9

The Broken Sea

Blue skies, blue water, crisp sea air. The further they were from the mainland, the better she felt. Not just because they had spent the last few days in Oldtown. She was hoping they were an entire broken ocean and several miles inland before anyone had found out what happened. She wasn’t completely at ease. Lady Wretch wasn’t the biggest shot in the Moonlight Serpents, but she was big enough to be a serious problem. Then again, she never met who was above The Lady. They were either escaping trouble or wandering further into it. Probably the latter, given they were making a beeline right for Mismiyer: home of the White Cobra.

She leaned on the taffrail, light mist splashing against her fur, and watched the fragmented islands of the sea’s namesake idly trudge by. Only schooners were small enough to travel through the jagged isles of the Broken Sea, and Captain Skuzzer was a nice enough sort; not the type you’d expect to be a smuggler. Hard times mean desperate work, she supposed. An honest man doing some rather dishonest work.

Speaking of dishonesty, her mind kept flicking back to when The Lady opened that barrel of huska. How on edge they were. How she took a pinch and rubbed it against the back of her teeth. How if her fingers just went an inch deeper, they’d be found, and killed just like that.

The missing weasel was enough to raise some suspicion, but Kathiya was good at impromptu lying, fabricating an ambush by The Hands. It wasn’t really questioned. She guessed that this happens a lot, or they just didn’t like him very much.

Nothing but lies upon lies upon lies. She hoped to get away from it when she joined Ludgar. Mercenary work wasn’t the most moral of jobs, but it was honest. At least, more honest than thievery.

‘You gotta try harder than that! You wanna be a soldier, don’t you?’

‘Nnngah!’

She turned to watch Ludgar and Caspar going at it. It was an amusing fight to watch.

Caspar had trouble swinging his huge wooden mallet around to hit Ludgar, and Ludgar was struggling to hit his much smaller frame. She had the feeling that they were going easy on each other. It was just a sparring match, after all. A good thing they were using wooden tools instead of actual weapons.

Caspar’s strength appeared mismatched to his general size. Strength like that was usually given to the more brutish types. Sometimes nature just throws a spanner into the cogs like that.

Some people were just born with natural gifts that manifested themselves in different ways. The king, for instance, was said to have been the most powerful warrior of all. Yet no one had actually ever seen him fight. So what does that matter?

So what did Ludgar have? Was he just a better tactician, or did he have something else in there? Stupid amounts of luck, probably.

She heard tales of nomadic barbarians in the west who bore the power to shape the very landscape upon which they walked. And everyone knew of the Seers of Phaos who could peer into the future.

If anything, traveling west into Versia was going to be an interesting experience.

Caspar went for an overhead swing, hoping just to overpower Ludgar and break his guard. Ludgar simply moved to the side and the wooden mallet got caught on the ropes hanging from the staysail. A shoulder barge sent Caspar onto the floor, hammer still hanging from the ropes.

He laid there for a moment, probably wondering where he went wrong; not in the fight, but in life.

Ludgar offered a hand, and Caspar sat back, debating whether he should give Ludgar the satisfaction of accepting his help.

‘Come on,’ said Ludgar. ‘No one ever learned anything without getting knocked about a little. Hell, my uncle beat the shit outta me when I could barely hold my sword straight.’

Caspar begrudgingly accepted his hand, no significant wounds other than his pride. ‘Not fair. You’ve had way more practice.’

‘What’s fair? You either win or you lose. Fairness doesn’t matter.’

Ves’sa had been watching from above, perched above the mainsail.

In a single manoeuver, she dropped, spread her wings, and glided onto the main deck, just ahead of Ludgar.

‘You wanna practice too?’

She picked up an old mop handle; right enough size for a makeshift sword. It was assumed that it was a “yes.”

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Something changed in her face. Could it have possibly been a smile?

Caspar moved out the way, next to Kathiya, as he regained his breath, and the two combatants circled one another.

They began quite evenly paced. A few pokes and lunges to gauge each other, otherwise nothing spectacular.

‘Good fight?’ she asked the hunched over Caspar.

‘Yeah, I guess. He doesn’t have to be such a dick about it, though.’

‘You’d probably be treated worse in the actual military. Can’t treat you gently if they expect you to be tough.’

‘I guess, but still… Anyway, you seem to be in a better mood.’

‘The further from Oldtown, the better.’

‘You don’t think they suspect something, do you?’

‘Heh. One barrel of fake huska, no money, and a dead gang member. Nope, I’m sure they don’t suspect anything at all,’ she said, sarcasm obvious, but probably lost on him.

They watch the movements of the combatants, Ludgar keeping himself low and on the move, while Ves’sa remained stiff and still, not wasting a single movement.

‘It’s funny,’ Caspar said, breaking the silence. ‘Since I met Ludgar, I’ve been in a battle almost every single day.’

‘How many have you been in before?’

‘Zero. Not real ones anyway. Mostly just light sparring with some boys near home, nothing dangerous.’

Their conversation was rudely interrupted by a yelling Ludgar, who seemed to gain an advantage over Ves’sa. He had her backed onto some cargo crates and forced her on the defensive. It looked like he was aiming to drop her from a short height. Nothing life threatening, but enough to show he was the better warrior.

One deflect of her improvised blade and a shoulder barge put her over the edge, mop handle leaving her hand.

She didn’t hit the floor.

The feathers on her arms unfurled, stretching out and catching the air. Their span grew about as long as Ludgar’s body, and with a great thrust downward, they pushed her further and further skyward.

Kathiya got a good glimpse of the underside of her wings, pale compared to the deep brown of the rest of her body.

She caught the mop handle with her talon and circled the schooner.

‘Oh come on! That ain’t fair!’ Ludgar shouted at the circling avian.

‘What’s fair?’ Caspar yelled in the distance.

The comment made Ludgar chuckle at his own hypocrisy, and he readied himself as Ves’sa dived at him. Their practice weapons met, and Ves’sa momentum sent Ludgar reeling back, nearly pushing him over.

Vertical combat was clearly not one of his strengths.

‘They really be goin’ at it,’ came the rusty voice of the weathered Captain Skuzzer. The old salt stood as proudly as one could for being such an age. The rotting wood of what was once his left leg could be considered the youngest part of him. He waddled up to Caspar and Kathiya. Penguins usually waddled, but him more so because of his missing appendage.

He wore a well-battered captain's coat, which clearly didn’t fit as the buttons could never make it around his gut.

‘It looks like they’re having fun.’ Kathiya said. ‘How about you, Captain? Seas treating you well?’

‘Aye, ‘bout the same as ever.’ He said, slicking back the yellow feathered crests on his head. ‘Lot’s more ships out now. Guess the Kingdom pulling out has somethin’ to do with that.’

‘Guess that means more pirates too.’

‘Aye, lots more trade, lots more targets. I’ll stick to the Boken Sea. Ain’t no one want to come round here.’

That was quite true, looking at the shattered islands of the surroundings. Legend says that Horic the Unifier once drove his blade into the earth and split the land, so none may cross.

She found it funny she was crossing it, anyway. And right into some great, fat cloud sat right in their direction.

Another crack echoed as the two wooden rods collided once again. This time Ludgar was prepared and set his footing right. Their improvised blades locked, and Ludgar was ready to let her weapon slide along his till she was fully in reach. Before he even had the chance, she had already pushed off him and was back in the air, the sudden gust of wind causing some of the crew to scurry to keep their hats on.

There was a lot of hearsay about the falcons tribes of the western reaches. One such rumour being that they were of the very few tribes that produced warriors who were capable of flight. Most birds were quite fragile, so they never made good warriors. But here was Ves’sa, in the air, blade clutched in talons, flying anyway like the laws of physics just don’t apply to her.

There must be something magic in those mountains they call home. Fucking magic. Complicates everything.

Of magic, she knew very little. Only some shadow weaving to blend into the darkness better, or to snuff out the light of some inconvenient torch.

She’d ask Sethel to teach her some, but she didn’t trust what he’d give her. A fireball would be fun if it would explode anywhere away from her. Besides, right now, he was incapacitated, expelling this morning’s breakfast over the side of the boat.

Before Ves’sa had the chance to swoop in for another assault, a mighty fog rolled in, engulfed her, and forced her to make a swift landing.

‘Let’s call it a draw,’ Ludgar said.

She nodded in response.

It was a fog so thick even the boat lurched back a little as it hit the sails.

The Captain returned to helm the ship, which now required his full concentration. One wrong move and they’ll find themselves becoming a part of the Broken Sea.

From above, they could just make out the shape of some great looming figures. A mountain, perhaps? Buildings, most likely. Maybe even the desperate fingers of a half buried titan, reaching from the sea.

All felt so calm and quiet. The tranquil passing of the ship over water was the only sound to accompany them. Into view came a well lit tunnel, orange flame flickering through the thick, pale mist. Cold dark stone surrounded them, the torchlight flickering off their edges and dank sheen.

It had taken a few days and one botched drug deal, but they made it.

Mismiyer. The city of secrets.