It didn't take me long to settle into the routines of the ship. After all, most ships are run in the same manner, it is only their tasks that are different. Over the next few days we prepared for an extended patrol, taking on provisions and some new crewmen, and I learned quickly the names that matched with the faces of officers and men.
After a week, a courrier arrived from Secretary Brill with orders. Allain managed to snag the poor fellow before he got to the capatin, who was curled up with his book on his bunk, and opened the orders without even bothering to consult with the old man. I smiled as we looked the document over.
"Hmm, seems simple enough. I guess the Secretary wants to test us on something simple to make sure we can work together," mused the young 2nd officer, "what do you think?"
Although I was well aware that this would not be the simple milk run it appeared, something in me wanted to reassure Allain and not unduly alarm him or the crew. I grinned and said, "Well, let's see if we can't show her what the best ship in the Free Cities can do. Mr. G'vaud'zshen, lay in a course for Miryor, we sail with the tide. Oh, and we need to get there as quickly as possible, so we will need to cut through the reefs."
Several of the sailors blanched at the thought, but none spoke up or commented, and with that, we embarked on one of the most unusual voyages that I have ever sailed upon.
Our orders were simple, make for Miryor with all due speed, and cut throgh the Wreckage Reefs. The reefs had always been a problem, there were a number of small islands concealed in the maze of reefs, and while some were innocent 'Tweener colonies, others were havens of pirates. Most ships avoided the reefs unless they were well armed, or had very good maps of the area. Of course the only folks with really good maps were pirates, so the possession of such charts could get you hung in some ports.
G'vaud'zshen beckoned to me from the chart table up near the tiller, and I walked across the aftcastle and climbed the stairs up to the poop deck. Allain did not follow, instead heading forward to begin the process of securing the ship for sailing. The burly Tulosh was poring over charts when I reached the main deck chart table. It always amazed me that the chart table was up on the deck instead of in the captain's quarters (where it was on most other ships), but this table had been ensorcelled by Saravoy himself and was proof against wind and weather. I had seen G'vaud'zshen leave the charts sitting on the table with no weights to hold them down during a windy day and the pages never even fluttered.
"You know that this is foolish, yes? We will be set upon the moment we enter the reefs, and the pirates will know the area far better than we. Our main advantage of speed will be negated."
I nodded slightly, but I was already coming up with a plan. "I am counting on it, old dog. Not to worry, I have a plan."
G'vaud'zshen grunted a chuckle, amused at my nickname for him. I had adopted it during our frequent games of narra in the officer's rack, and he seemed pleased that I took the time to find something less cumbersome than his true name.
"It seems like you say that every time you are losing at narra, so I will remain skeptical," retorted the navigator as he began to do the calculations that would enable us to sail with the tide in six hours.
I hurried back to the forecastle, hoping to catch Saravoy while he was on deck, and as luck would have it, the Ylvani Magus saw me coming and waited.
"I have the feeling that you are about to ask me to do something stupid. You have that look that humans get when they are about to ask a stupid question or demand an impossible action. So, what is it that you want me to do?"
"Well, it's fairly simple, really. In fact, it is so simple that I wouldn't bother you with it, but I needed it done right, so I came to you..."
The frost elf puffed up immediately at my knowledge of his obvious importance, and I seized the moment to ask my question. "I know that you have the ability to shape fire into usable constructions, so what I wanted to know is whether or not you can use your magical connection to fire to make the ship do something kind of like you did with the chart table on the poop deck."
Saravoy looked puzzled, and slowly responded, "How do you mean?"
"Well, you know how the chart table repels wind, rain, snow, and such?" he nodded, still confused, "I was wondering if you could make the hull of the March Harrier repel the reefs. This way we can still maneuver without fear of shoaling ourselves and damaging the hull."
I was pleased to note that the wizard found himself dumbstruck by the suggestion. His mouth worked slowly, as though he were chewing the problem, and he eventually replied, "I think... that might work. Basically, if I could enchant the keel it would push the ship away from any reefs in its path. The only real problem will momentum."
OK, now it was my turn to be confused, so I responded with a forthright question which beggared explanation from the wise mage, "Huh?"
The normal look of barely concealed condescencion clouded the Ylvani Yelin's face as he continued, "If the ship is going too fast and the keel tries to alter the course to avoid a reef, it will tear the ship apart. I think that i may have a better idea, though. Give me about ten hours and I can get it working."
"How will we know it works?" I asked incredulously.
"If we are drowning, then it failed, Arissa," barked the Ylvani in reply as he stomped off, down to the cargo area.
Several hours later we launched from our berth at the docks in Dahlon, and began to sail out of Saint Esta's Cove and into the seas that separated the various islands that were home to the Free Cities. Our maiden voyage had begun.
Showing posts with label March Harrier. Show all posts
Showing posts with label March Harrier. Show all posts
Friday, February 29, 2008
Friday, February 8, 2008
Chapter 6 - The March Harrier
In spite of the Secretary's statements, I had to cool my heels for nearly three months, waiting for the March Harrier to return, hidden in Dahlon and moving about every few days. The time spent was arduous and tedious. I was unable to leave my bolt holes to visit family or friends for fear of running afoul of the Polinoy clan in the first month of my stay in Dahlon. After that, my few visits with the people of my life before I sailed with the Wavestrider were somewhat strained, and I found myself unable to really connect with the people I had known before I went on my long journey. Thus it was with a certain amount of relief that I found out that the March Harrier had come into port.
In addition to relieving the ennui of life ashore, the arrival of the Harrier meant that I could finally get to work. Time and tide wait for no man, and they sure as Saint Esta's bronze breastplate wouldn't wait for me! I grabbed a last cup of vressa from Damal's bakery and headed to the port. The sight that greeted me was everything that I expected and more.
The March Harrier was a beauty, a masterpiece of nautical design and an examplar of the graceful architecture that made Merlani and Dayrin ships second only to the Varyag among Human nations. The ship was large, a good sized caravelle, with gracefully sweeping masts festooned with the gleaming ivory color of furled sails. The grayish elven ropes of the rigging played a sharp contrast to the white of the sails and the dark, almost black, stain of the wood. She looked lean and hungry, a kind of sea-going predator that ships like the Wavestrider feared to cross. She was like a sheepdog sitting amidst the flock, a hunter guarding the sheep.
The deck bustled with activity and I got no closer than a half-score of paces when I was stopped by a rather odd man with weathered skin, salt and pepper hair, and a somewhat distracted look about him. He was dressed well, and seemed to be looking for me when I caught sight of him. He was obviously a member of the crew, and equally obviously was there to greet me.
"Arissa Uleira?" he asked cautiously.
"Yes, sir," I replied almost automatically, and he smiled.
"My name is Galldi, Alain Galldi, and I am the second... actually, now I guess I am the first mate on the Harrier."
He looked rather sheepish as he made the correction, and I wondered what exactly he meant by it. Perhaps the former first mate had been released or retired, I mused as he guided me up the gangplank and onto the caravel's deck. I almost missed the explanation as Galldi started rambling on.
"...they never liked each other from the start. The skipper thought that Iblis was too soft and Iblis thought the captain was too strict. It was going to come to a head eventually, but I never thought that they would actually duel on the deck at sea. They fought pretty hard, so you see, the old first mate and the captain killed each other in the duel and well... Baron Moravese couldn't save them, and we were too far from shore, and... there you have it. Our new Captain arrived just before you did. He seems... different..." the first mate's narrative trailed off with a sort of non-committal shrug, but by now I was too busy taking in the faces of my new companions to care that much.
Galldi walked me around the deck and showed me the ship himself, introducing the officers as he went. The first officer started with the cargo master and shipwright, a stout red-headed Dwarf who went by the odd name of Tex, which was short for Tekeshak "Oarbreaker" craghs'Eruksel ghorfs'Thrumsul. I figured Tex was a heck of a lot easier to remember, so I stuck with that. The dour dwarf seemed to consider the idea of socializing with others distasteful, and began muttering about the lack of proper diet, too few dishes featuring beans, and the stupid quartermaster who couldn't brew proper ale or stew a proper plate of beans. Tex was obviously a master at what he did, but equally obviously was far too obsessed with beans.
The next member of the crew was a portly Merlani, who Galldi claimed was Baron Maximus Moravese de Fornice of the city-state of Tunde, and a member of one of the ranking Patrician families there. Baron Moravese provided the air of cool competence that one would expect of a ship's surgeon, and it seemed obvious that in addition to his mundane skills as a healer he was a skilled shaman as well. Convivial and friendly, I chatted openly with him about life in Tunde, and the differences between our cities until Galldi maneuvered me away. The Baron seemed like a good solid sort, and was obviously an asset well worth having around.
After moving away from Baron Moravese, Galldi escorted me over to a hulking figure up near the tiller. Another non-human, the ship's helmsman and navigator was a raffish Tulosh named G'vaud'zshen. Nearly seven feet tall, the jackal-like humanoid looked graceful and deadly, even standing still on the poop deck reviewing charts. Friendly but terse, G'vaud'zshen indicated that his responsibilities for the ship precluded a lengthy discussion at present, however he would be happy to chat later, once Arissa was settled in and the new patrol routes were plotted in. With a flowing bow, the Tulosh resumed his arithmetical calculations.
As Galldi prepared to resume the rounds of introductions the Quartermaster appeared on deck with rations for all those currently working. The man was introduced as Otahr Taylin, and he sized Arissa up without skipping a beat. Pleasantly cheerful with the crew, Otahr began asking quick and pointed questions the moment the crowd of hungry sailors dispersed. It did not take me long to realize that this was no simple cook, and though his food was excellent it would be a mistake to underestimate this man. His thick brogue took some of the sting out of the questions, but it became clear all too quickly that this man was a trained investigator. The two saparas strapped to the Atvaran's back also put paid the idea that this cook was only dangerous to cold meats. For a purser or quartermaster to be so well armed indicated certain other tasks were also within his sphere of influence.
Moving on from Otahr Taylin we came to the ship's mage, a slim Ylvani Yelin sorcerer named Uliel Akatri. Quiet and reserved, Uliel did not speak much until I asked him about the smallish ballista he had been working on. At that point Galldi grimaced and it became almost impossible to shut the mage up. Apparently the devise was a magical apparatus that used something Uliel called "sympathetic magic" to increase the potency of... alright, I got completely lost in the abstruse theoretical ramblings of the Yelin spellcaster. Mumbling my acceptance of the theory, I gratefully allowed Galldi to guide me away from the sorcerer before he could get his second wind.
Next was the Sailing master, a whip thin Gnome named Haska Running Stag, who grunted noncommittally and barked abrupt orders at the men and women in the rigging as they re-tied and adjusted the rigging for port. Though she didn't say much, I got the feeling that we would get on just fine so long as I did not gainsay her or try to tell her how to do her job.
Last on the tour of introductions was the Captain, Byrne Haut. Captain Haut, Galldi explained, had been a merchant and a privateer for years, and really wanted nothing more than to retire. He had made it clear to Galldi that Arissa and Galldi would be running the ship, he was not going to do more than be a glorified passenger. The man barely looked up from the book he was reading to wave his first and second officers out of his office. Bedraggled and unkempt, it was a wonder he was allowed to command a ship at sea, let alone one of the stature of the March Harrier.
Galldi finished the rounds and the tour, and I looked back at the odd assortment of men and women and thought to myself: This was going to be one hell of an interesting cruise.
In addition to relieving the ennui of life ashore, the arrival of the Harrier meant that I could finally get to work. Time and tide wait for no man, and they sure as Saint Esta's bronze breastplate wouldn't wait for me! I grabbed a last cup of vressa from Damal's bakery and headed to the port. The sight that greeted me was everything that I expected and more.
The March Harrier was a beauty, a masterpiece of nautical design and an examplar of the graceful architecture that made Merlani and Dayrin ships second only to the Varyag among Human nations. The ship was large, a good sized caravelle, with gracefully sweeping masts festooned with the gleaming ivory color of furled sails. The grayish elven ropes of the rigging played a sharp contrast to the white of the sails and the dark, almost black, stain of the wood. She looked lean and hungry, a kind of sea-going predator that ships like the Wavestrider feared to cross. She was like a sheepdog sitting amidst the flock, a hunter guarding the sheep.
The deck bustled with activity and I got no closer than a half-score of paces when I was stopped by a rather odd man with weathered skin, salt and pepper hair, and a somewhat distracted look about him. He was dressed well, and seemed to be looking for me when I caught sight of him. He was obviously a member of the crew, and equally obviously was there to greet me.
"Arissa Uleira?" he asked cautiously.
"Yes, sir," I replied almost automatically, and he smiled.
"My name is Galldi, Alain Galldi, and I am the second... actually, now I guess I am the first mate on the Harrier."
He looked rather sheepish as he made the correction, and I wondered what exactly he meant by it. Perhaps the former first mate had been released or retired, I mused as he guided me up the gangplank and onto the caravel's deck. I almost missed the explanation as Galldi started rambling on.
"...they never liked each other from the start. The skipper thought that Iblis was too soft and Iblis thought the captain was too strict. It was going to come to a head eventually, but I never thought that they would actually duel on the deck at sea. They fought pretty hard, so you see, the old first mate and the captain killed each other in the duel and well... Baron Moravese couldn't save them, and we were too far from shore, and... there you have it. Our new Captain arrived just before you did. He seems... different..." the first mate's narrative trailed off with a sort of non-committal shrug, but by now I was too busy taking in the faces of my new companions to care that much.
Galldi walked me around the deck and showed me the ship himself, introducing the officers as he went. The first officer started with the cargo master and shipwright, a stout red-headed Dwarf who went by the odd name of Tex, which was short for Tekeshak "Oarbreaker" craghs'Eruksel ghorfs'Thrumsul. I figured Tex was a heck of a lot easier to remember, so I stuck with that. The dour dwarf seemed to consider the idea of socializing with others distasteful, and began muttering about the lack of proper diet, too few dishes featuring beans, and the stupid quartermaster who couldn't brew proper ale or stew a proper plate of beans. Tex was obviously a master at what he did, but equally obviously was far too obsessed with beans.
The next member of the crew was a portly Merlani, who Galldi claimed was Baron Maximus Moravese de Fornice of the city-state of Tunde, and a member of one of the ranking Patrician families there. Baron Moravese provided the air of cool competence that one would expect of a ship's surgeon, and it seemed obvious that in addition to his mundane skills as a healer he was a skilled shaman as well. Convivial and friendly, I chatted openly with him about life in Tunde, and the differences between our cities until Galldi maneuvered me away. The Baron seemed like a good solid sort, and was obviously an asset well worth having around.
After moving away from Baron Moravese, Galldi escorted me over to a hulking figure up near the tiller. Another non-human, the ship's helmsman and navigator was a raffish Tulosh named G'vaud'zshen. Nearly seven feet tall, the jackal-like humanoid looked graceful and deadly, even standing still on the poop deck reviewing charts. Friendly but terse, G'vaud'zshen indicated that his responsibilities for the ship precluded a lengthy discussion at present, however he would be happy to chat later, once Arissa was settled in and the new patrol routes were plotted in. With a flowing bow, the Tulosh resumed his arithmetical calculations.
As Galldi prepared to resume the rounds of introductions the Quartermaster appeared on deck with rations for all those currently working. The man was introduced as Otahr Taylin, and he sized Arissa up without skipping a beat. Pleasantly cheerful with the crew, Otahr began asking quick and pointed questions the moment the crowd of hungry sailors dispersed. It did not take me long to realize that this was no simple cook, and though his food was excellent it would be a mistake to underestimate this man. His thick brogue took some of the sting out of the questions, but it became clear all too quickly that this man was a trained investigator. The two saparas strapped to the Atvaran's back also put paid the idea that this cook was only dangerous to cold meats. For a purser or quartermaster to be so well armed indicated certain other tasks were also within his sphere of influence.
Moving on from Otahr Taylin we came to the ship's mage, a slim Ylvani Yelin sorcerer named Uliel Akatri. Quiet and reserved, Uliel did not speak much until I asked him about the smallish ballista he had been working on. At that point Galldi grimaced and it became almost impossible to shut the mage up. Apparently the devise was a magical apparatus that used something Uliel called "sympathetic magic" to increase the potency of... alright, I got completely lost in the abstruse theoretical ramblings of the Yelin spellcaster. Mumbling my acceptance of the theory, I gratefully allowed Galldi to guide me away from the sorcerer before he could get his second wind.
Next was the Sailing master, a whip thin Gnome named Haska Running Stag, who grunted noncommittally and barked abrupt orders at the men and women in the rigging as they re-tied and adjusted the rigging for port. Though she didn't say much, I got the feeling that we would get on just fine so long as I did not gainsay her or try to tell her how to do her job.
Last on the tour of introductions was the Captain, Byrne Haut. Captain Haut, Galldi explained, had been a merchant and a privateer for years, and really wanted nothing more than to retire. He had made it clear to Galldi that Arissa and Galldi would be running the ship, he was not going to do more than be a glorified passenger. The man barely looked up from the book he was reading to wave his first and second officers out of his office. Bedraggled and unkempt, it was a wonder he was allowed to command a ship at sea, let alone one of the stature of the March Harrier.
Galldi finished the rounds and the tour, and I looked back at the odd assortment of men and women and thought to myself: This was going to be one hell of an interesting cruise.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Chapter 5: A Strange Conversation
Fendy Brill was not at all what I was expecting, I thought as she ushered me into the house, and down a hall to the sitting room. Brill had become Secretary of Dahlon about ten years ago, when I was a girl of about twelve. Having served as councilwoman on the city council for nearly twenty years, she was the senior member and thus it fell to her to take up the mantle of secretary when Hector Messala decided he no longer felt like running the city.
Dahlon politics were simple: nobody wanted the jobs, so whoever could be persuaded, connived, or bullied into taking the job was forced into it. We Dahlonese are a fractuous lot, and we will be damned if anybody is going to tell us what to do, and that includes other Dahlonese. The city itself is divided into seven sections called departments, each forces a resident to serve on the city council which maintains the barest minimum of security necessary to stave of pure anarchy within the confines of the city. The secretary was called upon to arbitrate disputes and arguments and ratify the council's decisions, but otherwise had little real power. As it was, even the ombudsmen on the streets had more power than the secretary, if only because they had more freedom.
The main thing that bothered me about Fendy Brill was that she was a whole lot older than she appeared. Although she looked to be in her mid to late forties, with graying hair and crow's feet around her eyes, the truth was that she was nearer to seventy years old. To say that she was aging gracefully was an understatement, and some citizens had joked aloud about where she kept her phylactery. It may have been in bad taste, but it was still kind of amusing... until, or course, one was sitting in her parlor.
As I eased myself into the chair across from the secretary I had to remind myself of why I was here. There was really no alternative, and I did not relish the idea of more piracy on the high seas. Of course, there was the distinct probability that the secretary was going to have me do something even worse, but there was no way to stop that. I was looking at my only way out, so I started to speak.
"Skip it, I already know the high points. You signed on with the Polinoy clan three years ago and have not enjoyed their leisurely life of larceny, so now you are here begging for protection and a job. I got the story from the Tyrennhian already, he warned me that you would be along and why. Oh, don't worry, there is nothing you could have done. After all, the weaselly little turd can read minds," growled Brill acidly.
In spite of her brusque manner and growling voice, I found myself liking the assertive old woman seated before me. Before I knew it a shy grin was creeping across my face as the alleged leader of Dahlon continued.
"Unfortunately we need the little scumbag to figure out what in the seventeen shades of the deep is going on here. You will make a good addition to our little sewing circle, assuming the Tyrennhian is not as full of drekh as he normally seems. Given what he knows, and what I know, it is fair to say that your role will be crucial in figuring out what the hells is happening here. Now, since I am pretty sure our Tyrennhian friend told you next to nothing about what's going on, I will fill you in.
"About a year ago I started noticing a strange pattern of shipments going from our fair city to the city of Miryor in the west. One ship, the Wandering Lover, seemed to be making regular runs with barely profitable cargoes. Now this is not too unusual, but the thing that stunk like a slillikul in heat was that the crew had an awful lot of spending cash for folks who were barely making ends meet...
"Piracy?" I asked with a hollow feeling.
"Nah, somebody would have caught them in the nets long before were that the case. Besides, that scow can barely float let alone menace a merchant ship into submission. I figured they were smuggling goods to Miryor, but I could not figure what or why. Then this Tyrennhian shows up, claiming to be an honest sailor with some information. I may not be old enough to remember the worst of the occupation, but I remember one thing really well: Imperial Lictors."
The hollow feeling had grown like mold in a damp cellar. There was no way in the world this story was going to end well. Suddenly I was beginning to wish I had stayed with the Polinoys, at least there the motivations were less murky.
"Anyway, this 'simple seaman' shows up with information on shipments of weapons that are being smuggled from Vrendisium, in the Tyrennhian Imperium, to Dahlon. His problem was that he could not keep track of the shipments once they left the holds here in Dahlon. All he knew is that they were not destined for this city. The two of us have been watching the trade lanes from Vrendisium to Dahlon for months waiting for a break, and I am guessing that is where he caught you in his little web."
I was a bit overwhelmed and confused by the brutal honesty of the secretary, but one thing was obvious about the entire episode: I had leverage here. They needed me for something, and I now that I understood the mechanics of the situation I would see to it that my services were well compensated. Apparently some of Savago's piratical cunning had rubbed off on me.
"I don't see what any of this has to do with me. If your Lictor friend read my mind, then he must know that the Wavestrider was a pirate, not a smuggler. I cannot give you information that I do not have, so I have to wonder: what is it I can do for you?" I hedged cautiously.
Secretary Brill looked me over a moment, then nodded curtly to herself, "Come off it, you aren't stupid, so don't pretend to be. I may be old, but I know enough to recognize when somebody is trying to get over on me. You know that we need you to run tracking and interference to trace the shipments, and we know that you need us to get away from the Polinoy clan. It would be too dangerous for us to send you out right now, too many eyes on the docks, so I am going to offer you a berth on my privateering vessel, the March Harrier. You can learn a lot from Captain Haute, and you should be able to build yourself one hell of a reputation away from the Polinoy unless I miss my guess. So, what do you say?"
Dahlon politics were simple: nobody wanted the jobs, so whoever could be persuaded, connived, or bullied into taking the job was forced into it. We Dahlonese are a fractuous lot, and we will be damned if anybody is going to tell us what to do, and that includes other Dahlonese. The city itself is divided into seven sections called departments, each forces a resident to serve on the city council which maintains the barest minimum of security necessary to stave of pure anarchy within the confines of the city. The secretary was called upon to arbitrate disputes and arguments and ratify the council's decisions, but otherwise had little real power. As it was, even the ombudsmen on the streets had more power than the secretary, if only because they had more freedom.
The main thing that bothered me about Fendy Brill was that she was a whole lot older than she appeared. Although she looked to be in her mid to late forties, with graying hair and crow's feet around her eyes, the truth was that she was nearer to seventy years old. To say that she was aging gracefully was an understatement, and some citizens had joked aloud about where she kept her phylactery. It may have been in bad taste, but it was still kind of amusing... until, or course, one was sitting in her parlor.
As I eased myself into the chair across from the secretary I had to remind myself of why I was here. There was really no alternative, and I did not relish the idea of more piracy on the high seas. Of course, there was the distinct probability that the secretary was going to have me do something even worse, but there was no way to stop that. I was looking at my only way out, so I started to speak.
"Skip it, I already know the high points. You signed on with the Polinoy clan three years ago and have not enjoyed their leisurely life of larceny, so now you are here begging for protection and a job. I got the story from the Tyrennhian already, he warned me that you would be along and why. Oh, don't worry, there is nothing you could have done. After all, the weaselly little turd can read minds," growled Brill acidly.
In spite of her brusque manner and growling voice, I found myself liking the assertive old woman seated before me. Before I knew it a shy grin was creeping across my face as the alleged leader of Dahlon continued.
"Unfortunately we need the little scumbag to figure out what in the seventeen shades of the deep is going on here. You will make a good addition to our little sewing circle, assuming the Tyrennhian is not as full of drekh as he normally seems. Given what he knows, and what I know, it is fair to say that your role will be crucial in figuring out what the hells is happening here. Now, since I am pretty sure our Tyrennhian friend told you next to nothing about what's going on, I will fill you in.
"About a year ago I started noticing a strange pattern of shipments going from our fair city to the city of Miryor in the west. One ship, the Wandering Lover, seemed to be making regular runs with barely profitable cargoes. Now this is not too unusual, but the thing that stunk like a slillikul in heat was that the crew had an awful lot of spending cash for folks who were barely making ends meet...
"Piracy?" I asked with a hollow feeling.
"Nah, somebody would have caught them in the nets long before were that the case. Besides, that scow can barely float let alone menace a merchant ship into submission. I figured they were smuggling goods to Miryor, but I could not figure what or why. Then this Tyrennhian shows up, claiming to be an honest sailor with some information. I may not be old enough to remember the worst of the occupation, but I remember one thing really well: Imperial Lictors."
The hollow feeling had grown like mold in a damp cellar. There was no way in the world this story was going to end well. Suddenly I was beginning to wish I had stayed with the Polinoys, at least there the motivations were less murky.
"Anyway, this 'simple seaman' shows up with information on shipments of weapons that are being smuggled from Vrendisium, in the Tyrennhian Imperium, to Dahlon. His problem was that he could not keep track of the shipments once they left the holds here in Dahlon. All he knew is that they were not destined for this city. The two of us have been watching the trade lanes from Vrendisium to Dahlon for months waiting for a break, and I am guessing that is where he caught you in his little web."
I was a bit overwhelmed and confused by the brutal honesty of the secretary, but one thing was obvious about the entire episode: I had leverage here. They needed me for something, and I now that I understood the mechanics of the situation I would see to it that my services were well compensated. Apparently some of Savago's piratical cunning had rubbed off on me.
"I don't see what any of this has to do with me. If your Lictor friend read my mind, then he must know that the Wavestrider was a pirate, not a smuggler. I cannot give you information that I do not have, so I have to wonder: what is it I can do for you?" I hedged cautiously.
Secretary Brill looked me over a moment, then nodded curtly to herself, "Come off it, you aren't stupid, so don't pretend to be. I may be old, but I know enough to recognize when somebody is trying to get over on me. You know that we need you to run tracking and interference to trace the shipments, and we know that you need us to get away from the Polinoy clan. It would be too dangerous for us to send you out right now, too many eyes on the docks, so I am going to offer you a berth on my privateering vessel, the March Harrier. You can learn a lot from Captain Haute, and you should be able to build yourself one hell of a reputation away from the Polinoy unless I miss my guess. So, what do you say?"
Friday, December 7, 2007
Chapter 4 Laws & Orders
"Guards, arrest that woman!"
I recognized the voice, there was no way I couldn't. The smarmy little Tyrennhian fink had found me. All that effort, all that time, all the planning completely wasted because of one officious little Imperial officer. If I could have, I probably would have exploded in sheer annoyance at the unfairness of it all.
I turned slowly to face my captors and was stunned to see Arrenus standing alone. There were no guards anywhere in sight, and it seemed to me that the Tyrennhian was snickering at my obvious shock. Questions whirled in my mind as I tried to analyze the situation. What was he doing? Was he working for Savago, or himself? Was he going to turn me in? He couldn't arrest me himself, this was Dahlon not Tarn Frientum, so what in the 17 hells was going on?!
I must have said the last aloud, because the Tyrennhian guffawed a moment and then muttered something about 'women with spirit' in Medarin. He had an odd look on his face, and my mind was rapidly catching up with the situation. The other people on the street had stopped staring when they realized that there wasn't going to be an arrest and were starting to disperse as the officer from the Proconsul's Writ approached me.
"Sorry, it was too good an opportunity to pass up," chuckled the Tyrennhian, "I know, I know, you have a million little question, eh? Perhaps we should get out of the street and talk a moment. I mean, unless you really want to stand out in broad daylight and wait for Savago's clan to find you..."
The obvious rhetorical nature of the last statement put my teeth on edge. This simply would not do, however I had little choice but to step off into the little cafe with the Tyrennhian. I noticed the man in truth for the first time as we sat down. Medium height, medium build, with a rather bland face, the only thing remarkable about him was the number of campaign rings braided into the Ningul at the back of his head. It was obvious that he was a seasoned veteran in spite of his apparent youth and junior rank.
"Let me explain before you get angry. I am an officer in the Tyrennhian navy, yes, but I am also a member of the Proconsul's inner circle. I have been looking for an ally here in the Merlani Free Cities, and when I saw you with those pirates, I knew I had found one. I will help you out and protect you from the pirates, all I ask in return is that you help me out with a bit of a problem."
I started to object with a sinking feeling in my gut. Was he going to ask me to betray my people? I could expect such from a Tyrennhian. I doubt he had ever fought an honest fight in his life, and betrayal would be second nature to him.
"I know that you have no reason to trust, me, but I sent a runner ahead to Secretary Brill to let her know that you were coming. She should be able to help you out and get you work to keep you away from the Polinoys. While I know you don't trust me, I am pretty sure you are going to trust the Secretary, and I am sure that you will see the necessity of what we are doing when she explains what is going on."
Shaking my head in disbelief I started to speak, only to be hushed by Arrenus. The Tyrennhian simply pointed at a small house down the block and nodded, "I will meet you here when you are finished with Madame Brill."
"You're making an awfully big assumption, Tyrennhian," I said through gritted teeth.
"I sincerely doubt it," he said as he smiled knowingly.
Angry and confused I got up and walked as quickly as I could to the house that the Tyrennhian had indicated. When I knocked on the door a middle-aged woman in rich robes of muted purple and green answered. Cocking an eyebrow she said, simply, "Took you long enough. Come in, we have a lot to talk about."
Suddenly I got the feeling that my day was not about to get any better.
I recognized the voice, there was no way I couldn't. The smarmy little Tyrennhian fink had found me. All that effort, all that time, all the planning completely wasted because of one officious little Imperial officer. If I could have, I probably would have exploded in sheer annoyance at the unfairness of it all.
I turned slowly to face my captors and was stunned to see Arrenus standing alone. There were no guards anywhere in sight, and it seemed to me that the Tyrennhian was snickering at my obvious shock. Questions whirled in my mind as I tried to analyze the situation. What was he doing? Was he working for Savago, or himself? Was he going to turn me in? He couldn't arrest me himself, this was Dahlon not Tarn Frientum, so what in the 17 hells was going on?!
I must have said the last aloud, because the Tyrennhian guffawed a moment and then muttered something about 'women with spirit' in Medarin. He had an odd look on his face, and my mind was rapidly catching up with the situation. The other people on the street had stopped staring when they realized that there wasn't going to be an arrest and were starting to disperse as the officer from the Proconsul's Writ approached me.
"Sorry, it was too good an opportunity to pass up," chuckled the Tyrennhian, "I know, I know, you have a million little question, eh? Perhaps we should get out of the street and talk a moment. I mean, unless you really want to stand out in broad daylight and wait for Savago's clan to find you..."
The obvious rhetorical nature of the last statement put my teeth on edge. This simply would not do, however I had little choice but to step off into the little cafe with the Tyrennhian. I noticed the man in truth for the first time as we sat down. Medium height, medium build, with a rather bland face, the only thing remarkable about him was the number of campaign rings braided into the Ningul at the back of his head. It was obvious that he was a seasoned veteran in spite of his apparent youth and junior rank.
"Let me explain before you get angry. I am an officer in the Tyrennhian navy, yes, but I am also a member of the Proconsul's inner circle. I have been looking for an ally here in the Merlani Free Cities, and when I saw you with those pirates, I knew I had found one. I will help you out and protect you from the pirates, all I ask in return is that you help me out with a bit of a problem."
I started to object with a sinking feeling in my gut. Was he going to ask me to betray my people? I could expect such from a Tyrennhian. I doubt he had ever fought an honest fight in his life, and betrayal would be second nature to him.
"I know that you have no reason to trust, me, but I sent a runner ahead to Secretary Brill to let her know that you were coming. She should be able to help you out and get you work to keep you away from the Polinoys. While I know you don't trust me, I am pretty sure you are going to trust the Secretary, and I am sure that you will see the necessity of what we are doing when she explains what is going on."
Shaking my head in disbelief I started to speak, only to be hushed by Arrenus. The Tyrennhian simply pointed at a small house down the block and nodded, "I will meet you here when you are finished with Madame Brill."
"You're making an awfully big assumption, Tyrennhian," I said through gritted teeth.
"I sincerely doubt it," he said as he smiled knowingly.
Angry and confused I got up and walked as quickly as I could to the house that the Tyrennhian had indicated. When I knocked on the door a middle-aged woman in rich robes of muted purple and green answered. Cocking an eyebrow she said, simply, "Took you long enough. Come in, we have a lot to talk about."
Suddenly I got the feeling that my day was not about to get any better.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Chapter 3 - Escapes & Escapades
For the next three years I toiled aboard the Wavestrider and fought in many engagements and raids. Though not a Varyag myself, I was accepted by the crew and immersed in their language and customs. The bold pirate ship under the command of Savago Polinoy became my home and family, and like most willful children I could not wait to run away and escape.
From that first fateful raid on the Tyrennhian cargo ship, I knew full well that I would need to escape from the Wavestrider. The problem was, how to do that without getting caught by either the pirates or the local law enforcement. While I knew that I would likely need to wait until they were back in a familiar place, I also realized that it was unlikely that we would return to my home any time soon. So it was that I bided my time until the Wavestrider was once again making for port at Dahlon. Unfortunately, life does not care for the machinations and plans of the living, and so fate intervened before the Wavestrider could reach the Merlani Free Cities.
As the Polinoy clan ship sailed quickly towards its destination they did not realize that an enemy lay along their path. When it was too late for the Wavestriderto alter her course, the massive Tyrennhian Quinquereme appeared out of nowhere, her invisibility removed by the stone her forward onager had just lobbed over the Wavestrider's deck.
Unprepared for the surprise attack, Savago had a moment to stare, open-mouthed and in shock, at the massive Imperial warship almost directly ahead of him. A voice boomed over the deck demanding that the Varyag heave to and prepare for boarding. The Wavestriderwas doomed if they tried to resist, so Savago complied with a speed worthy of the Freiji, the Aspect of the Swift Current.
After a few moments Imperial Marines were boarding the smaller pirate ship from the Tyrennhian warship. The Quinquereme was massive for a warship, but not as big as the heavy Septiremes and Decares that the Tyrennhian Imperium was capable of fielding. I noted the difference in size casually and professionally, comparing this ship to the enormous bulk of the Kraken, a Tyrennhian Decares that had come to Dahlon for trade and diplomacy in my youth. Though smaller, this ship seemed as deadly as her larger cousin.
Taking a quick look at the Quinquereme also gained her the ship's name, written in blocky Medarin on the hull beneath the forecastle. This ship was the Proconsul's Writ, a name that immediately filled me with dread. The ship was a patrol and customs ship renown for catching pirates in just the manner in which the Wavestrider had been captured.
While I mused over the inherent unfairness of it all, a young Tyrennhian officer looked quizically at me and cocked an eyebrow. In Galari, the language of my homeland, he asked, "Whatever is a Merlani doing on a Varyag ship?"
"Working her passage," replied Savago tersely in Medarin to show that he had understood the question and was having none of this nonsense. Vigo looked tense, and two more officers joined the boarding party. The oldest of the officers bore the badges of a Quinquerarch, and was obviously the captain of the Writ.
"I suppose, then, that yours is a cargo ship, Master Varyag," asked the Quinquerarch in a somewhat bored tone.
"Aye, she is that, Captain, and dare I ask why you are stopping merchant ships at sea in the middle of nowhere?" replied Savago angrily. Though he was obviously bluffing, he played the angry and affronted merchant with all the skill of a seasoned actor.
"I see. Then you should have no trouble providing me with proper manifests for a complete customs inspection, eh?" was the Tyrennhian's retort.
Fortunately for us, Savago was no fool, and Vigo and Yssa were forgers of great skill. The ship had papers for every piece of cargo in its hold, and the papers would all pass muster as being legitimate bills of lading and transport for the cargo. Also, as luck would have it, while much of the cargo was contraband in the Imperium, it was perfectly legal in our listed port of call, Dahlon.
The inspection took three hours, as the Tyrennhians were convinced, rightly so as it turned out, that we were all pirates. The young officer, whose name was Septimus Arrenus, kept looking at me the whole time. Though I detested the Imperium for what it had done to my homeland, I had to admit that the young naval officer was really rather dashing in an odd sort of way, though the odd hairstyle affected by Tyrennhian soldiers was kind of off-putting.
In the end, the Wavestrider was allowed to continue on to Dahlon under close escort, thus preventing Savago from filling the rest of his hold on the way to Dahlon. It was obvious that the Tyrennhian knew that the Polinoy ship was obviously a real pirate, but without proof, the law-abiding military of the Imperium would not do anything about it. It took ten days to sail to Dahlon with the Proconsul's Writ dogging us every step of the way.
When we reached Dahlon, my first action was to perform my normal duties and assist with the loading and unloading of the cargo. Much of the time we were under observation by Tyrennhian soldiers or sailors, to the obvious annoyance of the stevedores working the docks. As soon as that was done, I looked to one of the stevedores and told him that one of the Tyrennhians had said something about re-conquering the dirty Merlani scum in this crummy little city. The stevedore quickly spread the word, and the next thing you knew there was a massive fight breaking out between the dock workers and the Tyrennhians. Using the fracas as a diversion, I slipped away from the docks and up into the city proper.
I realized first off that I would not be able to go home right away, and that Deroone Verthur's shop would probably be the first place anyone with half a brain would think to look for me. Understanding that my options were severely limited, and that the mix of different coins in my purse would only last for so long, I made my way as quickly as I could to the south end of town.
Assuming nothing had changed, I knew that the current leader of the Dahlon Secretariat, Fendy Brill, could be found there. It was risky, but I knew it was my only chance for survival and escape. I almost made it to Brill's home when those words that every right thinking woman hates to hear: "Guards, arrest that woman!"
From that first fateful raid on the Tyrennhian cargo ship, I knew full well that I would need to escape from the Wavestrider. The problem was, how to do that without getting caught by either the pirates or the local law enforcement. While I knew that I would likely need to wait until they were back in a familiar place, I also realized that it was unlikely that we would return to my home any time soon. So it was that I bided my time until the Wavestrider was once again making for port at Dahlon. Unfortunately, life does not care for the machinations and plans of the living, and so fate intervened before the Wavestrider could reach the Merlani Free Cities.
As the Polinoy clan ship sailed quickly towards its destination they did not realize that an enemy lay along their path. When it was too late for the Wavestriderto alter her course, the massive Tyrennhian Quinquereme appeared out of nowhere, her invisibility removed by the stone her forward onager had just lobbed over the Wavestrider's deck.
Unprepared for the surprise attack, Savago had a moment to stare, open-mouthed and in shock, at the massive Imperial warship almost directly ahead of him. A voice boomed over the deck demanding that the Varyag heave to and prepare for boarding. The Wavestriderwas doomed if they tried to resist, so Savago complied with a speed worthy of the Freiji, the Aspect of the Swift Current.
After a few moments Imperial Marines were boarding the smaller pirate ship from the Tyrennhian warship. The Quinquereme was massive for a warship, but not as big as the heavy Septiremes and Decares that the Tyrennhian Imperium was capable of fielding. I noted the difference in size casually and professionally, comparing this ship to the enormous bulk of the Kraken, a Tyrennhian Decares that had come to Dahlon for trade and diplomacy in my youth. Though smaller, this ship seemed as deadly as her larger cousin.
Taking a quick look at the Quinquereme also gained her the ship's name, written in blocky Medarin on the hull beneath the forecastle. This ship was the Proconsul's Writ, a name that immediately filled me with dread. The ship was a patrol and customs ship renown for catching pirates in just the manner in which the Wavestrider had been captured.
While I mused over the inherent unfairness of it all, a young Tyrennhian officer looked quizically at me and cocked an eyebrow. In Galari, the language of my homeland, he asked, "Whatever is a Merlani doing on a Varyag ship?"
"Working her passage," replied Savago tersely in Medarin to show that he had understood the question and was having none of this nonsense. Vigo looked tense, and two more officers joined the boarding party. The oldest of the officers bore the badges of a Quinquerarch, and was obviously the captain of the Writ.
"I suppose, then, that yours is a cargo ship, Master Varyag," asked the Quinquerarch in a somewhat bored tone.
"Aye, she is that, Captain, and dare I ask why you are stopping merchant ships at sea in the middle of nowhere?" replied Savago angrily. Though he was obviously bluffing, he played the angry and affronted merchant with all the skill of a seasoned actor.
"I see. Then you should have no trouble providing me with proper manifests for a complete customs inspection, eh?" was the Tyrennhian's retort.
Fortunately for us, Savago was no fool, and Vigo and Yssa were forgers of great skill. The ship had papers for every piece of cargo in its hold, and the papers would all pass muster as being legitimate bills of lading and transport for the cargo. Also, as luck would have it, while much of the cargo was contraband in the Imperium, it was perfectly legal in our listed port of call, Dahlon.
The inspection took three hours, as the Tyrennhians were convinced, rightly so as it turned out, that we were all pirates. The young officer, whose name was Septimus Arrenus, kept looking at me the whole time. Though I detested the Imperium for what it had done to my homeland, I had to admit that the young naval officer was really rather dashing in an odd sort of way, though the odd hairstyle affected by Tyrennhian soldiers was kind of off-putting.
In the end, the Wavestrider was allowed to continue on to Dahlon under close escort, thus preventing Savago from filling the rest of his hold on the way to Dahlon. It was obvious that the Tyrennhian knew that the Polinoy ship was obviously a real pirate, but without proof, the law-abiding military of the Imperium would not do anything about it. It took ten days to sail to Dahlon with the Proconsul's Writ dogging us every step of the way.
When we reached Dahlon, my first action was to perform my normal duties and assist with the loading and unloading of the cargo. Much of the time we were under observation by Tyrennhian soldiers or sailors, to the obvious annoyance of the stevedores working the docks. As soon as that was done, I looked to one of the stevedores and told him that one of the Tyrennhians had said something about re-conquering the dirty Merlani scum in this crummy little city. The stevedore quickly spread the word, and the next thing you knew there was a massive fight breaking out between the dock workers and the Tyrennhians. Using the fracas as a diversion, I slipped away from the docks and up into the city proper.
I realized first off that I would not be able to go home right away, and that Deroone Verthur's shop would probably be the first place anyone with half a brain would think to look for me. Understanding that my options were severely limited, and that the mix of different coins in my purse would only last for so long, I made my way as quickly as I could to the south end of town.
Assuming nothing had changed, I knew that the current leader of the Dahlon Secretariat, Fendy Brill, could be found there. It was risky, but I knew it was my only chance for survival and escape. I almost made it to Brill's home when those words that every right thinking woman hates to hear: "Guards, arrest that woman!"
Friday, November 16, 2007
Chapter 2 - Voyage of the Wavestrider
It took me a few days to realize that something was not quite right on the Polinoy clan ship that I had become crew on. Although I had never been to sea before and had no direct experience with sailing, I had seen enough ships in the harbor to know that something was a bit off. Little things that I should have noticed but that my excitement over my new career as a sailor over-rode.
The first thing I should have noticed was that although we were off-loading a great deal of cargo, it seemed that very little cargo was being taken on. It is rather odd for a merchant to go about with an empty hold, but I supposed that maybe the Polinoys were waiting for goods or a transhipment or even taking on new cargo at sea by transferring items. Piracy should have leapt right to mind, but I was too full of the idea of adventure to think clearly.
The second thing that I should have noticed were the number of weapons aboard the ship. Everyone was armed, and there were a nummber of weapons secreted about the ship as well. I assumed at the time that this had to do with the perils of the seas, unfortunately I failed to consider the fact that the Wavestrider was in fact one of those perils.
In the end we sailed from the harbor at Dahlon and made way for Tunde, another of the Free Cities and our next stated destination. After about 4 hours of sailing in the correct direction we began changing course and heading further West, out of the Merlani regions and into the open sea. When I asked Vigo what was going on, he cagily replied that we were positioning themselves to get the best hunting. I naturally assumed that he was referring to the bounty on Slillikul or that they might be hunting a Tojanida or even a Narwhale, but of course I was mistaken.
I learned the depth of my error when the heavily laden Tyrennhian merchantman hove into sight on the horizon three days later. Suddenly the deck was alive with activity and I found a cutlass thrust into my hands.
"Put it in your sash and get in the rigging, Arissa," said Vigo excitedly, "It is time to earn our keep."
"What... what do you mean?" I asked with a sinking feeling that I really knewn what he had meant all along and just did not want to believe it.
"Oh come off it Arissa, you know full well what I mean. At dinner the other day you talked about how awful the Tyrennhians are, and how you wished you could pay them back for what they did to Dahlon during the occupation. Well, here is your chance for revenge. Ok, so we also make some money at this, but beggars cannot be choosers," laughed Vigo heartily.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Savago watching us intently. Obviously this was to be my test. If I agreed and took part in the piracy, then I would become an outlaw, like them, and would be forced to help them and work with them for the rest of my days. If I refused, then I would likely be tossed overboard after having been tied to something heavy. Neither proposition appealed to me, however I had little choice in the matter. Better to live as a pirate than die as a moralist.
I gave a brusque nod and began to climb the rigging. The glance that passed between Savago and Vigo did not escape my notice, but I am sure that they intended it that way. Suddenly I realized that I was going to have to be very careful and plan my future without trusting anybody on this ship.
Meanwhile, the fat merchantman had seen us lying doggo on the horizon and was frantically trying to turn away from us. As heavy in the water as the big merchant was, she could not outmaneuver the Wavestrider which had been built for speed and maneuverability by the finest Varyag craftsmen. The merchant valiantly tried to warn us off by firing its stern chase armaments, a pair of light mareballistae, but the crew of the Wavestrider knew full well what they were doing and fired off a chain shot from the forward onager which took out the Tyrennhian's primary mast.
Her speed cut to almost nothing, the merchantman became desperate and the banked oars began feverishly cutting into the water, trying to turn the behemoth. Vigo laughed uproariously at the pitiful display of the Tyrennhian captain frantically barking orders as crewmen injured in the fall of the primary mast attempted to rally. They were really no match for the Varyag pirate, and they knew it, but they were trying valiantly to stave off the inevitible.
The Wavestrider closed quickly, and the next thing I knew we were boarding the Tyrennhian ship, whose name was apparently the Jewel of Vrendisium. I found myself fighting crewmen on the deck for what seemed an eternity, giving and receiving blows with equanimity, my qualms about being in this position quashed by the needs of survival. Soon enough, though, the Tyrennhian ship was subdued with only minimal loss of life on both sides.
Under the direction of Savago's wife, Alainda, we loaded some of the most valuable goods from the merchant's hold into our own, leaving most of the rest in the hold. The Tyrennhians were amazed at this and Savago replied calmly, "Do you think we are fools? If we take all of your treasure and goods you will be bankrupt and unable to sail and bring me more trade! Soon there would be no ships for us to plunder were we to take that route. In fact if you are ever assaulted in that way we will be the first to come to your aid. There is an old Varyag saying, my stiff necked friend: When the storm comes only a fool as no hat. If I make you all too angry you will hunt me down and kill me and my family. This way I am a nuisance, but one that is not so bad that you cannot live with it."
With that said Savago untied two members of the Tyrennhian's crew and we helped them repair the crippled mast. I have to say that at that moment I rather admired the Polinoy crew. Unfortunately for them I was still going to get off of this damned pirate ship as soon as I could and even my admiration was not going to stop me. All I needed was a plan.
The first thing I should have noticed was that although we were off-loading a great deal of cargo, it seemed that very little cargo was being taken on. It is rather odd for a merchant to go about with an empty hold, but I supposed that maybe the Polinoys were waiting for goods or a transhipment or even taking on new cargo at sea by transferring items. Piracy should have leapt right to mind, but I was too full of the idea of adventure to think clearly.
The second thing that I should have noticed were the number of weapons aboard the ship. Everyone was armed, and there were a nummber of weapons secreted about the ship as well. I assumed at the time that this had to do with the perils of the seas, unfortunately I failed to consider the fact that the Wavestrider was in fact one of those perils.
In the end we sailed from the harbor at Dahlon and made way for Tunde, another of the Free Cities and our next stated destination. After about 4 hours of sailing in the correct direction we began changing course and heading further West, out of the Merlani regions and into the open sea. When I asked Vigo what was going on, he cagily replied that we were positioning themselves to get the best hunting. I naturally assumed that he was referring to the bounty on Slillikul or that they might be hunting a Tojanida or even a Narwhale, but of course I was mistaken.
I learned the depth of my error when the heavily laden Tyrennhian merchantman hove into sight on the horizon three days later. Suddenly the deck was alive with activity and I found a cutlass thrust into my hands.
"Put it in your sash and get in the rigging, Arissa," said Vigo excitedly, "It is time to earn our keep."
"What... what do you mean?" I asked with a sinking feeling that I really knewn what he had meant all along and just did not want to believe it.
"Oh come off it Arissa, you know full well what I mean. At dinner the other day you talked about how awful the Tyrennhians are, and how you wished you could pay them back for what they did to Dahlon during the occupation. Well, here is your chance for revenge. Ok, so we also make some money at this, but beggars cannot be choosers," laughed Vigo heartily.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Savago watching us intently. Obviously this was to be my test. If I agreed and took part in the piracy, then I would become an outlaw, like them, and would be forced to help them and work with them for the rest of my days. If I refused, then I would likely be tossed overboard after having been tied to something heavy. Neither proposition appealed to me, however I had little choice in the matter. Better to live as a pirate than die as a moralist.
I gave a brusque nod and began to climb the rigging. The glance that passed between Savago and Vigo did not escape my notice, but I am sure that they intended it that way. Suddenly I realized that I was going to have to be very careful and plan my future without trusting anybody on this ship.
Meanwhile, the fat merchantman had seen us lying doggo on the horizon and was frantically trying to turn away from us. As heavy in the water as the big merchant was, she could not outmaneuver the Wavestrider which had been built for speed and maneuverability by the finest Varyag craftsmen. The merchant valiantly tried to warn us off by firing its stern chase armaments, a pair of light mareballistae, but the crew of the Wavestrider knew full well what they were doing and fired off a chain shot from the forward onager which took out the Tyrennhian's primary mast.
Her speed cut to almost nothing, the merchantman became desperate and the banked oars began feverishly cutting into the water, trying to turn the behemoth. Vigo laughed uproariously at the pitiful display of the Tyrennhian captain frantically barking orders as crewmen injured in the fall of the primary mast attempted to rally. They were really no match for the Varyag pirate, and they knew it, but they were trying valiantly to stave off the inevitible.
The Wavestrider closed quickly, and the next thing I knew we were boarding the Tyrennhian ship, whose name was apparently the Jewel of Vrendisium. I found myself fighting crewmen on the deck for what seemed an eternity, giving and receiving blows with equanimity, my qualms about being in this position quashed by the needs of survival. Soon enough, though, the Tyrennhian ship was subdued with only minimal loss of life on both sides.
Under the direction of Savago's wife, Alainda, we loaded some of the most valuable goods from the merchant's hold into our own, leaving most of the rest in the hold. The Tyrennhians were amazed at this and Savago replied calmly, "Do you think we are fools? If we take all of your treasure and goods you will be bankrupt and unable to sail and bring me more trade! Soon there would be no ships for us to plunder were we to take that route. In fact if you are ever assaulted in that way we will be the first to come to your aid. There is an old Varyag saying, my stiff necked friend: When the storm comes only a fool as no hat. If I make you all too angry you will hunt me down and kill me and my family. This way I am a nuisance, but one that is not so bad that you cannot live with it."
With that said Savago untied two members of the Tyrennhian's crew and we helped them repair the crippled mast. I have to say that at that moment I rather admired the Polinoy crew. Unfortunately for them I was still going to get off of this damned pirate ship as soon as I could and even my admiration was not going to stop me. All I needed was a plan.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Chapter 1: And so it begins
I could hardly believe my luck. My life was about to change, and obviously for the better. Who would have thought that a day that began with me waking up late would lead to this!
I awoke this morning to the sounds of people already in the street, men and women working and stores beginning to open. It was nearly a half hour after dawn, and I was supposed to be up nearly an hour before! Deroone Verthur, the odd little man on the street of the crooked hill who hired me to run his errands would likely be annoyed at the delay. He rather liked his hot vressa to be delivered before he opened that musty old curiosities shop of his, so I would have to run to Damal Hessein's pastry shop and skip my own breakfast in order to mollify the old man.
In spite of my late start I pulled on the somewhat boyish costume I was accustomed to wear and leapt down the stairs and past my parents, who were even then leaving for their own jobs, hers as a scribe and his as a stevedore. Saying a hurried farewell I ran down the street and turned right up the road of the split anchor, pushing myself to get to Damal's shop before the morning rush. The streets were starting to get crowded and the number and variety of people out and about were impeding my steady progress. Another typical day in the massive trading city of Dahlon.
Hurriedly ordering the two hot vressas and a pair of sweet rolls with nuts for the princely sum of seven florins, I tucked the bag with the pastries under my left arm and carried the two steaming mugs in my right hand. One had to bring one's own mug to Damal's bakery, but the taste of her hot vressa was worth it, especially when you could leave the shop with you mug instead of sitting around. It usually allowed me the freedom to enjoy my vressa while looking out over the harbor at the coming and going of the ships in Dahlon's busy harbor. No such luxury today, though.
Making my way quickly up the street of the dropped solido to the street of the crooked hill, i was jostled no less than four times by passersby. The crowds were getting thicker, reminding me of the main reason I left for Deroone's shop so early most days. I was within sight of the old man's shop front when my luck for the day dramatically and radically altered. Seeing my destination a bare hundred feet away, I allowed myself to be distracted for one crucial moment, and so I missed the movement of the Varyag who was about to back right into me.
We collided in a glancing manner, the Varyag and I, and the vressa on my right hand splattered up and all over the merchant's eye-searingly yellow shirt and merry purple scarf. The Varyag looked down at the stain the vressa with an expression of shock, which quickly turned to amusement. Anger I could handle, but laughter? I had ruined what was obviously a very nice, though viciously ugly, shirt, so why wasn't he mad?
The Varyag chortled briefly and looked at me steadily, "Perhaps I need to work on my land legs a bit more, eh?" he said wryly, "I am very sorry to have cost you most of your cup of what must be very expensive vressa, but unfortunately neither of us seemed to be keeping ourselves under proper sail."
I gushed out apologies, knowing I sounded foolish. Having nothing else to use I tried to blot up the stains with my sleeves, though the Varyag batted away my attempts at assistance with a friendly wave of the hand. Unsure of what to do next I waited for him to make the next move.
"What is your name young lady," asked the Varyag with a twinkle in his eyes.
Not knowing what esle to do I responded somewhat shyly, "Arissa, Arissa Uliera, sir."
My meekness elicited another peal of baritone laughter from the stranger and I took a moment to examine the unwitting target of my mishandled beverage. He was a full head shorter than I, slightly less than 5'6", with a stocky, poweful build. His dark hair was worn long and fell unbound to his shoulders, and his face sported a delicately manicured moustache. The man was obviously a Varyag seaman and his brightly colored, almost gaudy, outfit put an exclamation point on his obvious heritage and profession.
"Well, I am Vigo Polinoy of the Polinoy Wavestrider. It is not often that I have the chance to leave my clan's ship, and to find myself in this circumstance... Well, it is obvious that Marlena is having a little joke on me. Anyway, in payment for my costing you a cup of vressa I would like to invite you aboard my ship for a meal."
Flabbergasted, and noticing that Deroone was standing at the door to his shop staring at me with an odd expression, I quickly agreed to come to the Wavestrider for dinner that evening. When I finally got to Deroone Verthur's shop and explained the situation, he was overjoyed for me. Knowing of my obsession with the sea and my desire to leave Dahlon and ply the waves, Deroone insisted that I take some money to buy a new dress to go aboard the ship, muttering something about first impressions.
That evening I shared a simple meal with the Polinoy clan, meeting the elder shipmaster, Savago, and his family. They seemed to like me, and after the meal we spoke of ships and the sea and the various ports the Wavestrider had called at. After hours of talking and swapping stories, Savago offered me a position on their happy ship. It was rare, he said, for a Varyag clan to take on outsiders as crew, but his nephew had died recently and he needed another pair of hands.
I excitedly accepted the offer and within a week I found myself finally setting off to sea. Granted it was in in a boat with a yellow and purple hull fitted out with vibrant green and yellow sails, but still I was at sea! We sailed up and out of the harbor, with Vigo laughingly providing me instructions on what to do the entire time. It wasn't until we were well out of sight of the harbor that I learned the truth of my new occupation. This was not just any ship, the Polinoy Wavestrider was a pirate vessel, and I was about to become an outlaw.
I awoke this morning to the sounds of people already in the street, men and women working and stores beginning to open. It was nearly a half hour after dawn, and I was supposed to be up nearly an hour before! Deroone Verthur, the odd little man on the street of the crooked hill who hired me to run his errands would likely be annoyed at the delay. He rather liked his hot vressa to be delivered before he opened that musty old curiosities shop of his, so I would have to run to Damal Hessein's pastry shop and skip my own breakfast in order to mollify the old man.
In spite of my late start I pulled on the somewhat boyish costume I was accustomed to wear and leapt down the stairs and past my parents, who were even then leaving for their own jobs, hers as a scribe and his as a stevedore. Saying a hurried farewell I ran down the street and turned right up the road of the split anchor, pushing myself to get to Damal's shop before the morning rush. The streets were starting to get crowded and the number and variety of people out and about were impeding my steady progress. Another typical day in the massive trading city of Dahlon.
Hurriedly ordering the two hot vressas and a pair of sweet rolls with nuts for the princely sum of seven florins, I tucked the bag with the pastries under my left arm and carried the two steaming mugs in my right hand. One had to bring one's own mug to Damal's bakery, but the taste of her hot vressa was worth it, especially when you could leave the shop with you mug instead of sitting around. It usually allowed me the freedom to enjoy my vressa while looking out over the harbor at the coming and going of the ships in Dahlon's busy harbor. No such luxury today, though.
Making my way quickly up the street of the dropped solido to the street of the crooked hill, i was jostled no less than four times by passersby. The crowds were getting thicker, reminding me of the main reason I left for Deroone's shop so early most days. I was within sight of the old man's shop front when my luck for the day dramatically and radically altered. Seeing my destination a bare hundred feet away, I allowed myself to be distracted for one crucial moment, and so I missed the movement of the Varyag who was about to back right into me.
We collided in a glancing manner, the Varyag and I, and the vressa on my right hand splattered up and all over the merchant's eye-searingly yellow shirt and merry purple scarf. The Varyag looked down at the stain the vressa with an expression of shock, which quickly turned to amusement. Anger I could handle, but laughter? I had ruined what was obviously a very nice, though viciously ugly, shirt, so why wasn't he mad?
The Varyag chortled briefly and looked at me steadily, "Perhaps I need to work on my land legs a bit more, eh?" he said wryly, "I am very sorry to have cost you most of your cup of what must be very expensive vressa, but unfortunately neither of us seemed to be keeping ourselves under proper sail."
I gushed out apologies, knowing I sounded foolish. Having nothing else to use I tried to blot up the stains with my sleeves, though the Varyag batted away my attempts at assistance with a friendly wave of the hand. Unsure of what to do next I waited for him to make the next move.
"What is your name young lady," asked the Varyag with a twinkle in his eyes.
Not knowing what esle to do I responded somewhat shyly, "Arissa, Arissa Uliera, sir."
My meekness elicited another peal of baritone laughter from the stranger and I took a moment to examine the unwitting target of my mishandled beverage. He was a full head shorter than I, slightly less than 5'6", with a stocky, poweful build. His dark hair was worn long and fell unbound to his shoulders, and his face sported a delicately manicured moustache. The man was obviously a Varyag seaman and his brightly colored, almost gaudy, outfit put an exclamation point on his obvious heritage and profession.
"Well, I am Vigo Polinoy of the Polinoy Wavestrider. It is not often that I have the chance to leave my clan's ship, and to find myself in this circumstance... Well, it is obvious that Marlena is having a little joke on me. Anyway, in payment for my costing you a cup of vressa I would like to invite you aboard my ship for a meal."
Flabbergasted, and noticing that Deroone was standing at the door to his shop staring at me with an odd expression, I quickly agreed to come to the Wavestrider for dinner that evening. When I finally got to Deroone Verthur's shop and explained the situation, he was overjoyed for me. Knowing of my obsession with the sea and my desire to leave Dahlon and ply the waves, Deroone insisted that I take some money to buy a new dress to go aboard the ship, muttering something about first impressions.
That evening I shared a simple meal with the Polinoy clan, meeting the elder shipmaster, Savago, and his family. They seemed to like me, and after the meal we spoke of ships and the sea and the various ports the Wavestrider had called at. After hours of talking and swapping stories, Savago offered me a position on their happy ship. It was rare, he said, for a Varyag clan to take on outsiders as crew, but his nephew had died recently and he needed another pair of hands.
I excitedly accepted the offer and within a week I found myself finally setting off to sea. Granted it was in in a boat with a yellow and purple hull fitted out with vibrant green and yellow sails, but still I was at sea! We sailed up and out of the harbor, with Vigo laughingly providing me instructions on what to do the entire time. It wasn't until we were well out of sight of the harbor that I learned the truth of my new occupation. This was not just any ship, the Polinoy Wavestrider was a pirate vessel, and I was about to become an outlaw.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Prolog
"I'm sorry, but it all comes down to a matter of necessities and priorities, and right now I am afraid that it is necessary that I leave you," said Arrenus calmly.
I had known that this was coming for some time, of course, and so I wasn't as surprised as I could have been. Having known the Tyrennhian man for a long time I realized that the truth of my acceptance would not shock him, and so as I stared up into his calm hazel eyes I recognized that he had come to this conclusion long before this unhappy event. As with any group of adventurers, the time had come for us to part ways. In ordinary circumstances I might not be quite so upset, however dangling from a ledge with a sixty meter drop beneath me was not something that would put me in a good frame of mind for this sort of encounter.
Arrenus had stated his position without rancor, prejudice, or emotion, and the coldness of his decision shook me. He had made his statement and now he would leave. Typical. I took the opportunity, while attempting to pull myself to safety, to roundly curse the man and swear a dozen oaths in half a dozen different languages. Unfazed, Arrenus quirked his eyebrow in the maddening way he has, shrugged his shoulders, turned and left me. I knew then that I was going to have to kill him. A lot.
The fingers of my left hand found a slightly better purchase on the rock, but the dirt and stone under my right hand was slowly giving way, and if I could not pull myself up I would likely soon join Adron at the bottom of this crevasse. I fought and struggled to bring myself up to the level of the ledge, but this was a battle that I knew I was unlikely to win. Slowly, muscles straining, I searched, desperate for one more good hand hold. All I needed was that one last chance. One more go at spitting in fate's eye.
I continued to swear vengeance and hatred of Arrenus, and implored every god and goddess I had ever heard tell of to aid me in this time of need. It is amazing how all the prayers of a misspent youth come back to one when they are dangling over a pit and death is a near certainty. There was no way I was going to allow that arrogant Tyrennhian to win, not at this stage of the game.
How had it all come to this? Where had I gone wrong? What had I done to deserve this? How many had died because of me? Adron was the latest, but what of Ghor'namale or Tack or Zuunta? Could their deaths have been my fault? Was I to blame for all of this? The key lay in the past and I would need to examine it before I went further. Any weakness could be a death sentence, and I needed to make sure that I survived just long enough to watch the traitor breathe his last.
My name is Arissa Uleira, and I was going to make sure that the very last thing that Arrenus saw before slipping into the icy embrace of death was me.
Impelled by hatred and a burning need for revenge upon he who had done me so much wrong, I levered myself up. Taxed beyond the point that most mortal men and women can bear I slowly ascended back to the level of ledge. There was no sign of Arrenus anywhere, but had there been I was too exhausted by the strain of this latest ordeal to do much. I gasped for air, lungs straining to bring more life into my body, to keep me awake and alive for a few moments more. I rose up, staggered a few paces away from the edge, sank to my knees and began to pass out.
My last thought before losing consciousness was that this was an utterly unfair situation for even me to contend with, and the last thing I saw before going completely under was the grinning face of a halfling with a wickedly curved and rather vicious looking knife. As if things couldn't get any worse...
I had known that this was coming for some time, of course, and so I wasn't as surprised as I could have been. Having known the Tyrennhian man for a long time I realized that the truth of my acceptance would not shock him, and so as I stared up into his calm hazel eyes I recognized that he had come to this conclusion long before this unhappy event. As with any group of adventurers, the time had come for us to part ways. In ordinary circumstances I might not be quite so upset, however dangling from a ledge with a sixty meter drop beneath me was not something that would put me in a good frame of mind for this sort of encounter.
Arrenus had stated his position without rancor, prejudice, or emotion, and the coldness of his decision shook me. He had made his statement and now he would leave. Typical. I took the opportunity, while attempting to pull myself to safety, to roundly curse the man and swear a dozen oaths in half a dozen different languages. Unfazed, Arrenus quirked his eyebrow in the maddening way he has, shrugged his shoulders, turned and left me. I knew then that I was going to have to kill him. A lot.
The fingers of my left hand found a slightly better purchase on the rock, but the dirt and stone under my right hand was slowly giving way, and if I could not pull myself up I would likely soon join Adron at the bottom of this crevasse. I fought and struggled to bring myself up to the level of the ledge, but this was a battle that I knew I was unlikely to win. Slowly, muscles straining, I searched, desperate for one more good hand hold. All I needed was that one last chance. One more go at spitting in fate's eye.
I continued to swear vengeance and hatred of Arrenus, and implored every god and goddess I had ever heard tell of to aid me in this time of need. It is amazing how all the prayers of a misspent youth come back to one when they are dangling over a pit and death is a near certainty. There was no way I was going to allow that arrogant Tyrennhian to win, not at this stage of the game.
How had it all come to this? Where had I gone wrong? What had I done to deserve this? How many had died because of me? Adron was the latest, but what of Ghor'namale or Tack or Zuunta? Could their deaths have been my fault? Was I to blame for all of this? The key lay in the past and I would need to examine it before I went further. Any weakness could be a death sentence, and I needed to make sure that I survived just long enough to watch the traitor breathe his last.
My name is Arissa Uleira, and I was going to make sure that the very last thing that Arrenus saw before slipping into the icy embrace of death was me.
Impelled by hatred and a burning need for revenge upon he who had done me so much wrong, I levered myself up. Taxed beyond the point that most mortal men and women can bear I slowly ascended back to the level of ledge. There was no sign of Arrenus anywhere, but had there been I was too exhausted by the strain of this latest ordeal to do much. I gasped for air, lungs straining to bring more life into my body, to keep me awake and alive for a few moments more. I rose up, staggered a few paces away from the edge, sank to my knees and began to pass out.
My last thought before losing consciousness was that this was an utterly unfair situation for even me to contend with, and the last thing I saw before going completely under was the grinning face of a halfling with a wickedly curved and rather vicious looking knife. As if things couldn't get any worse...
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