There are no vermin in this world greater than the seagull. They are rats with wings if you ask me; eating all the shit and waste that no other creature would dare to consume. They are just as pestilent too. As soon as one finds a potential meal, the foul beast will linger, attracting others as they do, and when they grow impatient, they swoop in an attempt to snatch whatever scraps they can find.
As Alexander and I walked past the large, lumbering ships at the wharf in Cold Harbor, my ears were flooded with the incessant cries of the bothersome vermin. I wanted to silence every last one of them, preferably by snapping their necks.
“Down there,” Alexander pointed. “That one, with the rusty lion figurehead. Erik said that was the ship we are looking for.”
“Aye,” I replied. “It is.” I’ll admit that I was nervous as we walked down the wharf and towards the ship that would deliver us to Qarm. Although I was not sure, I believe I knew the merchant who commanded the ship. He was a good man, a bit of an arse, but a good man. Still, I had no doubt in my mind that if the voyage turned sour, my old friend would not hesitate to send me down the river if it threatened his bottom line. As expected, Alexander was nervous.
“How do you know we’ll be safe on the ship?” He asked. “What if someone discovers who you really are?”
It was always ‘what if’ with the boy. ‘What if we are discovered?’ ‘What if they sell us out?’ ‘What if a dragon swoops down and bites off my cock to feed it to a witch?’
He shot me glances all morning and patted his thigh as we walked through the wharf. He did not look like a warrior, let alone someone who is prepared for what he has set out to do, and I looked down on him for that. My son, the only one that I knew, was jumpy and crippled with caution. A real man would not worry so much at the fate that might befall him and instead embrace it with open arms.
“Your worrying annoys me,” I said to him. “It has been years since I have shown my face to the world, no one other than the owner knows of my identity.”
“You have been in hiding, but not forgotten. They still come for you nevertheless, right? How many bounty hunters have you had to kill in the past year alone? Five? Ten?” The answer was fourteen, though I did not say it. His brow was scrunched, but all I could focus on was the ridiculous appearance of his blond hair in a bun. “And you hardly make an effort to disguise yourself. You walk the streets of Cold Harbor freely and without caution, I’m sure half the town knows you are here at the docks at this very moment.”
“And when someone comes looking for me, they can go right on and tell them that I left.” There was annoyance in my voice; I could not help it. “You forget that I was raised in this town. I know everyone here, and they know me. I am certain many are eager to see me in chains, but I know many more who do me a courtesy and look the other way.”
I grunted as we approached the ship and cursed Erik under my breath, he must be having a good laugh right about now. My premonition was right.
“Besides, there is no need to worry about our identity’s being discovered,” I continued, “the ghosts of my past continue to come for me.”
Alexander gave me a quizzical look before he saw the man staring at us from the bow. He visibly recoiled at the sight of the man, for he looked half-deranged. The man took one look at us and immediately ran from the deck to meet us on the dock. He was of average height; his face old and haggard. What had once been a chiseled jawline was now replaced with flabby skin that flapped with every turn of the head. His hair was greying, and laid on his head in a disheveled mess as it circled his growing bald spot in the center of his head.
“Do my eyes deceive me?” He exclaimed. “Is it you? In the flesh? Erik told me I should be expecting an able sword but never did I think I would see you again!”
I smiled weakly, still silently cursing Erik. “Hello, Shiloh.”
Shiloh smiled back, his teeth stained brown and yellow. “Hello old friend,” he replied. I winced at the smell of his breath.
It was at this point that my son finally seemed to audibly convey the confusion that had struck his face since Shiloh first recognized us. “You two know each other?” He asked.
Shiloh turned to Alexander and inspected him from head to toe before smirking. I knew that smirk. “And who might you be?” I could feel the condescension ooze from his voice.
“Stioren, sir,” Alexander said haughtily. He puffed out his chest and extended his hand to the merchant. “A companion to Rolph.”
Shiloh looked at his hand briefly before ignoring the gesture and turning to me. “Rolph?” He scoffed. “That’s what you’re calling yourself these days?”
I shrugged. “What can I say? The boy is cautious.”
“And what good is caution when I could just turn you into the guards and collect the bounty for myself?”
Alexander flinched and reached for the hilt of his sword.
“Relax boy, I jest.” He smiled at him, but when he turned back to me, he rolled his eyes.
“Calm yourself,” I said to Alexander.
“Who is he really?”
“He is my son, Alexander.”
“You should forget that name, sir,” Alexander said. “You will only refer to us as Stioren and Rolph.”
“Well, Stioren,” Shiloh said the name mordantly. “I hope you are always this cautious. You and your companion Rolph will serve as my personal guards on our way to Qarm.”
“Personal guards?” I asked.
“I shall explain later; over dinner perhaps. I imagine that we have much to discuss. For now, though, make yourselves useful and help load the rest of these provisions. It is not an easy voyage, as you know Dag- Rolph, but if the winds are good, we should be there in a fortnight.”
******
The bass was chewy, and though we had received fresh provisions just hours ago, I still found myself biting into a stale piece of bread. Shiloh’s cabin was tight, but spacious enough to accommodate a bed, a desk, this table that we dined on, and of course, his personal chest that was tucked into the back corner of the room. The merchant always had a taste for finery and his quarters on his ship, the Swiftback, reflected that taste. I sat at the table, conscious that my dirty shoes were soiling the finery of the hand-made Boudican rug. If I had the chance too, I would have used the red and gold woven tapestry that hung on the wall beside his bed as a napkin. Alexander, on the other hand, nodded in approval at the décor when we first entered; almost as if a bastard’s whelp like him had the authority to dictate was is and isn’t finery.
“I told the man that he was mad, that it couldn’t be done!” Shiloh said as he chewed; spittle and little bits of bass flew from his mouth. Alexander, enthralled by the story, seemed not to mind. “So he turns to me and do you know what the bloody bastard says?” The merchant took a long draught from his goblet of wine. “The bloody bastard says ‘Fuck what you think. You paid me to do a job and, with the Maiden as my witness, I will get it bloody done! We either sink with this ship to our watery graves or we make it past the blockade.’ And I tell you, son, the way he said it, I have never met a man who said something so foolishly but with so much confidence, so I did not argue with him and allowed him to sail us headfirst into our graves.”
Alexander looked at me in disbelief and I merely nodded to confirm that it was true. I never liked when folks told stories from my past. To tell you the truth, I find them extremely uncomfortable. People make me sound unnatural in them, almost as if I weren’t human.
“And so, we rowed full speed at that giant trireme, and soon after, the trireme rowed to meet us as well, looking to ram us and smash our tiny ship into pieces. As it grew closer, the madman that is your father wouldn’t relent. He pushed us straight towards our deaths. Then, at the very last possible moment, he cut the rope that kept the sails furled and ordered the starboard side rowers to dig deep into the water. Well, I’ll tell you, boy, we were drifting so hard I thought that the ship would capsize for sure; but sure enough, the ship stayed afloat and the trireme missed us by the skin of our teeth. The trireme couldn’t turn around before we made it through the gap in the Cronosian blockade.”
“I thought for sure the Maiden was going to take us,” I added. “I smelt the stench of shit in the air but I wasn’t sure if it was you, Shiloh, or me that was the cause of it.”
I did not mean it as a joke, but both Alexander and the merchant took it that way. Shiloh was disgusting as he laughed. He had never learned to properly chew his food, and tiny pieces splattered across the table as he howled. He looked at me admiringly when he finally recovered from his fit.
“Your father is a great man,” he said. “Let’s hope you turn out to be the same.”
“Aye, he is,” I said before Alexander could open his mouth. I did not know if I meant it, there is a lot about him that is not, but I would not have someone as abrasive as Shiloh look down upon my blood with scorn. Alexander looked at me and blushed. “He sought me out and somehow managed to convince me not to kill him,” I continued, trying to find proof for both Shiloh and myself. “By Ugur, he even managed to get me away from my hut. I never thought I would set foot on a ship again.”
Shiloh feigned chastisement. “And what a shame that would have been.” He turned to Alexander and bore into him with curious eyes. “What exactly did you seek him out for.”
Alexander shifted awkwardly. “My wife was taken,” he managed to mutter. “And I need help getting her back.”
I watched as Shiloh smiled faintly. “She must be beautiful if you traveled to the edge of the world to seek assistance. Beyond Cold Harbor are only barbarians, wilderness, and death.”
Alexander’s gaze flickered between Shiloh and me before bowing his head in embarrassment. “You said on the wharf earlier that you need our protection. Why is that?”
“That is not what I said,” Shiloh’s words cut through the air. “I said that you two will serve as my personal guards. Let it be clear that it is you two who need me and not the other way around.”
“Aye, and we are thankful for your generosity, friend,” I said as I raised my glass to him. “And we will be more than eager to provide an extra sword if the need arises.”
“You may end up cursing those words; the Antiban Sea grows more treacherous by the day.” He noticed when I raised my eyebrow in curiosity and continued. “Your city is falling apart at the seams, Dagomar. A fleet of pirates has been terrorizing the islands, plundering and pillaging any Qarmish ship they can find. They call themselves the Fishermen, and more and more ships flock to their fleet by the day. At the head is a shady figure who goes by Dandolo.”
I scoffed. “Dandolo. I’ve never heard of this prick before.”
“I doubt you would have. No one really knows where he comes from. The more superstitious sailors say that Parthos dredged him up from her murky trenches. He has a Priestess of hers that sails with him, and the Maiden only knows what kind of sorcery those Priestesses of Parthos can do. A more practical man such as myself, however, would speculate that he is some sort of Pirate Lord from up north in the Fairview Isles.”
“We passed by some unmarked ships on the way down to Cold Harbor, it was clear they were pirates, but they gave us no trouble,” Alexander added.
“Was your ship Qarmish?”
“Cronosian.”
Shiloh smiled wickedly. “Well, that’s just the thing, they aren’t targeting every ship on the Antiban Seas. For a while, it was just the Qarmish, but now they have been targeting the Marnish as well. Someone’s paying them a pretty penny I reckon. A safe bet would be the Nestorians. Send chaos down south to distract everyone from the fact that they control Alomont now. No matter though, with all the chaos that Dandolo is causing, every other bastard countryman is following their Pirate Lord south, believing that they will find easy prey. Those fools are all in for a serious trouncing though, now that they’re seizing Marnish ships. It is only a matter of time before the navy makes short work of them all.”
“The Antiban Sea never changes,” I said. “It’s always the same players going around and fighting over who has the biggest cocks, isn’t it?”
“Still,” Alexander said. “Even with the Marnish around, we should be careful.”
Shiloh nodded in agreement. “I imagine that the line between patrolling and pirating blurs more and more with each passing day. It would do us no good at all to be intercepted by the Marnish.”
“Who’s Pleidae now?” I asked.
“Spiro Arranetta’s boy, Leo.”
I spat at the name.
“He’s eager to please his new Father-in-Law,” Shiloh said mockingly. “Imagine the accolades he would receive if he captured and brought justice to the killer of his mother-in-law.”
“Piss off,” I growled. “We’ll avoid the Marnish like the plague and that will be the end of that.”
“What is the crew like?” Alexander asked, trying to change the subject.
“Aye,” I said. “Anyone left that would still recognize me? Is Antonio still captain for you?”
“He caught the sweating sickness a month ago,” Shiloh said. He tried to hide the pain, but I could see it stricken across his face. Antonio had been the captain of the Swiftback for as long as I knew Shiloh. He was a good man, capable and loyal. “My new captain is a woman now, Isabel Muruna, and she is as sour as is her face.”
I could not help but laugh at his displeasure. “I bet you’re enjoying that, eh? Knowing you she’s probably giving you all kinds of hell.”
“More than you can imagine,” Shiloh sighed. He leaned in closer, staring at me intently. For a moment, there was a flicker of some emotion in his eyes that I could not identify. “I see the way she stares at me, the way her eyes burn into my skull. She’s up to something, that one is, I can’t prove it yet, but I know she is.”
I knew where this was going and I cursed Erik for a second time today. I knew what Shiloh spoke of but I dared not utter it until I saw the signs myself. I turned to Alexander, who was oblivious. “You ever been a personal guard before?” I asked him.
Alexander was surprised by the question. “I uh-,” he stammered. “I have only been a bard before this.”
I turned to Shiloh who was still looking at me intently and laughed uncomfortably. Fuck you, Erik. “An old dog and his bastard serving as your guards. What a sorry lot you are, Shiloh.”
Upon that, the tension drained from Shiloh’s face. He could not help but ease as he softly chuckled. “Welcome aboard the Swiftback, Dagomar, or whatever the fuck you are calling yourself these days.”
******
The Ibarans have tried to civilize Eastern Galalillia and its coast for generations; and for generations, they have been unsuccessful. The sole exception being Cold Harbor. Many settlers have tried making their homes on the cold, foggy islands that comprise the coast, but only the hardiest of folk have survived. They hack through the impenetrable pine forests to till their small patch of sandy soil where only the hardiest of crops will grow, and they hunker down in their shoddy cabins as storms that roll out deep from the sea batter the islands relentlessly before continuing onto the mainland. At night they pray to the Maiden to keep them safe from the beasts that make this coast their home.
Everyone in Cold Harbor grew up on the legends of the beasts that roamed the land of Galalillia. Often, we would hear the ghostly howls of the timberwolves calling to each other in the dead of night. When we would hunt, we would often find the carcasses of deer, goats, and other carcasses that were savagely mauled by the fanged leopards who stalked the shadows. The worst, however, were the spirit bears. Much like their brethren, these bears were cursed from birth by the malignant spirits that haunt the land. The beasts were white as snow and only emerged before winter. Everyone knew spirit bears were tricksters. They can change the color of their fur at will and blend in with the forest around them, allowing them to sneak up on their prey. One swipe of their massive paws is all it takes to sever the head from a person my size. It was said that after the First Destiny War, the Nashadeen that once lived in the area now known as the Free Cities migrated across the mountains and into this wilderness. The vast wilderness that comprises this land was seen as too inhospitable for even those savages, and they were forced to find more suitable land further west along Redman’s River. It does not matter now for those Nashadeen though, for the barbarians that lie west of Cold Harbor have probably ridden the land of their presence generations ago. This land is harsh, savage, and not meant for civilization; and it pleases me to see this land humble us Ibarans as it does. It serves as a reminder that we are not the masters of the earth like we think we are.
We had been sailing along this impenetrable coast for four days before we saw another ship pass. It was a Marnish ship sailing in the direction of Cold Harbor and it looked in bad shape. I was not surprised, for it takes a skilled Captain with years of experience to navigate these rocky shores where fog can appear without second notice. Fortunately for us, Captain Muruna was highly competent and knew these waters almost as well as I did. She was a tiny woman, with a thin nose, long face, and short brown hair, but her voice was the most commanding presence on the boat. She spoke with such confidence and authority that it was extremely difficult for her crew to question her decisions. She looked at Alexander and me with wariness since the moment we introduced ourselves. My conversations with her were short and I could sense an uncontrolled fire behind her amber eyes. I was able to tell almost immediately that Shiloh’s paranoia was not unfounded, for the disdain she held for him was palpable. They argued often. There were many times on that voyage where Captain Muruna, with her fists clenched and chest puffed, would march past us and barge into Shiloh’s room as she assaulted him with lists of perceived grievances. It was during one of these instances that Alexander finally understood the severity of the situation we were in.
“You’ve been on ships before,” he said as we stood guard. “Have you ever witnessed a mutiny?” We could hear faint shouting coming from Shiloh’s cabin.
I nodded. “Not far from here actually. We left the sorry man and the few that were still loyal to him on a Maiden-forsaken rock.”
“We?” He said, surprised. “You played a part of it?”
“I had no choice.” I shrugged. “I was just a mere deck mate when it happened, and I could either join the mutineers on the ship, or join the captain on the rock. I can hardly even remember what it was about, truth be told. I think the bosun, Hamish, I think his name was, was docking at the same harbor as the captain.”
“And that was enough for the whole ship to turn on him?”
I smiled to myself as the story came slowly back to me, and for a moment I reveled in my nostalgia. The days of my youth were pure bliss. Those were the days I had truly felt alive. Those were the days when I did not bother atoning for my past misdeeds. “Well in Hamish’s defense, the Captain was a bastard. I know I did not wish him any sympathy when we got rid of him.” I chuckled and turned to face Alexander. I paused for a moment to admire his vitality. I envied his youth and the fact that he had a whole life to live after this. “Do you want to know the funniest part of the whole thing?”
“What?”
“The Captain was by far the most competent seaman on board, and without him, we were unable to traverse the coast where the mountains fell into the sea. We wrecked just before the Swallows and over half of the men drowned. The rest of us found shelter on a craggy rock, where we were stranded for days until we were rescued.”
Alexander snorted. He opened his mouth to respond, but just as he was doing so, the shouting between the two grew considerably louder. The shouting climaxed and Captain Muruna burst through the doors and stormed off toward the helm.
My son and I looked at each other knowingly and all I could do was sigh.
“I’ll go talk to her,” I told Alexander.
She gripped the helm tightly and gazed straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with me as I approached.
“Everything alright?” I asked.
“Piss off.”
In hindsight, it was probably best to give her time to calm down, but those days on that ship I was wary of mutiny and anxious to know what would come of myself and Alexander if it occurs. I could see the fire burning in her eyes and how she wanted nothing more at that moment to plunge her sword that was currently tightly strapped across her waist right into someone’s heart. I nodded and returned to my post.
“Well?” Alexander asked.
“We best start looking for a Maiden-forsaken rock.”
“That bad, eh?”
“I have no doubt in my mind that a mutiny will arise, I am just unsure of when. But when it does come, we are the only thing that stands between her and Shiloh.”
Alexander was silent, contemplating the words I just said, or at least that was what I assumed.
“We shouldn’t worry about it now, it would happen once we get closer to the Free Cities, more than likely after we pass the mountains.”
“And what are we supposed to do in the meantime? Wait around for it to strike?”
“She will need support from the crew, and I doubt they value her leadership over Shiloh’s gold. As long as the crew knows they are being paid, they will keep the line.” I gazed into the distance and I could just make out the distant outline of snowy peaks. “Besides, we have other things to focus on,” I said as I pointed towards the horizon. “If you have any relationship at all with the Maiden, you best speak with her now. We will be at the Swallows by nightfall.”
When I die and join the Maiden in the stars above, I hope to find those Marnish bastards that decided to sail through the Swallows and settle along this wild coast only so I could whip them bloody. The Swallows is a treacherous place and one of the few places where the old Creator, Parthos, actively lurks. She hides in the dark abyss below the surface, between the craggy peaks of the mountains that fell into the sea, waiting, lurking, for unsuspecting prey to feast upon. The towers of granite rise stoutly from the water. They are sculpted by the sea, creating a labyrinth of arches, fins, and ditches as the towers weather the constant barrage of storms and waves that crash among their rocks. I can think of no grander nor deadlier place. Around one in ten ships fall victim to Parthos as the waves batter their ships to pieces among the rocks, leaving its crew to drown in the murky depths. It is so common to face wreckage in the Swallows that a trail has been established to guide the wretched souls who survive to a point twenty miles south where they can be picked up by passing ships. I have had to use this trail twice, and I consider myself lucky that I have been able to use it so few times in my decades-long career. It was on this final voyage through the Swallows, however, that I was certain to be finally be dragged to Parthos lair where I belonged.
It is a feat in itself to sail around the Swallows, as the edges are guarded by strong winds, a fast racing current, and unpredictable whirl-pools; but it requires the most capable, courageous, and foolish captains to sail directly through it. I have had captains who have done both, but never have I had a captain who attempted to perform the daunting feat of sailing directly through it during a storm.
We were blind-sided. Up until the last minute the weather was clear and calm; I thought nothing of it when the Captain decided to sail directly through the deadly passage. It was almost as if the Parthos and the Creators, Ugur, or maybe even the Dark Maiden herself were mocking us, for the winds came with the night. They were fierce gales that would have threatened to blow any ship off their trajectory. The rain came shortly after in a trickle that soon turned into a fierce deluge. The storm was horrendous as lightning cracked the stalwart granite towers. The ship was in a panic, and a call for all hands on deck was made by the bosun, a rat-like figure named Guiero.
I found Shiloh beside Captain Muruna at the helm of the ship. Alexander was not far behind.
“Are you daft?” Muruna said, her voice raised to speak over the commotion on deck. She gripped the helm fiercely, refusing to break her eye contact away from what was in front of her to meet Shiloh’s eye.
“That’s an order Captain!” Shiloh replied. The wind blew the torrential rain sideways as it soaked us all.
“Aye, I do that and we run straight into those rocks, you bloody fool!” The Captain said while pointing. “Now grow some balls and get out of my way so we won’t all drown!”
A strike of lightning ripped through the air and pierced the tower in front of us, creating a deafening roar as it did and sent rocks scattering in all directions as the crew sought cover.
“She’s right sir!” I shouted to Shiloh. My voice was barely audible over the gales of the wind. “The winds are too strong! We would be battered to pieces if we divulged from our current course!”
To be fair, there was a good chance that we would have been battered to pieces regardless of the course we took. We were in the heart of the Swallows now, and before us was a narrow path between two towering granite fins known as the Gills, beyond that was a massive slab that jutted straight from the depths as the waves violently crashed on the smooth wall. I have taken this course before, and in a storm like this, I knew it was bloody near impossible. Ten minutes was all it took to pass through the Swallows, but ten minutes was more than enough time for this ship to succumb beneath the waves. Even if we survived, I did not think we could pass through the needle, the final barrier that led to the other side and the open sea.
I held my breath as we passed through the Gills, narrowly avoiding the large slab to our left, but a new threat overtook us. The wind grew stronger and waves crashed over the deck with enough force to knock our sailors over.
“We’re taking on water, Captain!” The bosun yelled.
“Then bail you bastards!” Captain Muruna responded. There was a determination in her eyes that I knew could not be broken, a determination that only those truly mad could ever experience. “Bloody bail! And you three, don’t just sit there with thumbs up your arses! Go and help them!”
“Right,” Shiloh said, his voice wavering. “I need to go below deck and ensure that the goods are secured.”
I watched as he ran back into his cabin. Coward. Alexander, on the other hand, was anything but. I watched as he leaped into action, grabbing a nearby bucket and bailed water like a man possessed. I found one rolling on the deck and followed his lead in return. It did not take long for my shoulders to grow sore and my back to ache, but adrenaline coursed through me.
I heard shouting from behind me and turned around to find that one of the moorings snapped, partially unfurling one of the sails and sending the ship careening from their path through an open gap. Alexander, the scrawny, nervous bastard that is my son, leaped from his position and managed to pull down the rope that was flying in the wind. I could not believe it. A gust quickly came onto the ship, however, and the force was strong enough to send him flying into the railings of the poopdeck, where he laid crumpled on the ground.
My eyes grew wide and a cold dread coursed through my veins. “No!” I shouted. I threw the bucket aside and raced to where he laid.
I heard the Captain’s goading and the cries from the crew in the distance as they struggled to wrangle the frayed rope. I felt his cold, wet body as he laid on the ground and for a second, I thought the worst, but a huge sigh of relief overcame me when I heard him groan.
“You’ll be alright, son, just a good shock, that’s all. Here sit up like this and take a second.” I said as I helped him to sit upright. He was dazed and disorientated but otherwise seemed to be intact. “Take your time. Catch your breath.” I could do nothing more for him, so I awkwardly patted him on the shoulder before turning to help secure the sails.
As I turned around, however, I froze in my tracks at the sight of the Needle. The Needle was a narrow archway carved out of a large rock wall that gave barely enough room to fit a ship abreast. It took the utmost precision to navigate through the deadly passageway and I was convinced that the Swiftback would not make it in a storm like this. The waves carried us straight towards the tunnel, and a silence fell over the crew. I saw a man only a few short paces from me shaking as he weakly prayed to whatever deity he believed in. I was paralyzed as I watched us sail directly towards our death. I did not even try to brace for impact. It was only fitting that an old sea-dog such as myself die in this fashion, among the waves and debris of a tattered ship. Although it shames me to admit it, I did not greet my death head-on; I was afraid, and my fear drove me to close my eyes from the horrific sight that would soon befall me. It was a bit ironic; ever since I had lost Natalie, I had waited patiently for death to befall me, but now that it was here, and Parthos called my name, I felt that I was not yet ready. This regret coursed through my entire body as I braced for impact.
But the impact never came. I no longer felt the surge of rain crash down onto me, and instead heard a loud shriek, but that too died in a matter of seconds before I felt the rain again. In disbelief, I opened my eyes. The storm still raged around us, but I no longer saw the rock that would become my death. I saw open water.
I was in disbelief. The entire crew was. No one said a word as the ship continued to sail north; and then, a riotous cheer rose from amongst the crew and a surge of adrenaline rushed over me. We had survived.
******
The sunrise was one of the finest that I had ever seen. Deep rays of orange and yellows flooded the sky, turning the water a fiery pink and illuminated the mountains behind us. They stood peacefully in dawn’s light, softening the terror of the Swallows that is contained inside. I heard of a voice amongst the stillness, one that was melodic and beautiful.
“Run, young cub, run.
Bask in the glorious sun.
For there’s a world before you.
A world full of wonder and fun.”
I saw a sun bean shine on Alexander, illuminating his body as if Ugur himself had broken his pallid expression and voiced his approval of his tune. He leaned on the railing, gazing stoically into the wilds of the coastal savannah. His jawline was sharp and his long blonde hair flew into the wind, and for the first time, I did not see him as some poor, anxious creature. Maybe it was his demeanor as he stood in the morning light, but he reminded me of my companions of old.
“A fine bard you are, eh?” I said as I approached him. He turned, and I saw a sadness in his eyes.
“My mother used to sing that song to me every night,” he said softly. “She would always tell me how the world was mine, just like the young cub.” He hesitated, shifting his gaze away from me and now to the sky above. “I always knew growing up that there was more to life than what I had. I yearned for adventure, to climb from the gutter that I was born in. And when my mother would sing me that song, I always noticed the tinge of regret in it, and I would feel sorry for her. She spent her entire life a stone’s throw from where she was born.” I watched as he repeatedly tapped the railing with his index finger. “I thought we were bound to die in that storm last night, and for some reason, all I could think about was her. I wasn’t there when she died, but I knew that she died alone and without me. I don’t blame myself for that, but what shocked me most was how life carried on after her passing without disturbance, it was as if she never existed in the first place. I wonder if that will be the same for us.”
“But your mother did exist,” I said, remembering my own mother’s death; I held her hand as the strength disappeared from her body, and felt such a sense of sadness when it went limp in mine. “She existed, and you are here because of her. Isn’t that enough?”
Alexander gave me a look of pity that I shall never forget. “No,” he said. “Not really.”
Silence lingered between us for I knew not what to say.
“I admired you growing up,” he said abruptly. “To many, you are still a hero, and I was but one of many boys who would listen in awe as we heard the tale of how you slew that coven of witches in the swamps of Tayibah, or how you and the sorcerer Nephratites prowled the seas with an undead crew.
“I wanted to be you so badly. I wanted to go on adventures and be a hero. And now, I find myself asking if I could ever actually be one.”
“Get out of that head of yours, boy,” I said. “We are on our way to rescue your wife from an evil baron, how much more of a hero do you need to be?”
Alexander’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do what needs to be done.”
Maybe it was my paternal instincts, but I pitied the boy in that moment; he was too hard on himself. I placed my hand on his shoulder. “When the moment comes, you will be able to do what needs to be done. I have complete faith in you, boy, and I am proud to call you my son.”
He turned to look at me as he fought back tears. He said nothing, but he placed his hand on mine and turned to the sight of the fiery sunrise on the arid coast.
I have had many chances since Alexander appeared on my doorstep to reflect on my decision to follow him back to the Free Cities. Often, I called myself a fool for doing so, but as I stood there leaning over the railing of the Swiftback, I felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude strike me. My son was silent, reflective, and pensive, but I did not want to leave his side.
“How’s your back?” I asked.
There was a long pause before he responded, as if he was pulling himself out of the moment and back into reality. “Sore,” he said. “Very sore.”
“Aye,” I nodded. “What you did last night was pretty brave. Stupid, but brave.”
He smirked. “The captain I sailed with to reach Cold Harbor avoided the Swallows like a plague, and rightly so. I cannot believe we went straight through it, let alone in a storm as terrifying as that. We owe our lives to Captain Muruna.”
“Aye,” I agreed. “But that changes nothing.”
“She is a good captain,” there was caution in his voice.
“She is, but we stand in her way.”
“We do, but maybe we don’t have to. Does it matter how we get to Bracchano as long as we get there?”
“Shiloh is a rat, but he is still a friend of mine.”
“I know. But if something happens, we don’t need to go down with him, what purpose would that serve?”
“I’ve seen the way the Captain looks at me. I feel her gaze bury deep into my neck when my back is turned. We are tied to that old merchant, and there is no way to detach ourselves from him.”
“Maybe,” Alexander conceded. “But she approached me this morning, commending me for my bravery, and I think she looks upon me gentler than she looks upon you. Isn’t that a start?”
“Hardly.”
We continued our journey north along the wild coast with little excitement. The coastal savannah that comprises these wilds is a dull place. For fifty leagues, the land is uniform in terrain, with very few natural landmarks to note. It is devoid of gold, copper, tin, and even iron, forbidding any serious business to profit from the land. However, I reckon the soil must be bearable, or at the very least it would be worth grazing. Although no civilized man has yet tried to settle in this land where large beasts still hunt and roam in great numbers, I imagine it is only a matter of time before this wilderness, too, disappears in part of our desire to tame every last bit Ibara.
Past the wilds is Chora. A place of perfume and flowers. The Chorans are a crafty bunch despite being situated on the edge of the civilized world. They prey on visitors who come to bask in their whores and the strangeness of their accents. They look up to the roofs of the flower gardens that blanket the city as their coin pouch is snatched from their waists. It is no surprise that two of their ships met us on the outskirts of the harbor. As expected, they looked upon our vessel greedily as two men boarded and demanded a toll.
All I could do was watch in unease at the argument between Shiloh and the Captain unfolding before me.
“Absolutely not, you arse-licker; that money is mine and you will not take it from me!” The captain, brash and fiery as ever, argued.
“This money is yours?” Shiloh asked in rebuttal. “What have you done to earn this bonus? This money was reserved for Antonio, not yourself. If anything, it should go to his widow, but she won’t see a lick of it if we do not pay the toll, you impetus woman!”
“Parthos curse you, use your own damn money! It’s your ship and cargo we’re carrying, why should it come out of the Captain’s salary?”
“That is not what Antonio and I agreed upon when we initially embarked. This is the money we will use to pay the toll and that is final.”
She sneered, and for a brief second, fire flashed across her face. She placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. Anxiously, I drew my sword. The iron screeched as I pulled it from its sheath, drawing the attention of the Captain and Shiloh. Isabel was enraged. She bore into me, studying my face, and spat before storming off to sulk.
My son had been watching the entire scene unfold from the starboard side. He approached me as Shiloh paid the toll to those bastard Chorans.
I watched her vigilantly until she disappeared below deck, completely aware that she was veering towards the edge of no return.
“She is about to do something incredibly short-sighted,” I said to Alexander. “Go talk to her.”
“Why me?” He asked.
“She despises me, but she doesn’t mind you for some reason. Go find out where her head is at and try and talk her down from the edge.”
“For Maiden’s sake, how am I supposed to do that?”
“I don’t care how, just do it.”
I paced the doorway of Shiloh’s cabin impatiently as I waited for Alexander to return. I had tried to speak with my friend after he paid the toll, but the old bastard wanted to hear none of it. He waved me aside as he retreated into his quarters. After this incident, he must surely have been panicking, convinced that a mutiny was coming.
Finally, Alexander came back. His head was bowed in defeat and he rubbed his right arm as he approached.
“Oh, fucking Ugur’s fury,” I cursed. “What did you do?”
“Well,” he stammered. “I went to talk to her, try and calm her; put on the old bardic charm, right?”
“And?”
“You’re going to be mad.” He said, as if that would lessen the blow.
“Rip it off, boy.”
“Well… she knows.”
“She knows?”
“She knows.”
“What does she know?” I asked. He stared at me, waiting anxiously for me to understand. It took a few moments, but I did. How could she possibly know? I looked around nervously before pointing to myself. I mouthed the words “Me?”
He winced when I asked and nodded.
I felt more aggravation than rage. I have been in much worse predicaments than being on the wrong side of a mutiny, but I could not help but silently curse Erik for our current situation. Out of all the fucking ships that visit Cold Harbor he had to put us on the one that had the greatest desire to sink.
“For fuck’s sake,” I sighed. I noticed the look of shame on my son’s face. “Did you tell her?”
He punched me in the chest for that question. “Quiet you bastard! You want everyone to know who you are?”
“Well, it certainly doesn’t matter now, you twat! Now answer me, son, did you tell her?”
“Of course not!”
“Who did then?” I shouted.
“By Ugur’s fury, lower your voice, old man! Probably no one told her and she’s figured it out herself. It mustn’t have been too hard considering everyone knows the tales surrounding you; practically half of all the Free Cities have grown up on your stories. And also, it doesn’t fucking help that you don’t answer half the time when someone calls you Rolph!”
I spat in anger. “Well, shit, I guess.” He stared at me in annoyance as I gathered my thoughts. “Alright, this is what we are going to do,” I began. “We’ll reach Qarm in four days. During this time, we do not leave Shiloh’s side. We’ll alternate shifts at night to rest. Know this, boy, I am a target now too, and because I am a target that means you are one as well. Never let your guard down and keep a weapon on you at all times. Trust no one on this ship besides myself and Shiloh. Once we dock in Qarm, we’ll get far away from these bloody bastards as fast as we can.”
And that was how it went for the duration of the day and the next. With every league that we drew closer to Qarm, my heart would sink more into my chest in anticipation of what I believed was my impending doom. Shiloh, proud as ever, refused to admit what we both knew. However, he grew friendlier with the crew. He would approach a random sailor and begin talking about his grandchildren and how excited they were to see him in a few days. One dinner, he even gave the crew double rations in a feeble attempt to delay the inevitable. All the while, he avoided the captain and the captain avoided him; he did not dare leave either mine or Alexander’s sight.
The threat loomed largely over my head as well, for I was unsure of what their plans were with me. I have come to terms with death years ago, and I recognized that I have lived far longer than most in my former profession, but as I waited for the mutiny to strike, I did not wish to die. I was determined to reach Bracchano with my son, avenge Natalie, and rescue my son’s wife. I was worth more to the mutineers alive, but the reward for my head was still extravagantly high; a dead man cannot break from his chains.
It finally occurred in the twilight of the morning. Alexander had relieved me a few hours prior and I managed to drift off into a shaky slumber. I awoke to the feeling of cold metal on my throat. The bosun stood over me. His wiry mouth grinned and his rat eyes looked upon me like prey. I did not object when my hands were bound with rope and I was brought to the deck, where I found Captain Muruna standing over Alexander and Shiloh, whose hands were also bound and forced to their knees. A quarter of the crew circled them, clearing a path as the bosun approached with me. Shiloh, whose mouth had been gagged, attempted to shout without success. My son refused to look at me in the eye, embarrassed that this had occurred on his watch.
The Captain smiled at me wickedly. “The great Dagomar Dernboot,” she said hungrily. “From all that I have seen, you do not live up to the stories they tell about you.”
“And what stories of yours do they speak about?” I asked.
The Captain scowled. She turned to the bosun. “Summon the rest of the crew.”
The crew gathered slowly, being led often at sword point by the mutineers. Most were groggy and disoriented, others were dumbfounded, and there was even one poor young lad that had a look on his face as if he was dreaming. They were corralled into a circle in front of us. There was more than threescore of them, threatened by only a third that many, yet they still complied with the mutineers’ commands. All of them must have known what was occurring; if they wanted to, they could have stopped this mutiny right then and there, but I doubt any would have, they respected Isabel too much.
“Men and women of the Swiftback,” Isabel said as she stood before them. “You have served me well. You have been a fine crew, and it has been an honor to be your faithful captain. And that is why I had the utmost difficulty in deciding to do what I have done. But I have done it now, for it needed to be done.
“For you see, time and time again the owner of this ship, the one that is bound before me, has hindered my ability to do my job, and consequently, all of yours indirectly. His arrogance and greed have unnecessarily risked our lives, and he has directly stolen from me to line his pockets! I assure you all that he would have done the same to you if I didn’t stop him.
“Now, he insults us all, citizens of the Free Cities, and for those of you like me who are Marnish, he insults us even more! For you see, not only does this man play with your life and steal from your pockets your hard-earned money, but he dares to bring an outlaw on board that insults the honor of any upstanding man. This outlaw, who has been walking among us ill-disguised, has been going by the name of Rolph when he is none other than the vile Dagomar Derboot! The same dastardly beast that murdered the Consul of Marnes’ own beloved wife! He is a disgrace, and in return disgraces us with his presence. Well, I say to you, I will suffer no more insults from the owner of this ship!
“Join me, and we will bring the wicked Dagomar to justice! We will split the reward equally among us all, we will profit from the goods that rest in the cargo holds below, and then we will all live like kings!”
A cheer rose from the mutineers, but the rest of the crew stayed silent. Fools, I thought. Join them; this is not a hill to die on. To my relief, they shared my thinking. One by one they moved from the group and over to the Captain’s side. All but ten defected and with a single nod, the Captain gave the command to the rat-like bosun to escort those that remained loyal to the port-side railing. She soon pushed us there herself.
The entire ship faced the thirteen of us, our hands bound and forced on our knees, anxiously awaiting our execution. I turned to my boy, trying to take comfort that I would die knowing him; instead, I only found sadness. He was dejected, his head downcast and unable to look at me. A life that had yet to truly begin was about to end tragically early, and I could not help but think it was my fault.
With little fanfare, Isabel drew a plain iron dagger. “I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since I stepped aboard the Swiftback,” she said callously. In one quick motion, her dagger sliced Shiloh’s throat. I watched as his eyes widened in fear and then shock as if he thought he could never die. He garbled through the cloth that gagged him as the crimson blood poured from his throat.
Goodbye, friend.
She was in bloodlust and relished the sight of the old merchant’s corpse. So entranced was she that she could not hear her crew shouting for her.
“Captain!” The bosun yelled desperately. “Ship, captain, ship!”
By the time she registered what was happening it was already too late. She made her best efforts to instruct her crew to brace, but her commands were futile. We were a sitting duck in the open water and the mutiny onboard commanded the attention of the entire crew. The force of the impact threw me against the rail as the entire ship shook and moaned before breaking into two. The jolt was powerful enough to fling me against the railing and briefly knock me unconscious.
When I came to, I saw her standing on the bow of the ship that lodged into the Swiftback. Her hair was full, frizzled, and untamed as she bore into me with blood-thirsty eyes. Fear and despair crept into my deepest crevices.