13 Stealing the ship

THE TABLE TREMBLED as Podral Pole attempted to lift the black clay cup of ale to his mouth. Most of it spilled down his chin and leather armour. He slammed the cup on the counter, splitting it in two, and turned to glare at Threadfin Todder.

‘You know, lad,’ he growled, ‘I’m gettin’ real tired of these earth tremors. For once, I’d like the ground to stay nice and still like it’s supposed to.’

Threadfin waved a hand, ignoring his Darken. Complaining as usual. He’d only spilt half his ale before breaking the cup. Hardly a tremor. Besides, the mage had spotted the man he’d arranged to meet, so he got up and walked over to the table.

Vilt and Grudge sat nearby. They watched the door and the patrons while appearing to be lovers. Threadfin squinted at them. He wasn’t at all certain it was just an act, although the scout still looked off-colour due to the magical manner of their arrival.

Threadfin watched the pirate pull back a chair and sit, while a serving girl placed a drink in front of him.

‘Glad you got my message,’ said Threadfin, eyeing his new drinking partner.

Murmur Munt, a hulking Tharoni, drank slow before lowering his pewter cup, one with decorative angelic scenes. ‘How did you find me?’

‘Does it matter?

‘You left eight of my men waist-deep in stone down the street. There’s a mason and his apprentice with hammers and chisels working on it. Says it could take all night.’ He finished the ale and then held out the cup. Within a second, a girl was refilling it from a clay jug. ‘Not something to make me chatty and amiable.’

‘Got your attention though, didn’t I?’ Threadfin held out his cup, but the girl ignored him. He placed it on the table and tried to look like he belonged. ‘They were being unreasonable. Bed rest, some watered wine, and they’ll be right in a day or two. Besides, you agreed to meet and I know why. You have the ship.’

‘Those men are covered in sores and are as pale as chalk! What’s wine gonna do for them?’

‘Uh, put colour back in their cheeks? Now, about the ship—’

‘Seems to me, cutting off the head of the viral who did it might be a faster cure.’

‘Uh, no, no, that wouldn’t do it,’ said Threadfin fiddling with the silver crucifix at his neck. ‘Viralic magic doesn’t work that way.’

‘I can find another buyer.’

‘Listen, none of your people are dead. Killing is messy. Hardly worth it when you think about it. Selling ships, which you don’t want, makes sense. I’m here and I have coin.’ He placed a bag on the table with a familiar chinking sound. ‘How does five hundred silver dralans sound?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Murmur gave him a hard stare. ‘Killing is easier than digging folk out of concrete if you ask me. Anyhow, who said I had this ship of yours, and I’d expect at least a thousand.’

Right, got him. ‘We’re in the business of buying ships and that is all that should matter. Do you have the one I described, or not?’

The pirate’s eyes narrowed. ‘I hate imperialists you know. Think you own the place everywhere you go. Living or undead, you’re all the same. Why should I sell you anything?’

‘Um, well, this is an Atlantian ship, as I pointed out to your men. Goes by the name of, Atlas, and I happen to know you can’t use it. There’s something odd about it and any crew who tries to sail on it ends up going around in circles. I like acquiring odd things. I’m a collector.’

The tavern shook, dust raining down. Pole swore nearby, and drank faster, smothering his curses.

‘You know,’ said Murmur, setting the cup down, ‘you northerners get a lot of tremors. Never been up north myself. Here in Hatava, almost unheard of, until you turned up. I heard of you though, mage. Don’t much like the sight of you Plagueborn, if I’m honest.’

Threadfin sighed, sticking a finger in his ear, trying to snag a maggot. Little bugger was fast. ‘Now, don’t go spoiling things by being honest. Anyhow, you’ll just have to get used to it. There’s gonna be more of my kind poppin’ up everywhere. Like weeds.’

The Tharoni pirate frowned at him. Most breathers didn’t like hearing that, which was why Threadfin loved telling them. Not that it was true. If anything, it was difficult for him to meet anyone like himself.

‘Now,’ the imperial mage continued, ‘I’m guessing you want me out of your city, so just tell me if you have the Atlantian ship.’ He shoved a second coarse bag of coins across the table to join the first. ‘A thousand silver dralans, and you get to see me leave and not return. I’ll dig your people out, free of charge.’

‘You planning to leave on the ship? Funny, since as you say, no normal crew can handle her. If you want it that bad the price is two thousand, or seven hundred gold.’

‘The crew is my problem once you’ve sold it to me, for a thousand two hundred silver.’ Threadfin knew Munt wouldn’t part with any Atlantian ship, especially this one. He could hope to keep the pirate engaged long enough for Dessa and her crew to steal it. If Munt decided to look in the second bag, he’d find a lot less than a thousand. A lot, lot less. Wasn’t even all silver.

‘Ship’s owner is a wanted woman,’ said the pirate. ‘Now, I don’t imagine you’ve met her?’

Threadfin shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. He realised what the real price for the ship was going to be.

‘Married a scoundrel, I heard,’ said Munt, between gulps of ale. ‘An Aidari terrorist by the name of Pole. Both of ’em owe me ten thousand gold dralans. Each. In fact, they owe me their heads.’

‘Pole, you say? No, never met him, although I heard he got stoned up north for getting a governor’s wife and daughter pregnant. Both at the same time.’ Pole began coughing and spluttering in the background, followed by swearing.

‘Never met him neither,’ said Munt, ‘but he still caused me a lot o’ trouble. Been searching for him for years. Stoned, huh? I tell you what; I’ll give you the ship, and you can keep the money if you tell me where Dessa Tone is.’

‘Never heard of her,’ Threadfin lied, ‘and afraid I wouldn’t know anything about women anyhow. Complicated and overly hygienic. Nagging all the time. I’ve two sisters you know.’

‘I heard.’

‘Who is she anyway, in case I come across her?’

‘An Atlantian princess. The Atlantian princess. From what I heard she’d have been queen one day, if it hadn’t gone and vanished. Worth an imperator’s weight in gold a woman like that. White hair, young-looking. Great legs.’

‘Right ... and the ship?’

‘No. Not for sale unless I get Dessa Tone.’

‘A little abrupt, but I guess we can talk a little longer about this, and come to some arrangement. After all, it would be a shame for more of your folk to end up, stuck.’

‘You know,’ said Murmur with a growl, ‘that man of yours at the bar, the one who refuses to look in our direction—’

The tavern shook harder this time. Pole toppled off his chair, while patrons rushed for the door, shouting, and shoving.

‘Mage,’ Vilt hissed in his ear grabbing his arm. ‘Those aren’t earth tremors.’

Threadfin glanced up at her. ‘The ground’s shaking though, right?’

‘You need to look outside.’

Threadfin spotted his Darken gathering their stuff, readying to leave.

Munt glared from Threadfin to Pole and began reaching for two knives at his belt.

As luck would have it, the entire front of the inn imploded, hurling wood, stone, and dust.

‡

WITHIN THE SOUTHERN city of Hatava, thunder rumbled and the earth split. Threadfin unveiled his magic, dark wings spreading outward to shelter his companions.

‘This is all your fault,’ Pole grumbled. Crouched with a bronze short sword across his knees he sheltered on Threadfin’s left side.

‘Now is not the time for a debate, Pod.’ Threadfin glanced down at the sword. ‘You going to do something with that?’

‘It’s an argument and now’s the perfect time.’ The Darken tightened his grip on the hilt, knuckles white. ‘Why is, whatever it is, trying to kill us?’

‘I think it’s a Torment,’ said the mage with a vicious grin. ‘I’ve had ... um, some interactions with her in the past.’

‘Should’ve bloody well known,’ muttered Pole. ‘What did you do?’

‘Why is it always something I’ve done?’

The Torment was terrible in her beauty with long silver hair and pale skin, silver-tipped horns sprouting along her neck and shoulders. She strode through the Hatavan streets lashing out with her power. Her attacks on Threadfin and company had ceased, her attention directed elsewhere.

Uh oh, thought the mage. Striga strode down a narrow street to the docks where Dessa Tone was stealing her ship back. Threadfin let his magic evaporate and rose, allowing the others to get to their feet.

The inn behind them had collapsed, a few survivors shouting and crying out for help.

‘I’m hungry,’ said Grudge, rubbing at his stomach. Nothing save the sound of the wind, the roar of magic, and cries from onlookers in the streets.

‘What?’ asked the scout as they all stared at him. ‘I smell cooking is all. Reminds me of my uncle Rod’s funeral pyre. Food is all about memories. Shouldn’t’ve gone and reported my Ma, oh no he shouldn’t’ve, angels rest his soul.’

‘It’s Pole’s arse that’s smokin’,’ laughed Vilt. ‘Careful, or our scout might take a bite out of ya.’

The Darken swore, swatting at the embers on his backside.

Threadfin said, ‘She’s headed for Dessa and the Atlas, and so is that pirate I bet. We need to get there fast.’ Munt had already disappeared with a knot of his surviving followers. In the Torment’s wake, dead soldiers lay in various states of dismemberment. It didn’t stop more of the fools from attacking her.

A vortex formed in the viral’s palm as he drew on the life force of a handful of survivors, his own body fading a bit. A twist of the rules, he became a reflection, allowing him to form the portal. It rotated and twisted in the air, opening just wide enough, and through it he saw Dessa aboard her ship. Several of her crew had armed themselves with crossbows, others scampering about getting ready to sail. He had not dared to open the vortex on the ship.

Then he spotted a knot of soldiers arriving to the docks, armed with bows. Threadfin stepped through knowing the others would follow. The mage heard his Darken cursing under his breath, which meant he’d followed right behind him.

Arrows hammered into Striga’s back as she also arrived at the docks. Her focus was on the Atlas, but she whirled in fury to face the archers. Some flinched and ran but not fast enough. With her distracted, Pole pointed out a small boat they could row the short distance out to the Atlas. Once they’d snuck aboard, Threadfin used his magic to touch the water around the boat, and speed their progress. They reached the ship in under a minute. They grabbed at ropes the crew tossed over the side and began climbing aboard.

Murmur Munt and his goons had by this time also arrived. The pirate spotted them on the Atlas. However, the Torment was between Munt and the ship. He sent his men to attack Striga who had by now routed the archers, while he attempted to slip past her.

A thunderous eruption of magic struck the men, ripping them to pieces, as the Torment advanced. Threadfin saw Munt torn limb from limb.

‘Dessa,’ the mage shouted, while he watched the battle on the docks, feeling no obligation to get involved, ‘get us out of here, will you?’

‘Whatever you’re going to do, lad,’ shouted Pole, ‘best do it now. She can’t get us away fast enough.’

Waves thundered as Striga’s magic hit close to the ship. The vessel tossed violently. Threadfin rushed to the bow and Dessa’s side.

‘What are you doing?’ asked the Atlantian as she fiddled with her odd-looking metal contraption. The ship was moving though not quick enough to escape the Torment’s attacks.

The viral mage hid a smile as a ball of darkness rotated within his palms. This time he was able to use the reflection in the water as he felt the healthy pink pustules on his body deflate, draining his magic. The ship began to sink, prow first into the reflection. The swirling motion in the water grew erratic, a silver tinge developing along the portal’s outer edge. Large waves began to heave towards shore. This one would need to be big. Very big.

He glanced at his Darken. Sweat beaded Pole’s forehead, red blotches appearing on his cheeks along with a dark scowl. The viral needed life, and though he also drew upon those onshore, it wasn’t enough. He drew on Striga too, though she resisted. He knew she was starting to feel ill, but something severed his connection to her. The Torment was too strong. The life he’d stolen was enough for a short distance maybe. A few miles.

A black wind erupted from beneath the mage’s feet, a howling, which whipped his mundane cloak into a frenzy. The ship groaned and lurched as the Torment’s wrath hit closer.

She’s not willing to destroy us, he thought, or she would’ve by now. She’s trying to stop us from leaving. The question of why a Torment would be hunting Dessa Tone occurred, but he had no time to dwell on it.

‘What’s happening?’ shouted the Atlantian. Her face had developed a rash and strands of her hair had turned white.

‘Nothing to worry about,’ he shouted back over the wind. ‘Just never made one this big before.’

‘A big what?’

‘Hold on to something!’

‘Todder,’ the Atlantian cried, ‘don’t try to reach Atlantis this way. You’ll destroy us if you do.’

He nodded, but the effort of forming the vortex before the ship’s prow took all his focus. The water erupted into a silvery mirror, smooth though the ocean was chaotic all around it. It sucked in the ship, the stern tilting upwards. The emergence occurred some twenty miles from shore, far enough to thwart the Torment’s attacks, and much further than he had hoped. The vessel burst out of the vortex, airborne for several long seconds before landing hard in an explosion of water and groaning timbers. Several of the passengers and crew were thrown off their feet before the Atlas came to rest.

Behind them the portal shut and Threadfin offered everyone a grin. ‘Told you it was nothing.’

Feeling pleased with himself, he then collapsed.