain, who was only a half-durgu, stood a good foot taller than S̆ams̆ādūr. His long black beard wiggled furiously as the western winds battered their boat.
“Have you decided where you going, my lord?” he asked, with a voice as rough as gravel.
S̆ams̆ādūr leaned against the railing. “No. Any suggestions?”
The captain looked at him askance. “It’s hardly my place, my lord.”
The prince waved his hands at the empty deck around him. “I don’t see any other advisors here.”
The sailor bit his lip. “Have you considered the other dwarven kingdoms?”
“I have,” S̆ams̆ādūr sighed, “but if father is truly as angry as I fear, they will not be safe for me. Our staunchest allies, Dūr-Bariq and Amagallabnu would just hand me over as a prisoner.”
“What about Kāp-Duḫs̆û, Werûs̆ad, or Dūr-Kas̆ap? They are not allies of your father.”
“Indeed they aren’t. I have no doubt that they’d greet me with open arms.”
“And yet you do not wish to go to them?”
The prince smiled grimly. “Aye, they’d throw a feast in my honor. They’d place me in a fine suite, grant me followers and soldiers, and offer promises of support against my father. And every moment I was there their gilded bars would be closing in around me. No, Malāḫdan, I have no desire to start a civil war or end up their prisoner.”
“There’s also the satyrs or strythani,” the old captain offered.
“The new strythani leaders are no friends of mine and the satyrs are dangerous and cruel.” S̆ams̆ādūr leaned heavily against the railing and shook his head. “There are only two places that make sense: the elves or the Empire.”
“The elves?” The captain spat in disgust. “Why would you even consider going there?”
The prince shrugged. “As much as we durgu may hate them, the elves care little about us one way or another. Their lands are safe and the trip there, though long, is well-traveled. They are a good option.”
“And the Empire? You know your father intends to invade them.”
“I know. If father forgives me, then I’m well-positioned to aid him, and if he doesn’t,” a sly grin slipped across his face, “then I will do everything in my power to thwart him.”
“I doubt we’ll find much welcome there,” the captain warned.
“Perhaps not, but the Empire is short of allies right now and my skill as a mage will open many doors.” He thrummed his fingers against the railing, and then nodded his head, the decision made. “We cannot arrive empty-handed. Chart course for my lands and we’ll gather what soldiers are still loyal to me. From there we’ll set sail for the Empire.”
Distaste colored the old captain’s face, but he nodded reluctantly. “Very well, my lord. It shall be as you said.”
On the Appīyan Sea, the strongest winds were those from the north and the west. A rare patch of luck shined down on them as the northern winds prevailed for several days in a row, allowing them to quickly close the distance on his lands to the south.
When they arrived, S̆ams̆ādūr was surprised to discover that the news of his father’s decree had already reached the small city of Kār-S̆e’û. There was no way a messenger sent by land had outstripped his boat, which meant his father must have sent it by mage, which in turn meant that his father was far angrier than he’d expected.
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Still, no one tried to take him into custody; though S̆ams̆ādūr was never a very involved lord, his benign neglect had endeared him to the locals who had suffered under the harsh fist of the previous lord. Thus, the portmaster failed to record his entrance into the harbor and the local guards developed a short-lived but severe case of blindness as S̆ams̆ādūr purchased provisions and recruited those few who were willing to follow him.
He left port two days later, his boat now tailed by two small merchant vessels that carried a little more than a hundred recruits. Their numbers were not the grand bargaining chip he’d hoped for, but durgu were tough as nails; even a hundred would surely buy him an audience.
They sailed further south, and though they avoided any of the larger durgu settlements, they stopped at many a small village where S̆ams̆ādūr did his best to swell his numbers. Thus, by the time they reached the Empire’s borders, his small, rag-tag fleet, had grown to nearly 300.
Yet, as S̆ams̆ādūr neared the great isle of As̆nugal, he couldn’t help but feel a touch nervous. The isle, which guarded the mouth of the River, was also the home of a small, but powerful, imperial fleet. Fearing the Empire might attack the durgu on sight, he judged it best to sneak past the fleet and treat with one of the local nobles first.
Thus when they were a day’s journey out from the isle of As̆nugal, they lowered their sails and waited till night fell. With all their lights blacked out, the small fleet sailed with naught but the stars’ light.
It took a few hours to reach their destination. In the middle of the night, there were few up and around, though a few lights still glimmered near the bustling quays. They slipped past in silence, the oars drawn, and nothing but the quiet sails propelling them forward.
They passed the city unimpeded, and S̆ams̆ādūr in a sigh of relief as the captain guided the ships toward the wide neck of the river. But his relief was short-lived. As they arced round the neck of the isle, the darkness of the night slithered away.
A dozen galleys awaited them, their sails flying the green and gold trim of the Appīyan court. Towering braziers lit their decks, which swarmed with soldiers, and hundreds of oars bristled from their sides like the quills of a porcupine.
Reluctantly, S̆ams̆ādūr gave the order to halt and waited to see if they would attack. The durgu watched tensely as the vessels drew closer, as the chanting of the oarsmen swelled above the crashing of the waves and then a small boat was launched.
“They’re going to parlay,” he said with a relieved chuckle.
“Are you sure about this, my lord,” the captain asked resignedly. “We could always leave.”
“I doubt they would let us,” the prince pointed out, “And we certainly wouldn’t be able to outrun them.”
The man grunted with dissatisfaction. “We should never have come here.”
“It was the best choice,” he replied serenely. “Now we only have to hope they’re willing to listen to reason.”
It took a half hour for the small ship to pull close to their side. The durgu hastened to help them tie it down, and a rope ladder was lowered.
Forcing the nervousness down, S̆ams̆ādūr waited with practiced casualness as the imperial soldiers climbed over the railings. Eleven men climbed up first, forming a thin defensive barrier as the twelfth joined them. Taller than the others by a head, the man’s grey skin, indicating a recent Gemlirian ancestor, took S̆ams̆ādūr by surprise, but he tamped it down and inclined his head respectfully.
“To whom do I have the honor of speaking to?”
“I’m Commander Amrû, head of the 19th Imperial Fleet. And you need no introduction.” He surveyed the prince with a cold sneer. “Did your kingdom send you as a hostage, or are you simply their cast-off.”
S̆ams̆ādūr fought down the surge of irritation and replied calmly. “Unfortunately, it seems my father and I have had a falling out. I gathered a few warriors loyal to me, and was hoping to be granted passage down the River and find safe harbor with one of your lords.”
Amrû frowned. “Why should I believe you? You tried to slip past my troops in the dead of night, hardly the actions of an honest man. Perhaps you are nothing more than the spearhead of your father’s invasion”
S̆ams̆ādūr let out a deep, belly laugh at the insinuation. “Look around, Commander,” he said, waving his hand at the deck around them. “My flagship is a private sailing yacht, and my ships are simple merchant and fishing boats. Look closely at my men; do they look like hardened veterans to you?”
Amrû snorted. “It’s a sorry fleet all right. I’d heard of your exile but believed it to be little more than some scheme. Seeing the state of your ‘troops,’ though, perhaps it's true.”
“I have no part in my father’s plan now,” the prince confirmed. “I simply wish to get away from the front lines.”
The soldier stared at him for a long, silent moment, then nodded his head. “We will allow you to sail down the River if you agree to our terms.”
“And they are?”
“You must allow us to search every boat and tally every man on board.”
“I don't have any hidden warriors,” S̆ams̆ādūr protested.
"Then there shouldn't be a problem."
The prince's lips twisted in a frown, but the commander was right. "Fine. Anything else?"
“You will allow this fleet to escort you down the River.”
His frown intensified. “Are you taking me prisoner then?”
Amrû shook his head. “No, but we're not going to allow a potential enemy wander our lands with no supervision. If you choose to sail down the River, we shall take you to the King of Sapīya.”
“Sapīya?” S̆ams̆ādūr creased his brow, genuinely confused for the first time. “Why there? Isn't that a rather unimportant province?”
“I can’t tell you why, unless you agree to do it,” the commander replied.
“And if I don’t?”
“You’re free to sail north.”
“You’ll let me go,” he blurted out in surprise. “I’d think you want me as a hostage.”
“What hostage? You’re a cast-off prince with a death sentence on your head. Sure your father may eventually change his mind, but right now, you’d fetch nothing,” the soldier snorted. “That’s my offer - take it or leave it.”
“You promise I will not be held prisoner?”
The man reached into his armor and dragged out a signet ring on a chain. “By my power as the Emperor’s representative, you shall be free as long as you do us no harm.”
S̆ams̆ādūr hesitated only a moment longer. “Very well,” he agreed, “I will go to Sapīya.”
For the first time, the perpetual frown on Amrû’s face slipped. “Good. There’s an army of Djinn headed that way. If you join them, you might just get a front seat to reclaiming the capital. Be a fair bit of plunder if you help out.”
Greed kindled in the durgu’s eyes as he leaned forward. “Tell me more.”