Sea Queen (17 page)

Perhaps we can change our stars, perhaps not. Who is to say but the gods? And they remain silent. If it is my fate to die at the hands of this mysterious women in the future, then so be it. I will not let fear alter my course. – Azzeal of Elladrindellia, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive, 4997.

Later that evening they were brought up for water, and Talon drank from the ladle as greedily as any. There was no sign of McGillus, but Grimald watched him closely. Talon guessed they were still sailing west—the coast was visible far off to the left side of the slaver. No towns were visible; only a long rocky expanse of wave riddled coastline. The water shot up in great plumes where it met the cliffs, reminding him of the one Tyson had fallen from.

When the slaves were returned to the hold he found his place among Forrest’s group once more and fell asleep. He awoke a few hours later and found Forrest bent over beside him reading from a small sheet of crumpled paper. Talon didn’t stir, but watched the older man smile upon the page.

“Good morning” said Forrest, nonchalantly stowing the paper away.

“Is it? I can never tell down here,” said Talon.

On the other side of him Crag snored softly, his eight foot body curled up as much as possible so as to not be a hindrance, though to little effect.

They took their turn standing while the others slept. The waters had become choppy, and as Talon stood he was constantly shifting his weight to balance against the rocking. When they lurched too much he found a steady anchor in the hulking form of Crag, who seemed to ride it out easily.

“Talon’s just gotta get his sea legs is all,” said the giant Skomm. He put a gentle hand on Talon’s shoulder, covering it completely. “You got to let your hips loose. You got to dance with the sea.” Crag laughed as his big hips swayed with the waters. “Keep your knees loose.”

Talon laughed as he mimicked the behemoth’s moves, and the more they danced the more they laughed. Next to them, Forrest swayed as if in a trance—eyes lost to a faraway place, face unmoving, body calm. The mystery of the letter itched at Talon, though he dared not ask.

When it was finally their turn to sit again, Talon thought maybe it was the right time.

“Sir…Folkhagi, I’m sorry to pry, but I couldn’t help but notice you reading something when I woke. May I ask what it was?”

Forrest pondered for a moment, looking sidelong at Talon as if taking a measure. At length he sighed and sat back stretching his legs between the feet of the standing slaves. He leaned in a little closer and glanced at Crag, who was talking to someone on the other side of him.

“The letter was from my son…in it, he mentioned you.”

“Your son?”

“You know him as Argath.”

“Argath is your son…but how can that be? It’s forbidden for Skomm to have children.”

Forrest raised a brow and stared sidelong. “It’s called breakin’ the law, son.”

“No, I know. I mean how did you get away with it?”

“I met his mother—Lilly was her name—when we was just kids. Fell in love with her faster than I did butter,” Forrest chuckled.

Talon thought of Akkeri, her red ribbon flowing in the chill breeze, pink cheeks and soft lips…

“We couldn’t help what happened. It’s the most natural thing there is,” he continued. “It’s what keeps the world green and the young coming in spring…What kind of people would ban such a miracle?”

Talon could only imagine the feeling. Living in the Skomm village under the brutal rule of the Vaka and Vald was bad enough. But to know you were bringing a child into such a world, a child who would be killed for its very existence…

“I suggested we find a quiet healer to help be rid of it,” he went on. “Thodin curse me, but I said the words. But Lilly would hear none of it. She promised we would get through it, and I believed her.”

Forrest’s stare was distant, and the memories left him wearing a smile despite his shimmering eyes. “Ain’t that what love is all about? Another person to convince you miracles are real, to show you they are? And they start with the miracle of even loving you at all. It’s that woman that done lifted me up, pulled my shoulders back, and made me unafraid.

“We used our heads. Luckily, Lilly was able to hide her pregnancy well. She was a big girl, and her belly was easy enough to hide. As it was, winter was upon her during the later months, and the added layers of clothing helped hide it all the more. With the help of some friends we made like the babe had been dropped off at the village by the Vald. They don’t right keep track of all that, so it was easier than you’d think. They just drop off the sick and the deformed outside the village and leave ‘em to die. It’s up to us Skomm to save ‘em and raise ‘em. Anyway, he grew big and strong, and we worried that he might grow to the size of a Vald, but thankfully he stopped growing a good foot shy. The hardest part, though, was not showing the boy no affection on account of the Vaka’s watchful eyes. We had to hide that we was a family, but we was a family all the same.”

Forrest took a moment to compose himself.

“It was the love we shared that done finally gave us away. A Vaka overheard Argath say to Lilly, ‘I love you
Modir
.’ Well, the Vaka looked closer and must’ve seen the resemblance in their eyes.” Forrest ground his teeth as a shudder passed through him silently. “The son of a bikkja didn’t waste no time—before Argath could stop him he ran my Lilly through with a sword. My boy lost it, he tore the sword from the Vaka and killed him with his bare hands. Took five others to take him down.

“My boy was sold, being that he’s so big and strong and all, and the chief of Dragon Tribe thought he might make back some of the loss of his Vaka. With my Lilly’s murderer dead, and my son gone, I had nothing left to live for. I fell into a bad way back then, and spent three years wantin’ to die. I purposely angered the Vaka, hoping that one of their swords would end my misery. Got in a fight with one of them and nearly killed him. That’s when I was sold, a few weeks back.”

“What turned you around? Was it seeing Argath again?” Talon asked.

Forrest shook his head. “No. I didn’t know about him until he slipped me the letter topside. When I was sold to the slavers and brought down here to the hold, I saw my people at their lowest. Like me, they had given up. I decided that rather than wallow in my own self-pity, I would turn that energy to a cause. I vowed to do what I could to help my people.” He pointed to the deck above. “These Agorans ain’t no Vald, or Vaka. They’re all much smaller, weaker. For once in our lives we are as big as or bigger than our enemies. We outnumber the crew.” He regarded Talon again, with unspoken words in his eyes. Finally he seemed to make up his mind. “He told me about what you said in the arena. He and the others respect you, even look up to you. Otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You speak of revolution?” Talon whispered.

“Aye, lad. It’s high time we start fighting back. I vowed to the gods that I would help my people, and they have given me the means.

“What did Argath say?” Talon asked.

“He and near half the other gladiators are planning a mutiny. He means to free us all.”

Talon stared into the man’s eyes, they were alight with a spirit he had only ever seen in Jahsin and Tyson. The spark was infectious, and Talon began to imagine for the first time that maybe, just maybe, such a thing was possible.

Why are you so godsdamned special? Born a Skomm just like the rest of us. Given incredible power to help our people. And what do you do with it? Try and find some wench who batted her eyes at you twice. You don’t deserve Chief or the ring.

Tyson had been right.

He had come on board in hopes of finding Akkeri, but now he found himself in the midst of revolution, a cause that he was compelled to join. It became clear to him then that his destiny might be much greater than he’d been willing to accept.

He glanced around at his people in their misery. He had been telling himself that Akkeri was all that mattered. It wasn’t until he asked himself what she would want him to do that it finally all became clear.

“I can take care of my godsdamned self, Talon Windwalker. Now quit being a bikkja and help those people…our people,” she would say.

Remembering her now, he wondered why he had imagined her crying in the night, waiting for him to rescue her—she, the girl who had taken a blade to herself so that Brekken might die. She would never forgive him if he abandoned his people.

His people.

The words sounded strange in Talon’s mind. He had never felt as though he was part of a people. From an early age he knew he was different, and had never been accepted by anyone but his amma Gretzen. But all of that changed the day of his Miotvidr. When the Timber Wolf Vald banished Talon, he had been taken in by the Skomm villagers. There among the misfits, cripples, runts, and throwbacks he had found a home.

And he had left them all…even Mahjree, a woman who was like a mother to him.

Talon had always hated himself for trivial reasons—he was too small, too weak, a curse. If he didn’t help the slaves, he would have a real reason. He realized none of the names had ever been true, but if he didn’t help now, he was no better than a Vaka.

He turned to Forrest with determination. “What do we do?”

Forrest admitted to Talon that his plans had been nothing more than daydreams up until now. He’d known there was no way a hundred weak and starving slaves were going to take over the big slaver—even if they did, how would they sail her?

In his letter, Argath told his father he planned on assassinating McGillus and Grimald while the ship was far out to sea. He would then free the slaves and they would storm the deck. Together, with the help of the Skomm gladiators, they would take out the Agoran crew.

He had not mentioned many names, but one that he did surprised Talon—Rekkr. Having the gladiators’ trainer on their side would help immensely; not only did he have incredible influence over the gladiators themselves, he also had access to the armory.

Forrest was convinced that once the bigger Skomm slaves learned there was a rebellion underway, they would not hesitate to join. One of the reasons they were sold was because they had been too much trouble on Volnoss. The chiefs thought it better to sell the malcontents and let the slavers deal with them.

Talon listened as Forrest brought him up to speed on the plan. His excitement grew as he listened, and he dared to dream that they could actually pull off such a thing.

Chapter 19

Fendale

His father is good man, but heart twisted by Vald sickness of mind. They say his son no good, he listen. He ever think, ever wonder what krellr lurk in such hearts? Send small child out, give to cold world. Them think them strong, fierce? Them cowards. Vald break my heart when I young, send Skomm sister away. Old pains return with memory of her face, her smile. I visit in secret, more rations in winter. None helped in end, she die in village alone. Too fragile her body, too short her shadow. Vald know nothing of worth. My heart cries to krellr, cries to gods. Thodin, I plead, offering mine soul for answers, for sign. Wait long winters, krellr say patience, gods are silent. I grow into woman, find good man among Vald. Happy for a time. Kvenna born, she has sister’s eyes, make me smile, help old scars heal. I grow old and power grows strong. Fevered dreams take hold, show future things, show the boy. Mine heart smiles, boy has sister’s smile. Gods try stop him, say he change things, send sickness take my Kvenna when belly big. Krellr show me how to save him, I keep him safe. One day them see, one day them pay. – Gretzen Spiritbone, 4997.

On the fifth day, Talon and Forrest were taking their turn standing with their row when the hatch was thrown back and a crewmen called, “Windwalker!”

Talon turned to Forrest and put a hand to the man’s shoulder. “I will see you again, Folkhagi. Soon you will be free, I know it.”

“Go with the gods, lad,” Forrest whispered in kind.

“Windwalker! You best be dead—making me smell these filthy Draugrs’ shyte,” the crewman barked.

Talon turned to Crag, who looked absolutely broken up over his departure. They had grown into good friends over the last few days. The giant Skomm sniffled and gathered Talon up in a smothering bear hug that left him unable to breathe, feet dangling.

He finally put him down and stroked his hair. “When’s Crag gonna see Talon again?”

Talon patted his meaty arm. “Soon, friend. Sooner than you think.”

He turned from his new friends and made his way through the ocean of bodies.

On deck, the sweet smell of the ocean made him realize how used to the stench he had gotten down below.

The ship was quickly approaching a grand city. Its high wall jutted out over cliffs to the west, and underneath, a gargantuan natural cave acted as a harbor. When Talon saw the lighthouse he was awestruck. It was plated in silver and seven stories tall. But more impressive still was the tower’s light itself. Even now, at midday, it could somehow be seen shining in all directions. Talon thought maybe he was dreaming.

“Come on. McGillus is waitin’,” said the crewman.

Talon followed him across the deck to where a rowboat was being prepared for launch. The crewman stopped at the door to the captain’s quarters and went to knock, but it opened before his knuckles even hit the wood.

It was Grimald who answered, glaring from under his hood. “Enter,” he told Talon.

Talon ignored the usual staring contest and walked inside—and froze.

“Ah, Talon, so good of you to join us,” said the captain from behind his desk, his right hand absently stroking Chief’s coat. He seemed to relish in Talon’s fear and surprise.

Chief gave a little dance and started across the room, but halted instantly when McGillus called his name.

“Come, sit,” he added, pointing at the floor next to his chair.

Chief whined but turned and sat beside McGillus once more, and Talon saw a smile quickly pass over the captain’s face.

He didn’t know if Chief would obey him against me. He took a gamble
,” he realized.

Having not yet taken his eyes off Talon, the captain calmly added, “
You
, keep standing. I don’t want that Draugr shyte all over my Isladonian plush. Its forty-seventh century, you know.”

Though McGillus had the upper hand, Talon felt confident that he could at least get Chief to go back to the spirit world if he had to. He remained calm and sat down.

The captain got up and opened one of the windows set in the back wall. He left Talon waiting while he straightened his jacket and dusted himself off, acting as though filth were in the air.

Grimald stood all the while like a statue, off to Talon’s right.

McGillus poured himself a drink and returned to his seat. “You must be wondering how I summoned the wolf,” he asked with a self-satisfied smirk.

“It had crossed my mind,” said Talon.

“You should be careful what you say in your sleep. You never know who might be listening.”

Talon glanced at Grimald, and a shiver ran down his spine.

“The more you defy me,” said the captain, “the more I am inclined to agree with Grimald about killing you. Know this—no other Skomm has slighted me so many times and lived. You have one more chance to prove yourself valuable to me. If you make me enough money to once again prove your worth, then you shall live, and I may be so inclined to continue our previous arrangement.” McGillus leaned forward and scowled threateningly at him. “This is your last chance. Next time you die.”

Talon woke to a bucket of cold water being splashed on him. He came to with a gasp and flailed so hard he flipped himself out of his hammock.

Grimald stood over him, holding an empty bucket, and said, “It’s morning, you lazy Draugr. Get your arse up!”

He led Talon to the mess hall, where he proceeded to stand over him the entire time he ate.

After breakfast it was off to the training room, where Rekkr gave him his full attention the rest of the day.

When they were finished, Talon was taken back to his room once more. He lay on his cot, staring at the darkness and thinking about the hundreds of slaves still wallowing in their own refuse down in the cramped hold.

When the next morning came, Grimald came and escorted Talon to the mess hall. Argath was there eating with Torrance, and Talon wanted nothing more than to sit with them, but Grimald led him to a deserted table instead. A few times he met Argath’s eyes, but the gladiator offered him no gesture under Grimald’s watchful gaze.

Talon ate his fill and was brought to the deck, where McGillus greeted him as though nothing out of sorts had ever happened.

The captain stretched his arm out to the coast. “The city of Fendale—a hell of a sight, isn’t it? Word of House McGillus’s crazy barbarian boy has spread. They are eager to see you fight tonight.” He leaned in uncomfortably close. “Be sure to give ‘em a show, aye?”

“Yes, Captain,” said Talon.

“Good. Keep your nose clean and you just might see that wench of yours again” McGillus added.

A few hours later, Talon and the other gladiators were being rowed to a dock inside the enormous cave harbor. The immense, sparkling cavern looming above gave Talon the feeling he might be crushed at any moment. They were led up a stone stair wide enough to allow a dozen men abreast, and came out on a busy street. The people of Fendale pointed and whispered as the group made their way through the city, and the gladiators straightened under the attention.

When they reached the coliseum they were led to a changing room as before, and Talon found his armor and daggers waiting for him. Argath came to stand beside him and acted as though he were helping him to strap on a shin guard properly. Grimald stood across the room with McGillus, who was conversing with Rekkr.

“Your father said he would be ready,” whispered Talon. “He’s got half the slaves on his side and thinks the others will follow once it’s started.”

“Good,” said Argath. He finished tightening the straps. “Don’t get yourself killed out there.”

“You either,” said Talon.

“Windwalker, come,” said Grimald, approaching.

Talon followed him and they eventually turned down a hall, the other end of which was filled with light spilling in from the arena. The closer they got, the louder the crowd became.

McGillus had begun walking down the tunnel toward them, with his usual swagger, and tossed back a shot from his silver flask.

“Is my little savage prepared for the grandeur of the Fendale Arena?” He asked jovially.

“I’m ready, Captain,” said Talon.

“The Eldalonian guards are armed with bows—they circle the arena by the hundreds. If you make one move they will cut you down. Once you have won, keep your mouth shut and return. Understand?”

Talon nodded.

“Good,” said McGillus. As he turned back down the tunnel, he added, “Give ‘em a good show, Windwalker!”

The arena crier had begun his exuberant announcements, and the rest of the gladiators were now coming up the tunnel, past McGillus.

“There are seven houses represented here today.” Rekkr began. “Let’s show ‘em what House McGillus can do!”

“Yes, Drengr!” the men cried in unison.

Talon held his head a little higher when Argath offered him an approving nod.

The first fighters were called into the arena. Whitewing, the Skomm gladiator with a chunk out of his nose, was called first.

Talon watched through the gate as he met his opponent on the sand. The fight seemed to be going well for Whitewing, but then his opponent executed an impossibly fast attack and caught him by the jaw with his weapon. It buried deep and left Whitewing twitching as he fell in a heap.

The Agoran raised his arms in victory.

Rekkr punched the gate. “Feikinstafir!” he added.

For two hours the different houses sent their gladiators against one another. House McGillus lost another warrior, one whom Talon had never met, but they won seven of the nine fights. The most recent loser was dragged off the sand by chains hooked through his ankle. The crier took his place once more and called the next fighter.

The crowd roared for Samson, their champion, as he strode out onto the sand carrying a vicious looking hammer.

“You don’t want to be caught facing the lighthouse,” Rekkr told Talon. “Keep it at your back and use it against your opponent. That damn glare has been the death of many men.”

“Yes Drengr,” said Talon.

The crier began again as the crowd’s cheers died down.

“His opponent—fighting for House McGillus, born of Timber Wolf Tribe, he defeated the mighty Vlarr in Hornhollow—Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you…Talon Windwalker!”

The crowd cheered as the gate was opened and Talon strode out onto the burning sands. At the strange sight of such a small gladiator, the crowd died down and curious murmurs replaced the cheering. Talon let the crowd gawk and wonder while he mentally prepared himself for battle.

Samson charged across the arena as soon as the fight commenced.

Kyrr’s power hummed through Talon and he unsheathed his blades.

When the first strike came, Talon leapt to the side, rolled, and came up on quick feet. His opponent retracted the weapon and swung sideways faster than Talon thought possible, given its great weight. He jabbed with his left dagger but a big boot took him in the chest, sending him flying and landing on his back.

Samson swung overhead but Talon rolled to the side before the hammer hit the ground.

Getting to his feet, Talon ran wide around his opponent—to the great amusement of the crowd.

He remembered Rekkr’s words and circled, trying to get his back to the lighthouse, but his opponent was no novice to the Fendale Arena and shifted toward the light as well.

Talon suddenly turned and ran at the western wall, forcing Samson to turn into the glare.

When he reached the shadow of the coliseum, Talon turned and screamed, “Come on!”

The crowd cheered in response as Samson charged.

Talon sped forth to meet him and leapt, launching ten feet into the air.

The Agoran was forced to look into the light and swing blindly as he followed the tiny Skomm’s flight.

Talon landed four feet from him as the hammer was getting ready to come around again, but the strikes all seemed slow. He quickly charged and stabbed with both blades, taking the man in the thighs.

Samson gave a frustrated cry as Talon twirled out of reach.

The tone of the crowd had already begun to change, and Talon’s name now echoed throughout the coliseum.

He came in fast again, dove into a roll, and came up stabbing Samson in the neck, ending the match instantly.

The sound of the crowd came rushing back, and Talon tossed his weapons aside. He spotted McGillus and Grimald in their booth and received a nod from the captain.

Raising his arms in victory, he turned a full circle for the chanting of the crowd. The cry of “Talon,” filled the coliseum.

Roses rained down as everyone got to their feet, and the stomping of boots shook the ground like an earthquake.