Michael Mathias - Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

“Three this time,” Hyden said confidently.

“Three?” Lord Buxley exclaimed. “And in the moonlight no less.” He looked over the rail, down at a young boy who was just catching his breath from his last retrieval. “Keep your eyes peeled, Dannor. He’s going for three this time.”

Behind him, Hyden heard Captain Trant making another wager. He had won several already, but none as large as the one he was making now.

“Are you ready?” Lord Northall asked from beside them. Northall owned a company that specialized in making barrels, crates, and other containers for shipping.

“Aye,” Hyden said, feeling completely at ease now.

Lord Northall threw one apple, then another, and a final one into the air, high over the garden. An arrow loosed as soon as the first apple was away. Hyden pulled his next arrow from where he had lined them across the flat top of the balcony rail. He nocked it quickly, then drew and fired high into the air. The third arrow he loosed at a downward angle as the last apple fell into the trees.

Captain Trant, who had seen Hyden Hawk successfully pull off this very feat from the rail of a rolling ship, had wagered a sizable purse against two of the shipbuilders this time.

“Go, Dannor,” Lord Buxley ordered like an excited boy.

The young cook’s son tore off across the lawn toward the woods to search for the fallen apples.

While they waited, Lord Northall brought up the subject of conversation they had all been waiting for.

“Captain Trant tells us you have an idea that might help us get the iron work we desperately need back under way. As you know, production has all but stopped here on the island.”

“Aye,” Hyden nodded. “It’s simple really. Start buying back the Wildermont slaves from the Dakaneese.”

“Were not slavers man!” Lord Buxley said indignantly. “We’re honorable men.”

“Let him finish, Morgan,” one of the others demanded.

“Found one!” Dannor called up in a thin voice. “It’s cored.”

One of the gamblers moaned.

“Still two to go. He couldn’t have gotten all three,” muttered the other.

“Go on,” Northall urged Hyden to continue what he was saying.

“There are so many Wildermont slaves that, if you bought them from the slavers in quantity, you could get them quite cheaply.”

“We have been hearing that a mercenary named Dreg is already trying to use slaves to mine the Wilder Mountains and work the forges,” Northall said kindly. “And as Morgan just said, Sir Hyden Hawk, we are not slavers.”

“Dreg won’t be in business much longer, I assure you,” responded Hyden confidently. “I doubt he will live to see midsummer. He is too far away from Dakahn, and King Jarrek is deadly determined.” Hyden unstrung the bow and leaned it against the rail as he continued. “I don’t want you to be slavers. I want you to free the slaves you buy. Give them the coin to get to their homes and back to work. They are the miners and smiths you need. It won’t be long before your supply is restored and they would owe you their freedom. Your investment would be returned, men would be freed, and without bloodshed.”

“I found another!” a voice carried from the edge of the woods. “The arrow is still in it!”

“Haw!” Lord Buxley laughed.

“Start stacking it,” Captain Trant told the men he’d wagered against.

“Not just yet,” one of them grumbled. “There’s still another out there, he may not have gotten it.”

“Just start counting,” the other gambler said dejectedly. “Don’t you know when you’ve been had?”

Lord Northall was staring intently at a place in the moonlit sky. His expression showed that he was contemplating Hyden’s idea. “We would need protection for those we freed so that they could work without being molested by sell-swords from Dakahn or skeeks from Westland.” He turned back to Hyden. “This High King, is he a good man?”

“Mikahl is as honorable as they come,” answered Hyden. Though he spoke with a proud reverence for his friend, he couldn’t forget the incident with the squat weed. “He will find a way to protect those you free. I’ll arrange it myself when I return from this trip. But I’m thinking King Jarrek will have it worked out long before then. If the rumors are true, he has already killed half a dozen Dakaneese overlords and freed thousands of his people.”

“You’re a rare kind of man, Sir Hyden Hawk,” Northall said. “Most men would be trying to turn a situation like this into a profit for themselves.”

“Found it!” Dannor yelled breathlessly. “It’s hit. That’s three for three!”

“Scoundrels like Captain Trant here are always trying to make a profit off of a poor fellow,” one of the reluctant losers smarted as he started adding his coins to his fellow’s pile.

“The man drank wine from a golden goblet this night, and he fancies himself poor,” Trant shot back.

“The miners and smiths you so desperately need are all spending this night under a Dakaneese whip,” Hyden reminded them. “Don’t you forget it.” After a beat his scowl turned into a grin. “Shall we try four?”

Flick stood, with a long brass looking tube to his eye, watching from the prow of the zard ship Slither as the Seawander eased out of the bay of Salazar under the power of its water mage. The hood of Flick’s plain black robe had blown back with the breeze, revealing his slick white-skinned head. He was glad to have the ship in his sights. He had used a dozen sparrows in the last few weeks keeping track of their location, and the cage was nearly empty. Each time he cast the spell to find the locating stone that was hidden aboard the Seawander he had to drink fresh sparrow’s blood. He had no idea if he would be able to obtain more of the birds from the island. If he lost sight of them again it could become a problem.

“Keep us well behind,” he told Slake, the sarzard captain of the ship. “But don’t lose them.” He handed the telescope back to the glittery green scaled lizard-man.

The morning was bright and Flick pulled his hood back over his head to keep the sun from burning his scalp.

Down below, Drolz and Varch, Flick’s two breed giant fighters, were snoring away. The whole ship vibrated with the irregular rumbles. The two primitive half-breeds were so big that they had to have special hammocks made to sleep in. They had to stay on separate sides of the ship too, otherwise it would list with their weight. Both were well over eight feet tall and together they weighed more than a wagon load of granite blocks.

Flick was glad that this would be over in a few more days. One of Slake’s human crewmen had been sent to the inn called The Sword of Salt to spy on the hawk-man’s party. The dwarf and the Wildermont soldier had been overheard saying that the island they were searching for was only four days south of Salazar. Flick hoped that it was so. If they lost the Seawander, and ran out of sparrows, he would be forced to go skulking back to Queen Shaella looking like an incompetent fool. He didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t want to kill Hyden Skyler either, but she had ordered him to do so. Flick had become Gerard Skyler’s friend during the days of planning the theft of the dragon egg. It had been Flick who’d rowed Gerard through the marsh to the Dragon Spire. To kill his friend’s brother would be hard, but he would do it. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he knew that he would do anything Queen Shaella asked him to.

Bzorch, the lord of Locar, was thinking deeply.

In a recent visit, Queen Shaella had told the breed giant that he could no longer have human slaves pulling his wagon-chair about the city. She told him he could no longer have human slaves at all. He didn’t dare continue, but his cousin, Cozchin was trying to explain to him that, if he paid the humans to pull him about Locar, they wouldn’t be slaves: they would be employees. Bzorch wasn’t sure if Queen Shaella would approve. As much as he was growing to dislike her and her skeeks, he was still afraid of her considerable power. Tempting her wrath might jeopardize the little empire he was building just across the river from Castlemont.