Michael Mathias - Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

Phen threw the dagger across the shadows to the opposite corner of the cargo hold, drawing the man’s eyes that way. He cursed his luck because the man saw the wash barrel that Phen’s shirt was still soaking in. It was halfway between Phen and the dagger now. Seeing no other resort, Phen charged.

The old sailor looked curiously at the wet footprints that appeared, speeding across the floor at him. His eyes went wide the moment he realized that something he couldn’t see was making them. In a reflex, he swung the lantern just as Phen ducked a shoulder into his waist. The resulting collision caused the man to let go of the lantern as his breath was forced from his lungs. It sailed across the hold and smashed into an erupting ball of flames near the corner were Phen had thrown his dagger. The man fell back into the door and his head hit the jamb with a loud crack. Phen could tell by the odd angle of the man’s neck that it might be broken. He didn’t have time to think about it, though. The fire was starting to spread. More feet pounded the deck overhead, the crew on their way down to the hold.

The ship lurched and thunder cracked outside the hull. Phen fought his rising panic and charged toward the water barrel he’d opened. With all his strength he made to heave it over, but it wouldn’t go. He realized the ship was leaning the wrong way and took a calming breath while he waited for the next wave. Slowly, then with alarming suddenness, the Slither tilted toward the corner where the flames were starting to blacken the wood. Phen pulled and heaved and leaned, and finally the heavy barrel tipped and fell, dumping its water across the floor in a great splash. In the last light of the flames Phen found his clothes and dagger and huddled in the corner shivering with terror.

He’d killed a man. He didn’t have time to dwell on the deed, for several zard came storming in and began using the bucket to sling what water they could on the stubborn embers. Flick came down to investigate the ordeal as well.

“Someone left the barrels untied,” a man said to the wizard. Then a zard began hissing and clacking orders at the others until the ship seemed to drop out from under them. By the time everyone recovered, Captain Slake had leapt down with unnerving reptilian grace and was easing past Flick, who was still bracing himself in the doorway.

“Tie the barrels off, fool,” Slake hissed.

Phen understood the command without the aid of his familiar. He had been among them so long now, their strange language sometimes made sense to him.

“Why was he down here?” Slake asked. Spike darted through the doorway just then and earned a rough kick from the angry captain.

“He heard a noise,” one of the human crewmen answered. “Came down to see what it was.”

“Who left the barrels untied?” Slake growled.

No one answered.

“Is this a concern?” Flick asked the Captain. Slake nodded for one of his men to answer.

“One of the barrels came loose,” the man said. “Probably smashed old Grady into the doorway and caused him to lose the lantern.”

Just then Phen sneezed and all eyes jerked toward the corner where he was huddled. Phen couldn’t help it. He had held it in as best as he could, but it didn’t matter now. He was caught.

Another sneeze filled the intense silence. This one sounded so much like Phen’s that Phen had to look for its source. One of the zard held a lantern up and there was Spike pawing his nose. The lyna made the sound again for good measure. Phen turned back to see that all eyes, save for Slake’s, were staring at the creature. The Captain’s eyes were locked on him.

The sarzard hissed long and low, his tongue flickering out toward Phen a half dozen times. Phen felt that he was as visible to Slake as he was to Spike, but when Flick spoke to the Captain again his voice was harsh enough to draw those black orbs away.

“Take us to Kingsport,” Flick ordered. He touched the collar at his neck and snarled. “With this storm, and this,” he indicated the scorched corner and the water-soaked floor of the cargo hold, “I think it would be wise to get our queen’s prize to shore before one of your crew sinks us.”

“Something came aboard with that skull,” Slake hissed defensively.

“It’s cursed,” a human sailor added. Several of the zard hissed in agreement. One of them smacked out something that Phen understood as: “Ask the bone pirate that stole it from its temple and he will agree.”

Captain Slake’s response was, “Ask his spirit. It’s roaming our ship.”

After the exchange the crew made an extra effort to get the ship through the storm. The reminder of the origin of their cargo lent to the urgency. All sailors, even reptilian ones, were apparently superstitious. Kingsport was north of Lake Bottom, but well south of Portsmouth. Phen couldn’t recall the details from the maps he had studied, but he knew that Kingsport wouldn’t be nearly as crowded as the larger city. He gathered that they would be there by dawn, and after the cargo hold was left to him again, he fought the guilt he felt for killing the crewman, while trying to piece together some sort of plan for the morrow.

When Phen woke, it was well past dawn. The Slither was at anchor, and the Silver Skull of Zorellin was gone. The only stroke of luck that the panicked boy had was that he fell asleep in the hold under Flick’s cabin. A flat barge full of barrels was tied up to the ship and the crews were exchanging kegs and crates. If he had slept in the cargo hold he would have been trampled and discovered. At least now there was a way for him to get off the ship.

Phen grabbed Spike and cradled the lyna as he eased down the gangplank that spanned the space between the two vessels. No one noticed the dipping spring of his steps on the boards. They were all too busy. A few hours later Phen stepped off the keg barge into Kingsport.

The city wasn’t as small as he thought it would be. He was able to mingle into a crowd and find an alley. Once he was alone, he took off Loak’s ring and, with much relief, examined himself to see if he was still there.

He’d noticed that most of the Westlander men were wearing loose fitting doe skin pants and lace collared shirts of either light wool or a canvas-like material. He wouldn’t blend in with his plain brown apprentice robes, or even his under garments. Reluctantly, he pushed the ring back onto his finger, and with Spike trotting curiously at his side, he went off to find some clothes and some food.

The clothes were easy. Many a home had a line full of drying laundry, where the structures were built closely together washing lines had been strung between them. Phen shopped them until he found his fit and then changed into the garments he’d chosen. Now properly attired in an oversized, roughspun shirt and leather britches, he went in search of food. He kept the ring on, just to be safe, as he made his way through the streets looking for a hawker’s cart or a table stand. He didn’t find any. In Xwarda he would have come across a hundred food hawkers by now, and ten times as many people selling pottery, jewelry, cure-alls, and the like. Well, he corrected the thought, Xwarda had been that way before Pael’s undead showed up. Of course, Xwarda was a hundred times bigger than Kingsport, maybe even a thousand times bigger.

He finally found some food at the Kingsport inn. In the common room, a group of men had just finished eating, and he was able to snatch a few pieces of sliced pork and a biscuit from the table. The earlier arrival of the Dragon Queen’s wizard on the zard ship was the talk of the town. It didn’t take long for Phen to learn that Flick had commandeered a carriage to take him and a few others to the castle through Old Town. Phen decided all he could do was follow. He was already a murderer, so being a horse thief on top of it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. He hung around the common room until he gathered enough food to last, then he stole a horse from in front of a bakery and started off.