Chapter VI: The Tale of a Mariner
“Me – I am the Lynx, though I don’t know why.” Jessar didn’t like the look of the trident the elf held, but somehow he knew the stranger intended no harm.
The elf strode toward the gate in the whitewashed fence, hobbling on his right leg. “Though ye seem friendly enough lads, I warn ye I be an expert with me trident, even with the bum leg.” He knocked on his right leg, making a hollow sound. Despite his handicap, he stood proudly, his wind-burned mariner’s features relaxing slightly.
The travelers also moved to the gate. Jessar saw the now-familiar lynx icon etched on the far, gypsy camp side of the road. The fence in front of him surrounded the yard of a large two-story log affair. A sailcloth-covered porch wrapped around three sides of the building. A sign with a painted likeness of a sea serpent proclaimed the place The Foundered Serpent.
Plainly, this one-legged elf was not from Galbard, and yet, here he lived, running an inn. How had he gained acceptance here?
“You won’t have to worry about your trident. I am unarmed.” Jessar drew back his cape to prove it, hoping the foreigner wouldn’t see past Stefir’s obscurement spell.
“Just because I have a bum leg is no cause to think me mind’s crippled. I see your shimmerin’ short sword.”
The prince muttered, “So much for the wizard’s trick.”
Stefir whispered back, “It was my staff that caused him to doubt and see through my spell.”
Standing as close as they now were to the stranger, it was no surprise when the elf said, “Aye, I noticed the staff, and I be learned enough to know the elder elf has no need of it for mundane reasons. It troubles me ye’d lie to me.” He studied the friends for a long time, as if he were trying to see into their souls.
The Lynx grew impatient. “Sir, I wanted only—“
Smiling and nodding, the elf chuckled and raised his trident from its threatening attitude toward the vertical, pounding the earth with its butt. “She was right. The Lynx is an impatient one. Like any skipper worth his sails, I’ve always been a good judge of fibre, and I deem ye all trusty lads. Since ye’ve gone and scared away me usual customers and any honest travelers, ye may as well join me and mine in me inn here,” the skipper offered, sweeping his left arm in an expansive gesture behind him. “In trade for yer own tales, I’ll ply yer ears with a few sea stories of me own.” He opened the gate for the travelers.
Ogador said, “Kind sir, we appreciate your offer, but we’re in a hurry.”
The mariner frowned, again leveling the trident at the travelers. Anger clouded his face. “Don’t ye go refusin’ me hospitality. Now that would make me mad.” He stretched to his full height.
Ogador put his hand on his sword hilt, but at that moment, a white-gowned elwen leaned out the front door. “Maili, quit teasing the guests and come on inside. Dinner is ready.”
When the mariner turned back toward the travelers, he had relaxed again, wearing a broad smile. He lowered his weapon again and leaned against it. “And, most of all, ye’d be missing the best ale in the realm. Come on.”
The offer changed Ogador’s mind. “Well, if you put it that way, I suppose we’d have to accept.”
The three friends followed their host down the plank walkway to The Foundered Serpent. Stefir paused on the stoop long enough to dismiss Silentwing. Once inside, they found themselves in a large common room. A table, filled with place settings for everyone and a veritable feast, ran the length of the room, dominating the room’s furniture. Along the back wall, a bar paralleled the table. Between the numerous porthole-shaped windows on the outside wall hung many nautical decorations: a ship’s wheel, a few cleats, and a ship’s bell farther down the wall.
But the most impressive furnishing was a large curved horn hanging from inadequate-looking marlin lines. It stretched almost the full length of the table. Given its size and the inn’s nautical theme, it could only belong to one creature – the sea serpent.
The travelers stared at the display.
Noticing their interest, the mariner motioned his guests to join him at the table. “Aye, I slew the beast that wore that poker, but that’s a tale as must wait for a full gullet.” The lovely elwen who had summoned them, together with a young son, sat at the table, waiting for their guests to join them near the head of table.
“By the Starlord’s grace and Natunya’s will,” the mariner said. Then he dipped his fingertips into his water glass and sprinkled water on his plate in the manner of Langbardian sailors giving thanks to the sea goddess. The mariner’s family and guests followed his example.
They passed the serving dishes around the table, selecting from steamed freshwater shellfish, grilled trout, rice, and what looked like seaweed (but tasted like spinach).
While the serving dishes circulated, Ogador sipped his ale experimentally. He smiled and removed the black glove from his right hand. Sweeping his tankard appreciatively toward his host, Ogador drained it in one pull. The prince sighed an ahhh that filled the room, and wiped the back of his gloved hand across his mouth. The ale apparently measured up to the mariner’s promise.
If the libation was good, the meal was exquisite, tantalizing with its exotic seasonings and preparation, a taste Jessar found half-familiar from his time on Langbard.
The mariner clapped his hands and another sailor in the characteristic V-necked tunic appeared through a swinging door behind the bar. Soon everyone’s tankard brimmed again from an ewer the sailor fetched.
Several tankards later, the guests pushed back their chairs one-by-one. The sailor lit several torches, closed the portholes, and started a roaring fire as proof against the chill settling in with nightfall.
As with any splendid meal, the mariner’s spread had kept the guests’ tongues too busy for talk. Ogador raised his eyebrows quizzically at his two friends, who nodded back. “Skipper, your board was nothing short of perfection. The best ports of Talan could scarcely have compared. And, as you promised, your ale is as sweet as the honeysuckles the elves here cherish so much.” Ogador raised his pewter tankard again for a refill.
The mariner gestured to the sailor, who began to clear the table. “Ye be most gracious, Man. Me companion here improved upon family secrets from old Langbard.”
Jessar paused as he sipped his ale. Did this elf really hail from Langbard, the land of Jessar's indenturement? Probably. After all, Langbardians were the best mariners.
“Before we get any farther, might I ask who shared me board?”
“Excuse us, skipper. I am Ogador, heir prince of West-realm, Governor of Walanar, and son of Mendanaron the Lost. The elf here, a wizard as you deduced, is Stefir of Walanar, crown wizard of West-realm, son of his mother Endriel. The Lynx is Jessar of Galbard and the West-realm, foreign minister of Galbard, son of his mother Gilana.” Each friend shut his eyes and bowed his head in turn.
“I be Maili, once skipper of Wayfinder, now owner of this inn, son of the seas. Always a pleasure to meet fellow bastards.” The mariner smiled at Stefir and Jessar before continuing. “Me fair companion be Ledrana, now claimed by no family. Me son there be Markali, and me first mate there be Bari, also son of the seas. We are blessed by yer company. Never have we had so many guests of high station.”
Jessar liked this elf – for reasons other than just the Langbardian heritage. The mariner’s disposition reminded him of the sea, jovial and amiable one moment and raging the next.
Stefir stared at the massive horn. “You are most kind, skipper. But I must hear the tale of how you came by this horn. I have heard of a few brave crews killing a sea serpent, but none have ever claimed such a trophy, or so I thought.”
Maili smiled and turned his chair sideways. Obviously relishing the moment, he dragged over another chair upon which to rest his wooden leg. His right arm sprawled on the table and the mariner silently toasted his souvenir before beginning his tale.
“As ye’s may know, the Navigators do a fair job at keeping ships out of serpent-infested waters while they’re sailing in charted waters. But even they cannot predict every whim of Natunya, and when her fury blows a ship off course ... well, that, me friends, be when a crew tests their mettle ‘gainst the beasts of Natunya. When ye be charting new waters, as me and me brother enjoyed doing, even if ye sound the depths steadily . . . well, ye’ll still find yerself sailing over a shelf now and then. As ye may know, once yer in waters over seven fathoms, yer in serpent waters, and it be only a matter of time before ye feel yer keel grating on the back of one of them.”
“So it was one bright day nigh a century ago. Me and me brother were out searching for the fabled Pirate Isles in our brother ships, as like as one porpoise to another. And what proud ships, too. Three-masted, with the main mast a hundred feet, and the fastest hull on the seas. The riggin’, what a marvel: A single experienced mate could furl or unfurl any sail from the main deck. And the cloths themselves. There, lads, was a sight to behold. Sewn from the finest virgin-white fabric woven from the silk bird’s nest, the cloths snapped sharply as they bit the wind,” the mariner orated, shivering suddenly.
“As ye can see, just the thought of them makes me shudder. Our vessels could sail closer to the wind than any other—“
Stefir leaned his elbows on the table. “Your ship sounds wonderful, but if you could please just get on with your story….”
“Aye, yes, as I was saying, we were underway that day, carefully charting the bottom. I stayed slightly aft of the other ship, in his wake. Which reminds me: Did ye know some folk call ships ‘she’?”
The skipper did not wait for anyone to respond, although he nodded as if someone had. “I know, I can hardly believe it either. If you want a she, well there’s the sea, there is a she if I ever saw one. The sea changes from calm and smooth to chaotic fury before ye can retrieve a soundin’ line, and most times there be little way to see it coming. Aye, the sea is a she, all right. That’s why Natunya be the goddess of the seas.”
He looked at each of the travelers in turn, as if someone might refute his conclusion. “Now a ship, he’s somethin’ else. A ship is predictable. You put him in a situation and he’ll react the same every time. Ye know his limits, and they don’t change. So ye see, a ship be a ‘he’.”
The skipper rocked back on the rear legs of his chair and laced his hands across his chest. Convinced Maili wouldn’t wait until someone agreed, Jessar said, “Yes, you’re right. I never thought of it that way, but you’re right.”
Stefir sighed. “You were saying?”
The skipper smiled righteously. “Yes, I was now, wasn’t I? Yes, me and me brother’s ship had been underway for two weeks with the water a steady six fathoms for so long, and the winds so steady and strong. Without warnin’, the soundin’ line went straight down without striking bottom. We had crossed a shelf into waters over fifty fathoms deep. Me brother’s sounder must have discovered it at the same time because we both heeled hard as our crews desperately trimmed the sails to help the helmsmen bring the ships about. The lookouts clung to the handrails in their crows nests, scanning the seas for the signs every mariner fears.”
“With only two compass points left in our turns, me brother’s lookout reported a school of mermaids. The wenches commenced enticing the men, but we were sea veterans. We knew that where the sea bitches were, the serpents couldn’t be far off, so we both met our helms, arresting our turns early for a followin’ wind. The increased speed would get us over the shelf faster even though the ledge was farther away on the new course. Knowing how little time we had, we hoisted full sail to run before the wind, ignoring the risk to our masts.”
“Then the first fins cut the water, more’n six ship lengths from the point of its poker to the tip of its tail. Have ye ever seen a serpent? Probably not, or ye’d be at Natunya’s bosom. But ye’d never forget if ye had. The serpent we saw that day had a head fully ten feet across. It could have swallowed a long boat easy as a scallop. His head looked like a lizard’s, with foot long spiked teeth. Diamond-like fins, some more’n five feet long, lined the beast’s back in double rows. His horizontal tail had the same shape as his fins. The beast’s horn emerged from the top of his head and curved forward. But the most memorable thing about a serpent, mind ye, is his eyes. Like looking into the blackest nightmare, without even the reflected gleam ye’d expect. They have no pupil either, just a black, bottomless tunnel. And in the depths of those eyes be somethin’ evil – mindless, ground-dweller-hating evil. Still, there be also somethin’ smart … like someone else is inside. Spooky, ye’d say.” The mariner paused, shaking his head as if to dislodge the memory.
Stefir looked agitated. “What about the horn?”
The mariner ignored the wizard. “The beast swam dead astern of me brother’s ship, itself nearly abeam of me own vessel and still gaining. The serpent came up fast, too, but it looked like Natunya would spare us that day; we’d reach shallow water before the evil creature caught me brother. But then I heard a terrible crunchin’ noise and a lookout reported me brother’s foremast had snapped from running full sail in the brisk wind. Mainmast leaning, some of the guy lines fouled the mainsails on the foremast, and me brother’s ship lost most of his headway.”
“Then me brother did what still haunts me dreams today. As I yelled orders to me own crew and started bringing me ship about to me brother’s aid, the bastard made a runnin’ cast of his trident and grunted the most gut-wrenchin’ yell as ye’ll ever hear.”
“I leaped aside and me brother’s trident crashed into me wheel, jamming me rudder fast. I shook my fist at him, but me brother only grinned like a demon as he brought his crippled ship about again to attack the beast. His crew formed harpoon teams fore and aft, and the last I saw of me brother was him hoisting the serpent pennant upside down. He started the custom of flying the pennant inverted to show a vessel is attacking instead of being attacked,” Maili explained, beaming with pride.
“Helplessly, me own ship sped onward, and I ordered the jibs furled to reduce speed as we crossed back into shallow waters. Me brother’s men put ten harpoons into the beast before it finally charged. When it did, its horn ruptured not just the ship’s hull, but also his first deck and weather deck.”
The mariner swung his leg from the other chair and leaned over the table until his cheek almost rested against it. He continued with a distant look in his eyes as he stared down the length of the table. “Me brother fought the father of all serpents. The beast actually lifted his ship completely out of the water.” He picked up his empty tankard.
“Then it shook its scaled head, and brought the vessel smashing down ‘gainst the waves!” He slammed his tankard on the table, startling everyone.
“When the beast did that, mates, I heard a noise like ye’d never forget if ye heard it. A ship’s life is in his keel, his backbone. And when a ship breaks his back, he makes a crack sharper than lightning, I tell ye. Me brother’s keel, doubly weakened by the hull holing and the craft’s weight as the vessel left the water, snapped as the creature dropped back below the waves.” The mariner fell silent, leaned back in his chair, and propped up his leg again.
The friends waited. Maili gestured to the servant, who brought the ewer. Before the sailor could pour, however, the captain grabbed the container and quaffed it in one long drink. Jessar wondered how anyone could hold his breath for as long as it took to drain the brew. Finally, the mariner upended the pitcher and choked back a belch.
“So, what happened to your brother?” Jessar immediately regretted his question when he saw Maili’s what-kind-of-an-idiot-are-you look.
The mariner jumped to his feet, knocking over a chair. “Have ye no heart, lad? What did it matter what happened to me brother? His ship was dead. Where’s yer respect?”
Wanting to regain the mariner’s favor, the Lynx leaped up, two-fisted his own tankard to his mouth, and drained it to the dregs in one stout gulp.
Ogador looked at him appreciatively, but Jessar felt outdone. Maili had emptied an entire pitcher without spilling a drop, but Jessar’s throat glistened from just the spilled ale of his own tankard. Even worse, he couldn’t hold back a resonant belch. He blushed crimson at the elwen’s knowing smile.
Maili sank back to his chair, grinning at Jessar. “Me brother’s at Natunya’s bosom, with the rest of his crew. I watched the serpent eat most of them with the mermaid bitches leaping playfully over the beast’s back the whole while. The ship went down fast, in a way that always surprises landlubbers who see it.”
“As for meself, I took an axe to me brother’s trident and freed my own helm. But I was too late; the waves held no trace of the furious battle from moments before.” He spoke mildly, in a tone that belied the rage building within.
The mariner shook his fist and swore through clenched teeth, “I vowed to hunt that serpent to the ends of the sea. I would avenge the death of me brother’s ship or die trying.”
Maili paused and glanced at the horn overhead. “I sailed back to Langbard and hired the best shipwright in the lands. I split me ship into compartments belowdecks. That way, when the serpent holed me hull, the bulkheads would limit the floodin’. I also had to keep the beast from lifting me vessel from the water, which would break his keel. Lead ballast in me holds was the aswer. That lopped off a third of me top speed, but I never intended to run from a serpent again.”
“I hired an extra dozen of the best harpooners, and set off hunting with me pennant upside down as me brother’d done. At every report of a large serpent from a merchantman or a patrol, me and me crew would make for the waters of the sightin’. We slew some, but none the likes of the one that killed me brother’s galleon. After many moons, we despaired of finding the beast, and I told the navigator to chart a course for the waters of me brother’s wreck.
“So, ten years after me brother died, I was sailing about five marches off the shelf when I saw a large serpent’s fins. Oddly, no mermaids danced on the waves. But the fins looked big enough for the beast I wanted.”
“Me crew sensed it, too, and they joked about serpent steaks in nervous excitement. Strangely, the beast wasn’t heading for me ship, so I ordered me helmsman to bring us about and close the serpent. As we started turning, though, it began to circle us. The men wasted half their harpoons in frustration as the beast stayed just out of range. I didn’t know what to do until I remembered what had happened ten years earlier. Then I knew what would bring it in.”
“I ordered me helm to make for the shelf and me men to hold their harpoons, that the serpent would attack as we closed the shelf. Like I guessed, the serpent stayed at the same maddenin’ range for an hour while we sailed for the shelf.”
“It knew we were gettin’ close to the shallows from the change in sea color. The leviathan circled around us faster and faster. Finally, just before we left the deep waters, the beast made its run, starting with a pass athwartships, rubbing its back fins ‘gainst me keel. Then it turned away to our stern. The serpent didn’t have room to run at us from ahead, as they prefer. But it hardly mattered because it swam fast enough to make a good pass from astern. His fins disappeared from the surface about one ship length behind us.” The mariner leaned close over the table again.
“Just as we began to think we had entered safe waters, we felt the impact of the beast’s charge.” The mariner slammed his fist under the table and made all the cups jump.
“Just like ten years before, his poker punched through me hull, first deck, and weather deck, just forward of the deck house. Not one of us stood after the force of the blow. Some of me less experienced hands were already climbing into the riggin’, but I grabbed the end of a hawser and threw open the hatch to the forward cargo hold. The first mate joined me, and we dropped to the deck below, near where the horn emerged.”
“Back above, the braver of the lads hung over the sides on lines and stabbed the beast’s snout. This only infuriated it more, and the timbers strained as the serpent tried to lift the ship above the water. As me mate circled the horn with the hawser, I tightened the rope’s coils. With the ship’s angle growing steadily worse, I feared the creature might actually raise the vessel out of the water despite the lead ballast. Just as we finished wrapping the horn, though, the serpent quit lifting.”
“I’d watched these leviathans enough to know what was next: The beast would try to dive and flood me ship. Quickly, we threw a hitch on the hawser and I sent me mate below to check the bulkheads. The thing had a surprise coming.”
“I jumped up and caught the coaming of the waterway around the hatch overhead. I pulled meself out onto the weather deck and headed for the railin’ to see how me lads were making out with their harpoons. I burned with pride when I saw more’n a dozen of them still hanging from lines anchored in the creature’s tough hide. Two danglin’ ropes marked where two of them had fallen to the serpent’s clutch. Me boys had made a gory mess of the beast’s head. If its eyes hadn’t been hidden under the curve of the hull, the sailors would already have killed it.”
“As I came to the port railin’, the creature tried his first dive, pitching me ship down dangerously at the bow. I ordered the men in the riggin’ to furl the sails as the bowsprit washed under the waves and we took water over the bow. A steady river ran over the foredeck, but the bulkheads held below. The torrent of water washing down the aft side of the forecastle ripped the hatch off the damaged hold. One of me lads who’d been trying to force the hatch shut against the flow of water got swept away too. He clutched at a line on a deck cleat for a moment before the sheet snapped, pulling him off and slamming him right onto the sharp point of the beast’s horn. He screamed in torment as he clung to the horn skewering his body. Finally, thanks be to Natunya, another wave lifted him off and carried him away.”
“The rest of us scrambled up into the riggin’ as best we could. Looking aft, I saw me rudder hanging uselessly in the air. Then I remembered: Where was me helmsman? He’d been at the helm on the forecastle, now submerged from the downward pull of the leviathan. I began to think my plannin’ had been for nothing, that the beast might be strong enough to pull us under despite me watertight bulkheads.”
“But it must not have lasted for the eternity it seemed. The beast finally gave up its attempt to drown us, and the forecastle rose from the waves. There was me helmsman, clinging to the wheel. I muttered a prayer of thanks to the Sea Bitch and shouted to me lads to hold on. Sure enough, just as I figured, the serpent started swimming like Natunya herself chased him, dragging us along. It drove me ship better’n any wind.”
“The leviathan eventually realized its victim was unsinkable. I had been hunting serpents for so long that I thought I was beginning to understand this one’s thinkin’. I knew that it would next try to punch a few more holes in the man-holder. For the first time, he tried to pull his horn from me hull, and it was only then that the beast discovered the trap I’d set.”
“Try as it might, the beast couldn’t free itself. The coils of the hawser clamped the horn fast to the hull, and me ship’s bones held together. The beast shook his head in a frenzy, flinging men from the decks, masts, and riggin’. I lashed meself and me helmsman fast to the mainmast as the creature thrashed about. The shakin’ went on well after sunset, till only the two of us remained alive, and even we had been shaken into unconsciousness.”
Maili paused only long enough to signal his comrade and wet his throat with a long pull from his refilled mug.
“It took even more time for the beast to resign himself to his fate. Over the next few days, he tried to shake off me ship. And all this time it swam north. We lost track of the days we spent with never any land in sight. On the fourth day, we finally risked leaving the mainmast to seek food and water.”
“One mornin’, we awoke to find cliffs ahead hemming in a small bay. The walls of a great city rose on an island to the west, and great flat rocks sat atop spires rising above the water to the height of me weather deck. From the terrain, I knew we had reached Gerego, easternmost of the West-realm citadels. Ye know, the ocean itself springs from Gerego Bay, and the current leaving the natural cliff jetties is stronger’n the force of any wind. Of course, the approaches to the bay are deep water, meaning there would be sea serpents and no ships would dare enter. Me own people call it the Serpents’ Grave. Legend held that it was here serpents came to die. The closer we got to the cliffs and the relentless current, the slower our progress. Me vessel finally stood still in the water, motionless against the current only a ship length outside the cliffs.”
“Nevertheless, the beast struggled on for many hours, slipping slowly back against the current. It didn’t give up, however. Shortly after sunset, a school of orca, drawn, no doubt, by the gore oozing from the beast’s wounds, proved to be the serpent’s undoing. In its weakened condition, and unable to use its jaws to any affect, the creature could only thrash as the predators bit chunks of flesh from their prey’s unprotected belly. Thrashing about in agony, the serpent no longer fought the current, which swept us west and south. Yelling to me helmsman for help, I struggled to unfurl the mainsail. If we didn’t get some way on, the current would drive us against the fairy rocks by Gerego.”
“In the end, we got the ship turned, but the dying serpent dragged like an anchor. One sail wasn’t enough, and we edged closer to the fairy towers, the spires and flat rocks. The first one we hit tore a gash in the forward compartment, and me ship’s dying breath exhausted from the hatch as the floodin’ pushed the air from the hold below. Meanwhile, the orca continued tearing the serpent apart, and the beast’s death throes drove us against first one and then another of the spires. With its last strength, he lifted the bow and bellowed his death. The bowsprit struck one of the flat rocks atop the nearest fairy tower and snapped. The unbalanced rock teetered perilously before smashing down onto me forecastle.”
“It wasn’t just the serpent that would die: The wounds from the sharp pinnacles and the devastation to me forecastle had doomed the ship. All we could do was cling to the sterncastle, praying the orca would leave, but their blood frenzy drove them. They severed the serpent’s head from its body, which drifted away, drawing most of the orca with it. Only two remained, snapping at the beast’s head.
“It was then that some of the lead ballast broke loose belowdecks, and the ship listed heavily to port. The hull stress was finally too much. Me ship sunk slowly as the bulkheads between compartments burst one by one. The current pushed us close to another spire, and I ordered me helmsman to dive for it. But he couldn’t swim.”
Jessar shook his head. “Wait, you mean a sailor couldn’t swim?”
“You landlubbers are always surprised that most sailors can’t swim. Most of us, however, are smart enough to know there are few ship sinkings that even the best swimmers could survive.”
“Doubtless that is true, but what does that have to do with your helmsman?” Stefir snapped.
Giving the wizard a confused glance, Maili continued, “Well, fortunately, this wasn’t to be one of the times swimmers couldn’t survive. I threw me mate into the waves and jumped after him. After I pulled the lad over to the spire, he scrambled up. As I grabbed the rock mesself, I felt a tug at me leg. It wasn’t until I tried to climb up that I noticed me missin’ leg.” The mariner knocked on his prosthesis. “Me helmsman hauled me up, for which I’m grateful.” He nodded toward the barkeep.
“But what brings you here?” asked Jessar.
“And how did you come by this horn?” Stefir waved an irritated arm toward the trophy.
“Aye, I was just coming to that, if ye’d give me the chance.” The skipper wiped the edge of his sleeve across his eyes and drank from his refilled tankard.
“With tears in me eyes, I watched me ship sink. The orca finally swam off and we sat staring at the waves in silence. It was half a march to Gerego – much too far for a helmsman who couldn’t swim and a one-legged captain to reach; and not even a fool would have rescued us in those serpent and orca-infested waters.”
“While we discussed our plight, up out of the depths rises the horn, the hawser still wrapped around it. Whether Natunya was watching over us or me ship had just broken up and freed it, who knows? Anyway, the poker leaped partway out of the water from the speed of its buoyant ascent. Who would have ever thought a serpent’s horn would float? That’s why, as ye may have noticed, it takes only those few marlin lines to suspend the thing here above me table.” Maili raised his mug toward the trophy.
Stefir set down his nearly full mug a little too hard, swilling some of the ale onto the table. “That still does not explain how you got it here.”
“Well,” the mariner said, as if he were starting the tale anew, “we figured we weren’t getting anywhere sitting there, so we paddled out to the horn, hoping the orca wouldn’t return. We sat astride it, waist-deep in the water, with the point curving up like a prow before us. Me helmsman stanched me stump with a tourniquet he made from his bandana.”
“After a time, the current swept us out of the Gerego basin and pushed us south. Again, we lost track of how long we drifted. Natunya blessed us, though, and it rained each day. We stretched our lives by catching rainwater in our boots. Still, with each day we grew weaker and were unable to stay conscious. We finally awoke lying in a lean-to on the beach of this fine country, with me lovely companion there leaning over us.” The lovely elwen strode to his side. He winked at Ledrana and squeezed her hand. Again he slumped back in his chair and drained his ale.
Stefir grasped his staff and slammed its butt against the wooden floor. “So how did you get this horn here?”
Ogador smiled at Stefir’s discomfort. “Finally met your match, wizard?”
Stefir glowered at Ogador.
The mariner took another drink. “Aye, now that did prove to be a bit of a problem. I knew I’d never see another day at sea. I had, after all, lost me ship and me leg. Also, this lovely elwen here stole me heart. We shared our companion vows that next spring, and her family disowned her for marrying a foreigner, as ye might understand.” The mariner glanced knowingly at Jessar.
“And all that time, the horn lay on the beach. Though it floated, it wasn’t light enough for a load beast, and it was too big for a wagon. I didn’t get to be a skipper by being a mental dwarf, so I applied meself to the problem. Ye see, by that time, I already knew what me new life would be. By then, me companion had already proved she could make me recipes taste better. In me mind, I could see this thing hanging over a table like this.”
“Me first mate here sailed back to Langbard and fetched me wealth while I pondered the problem. All me life, I’d heard the peoples of the east used giant turtles for transport and trade, though I’d been as skeptical as any of me kinsmen until I saw it for meself. So, I hired a turtle master from the West Veinous River. He hauled the horn all the way down the coast and up the Galbard River. We made quite a stir going through Silarom, as ye can imagine. The turtle carried it up the Galbard Thruway to the land me companion bought from the king with Langbard dolmids.”
Ogador winked at Jessar. “Why Stefir, I bet you couldn’t have stretched that story even half as long as our good mariner.”
The wizard almost snarled at Ogador.
Thirsty from his tale, the captain paused again to drain his mug. He pounded it on the table and spouted, “What brings such a trio together, if ye’s don’t mind me asking?”
Since the mariner looked at Jessar, the Lynx answered. “Well, we don’t really know. Someone – perhaps my father, who may well be a lord of the West-realm – called in some favors and got my two friends here to be the executors of my mother’s estate. They met me when I got off the slave ship in Plasis and then escorted me back to my inheritance in Silarom.”
The mariner nodded and finished another tankard. “Now don’t ye think I sense there’s a tale here to be told. I’ve told ye me own story, so what about yers?” He gave Jessar a pointed look.
Jessar summarized all he knew of his life, elaborating about his unknown father and missing mother, all the way up to his visit that morning to see Mishar and to the moment they’d come to Maili’s inn. Stefir and Ogador listened attentively while he related what Mishar had said, since they hadn’t heard it. Jessar’s indenturement particularly interested the mariner. The Lynx had been hoping from the moment he had learned of Maili’s Langbardian heritage that the skipper might help fill the hole in his life.
After listening to the half-elf’s story, the mariner rested his chin on his chest, pausing deep in thought.
Finally, he looked up. “It all sounds like the work of the Inner Clans, the hedonistic elves of the deep Langbardian interior. They often use indentured servants, and few of the slaves live to complete their contract. But the fact that ye don’t remember yer service is unusual. The narcosists, can produce serums that have the affects ye describe, but I never heard of such expensive potions being used on slaves.”
“I mesself was born there, ye know. That’s why I be a bastard – everyone there is. All of us grew up in nurseries. When I and me brother talked of being mariners, the nannies chided us as menials. Later, we ran away and enlisted in the crew of a patrolman.”
Stefir nodded. “Your words, Maili, confirm one of my suspicions about Jessar’s indenturement. Long have I feared that he spent his hidden years in the interior. Those elves are an offshoot of the Elves of Shadow; part of the tribes that violated the Creator's Laws and forced the Creator to sunder the lands at the end of the Innocent Age. It is one of the few lands I have never visited, for as you yourself pointed out, most that enter never leave.”
The wizard turned to Jessar with a furrowed brow. “If it is true you were enslaved there, Jessar, it is probably best that you remember nothing of those years. Although I encourage you to search for your parents, I do not think it wise for you to delve into your past.” Stefir turned to Jessar and arched an eyebrow as if waiting for a response.
The Lynx, however, avoided looking at Stefir. How could the wizard understand how it was to have no past? Besides, something told him his past held secrets of vital importance.
Fortunately, Maili rescued him from making a promise he couldn’t keep. “Aye, those folk have strange customs and unusual pastimes.”
Maili looked over his shoulder at Stefir. “Wizard, ye seem to know much about times long past. What’s yer story?”
Stefir hesitated, looking at Jessar, who stared at his belt buckle, hoping Stefir would just answer the question. The Lynx winked at the mariner when the Langbardian asked, “Well, Wizard, did the wind come and blow down yer voice?”
Stefir gave Jessar a this-subject-is-not-closed look. “I do know much about times past. It is, you might say, my business, for I am a chronologist. The Chronologist, in fact. I was born in Shalanka in the Sacred Realm fifteen years before the start of this Age of Dooms. My mother Lalmara was of the solon, the Elder People, sent to Talan ages ago by the Creator himself. She died delivering me, as solowen so often did. My father was an elf and a member of the Cult of Vyxana. He had kidnapped my mother, administered a fertility crystal, and then raped her.”
“Imprinted on my infant memory is Elmir’s visage leaning over me, the glow from two smoldering dragon bones casting his eyes in the stark shadows of his pronounced cheek bones, the twin scars seeming to writhe as he chanted the litany of Vyxana in yet another sacrificial ritual. My father Elmir somehow survived the Fertility Massacres that followed. Thus it was that Lufir, the chronologist of the Sacred Age, found me. In Elmir’s drug-induced stupor, Lufir rescued me from my father and his plans to dedicate me to the Goddess of Fertility. Later, Lufir explained that my mother had raked the second scar on my father’s face as he took her, matching his dedication scar to his goddess.”
“As the chronologist for the Sacred Age, Lufir was very active in the events near the end of the age. He left me with his Learned Elven friend Lanomira, herself a great mystic in her own right. When Lufir vanished at the end of the age, she fled west, taking me with her. Hiding among the remnants of the Vandiel tribe, we finally settled in Walanar. As I grew, I studied the texts Lufir had left and, with the aid of the widow Lanomira, learned to be the wizard I now am. During my first mystic retreat, a Roving Prophet visited me, and I learned I was to be the chronologist for this age. Thus, I have lived over nine thousand years and not felt the Calling. I became the crown wizard of West-realm, after they conquered Walanar. That, mariner, is my tale.”
The mariner raised his eyebrows. “Impressive. I have, of course, heard of the Chronologist, but I figured he was just a myth, like the giant river turtles. And what of you, Prince of the West-realm?”
“I am the youngest son, the heir prince, of the King. I was born of his fifth concubine, Larbila, in Wedroth, the royal seat of West-realm. As the heir prince, I am the governor of the Walanar province. In my youth, I trained as a Sphinxed Knight. Unfortunately, I had trouble retaining my chastity during training, so I never entered the order. Thereafter, I became the Winged Horsemen Exemplar. When my father turned up missing the first time, now some thirty-six years ago, I joined the Border Scouts. In this service, I searched for my father, spending a year under cover in New Varbistron itself. Of course, he ultimately showed up about five years after vanishing, but I stayed in the scouts. Ultimately, however, the Queen, along with the Lord Table, finally managed to convince me to settle down into my governorship and quit risking my hide in dangerous pursuits. When my uncle the old governor of Walanar died, I no longer had any excuse to delay, so I assumed my title. Of course, when my father disappeared again two years ago, I regretted my decision to leave the scouts.”
Maili scanned his guests, looking pleased to be their host. He ordered another round of drinks, which Ogador eagerly accepted. Jessar and Stefir politely declined.
“Prince, I’ve been here so long now; how is yer war faring?”
Jessar was surprised the elf knew so much about events in West-realm. Ogador asked the question: “How do you know so much about West-realm?”
“One of me brother’s deck hands was from West-realm. He entertained us all with tales of the wars. So how do they go?”
Ogador frowned. “As you may know, the Emperor controls three of our provinces now, and he’s making gains in four others. We’ve been losing about an outpost a year to the Undyings’ minions. Two things, however, lead the Lord Table to think the war may soon take a drastic turn for the worse. First, the Emperor has a fleet of war galleons somewhere in the mutat land of Luved. These craft probably have access to the Karlur River. From there, they can threaten most of the West-realm. Second, we have reliable reports that the Undying are mustering the demons for the War of Chaos.”
Maili raised his eyebrows. He summoned the sailor for another refill and looked at Stefir. “One other question. Where are ye’s heading?”
“We journey to Plasis, to attend the Council of Countries. All of us are delegates at the gathering, and Ogador has a special purpose this year.”
The prince took his queue. “Yes, since it seems the War of Chaos approaches, my Queen has bid me to call in the Eastern Civilizations’ promise of the Treaty of the Undying Lands.”
“Ye mean the Veinal Vows?”
Even Stefir looked impressed. “Yes. That must have been an unusual crewman to have explained the workings of a pact stemming from the dawn of this age. Who was this man?”
Maili nodded. “Aye, he was most unusual. Blom was how we knew him.”
“Blom – that is hardly a proper name for a Realmer,” Ogador observed.
“Aye, and he refused to talk about his past other than that he once served in the West-realm’s forces. Me brother believed Blom had been an officer: The man had the bearing for it. Anyway, if he never spoke of his past, he didn’t seem to mind telling tales of his country. He said the Veinal Vows came about because the Host of the Undying, fleeing west with the other peoples in the Second Exodus after the Dooms, settled in the frontier lands to the north. Unfortunately, they proved bad neighbors and frequently invaded the Eastern Civilizations. Since West-realm seers had already prophesied the War of Chaos, the Lord Table wanted to secure the promise of the Eastern Civilizations to aid West-realm in the Chaos War. So, according to this crewman, the Lords convinced the Conquering King to cede the newly gained lands of Zandalor and the Cauldron to the Hosts. Of course, as everyone knows, that eventually became the Conqueror’s Folly a few centuries later when the Hosts began to break out of these lands and slowly advanced into West-realm’s territory.”
“That’s essentially correct. I only hope the Easterners honor their promise at the Council.” Ogador smiled. “And after the Council, I’m looking forward to the Tournament.”
Jessar had just missed the Tournament on his last visit to Plasis, but attending this one was something he’d looked forward to for a long time. Experiencing the pageantry of the Tournament and Festival was every child’s dream. He’d even thought about finding his companion at the Dance of Thousands. “I also yearn to see the Tournament.”
Ogador shot Jessar a knowing smile. “Maybe Sabretha will join you in the Colliseum for the Dance of Thousands.”
Finally looking relaxed, Stefir commented, “That hardly seems likely since we have not seen her since this morning.”
“Thanks,” Jessar muttered morosely.
Maili leaned forward to the table again. “Are ye’s talking of the fine solowen bearing a sword?“
“You are an elf who is very well informed indeed, Maili. It took West-realm’s best ranger three years to track her down. How is it that you know our Valkara?” Stefir peered at Maili and leaned forward.
A broad smile came to the mariner’s weathered features. “Why she came by here about three hours before you did. What else could she be but a Valkara?”
The chronologist sighed and leaned back in his chair again. “I see.”
“Relax, Stefir. Maili’s right. When did you last see a beautiful female lugging a long sword?”
The Lynx swept his hand before him dismissively. “What did she say?” he blurted.
Maili paused long enough to take a long pull from his mug. “Well, I was out cutting wood when she arrived. My Ledrana and the Valkara had a long conversation before I arrived. She told me only that a half-elf named the Lynx would be by soon.”
Ledrana smiled knowingly at Jessar in a way that made him blush. “She is not very happy with you right now.”
“She told you?”
“Why shouldn’t she? What possessed you to make that remark about Sabretha ‘having to do?’”
“I really do not know.” The Lynx frowned and stared at the floor. “So where is she?”
“On down the road. She mentioned something about having to make a rendezvous with a ranger and a dwarf. I tried to persuade her to stay with us, but she is in no hurry to see you. She did, however, leave this,” Ledrana said, pulling a few sprigs of spearmint from a sack at her feet.
“She was very concerned about a promise she made to a ranger that she’d look after your wound. I suppose the ranger knows his business, but I’ve never known spearmint to have any healing properties. Nevertheless, I told her I’d take care of it tonight. Markali, if you’d steep this for a while and put it in a compress?” she requested of the first mate.
The Lynx groaned. Bidmaron would pay for this. He wasn’t sure how, but the ranger would pay. “Maili, what is all this business about the Lynx?”
The mariner laughed. “Ye might be surprised that I, a foreigner, have so much business, but if there’s one thing elves love more’n they hate foreigners, it be stories. Rumors, lies, gossip, speculation, history, and prophecy they can’t get enough of. Most of me business, of course, is with the gypsies when they’re camped across the road, but I get a good many tree dwellers from Silarom or Bilaron as they travel through. There’s an Observatory Stone just over a day’s march north of here, so I get families coming by with their children for the Ringing. Also, a couple of regulars from Silarom come here every fortnight or two. They always claim to have business with the gypsies, but I have me doubts.”
“Anyway, a gypsy scout arrived here around midday and didn’t even come to me inn. He went straight to the camp, spoke with the elder there, and less’n two hours later, they all up and left. Later, gypsies from south – Silarom, I figured – came through like the fires of the Pits chased them. I spoke to a lad briefly, and he told me one of their Yitrava had cursed a half-man in Silarom. It seems this witch had seen hidden power in this individual. Well, this powerful half-man had taken up with foreigners again last night – with a Man, no less. The tree dwellers burned his gardens and exiled him, and now, well … here ye be, Lynx.”
“The lynx, ye see is a spirit of power to the gypsies. One of the smaller of the great cats, the lynx nevertheless has great strength. And one thing about a lynx is he’s always running. Whether he’s chasing prey or what ye’ll never know, unless ye’re the one he’s preying on. And ye never see where he’s coming from and ye never know where he winds up. So the lynx is a mystery to them, and gypsies don’t like mysteries.”
Jessar looked at the mariner skeptically. “I still don’t quite see the connection, although we had previously arrived at similar conclusions.”
Maili laughed again, sounding almost like the groaning of structural timbers in a swell-tossed ship. “Ye got me all right. Ledrana,” he waved a hand toward his companion.
“All right, I’ll explain, but first, Jessar, straddle your chair with your back toward me.”
The first mate brought a steaming compress to the lady. Pulling up Jessar’s work tunic, she gently draped the hot cloths over his wound. The Lynx drew a sharp breath, but the spearmint-laden linens released muscle tension he hadn’t recognized until that moment. Perhaps there was something to this spearmint thing after all.
Gingerly massaging the skin around the scar with her fingertips, she explained, “What my mariner said was true, but I believe the main reason the Yitrava dubbed you the Lynx has to do with gypsy mythology. Their legends tell of a Holvenum who, returning from indenturement, wields great magic and commands a great army to drive invading Bulks and Bulk-men from Galbard. He will bring an end to the nomadic life of the Gelvenum. By the left side of the gypsies’ liberator is a giant lynx.”
“But I am none of these. Clearly, I will never command great magic or armies, and I certainly have no giant lynx.”
“No, that seems true, but you did return from indenturement.”
The Lynx nodded. “Yes, but so have many thousands of others.”
“Not many, if any, have been Galbardian elves.” Ledrana giggled her tinkling laugh. “There is, however, an even more compelling reason to believe you are the Gypsy Liberator—“
Stefir cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Yes, you are correct, Ledrana. I should have remembered the gypsy prophecies. What a fool I have been.”
“I can go to my pyre in peace now that I’ve heard that true confession.”
The chronologist whipped around to face Ogador. “Your own knowledge has proved useless so far.”
Maili’s son leaned over and asked Jessar, “Were they enemies?”
The Lynx laughed, leaned over to the son and whispered, “No, although I wonder myself sometimes.”
“If you two could pause a moment, what is the answer? Why am I the Lynx?”
Both the prince and chronologist leaned back in their chairs again. “Because, Jessar, although I did not know legends called for a giant lynx to accompany the Gypsy Liberator, I do know what other creature should be at his side,” Stefir said.
Stamping his foot, Jessar demanded, “Enough. Ledrana, Stefir will keep us up all night before he reveals the answer. What or who is this other creature?”
Returning the compress to Markali and pulling down Jessar’s tunic, she laughed again. “Jessar, you have – or had, until recently – the second companion of the Lynx of gypsy legend. At the right hand of the Liberator, is a sword maiden.”
“Sabretha!” Jessar almost shouted.
“So it would seem, Jessar, although it currently appears unlikely she will ever be at your side.”
“Thanks for reminding me, Ledrana. Why then do the gypsies flee before me?”
“That’s where it gets personal. The legend says the Lynx will be the consort of the Yitrava leading her people, and I believe the witch fears that more than anything. After all, she cursed you and has every reason to think you will treat her harshly for that. So she drives her people before you.”
The mariner leaned forward and shook a finger at Jessar. “In me own mind, there’s a better reason. I can’t fathom how, on the one hand, you have the Valkara at your side, and on the other you are the Yitrava’s lover.”
“How did you know about that, Maili? Is there no end to your knowledge?”
“Aye, there is an end; females, for example, are definitely a mystery. I know because the gypsy lad thought it was funny that a Yitrava could be a lover of an elf great enough to have a solowen companion.” The mariner shook his head. “Why do females always look to turn everythin’ into a love story? No, I just don’t see it happening. Me own coin’s on the other half of the prophecy—“
The wizard slammed his staff against the flooring. “Of course! The Galvenum are liberated only to fight in a far away land.”
Maili smiled. “I see ye’ve heard it then, Chronologist. Whichever is true, however, one thin’s certain: Lynx, ye’ve got them more scared’n I’ve ever seen. Stay away from them, if ye know what’s best. If ye back them into a corner, ye’ll not like what they’ll become.”
Everyone fell silent. The Lynx considered Maili’s words. Encountering them didn’t seem to be a problem. Without horses, they could hardly catch up to the gypsies.
As for the lynx legend, well, it all seemed unlikely. First, as even Ledrana had pointed out, Sabretha wasn’t likely to be at his side anytime soon. Second, it was difficult to imagine commanding either magic or armies. Finally, never having seen or even heard of a giant lynx, he certainly had no idea where he was to find one as his companion.
Maili brought them all out of their private thoughts. “Enough of this. It’s time for a game.”
Markali carried the chipping table to their seats and began to change the candles in the inn a second time.
Stefir rose. “Thank you, Maili. You have been most entertaining and helpful. What are your rates for a night’s lodging and meals?”
“Why are you asking, Stefir? I’d wager you have no coin and it’ll be me paying as always.”
The mariner smiled and got up. He clapped Ogador soundly on the back. “I’ve made nothing yet today, so why spoil it? The room will be me treat to ye’s in exchange for a game of Chips. I’ll warn ye that, in me inn here, ye use Langbard rules.”
As they headed for the chipping table, Maili pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Ogador. “Besides, it’s been a pleasure watching the prince here put away me ale like he was the one with a hollow leg. Aye, a real drinkin’ expert he is.”
“A game of Chips it is then, but only one. We must be off early tomorrow.”
Ogador said, “Stefir, you’re still mad Maili outdid you telling his story about the horn. Let’s spin.”
Maili won the spin with an odd, transparent stone. It looked like cloudstone. Jessar wanted to get a closer look, but he never did, it wound up in Maili’s own home pit on his first turn.
Ogador had his usual turn of bad luck, losing his lucky stone to Stefir. Maili won, but no one else lost their own piece.
The governor demanded a rematch. Stefir protested the late hour, but they played another anyway, with identical results.
The prince offered Stefir a spiteful smile. “At least you didn’t win, Wizard. But how can you be so lucky, Maili?”
“Compared to ye, I may be lucky. More likely, yer own rotten luck makes the rest of us look lucky.”
“Thanks.”
Maili escorted them upstairs to a comfortable room. It had three tall beds, and a fire already burned in a wood stove against the unseasonable chill. “I’ll have ye’s up at first light for me companion’s breakfast. Sleep well, lads.”
Stefir opened the window just long enough to let Silentwing glide in and land on the foot of his bed. The three friends said good night and slid between the chilled sheets of their down beds.
Jessar thought about the mariner. Though the one-legged elf seemed content enough running his inn, Maili clearly belonged at sea. Perhaps Jessar could talk him into going along on the journey; he would make a welcome addition. After all, his wide knowledge could prove useful, especially during the sea voyages. Perhaps the Lynx would ask him to join the party tomorrow.
His thoughts turned from the mariner to the events of the day. On the first day of his journey he had already learned several things about his past and possible futures. He fell asleep wondering what answers the second day would bring.