John Forrester: Fire Mage

“He is a prince.”

“That’s the funny part. A prince who looks more like a minstrel, a wanton one at that.”

Mara chuckled. “Rikar can’t sing his own name. Which tavern did you last see our old friend?”

“The Suckling Pig…surrounded by new friends with a taste for ale.”

“And silver…”

“Nay, always the ale that the silver buys.” Nikulo burped, slapping his chest and puffing out his cheeks. “Whew, I’d better lie down.”

“Did you find those rare ingredients?”

Nikulo hiccupped. “Success!” he said, then rolled over, and started snoring.

“Shall we go fetch him?” Mara studied Talis, her face disgusted and resigned at the same time.

“I don’t see why we should…”

The Suckling Pig reeked of vomit and smoke and sweat. It was the filthiest and most crowded tavern Talis had ever seen. There was an enormous round table in the center of the room and Rikar sat at the far end, shaking dice in an ivory cup.

“The gods be pleased, roll sevens!” A girl, maybe fifteen, jumped up and down, screeching, not minding her state of undress.

The table roared. Sevens… Rikar scooped up a pile of coins, grunted, and destroyed another mug of ale.

“Oy!” Mara shouted. “Time to go, we’ve found a ship.”

Rikar raised his eyes, as if annoyed at hearing her voice. “Can’t you see I’m winning here?”

“You’ll end up losing, in the end, whether to the dice or to these… ladies.” Talis sneered at Rikar. For all his noble upbringing, Rikar showed himself now as the fool he was. First Nikulo and now this. Even if the Captain let them on as crew, he couldn’t see how he’d manage to wake them up in time.

After Rikar sighed, he stuffed the coins into his purse and rose, shaking off the girl who’d clung to his arm. “The night is over…dawn awaits. Lead on, my prudish friends, may your steps be difficult, and the sinkholes you step in rancid.” For some reason he laughed to himself, as if caught up in some joke of his own.

At the door, someone grabbed Talis’s arm. He spun around, and frowned at the first mate.

“Ye said the Rusty Harpoon…this isn’t the place…”

“Powers of observation.” Rikar scoffed.

“This another of your friends? Tell him to mind his tongue tomorrow morning. Drunk as he is…good luck getting him up. Try a bucket of cold fish…that always does the trick.” The first mate tapped his finger on Talis’s chest. “First light or we sail without you. Not that the Captain cares, mind you. We sail on the finest ship in the harbor, The Bounty of the Sea. Eighteen canons, seven masts-”

“And a blathering fool that talks too much.” Rikar farted, walked past the man, waving the smell in his direction. “I need to water the sea.”

Talis chased after Rikar, who shambled his way towards the docks. As Rikar relieved himself into the water, Talis yanked back on his shirt to keep him from falling in. Why he was helping him? Maybe he felt sorry for the fool. Maybe he knew they’d need him in the days to come. Whatever the reason, Talis and Mara guided Rikar back to the room and shoved him into bed.

The innkeeper woke them before dawn as promised. Nikulo had a long river of drool spilling out of his snoring mouth. Rikar was curled into a ball, shivering and mumbling from a bad dream. Talis and Mara stared at them, chuckling. A perfect pair of clowns.

Without time for breakfast, they all headed down to the docks. Nikulo stumbled along, wincing, pulling his hair from a bad headache.

“Never again,” he said. “I don’t know what that bartender put in the drinks…something funny going on in his brew.”

“With any luck we’ll be back again for more.” Rikar took a deep breath. “Just what I need, a good sea breeze to keep my spirits up.”

“And rolling waves to have you barfing up yesterday’s meal.” Mara pointed at the seagulls kicking around in the sea. “They’ll appreciate it.”

“Don’t even mention it.” Rikar placed a hand on his stomach. “The world is still spinning.”

The first mate ambled up to them, chewing on a fat cigar. “The worst bunch of motley vagabonds I’ve ever seen. I’m certain you’ve never even set foot on a ship…well, you’ll learn soon enough…if the food doesn’t kill you first. Hey you, fatty, you’re looking kind of sick. Is he alright?”

“The sight of your face is making me ill…apologies for whatever my mouth gushes forth.”

“I like him…there’s salt in that fatted pork. A good choice letting you on after all. Get on up the gangplank and keep your mouths’ shut.”

Talis stared up at the bow of the largest galley in the docks. A goddess kept watch over her direction, painted in silver and gold and black. Her long flowing golden hair swept down along the sides of the ship, as if the wind might lift her up into the sky. The Bounty of the Sea. Her name made him hungry.

They sauntered up the plank, unable to avoid the leering eyes of the crew.

“Make yerself at home,” a midget of a sailor said, gesturing towards a rail.

A deep, booming horn sounded, announcing their departure. The crew raised the gangplank and pulled the anchor in. At the docks a horde of cats ran by, as if expecting a fresh new load from the sea. The galley shuddered as the sails popped, taking ahold of a cold, morning breeze. Soon they were out past the docks, navigating through the winding harbor and out into the vast, blue sea.

For the first time since their journey started, Talis felt hope surging inside his heart. They’d finally found a ship to the island of their destination. The Surineda Map had been true, the words of the hero true; out on that island lay the promise of a power so strong, they might actually have a chance of saving their city.

If they could survive the dark journey ahead.