The Igwé ship was breasting the tide under easy sail, holding position a few cable-lengths out. A few small-craft dotted the brown surface, further out a two-masted coaster was making its way upriver and, beyond that, some larger vessel was bearing down from the gulf under a press of red sail.

Chrys dropped back. “They are out there, just waiting for us. They can obviously track the box.”

Rakt edged forward and knelt on the thwart. “They are lowering a boat. And,.. here comes an Igwé magician, flying across the water. He’s stopped fifty paces out. Hand me my crossbow.”

“He will have the Defence up, so shooting will just waste bolts,” advised Chrys, but handed the crossbow forward anyway. Rakt spanned it, selected a quarrel and dropped it into the slot. A voice boomed across the water, magically amplified.

“Outlanders! You have ignored warnings, trespassed, sought what is forbidden and so brought upon yourselves the anger of the Igwé! Come out from hiding, surrender what you have taken and our justice will be swift and merciful.”

“Their boat is pulling away up-river, trying to flank us. I guess it’s no more playing nice,” Rakt said. He steadied his crossbow on the root, took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. The magician hovering in mid-air folded over as the heavy bolt took him in the midriff, then dropped into the water. He bobbed to the surface, there was a swirl and he went under again. He did not re-appear.

“Un-magic quarrel. That bastard Aitonala killed had two, remember? grinned Rakt. “There’s a bit of consternation on board.” He frowned “That ship out there is cracking on, given these waters. If they hit a bank, she’ll be dismasted.”

“Where’s the boat?”

“Still rowing up-river. Wait, they’ve paused.” He watched for a time. “The ship has signalled them, they are going on. We had better warn the others.”

Chrys shook her head. “All we need now is for those apes to show up on their raft, wanting their box back. I wonder what they’re up to.”

* * * *

Far away to the north and west, on the outskirts of a small town, the alchemist Versuit chortled with satisfaction. This latest distillation showed every sign of being perfect. Where his previous trials had produced a liquid that irritated or at most burned, one drop of this would induce agony. He could not wait to test it. Versuit took the vial and descended to the basement. There he locked the heavy door behind him, took up a stick capped with metal and approached the cage in the centre of the room. The ape within whimpered and hunched over, showing a scarred and blistered back. Versuit prodded the creature with the stick, sending a shock through its body. It twisted away with a grunt of pain. Versuit leaned forward to prod it again, the ape rolled, reached up, grabbed his wrist in thick fingers and slammed him up against the bars. The other hand reached through, tore the key from his belt with bruising force.

The dazed Versuit heard the click of the lock, was grasped, thrust into the cage, the door clanged to. He watched in horror, cradling his broken arm, as the ape picked up the fallen vial and emptied it over his head. His recipe was a success. The ape did not look back as Versuit arched in the cage, his throat locked by a pain so intense it precluded screaming. It went through the house and knuckled off across the fields towards the welcoming jungle.

An even greater distance to the east and south, the Luminaries of Paghin Paail kept a small private zoo. The head keeper was fond of his charges, but wise to their capacity for mischief and wary of their strength. Every morning they trooped into the inner room of their quarters, he dropped the locking pin with a long lever, checked the outer room and then went about cleaning and providing food and fresh bedding. This morning was no different. The view through the hatch in the door showed an empty room. He whistled as he swung the door back and entered. There was a soft thump behind him. When he turned, the door was closing. When he reached the hatch, it was only to turn again at the scrape of the pin lifting. The apes boiled out into the room with hoots of excitement and charged across, calling out. The outer door was thrust open by a long hairy arm and the troop hastened through. The last paused to pat the keeper gently on the cheek before pulling the door to behind her. It was some time before the keeper’s assistants found and released him, and by then the apes were long gone, never to be found.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

* * * *

Chrys took up the oars and they rowed back, assisted by the tide gurgling around the roots and branches. It did not take long to pass the news. There was no appetite for another day of hiding in the swamps They took up weapons, reviewed what magic they had and then rowed out to the river. The Igwé gave a fierce yell as they came into view, but the party had no plan to attack head on. Skaia put the tiller over and they turned up-stream, after the boat launched earlier. Chrys and Deyilan scanned the flow ahead, ready with spell and bow. Rakt, rowing, gave a startled cry.

“What the..Hey!”

Chrys twisted to look behind. There lay the Igwé ship, crew along the rail, putting on speed. Coming up fast beyond it was the red-sailed ship, taking sail in with professional speed. As Chrys watched it launched some missile that must have destroyed the Igwé rudder. The Igwé ship came up into the wind, the other put its helm over and ranged up under the defenceless stern. As Chrys watched, brisk volleys of spells, arrows and catapult shot shredded ropes and felled crew. The creaking groan as shrouds parted was clearly heard, the mainmast leaned, went over the side. The foremast followed soon after. Chrys felt the sun had barely moved before the Igwé vessel had gone from being a deadly threat to a listing hulk wallowing before the tide. Rakt continued the running nautical commentary he had begun during the one-sided fight.

“They are cutting free the wreckage. There it goes. Maybe would have done better to have trailed it astern. They have no steerage, nobody is standing in to help either….They are trying to get a boat over the side. Tricky, with no yards or davits….They have it in the water….Oh dear, must have started a plank. No help there….They have two magicians aloft, trying to tow the head around, bring it out into the stream….Too little, too late...Yes, she’s going to ground.”

They had pulled up-river to the next creek entrance and watched from there. They could not, after all, be sure this new arrival was not an enemy too. Now it braced yards around and followed them in an easy glide, keeping well offshore. A hail floated over the water, a feminine contralto at great volume.

“You in the boat. Come aboard. No harm to you, by the word of the king himself!”

“That voice...I have heard that voice before,” said Rakt.

“So have I,” said Chrys. “We go over.”

It was a short pull, to a side lined with faces of all colours, all tanned, most weather-beaten and all tough-looking. They came alongside, Rakt leapt across and was no more than half-way up when a long arm came down, plucked him from the ladder and hoisted him to the deck. He was met with a smacking kiss, then passed along for another.

“Yuli! Juin!”

“That’s Red Yuli to you, boyo.”

The chest was lifted in a sling, with great care, to be swung inboard and met with reverent attention. Skaia came up the side last, the captain gave the order, sailors hauled ropes and the bow swung towards the open sea. Chrys’ last sight of the Igwé was of a hull lying half-submerged on a muddy shoal.

Yuli gave a great grin. “I never thanked you for offing that bastard Salko.” She had a possessive paw on Rakt’s backside, but the other was free to thump Chrys on the back. A broad red sash crossed her chest, a belt held a mighty cutlass, a brace of daggers and a mace Chrys doubted she could lift. A thin gold chain wrapped around one wrist added a feminine touch.

“Actually, it wasn’t me. Kosohona put a javelin through his head after the crew found a way in.”

“Shame it didn’t go somewhere lower and more painful. Still, did the job and that’s what counts. As the king says you did for him, and he’s grateful.”

Chrys was about to ask more about the king when a ship’s officer shouldered through the crowd.

“Yuli, Juin. Cap’n wants you and your new friends on the quarterdeck.” He looked around. “Rest of you got no work to do? We’ll tow that boat astern. Make everything fast aboard and then pass it back. See to it.”

Yuli picked up the chest without effort and led the way aft.