[Mkguild] The Last Tale of Yajakali - Chapter LV

[C. Matthias]

This one took a little bit longer than I would 
have liked.  I'm going to try to get two chapters done this next week.

Metamor Keep: The Last Tale of Yajakali
By Charles Matthias

Chapter LV

Night Hunting

         Captain Tilly had known that sooner or 
later, they would run afoul of the Whalish 
blockade.  That a single ship bore north toward 
them brought him no great alarm.  A single ship 
they could avoid, possibly even outrun.  So long 
as it remained a single ship he wouldn’t 
worry.  But they couldn’t continue south.
         “Prepare sails!” He shouted. “Steady 
men!” He spun the tiller, and the Tserclaes’s 
nose swung eastward.  The mast followed the wind, 
timbers creaking and groaning as the weight 
shifted.  The Tserclaes tilted heavily to one 
side, and Lindsey had to grab a bansiter to 
steady himself.  Tilly smiled, the scent of salt 
rich in the air and the crash of waves into the 
hull a resounding clap of approval.
         “Good,” he declared when the Tserclaes 
righted herself, the water churning as they drove 
forward. “We’re reaching with the wind now.  This 
will take us out to sea where we can manoeuver.”
         “Won’t there be more of them out to sea?” Lindsey asked.
         Tilly snorted. “Of course!  But the 
Tserclaes can outrun any of them.  If we’re 
lucky, this one will not even see us.  We’ll 
thread the needle with he none the wiser.”
         Lindsey grunted and stroked his red 
beard. “I don’t like it.  But you are the Captain 
and know these seas much better than I.”
         “That is wisdom,” Tilly replied.  He 
nodded to his first mate. “Take the helm.  I am going below.”
         Lindsey stammered and reached out a hand 
to stop him, but drew it back before he touched 
the Captain. “What?  Shouldn’t you be on deck?  What if we see more of them?”
         “Then I will return here.  But for now, 
I must consult my maps.  Go assure your friends that nothing is amiss.”
         Lindsey nodded and after one last look 
at the horizon — he certainly couldn’t see the 
other ship — he climbed down the steps into the 
hull and nearly tripped over Abafouq who was climbing up.
         “Oh, forgive me!” the Binoq said in his 
queer voice. “I am not seeing you come down.  I 
wanted to go taste the air after a long spell 
casting.  Then we felt the ship turn.  Is something wrong?”
         Lindsey nodded. “Go back down.  I don’t want to tell it five times.”
         Abafouq nodded and the two of them 
entered the hull.  Guernef stretched out to one 
side, his wings bracing boxes of foodstuffs 
stacked against the wall.  Intricate designs were 
sketched across the floor, with the trinkets each 
of them donated in separate piles.  The Nauh-kaee 
had a foul look in his golden eye, so Lindsey 
stepped past him, careful not to disturb any of the arcane symbols.
         The Rheh stomped unhappily in their 
stalls, while Charles, James and Jerome tended to 
them, their eyes looking his way as he walked 
toward them.  The kangaroo poked his head up from 
the bales of hay in the far back.  Charles stood 
on his tiptoes and waved him closer. “We felt the 
turn. What’s happening up top?”
         “Jessica sighted the Whalish Navy to the south.”
         “Oh no!” James said, ears lifting high. “Are they chasing us?”
         “It was just one ship heading north 
toward us.  They probably haven’t seen us 
yet.  Captain Tilly turned us east.  He thinks in 
the open sea we’ll have a better chance of avoiding them.”
         “He doesn’t want to be caught between 
the Whalish navy and the land,” Jerome suggested. 
“He’d definitely have nowhere to go then.  I can 
take over keeping watch on him if you want.”
         Lindsey nodded. “He went to look over 
his maps.  Where’s Kayla?  Qan-af?”
         “In Captain Tilly’s quarters,” Habakkuk 
replied. “Kayla expressed interest in playing that game of his.”
         “The one with the five thousand rules?” 
Lindsey asked.  At the kangaroo’s amused nod, he 
rolled his eyes. “She’ll probably be thrilled to 
have something else to think about.”
         Charles patted his Rheh and climbed over 
the paddock wall. “Well, I’m going to go 
topside.  If we do have a Whalish vessel in 
sight, I want to see it.  I hope we don’t have to 
fight, but I will be ready if we do.”
         “You know the Captain doesn’t like to 
have us all on deck.  You spook his crew.”
         “Well if we have to fight a Whalish 
ship, they ought to be spooked!  Maybe they’ll 
work faster.” The rat spun his Sondeshike a few 
times for emphasis. “James, are you coming?”
         The donkey nodded. “Of course.  Let me grab my sword belt.”
         Abafouq tapped his thumbs together. “I 
am thinking they might need magic.  I will lend what skills are mine.”
         “And I shall stay below,” the Nauh-kaee 
squawked. “If they have need of my wind, send for me and I will come.”
         Habakkuk and Lindsey remained below 
while Charles led Jerome, James, and the Binoq to 
the main deck.  The rat shrunk his Sondesike down 
and swayed back and forth as a series of large 
waves rocked the Tserclaes up and down.  All 
around them the sailors scurried through the 
rigging to keep the main sail held straight.  The 
heavy cloth drew taut as it caught the starboard wind.
         Kayla came from the Captain’s door, and 
her eyes found them immediately. “Charles!  James!  Have you heard?”
         They nodded.  Charles said, “There’s a 
Whalish vessel to the south.” He glanced over the 
starboard side and shrugged his shoulders. “All I 
see are waves and clouds.  But I trust Jessica.”
         The skunk narrowed her eyes, then gave 
up. “I don’t see it either.  Captain Tilly’s 
checking the coastline.  He boasted about knowing 
it better than any man alive.”
         “That’s Captain Tilly,” Jerome remarked 
with an amused grin. “We’ve come up in case they need extra hands to defend.”
         “If they have Fire,” Charles pointed 
out, “we won’t do much good, as we’ll have sunk 
before they close enough to board.”
         “I hope they don’t have Fire,” the donkey said.
         Abafouq rubbed his palms together. 
“There may be something I can do about that.  Let me ponder it a time.”
         Jerome and Abafouq climbed up to the aft 
castle, while Kayla, Charles, and James stayed 
close to the stairs, trying to keep out of 
everyone’s way.  At the bow, they could see 
Andares still staring into the distance as if 
lost in dream.  The sailors gave him a wide berth too.
         Charles rolled the Sondeshike back and 
forth in his paws, his eyes watching the waves to 
the south as they rolled in.  The ship was 
travelling parallel to the waves, and with little 
adjustments here and there, the first mate was 
steering them through a trough.  Charles watched 
as the crest grew and fell, ever threatening to 
crash into their side, but never managing it.
         Finally, he walked over to the side, 
followed closely by the skunk and donkey.  He 
slipped the Sondeshike back in his tunic and 
braced his paws on the railing.  He peered below, 
and smiled as he spied a pod of dolphins keeping 
pace with them.  James stared at them with some horror. “What are they?”
         “Dolphins.  They often accompany ships 
as they sail.  Sailors consider them a good 
omen.  I think there’s one Keeper who has become 
a dolphin too, but he spends much of his time 
with the other fishermen in the southern part of 
the Valley.” Charles gestured to a pair that 
leapt through the waves. “See their tail fin?  It 
lays flat instead of up and down.  That’s how you know it’s not really a fish.”
         James nodded, and then nearly jumped 
when the sharp cry of a hawk came from above. 
“That was just Jessica,” Kayla assured him, 
putting a paw on his shoulder to still the 
equine’s nerves. “I wonder what she’s seen?”
         A moment later Captain Tilly stormed 
back on deck, his eyes looking to the crow’s nest 
above the main mast.  A voice rang down from 
above. “Second ship!  Due southeast!  Bearing north with the wind!”
         Tilly turned to the Keepers and glared 
at them. “What are you doing here?  Clear the 
deck.  Now we have to really run.” He vaulted up 
to the aft castle and shouted. “Ready the jib!  We’re turning around!”
         The Keepers held tight to the railing as 
the ship began turning to port.  The ship tilted, 
driving them up higher and higher.  James’s 
hooves began to give on the wood, and he had to 
wrap his arms twice around the railing to keep 
from sliding across the deck.  The boom groaned, 
and then swung from one side to the other.  James 
winced at the sound of the ropes snapping taut.
         When the turn had finished, Charles spun 
his head until he found the sun ahead of them. 
“Steady as she goes,” Tilly shouted.  He stomped 
back down the stairs and glowered at the Keepers. 
“Get below deck!  I don’t need you spooking my men.”
         “What’s happening?” Kayla asked. “Are we heading toward shore now?”
         “Aye,” Tilly replied.  His stern 
features grew darker. “Their ships are too close 
together.  We now have to lose them in the shallows.”
         “Won’t we be trapped between the shore?”
         Tilly sneered. “I know this coast better 
than any!  I will never be trapped there.  Now 
get below deck until I need you!”
         Chastened, the trio of Keepers headed 
for the stairs.  A moment later, Abafouq, 
swearing in a tongue none of them knew, followed them back down into the hold.

         The horizon to the northwest was 
uninteresting.  That much Jessica knew.  It was 
the closest to the land, and the least likely 
direction from which they could come under 
attack.  Already from the south and southeast 
they had two ships of Whales bearing down on 
them.  At first, both ships appeared to be 
conducting a routine patrol as they were sailing 
north with the wind.  Bot now the ship to the 
southeast had shifted course, angling to the northwest to intercept them.
         The unsavoury individual sharing the 
crow’s nest with her proved that he was not put 
up there because of his rank odour when he noted 
the second ship’s course correction only moments 
after Jessica did.  From her perch at the highest 
point of the ship, the news seemed only to 
emboldened Captain Tilly.  He stood at the wheel, 
hands gripped so tight that his fingertips were 
white despite the grime of the sea.  His eyes 
stared forward, hard and resolute.  His crew 
scrambled about, milling and yapping like so many 
dogs who’ve caught a scent but cannot find 
it.  In the midst of them Tilly stood as a 
bulwark of certainty, the one calm in the storm 
that news of the Whalish fleet had brought to the Tserclaes.
         Jessica scanned the horizon, looking for 
signs of any other ships.  She stared eastward 
for some time, and also northward.  But there was 
nothing there to see except more waves.  She 
glanced to the northwest, then turned back 
south.  They had two ships chasing them, but that was it.
         Something didn’t feel right.  The 
black-feathered hawk knew that Whales prided 
itself on superiority in its Naval training as 
well as its secret weapon, the Fire.  But there 
was one other important detail that was often 
overlooked when it came to Whales — no ship could 
leave dock without their assigned mage.  This was 
the reason they were able to communicate between 
ships and coordinate over vast 
distances.  Against wizards, the only defence was more wizards.
         She pondered what sort of strategies a 
fleet with wizards might use.  Surely by now 
other ships apart from these two knew the 
Tserclaes was here and sailing towards 
Marzac.  The Whalish fleet was extensive, so not 
every mage who rode with the Navy would be as 
talented as her master had been.  In fact, she 
distinctly remembered Wessex refer to them as 
hedge wizards who mastered a few tricks and 
thought themselves all the cleverer for it.  But 
even a trick would be enough against someone who wasn’t paying attention.
         Jessica turned about, eyes noting 
everything on the horizon in all 
directions.  That’s when it occurred to her — she 
didn’t want to look to the northwest.  Every time 
she peered that way, she felt an overwhelming 
sense of disinterest.  Fighting the urge to turn 
aside, she peered not only at the choppy seas, 
but into the flow of magic.  Before her a cloud 
of vapours surged closer and closer.  With her 
wings, she drew runes, and let them float into 
that cloud. The haze began to disperse, fighting 
and trying to coalesce.  But she tore at it with 
her magic, until at last it gave way.
         The agony of disinterest gone, she 
turned her focus to piercing the veil that lay 
over the sea.  She drew the runes with her wing 
claws, sending them into the sea where they 
boiled and churned.  Her breath held tight in her 
chest, she glimpsed an image begin to appear 
behind the air, as if clouds passed before it but only now broke apart.
         When she closed her eyes to the magic 
and stared northwest, she saw it clearly.  There, 
beating against the wind and bearing straight for 
them, was a third ship of Whales.  Unlike the 
others, this one would reach them in minutes.
         She squawked furiously, leapt from the 
crow’s nest, and glided down to the aft deck.  As 
she landed, she shifted into her most human 
shape.  Captain Tilly eyed her unhappily. “What have you seen now?”
         “To the northwest!” she squawked, 
pointing with her wing. “Behind a veil of magic, 
lies a third ship!  They are almost upon us!”
         “What?” the first mate asked incredulously. “I don’t see anything.”
         “Show me through this veil,” Tilly said, 
giving his first mate a quick glare. “Show me this ship.”
         “I may need help.  Pardon me.” She took 
to the air again, and flew to the bow where 
Andares stood unmoving.  The Åelf did not turn 
when she landed, but he did turn when she shouted 
his name. “Help me!  There is a magical veil hiding a ship to the northwest.”
         Andares turned to look that way, and 
fought to keep his eyes from sliding elsewhere. 
“You are right.  It does not want to be 
seen.  Together we can break this.”  He held out 
his hand, and she laid her wing tip upon his 
fingers.  They were soft and warm against her 
feathers, and she realized that she hadn’t ever 
held hands with one of his kind before. “Show me 
the spell,” he said.  She opened her eyes to the 
magic.  The veil which she had pierced for but a moment had reformed.
         Before her a white sword took shape.  A 
spectral hand grasped that blade and slowly it 
slid across the heavens.  Jessica pondered its 
arc even as she poured all of her effort into 
holding that veil for him.  She stretched out her 
wings, gripping its ends, keeping the miasma of disinterest at bay.
         And then with one clean stroke, the 
sword drove downward, slicing through the veil 
and shattering it completely. Around her she 
heard the cries of the sailors as what had been 
invisible was made plain.  Whales had found them 
and had nearly snuck upon them.
         Andares sucked in his breath. “They will 
be on us in minutes.  I must warn the others.” 
Jessica stared at the ship, so clear to her now 
that she could distinguish the sailors as they 
scrambled over the rigging like so many ants.

         “I don’t care what Captain Tilly wants!” 
Charles declared angrily as he pushed past the 
Åelf. “I’m going on deck to help.”
         Abafouq nodded. “If the ship as close as 
you say, my art may be of assistance.”
         Lindsey grabbed his axe and hefted it in 
his meaty hands. “I hope I don’t have to use 
this, but you’re right.  It’s time we did something too.”
         Only Habakkuk and Guernef remained in 
the hold.  The rest of them climbed to the aft 
deck, weapons in hand and paw.  And as expected, 
Captain Tilly was not too happy to see 
them.  He’d angled the Tserclaes to the 
southwest, but the Whalish vessel was bearing 
down on their stern.  Charles climbed the railing 
and stared. “It looks to be gaining on us.”
         “I could have told you that!” Tilly 
shouted back testily. “Unless you have some way 
to give speed to my sails, then I have no need of you.”
         “If we could disrupt their wind,” Jerome 
mused, “we would have a better chance.”
         Charles turned to his fellow Sondecki 
and shook his head. “How?  Even if we throw our 
punches, they are too far.  The force would dissipate at such a distance.”
         “Aye, but it is all I can think of.”
         Kayla gestured to the sails, “What if we 
could destroy them?” She glanced at Jessica who 
hopped back and forth on her talons.  The aft 
deck had become quite crowded, and there was 
barely any space for her to stretch her wings. 
“Are there any spells you could cast?”
         “They have a mage on board,” Jessica 
said. “I could try something, but I don’t think we want to start a war.”
         “Well you had best do something!” Tilly 
snapped. “I may yet be able to outrun him, but he 
will trap us between those other two.”
         Jerome rubbed his chin, eyes narrowed as 
he studied the ship approaching. “Wind... 
wind...” He tapped his foot and then snapped his 
fingers. “Guernef!  Abafouq, go bring him.  He may be able to do something.”
         The little Binoq nodded and dashed down 
the steps to the hold.  Tilly snapped, “That 
great winged beast?  What can he do?”
         “Amongst his people he is known as the 
Kakikagiget,” Andares explained. “In your tongue, 
you would call him the Seer of Winds.”
         Tilly frowned but said nothing.  He 
turned the wheel to wind his way between the wave 
crests.  The Whalish vessel followed, nearing 
with every moment.  Charles could even see the 
individual sailors now.  He recognized the blue 
uniforms of their navy, and the orange of their 
marines who waited to board them.  In the midst 
of the aft castle he saw the sombre glow that spoke of a fire cannon.
         And then, all around them echoed a 
voice.  The mage. “Ship of Pyralis!  You are 
sailing into forbidden waters.  Turn about and head north at once!”
         Tilly sneered and hunched over his 
wheel.  Charles fidgeted, glancing at Kayla and 
Jessica.  The skunk stared at nothing he could 
see, while the hawk continued to bounce back and 
forth on her talons.  Jerome paced lost in 
thought, his hands grasping at things unseen. 
James and Lindsey waited and watched the others, 
unable to do anything themselves.  Andares had 
the placid expression of a man undisturbed by the storm raging around him.
         As Guernef worked his large body up 
through the stairwell onto the main deck, the 
Whalish voice cried out again. “If you do not 
desist in your course, we shall launch our fire 
and sink you.  Come about at once!”
         “Whalish dogs,” Tilly muttered.  To his 
men he shouted, “Keep the sail in the wind!  We will outrun them yet!”
         “Not for long,” Jerome whispered to 
Charles. “I’d say they will be able to launch 
their fire in perhaps a minute or two.”
         “Aye.” The rat turned to Jessica. “We 
need to divert the fire somehow.  Can you do it?”
         She stared at the ship for a moment, and 
then nodded. “I think so.  Andares, can you help again?”
         The Åelf nodded slowly. “I may.” He drew 
his ivory-handled blade and angled it toward the 
Whalish vessel.  Charles had no idea how this was 
going to help, but he trusted that it would.
         The voice of Tilly shouting made them 
all turn. “No!  You are not coming up here!  Get back down to the hold!”
         Guernef ignored him, and leapt up the 
steps to the aft deck.  The first mate backed 
into the railing and nearly toppled 
overboard.  Tilly swore again, but his tongue 
stilled in his throat when the Nauh-kaee turned 
his predatory stare upon the flabbergasted Captain.
         “This is your last warning,” the Whalish 
mage cried. “Come about or we will launch our fire.”
         “Are you ready?” Jessica asked.  The Åelf nodded.
         “Whatever you are going to do,” Tilly 
said, his voice subdued but hard, “you had better 
do it now.” To the rest of his men he shouted, “Make ready to bank!”
         Charles rubbed his paws together and 
then put them on the railing, steadying 
himself.  He turned to James and nodded toward 
the railing. “You better steady yourself.” The 
donkey grunted and did like the rat.
         “There it comes!” Jerome shouted, 
pointing at a ball of fire arcing from the 
Whalish ship.  It lifted high into the sky, a 
brilliant sun of red and orange.  Jessica spread 
her wings, while Andares followed the ball of 
flame with the point of his sword.  The Keepers 
watched them, and watched the fire as it began to 
turn in the sky, no longer rising but descending towards them.
         Jessica drew her wings closed before 
her, the black feathers stretched out like 
guideline for the flame.  Her beak cracked open 
slightly, and her tongue rasped, “Now!” Andares 
dipped his sword low, the flat of the blade 
gliding up underneath where they saw the ball of 
fire.  And then, all perspective distorted, 
Andares turned his blade and actually moved the 
ball of flame as if it were but a pebble.  He 
swung his sword to one side, and the flame shot 
out to the east, before splashing and sizzling 
beneath the waves.  It still glowed a brilliant 
scarlet as it sunk into the depths.
         The sailors cheered at the sight, while 
those on the Whalish vessel scrambled.  Their 
sails furled, and they reached with the 
wind.  Charles saw them preparing another 
volley.  He turned to Jessica, “Can you both do that again?”
         “Maybe,” the hawk admitted, her eyes 
weary. “But we caught them off guard.  The mage 
will try to protect their flame this time.”
         “Can you destroy their sails?”
         “The mage has them protected against flame.”
         “But against pure wind and force?” 
Jerome asked.  He glanced at Charles, and then to 
the Nauh-kaee. “Could you give speed to our power?”
         Charles stood taller, knowing what his 
fellow Sondecki meant. “The Longfugos technique? 
Aye!  Can you project our force on your wind?”
         Guernef pondered for a moment then 
nodded.  He spread his wings wide, nearly pushing 
Kayla off the deck in the process.  The skunk 
scrambled aside, as did James and Lindsey.  He 
cracked his beak and glared at the hawk and the Åelf. “You’ll want to move.”
         Neither wasted any time.  Charles and 
Jerome stood in front of the Nauh-kaee, arms over 
their heads.  The rat felt his Sondeck flowing in 
his arms, drawing strength from that reservoir 
inside.  Before them, the Whalish ship began to 
turn to intercept them.  On the main deck the 
fire cannon readied the next volley.  He saw the 
mage drawing runes upon the cannon’s 
surface.  Behind him he heard the rasping chant of the white gryphon.
         “Now!” Jerome shouted.  As one, Charles 
and Jerome flung their arms down in a 
“V”.  Behind them Guernef thrust his wings 
forward.  A burst of air rushed from behind them 
so powerfully that Charles was flung off his 
paws.  He grabbed the railing as he sailed 
through the air, claws digging into the wood as 
he slammed against the side of the aft 
castle.  Jerome reached down and hauled him back up.
         Charles turned and watched that torrent 
of air pummel through the sky.  The mage jumped 
from the cannon and sketched runes in the 
sky.  The sailors screamed and dove aside, one of 
them struggling to free himself from the 
rigging.  Charles swallowed, hoping that he’d 
make it in time.  And then, just as the man fell 
to the deck, the force rent through the main 
sail, and the main mast cracked in half.  More 
screams echoed as the top half of the mast 
collapsed into the aft castle.  A trio of sailors 
furiously closed the fire cannon before being 
buried in the shattered remnants of sail and wood.
         The Breckarin crew cheered again as they 
watched the destruction.  Charles felt sick to 
his stomach.  He shook his arms as if he’d dipped 
them in a particularly foul oil.  To the north, 
the Whalish ship began foundering on the 
waves.  He hoped they could still make port.
         “Well,” Captain Tilly crowed. “Forgive 
my brusqueness of earlier.  If you can do that 
again, you are more than welcome to stay on my bridge.”
         “We still have two ships sailing in from 
the south,” Jessica pointed out. “And they have a 
mage on every ship.  They’ll know to expect it next time.”
         Tilly nodded towards the sun.  Already 
it kissed the horizon. “It will be night 
soon.  And I know this coast-line better than 
them!  What you just did will give them second 
thoughts about getting too close.”
         “I doubt it,” the rat muttered.  He and 
Jerome rubbed each other’s arms, the same look of revulsion on their faces.

         By the time they caught sight of the 
shore, the sun had set and the night stars were 
in full splendour above.  The two Whalish vessels 
had lit lamps and stood out like bright beacons 
behind them.  Tilly ordered all of their lights 
doused, and had taken down all but their smallest 
sails.  They crept south along the shoreline, his 
eyes ever on the faint line that marked the 
boundary between land and sea.  Though the moon 
had risen a couple hours before sunset, the 
eastern sky had grown choked with clouds and kept it blocked from view.
         Of the Keepers, Tilly had sent all but 
the mages below decks for now.  Even Charles and 
Jerome had been dismissed after Tilly had learned 
that their trick would not likely succeed a 
second time.  So they sat in Tilly’s chambers 
with Qan-af-årael who sat pondering a game board 
as if the events of the last few hours had never 
occurred.  When informed of them, he smiled and 
assured them that he trusted them completely.
         Those who stayed top-side were each put 
to work.  Jessica and Guernef watched the two 
ships chasing them.  A few spells allowed both of 
them to see with the clarity of an owl in the 
darkness, and they watched those ships intently, 
taking short breaks every few minutes to make 
sure that no other vessels followed 
them.  Abafouq, Andares, and Kayla quietly 
discussed ways they might cripple the last two 
ships, all the while knowing that they would be 
harassed all the way down then coast until they 
were captured or they had gone farther than the Whalish fleet dared.
         The Pyralian coast comprised thick 
stretches of forest broken only by the occasional 
plain.  Jessica could see a paved road a mile 
inland, though only when the trees broke long 
enough for her to catch its faint sheen.  Squalid 
shacks occasionally appeared amidst the thickets 
and reeds along the shore-line, but otherwise the 
area was empty of human inhabitation.  And those 
few humans who did live here made no sign of 
themselves that night.  If they heard the 
Tserclaes pass, neither Jessica nor the crew would ever know.
         The two Whalish ships were still farther 
off than the one that Charles and Jerome had 
crippled with their Sondecki powers.  But they 
were close enough that Jessica could see the 
difference between the Captain, the mage, and the 
rest of the crew.  The southernmost ship also had 
a fire cannon, but the northern did not.  It 
surprised her that they did not bother dousing 
their lights, but she supposed they had some 
reason.  Surely they could not be so foolish as 
to expect to sneak up on them now.
         And then, just as the thought came to 
her, both ships doused their lights. “Captain!” she cried.
         When he turned, he blinked and asked, “Where did they go?”
         “They’ve doused their lights.”
         “Can you still see them?” She nodded. 
“Then alert me when they change course.  They 
would only risk the darkness if that was their intent.”
         “Where are we going?” Kayla asked, 
nervously staring at the coastline.  Her eyesight 
was better than most at night, but even she had a 
hard time telling just how close the Tserclaes 
came to the water’s edge.  If Tilly wasn’t 
careful, he would ground the ship and then they 
would be forced to disembark in lands where the 
Marquis’s forces still held sway.
         “Another mile and you will see,” Tilly 
replied.  He turned the wheel slightly to the 
left, and the ship pulled out from the 
coast.  Kayla saw a rock rippling just beneath 
the surface, one that she could never have seen 
from the aft deck.  How had Tilly?  As if sensing 
the skunk’s question he said, “I told you, I know 
the coasts of Pyralis.  I can tell you that not 
three miles inland is a village with an Inn known 
in western Pyralis for frying crawfish in nearly every meal.”
         Kayla had eaten crawfish a time or two 
before with Rickkter when he’d treated her to a 
very good meal.  Her stomach growled at the mere 
mention of fried crawfish, much to her chagrin.
         Seeing that she could do nothing, she 
turned back to Andares and Abafouq who sat on 
deck, their heads low in conversation.  Abafouq 
smiled to her and waved her closer.  She crept 
carefully on the planks, and rubbed her sensitive 
nose for the five hundredth time since they’d set sail. “Have you any ideas?”
         “They will chase us until they capture 
us or destroy us,” Andares replied solemnly. “And 
we should not seek to destroy them.  Just 
breaking the mast of the third ship rendered the Sondeckis ill.”
         “They violated their magic,” Abafouq 
said. “Charles told me that the Sondeck can only 
be used for just ends, else it turns on its user.”
         “Just so.” Andares laid his sword in his 
lap and ran one finger along its length.  Kayla 
felt a throbbing at her hip and put one paw on 
the katana.  Clymaethera, the dragon in the 
sword, was restless.  She’d barely used her when 
they’d been ambushed in the forest north of 
Breckaris, and here, with the threat of action 
imminent, she had to remain untouched.  No wonder the dragon was irritable!
         “So how do we rid ourselves of those 
ships if they will chase us anywhere?” Kayla 
blinked and then began to smile.  A sudden memory 
of Rickkter’s pupil, the one who had also been a 
skunk and she’d always thought had a special 
fondness for her, showed her the 
answer.  Murikeer, her lover’s student, had been 
especially gifted with illusions.
         Patting the katana and churring she 
motioned them both closer. “Illusion!  What if 
they see us sailing north, or perhaps striking 
out between them?  Won’t they follow the illusion?”
         Abafouq pondered it but didn’t sound 
convinced. “They have mages, and I am thinking 
they will see through any illusion.”
         “Not if it’s strong enough,” Kayla 
insisted. “Surely your master can effect such a 
charm.” She turned to the Åelf and stared at him with eager eyes.
         He returned her gaze with unperturbed 
calm.  With one hand he pulled back his black 
hair, better exposing his pearl-grey skin to the 
feeble light of the stars.  He leaned back his 
head, and if not for his closed eyes, it appeared 
that he studied the heavens intently to find an answer to some cosmic question.
         Finally, he looked back at the two of 
them and shook his head. “Yes, he could do this 
very easily, but his strength must be held for 
only those times when we alone cannot act.  The five of us must be enough.”
         Abafouq reached into his bet pouch and 
removed a small pellet.  He rolled it around in 
his hand and then turned to the man at the wheel. 
“Captain Tilly.  I would like to ask a question of you.”
         Tilly didn’t turn, but he did nod. “Go ahead.”
         “We are thinking to use an illusion to 
make your boat... how would it be said... look 
elsewhere?  Yes, we want to make this boat seem 
to be elsewhere.  For that, we need to draw on your deck.”
         “Spells?  Draw what you wish.  But I have my own plan to lose them.”
         Jessica turned from her observation of 
the two ships and asked, “What’s that?”
         Tilly pointed ahead towards a dense 
thicket of trees.  Jessica peered closer and 
could see a narrow river emptying out into the 
sea.  A little further down the coast she saw 
another.  It took her a moment to realize what 
she was looking at. “A river delta?”
         Tilly nodded. “We can hide there and 
they won’t find us.  And they don’t dare use 
their fire.  If they will face us, they face us hand to hand.”
         “We are not trying to start a war,” 
Kayla reminded him, far too much heat in her 
voice. “Hide if you will, but we are going to use an illusion.”
         While Abafouq began sketching along the 
deck with his marking stone, explaining to the 
skunk in a quiet whisper what each line 
signified, Jessica returned her gaze to the two 
ships.  The northern ship had changed course, 
turning slightly south to avoid nearing the 
coast.  The southern ship continued west, but it 
would need to change course soon.
         Jessica swivelled her head to warn the 
Captain, but held her tongue when she saw him 
concentrate on the wheel.  Tilly angled the ship 
away from the shore.  In a moment he’d take them 
into the delta.  Now she’d risk interrupting him. 
“Captain?  The northern ship has turned south.”
         “How far are they from shore?”
         “A quarter of a mile.  Maybe a third.” 
Jessica shook her head. “It’s hard to tell, even with my eyes.”
         “How goes your illusion?”
         Abafouq piped up, “Ready soon, ready very soon.”
         “Hold on, I’m taking us into the delta.” 
Tilly spun the wheel, and the ship groaned as it 
banked to the right.  The world twisted around 
them, the dark stands of trees rising up out of 
the churning froth.  Abafouq swore under his 
breath, but he managed not to stumble over his 
lines.  The sailors seemed to know what to do, as 
they formed in lines along either railing and 
extended oars.  As the last of the sail was 
brought in, the sailors began to row against the 
river’s current.  With each stroke, the Tserclaes 
pushed further into the river delta.
         On every side the trees began to spread 
their leafy boughs around them.  Jessica cursed 
to herself as she lost sight of both 
vessels.  She shifted down to her animal form and 
flew up to the crow’s nest.  From there she could 
see them, but only barely.  The tree tops were 
tall enough that they would effectively hide their ship.
         But she saw something more.  It was 
faint at first, but as Abafouq continued his 
enchantment, a spectral image began to emerge at 
the delta’s mouth.  Lines cris-crossed and 
swelled, eventually settling into the familiar 
shape of the Tserclaes, still sailing dark, but 
now turning in the opposite direction, away form 
the coastline and back out to sea.
         Jessica could feel the illusion gain 
strength and saw the efforts of Andares and Kayla 
join in.  But it wasn’t until the Nauh-kaee 
spread wide his wings and add his will that the 
ship truly began to look like a ship.  Jessica 
felt all their concentration go into it, and even 
the images of the sailors on board moved to 
manipulate the rigging.  Soon, the vessel sailed eastward at a steady clip.
         The real Tserclaes came to a gentle halt 
against one bank of the river, completely hidden 
from the sea by the trees.  Even the crow’s nest 
fell behind a particularly tall stand of 
trees.  Jessica was forced to launch herself from 
the ship and take up a perch in the trees to 
watch the Whalish vessels to see how they would react.
         Her heart beat quickly as she peered, 
trying to see if the illusion would falter.  The 
southern ship turned first, and she hopped back 
and forth in eager delight.  This one had the 
fire cannon, and it believed the illusion!  She 
felt immense relief as it completed its turn and 
began to race to intercept the Tserclaes.  As if 
her friends could sense that their plan was 
working, they gave an extra boost of speed to the 
illusion.  Now the Whalish ship wouldn’t be able to keep up!
         Jessica turned her attention on the 
northern ship.  For several minutes more it 
followed the coastline, and she felt her anxiety 
return.  Why wasn’t this one following the illusion?  Couldn’t they see it?
         She opened her eyes to the magic, 
scanning the shoreline and the illusion.  To her 
surprise, the illusion did not appear to be 
magical at all.  Whatever they were doing to hide 
its magical nature went beyond her skills.  But 
there was something that shocked her below.  How 
could they have missed it?  Attached to the stern 
was a tracer spell, and it drew out a faint line 
that the northern ship followed.
         Jessica jumped from the tree and flew 
down to the stern where her friends kept the 
illusion alive.  She perched on the railing and 
leaned forward, trying to stay as balanced as she 
could.  The spell was a simple one, and used such 
little power that it would not have been easily 
seen if they weren’t looking for it.
         Jessica spread her wings and lifted one 
talon, prying at the magical strands.  She pecked 
it with her peak, digging in and clawing the 
treads loose like a common knot.  Harder and 
harder she pressed, until finally, the knot 
dissolved.  Their path began to dissipate, 
leaving nothing but empty water below.
         She wasted no time, flying back to the 
tree and watching the northern ship.  The mage 
cast a few more spells, but nothing seemed to do 
any good. Jessica waited, talons digging into the 
bark.  After a minute’s examination, the mage 
gave up, and the northern ship turned eastwards as well.  It worked!
         By the time the moon emerged from the 
clouds and shone brightly upon them, both Whalish 
ships had chased the illusion beyond the 
horizon.  A very tired crew rowed the Tserclaes 
back into the sea and unfurled the 
sails.  Jessica sat in the crow’s nest and did 
her best not to fall asleep.  On the aft deck, 
only Guernef and Andares remained awake in 
magical ecstasy to continue guiding the illusion.
         A weary Captain Tilly stayed at the 
helm, whistling a tuneless song.  He grinned 
though, the grin of a man who’d beaten his enemies yet again.

----------

         “Thou must!” Kaspel insisted, struggling 
to break free of Chamag’s firm grip on his 
arms.  The archer coughed and spat up more of his 
meal. “‘Twill pass!  I art well!”
         “Nae, thou needest thy rest,” Chamag 
insisted, holding him even tighter. “Gelel, bring 
the wine.  It’ll help him sleep.”
         Kaspel continued to struggle, but with 
Chamag holding his arms, Pelgan his mouth, and 
Gelel pouring wine down his throat, he eventually 
weakened and hung limply like a rag doll.  Nemgas 
stirred the coals with a stick he’d taken from a 
nearby stand of trees.  Amile cleaned out the 
cooking pot and shook her head.  Gamran stood 
atop the wagon keeping a watch on the darkening horizon.
         It had been two weeks now since they’d 
left Cheskych, and what had seemed like brief 
bouts of weakness had now become an obvious case 
of sickness.  Nemgas chided himself for letting 
Kaspel continue to maintain the night watch so 
long.  Clearly so much exposure to the night air 
had taken its toll on the archer.  Compounded 
with his grief over Berkon’s death, it was sure to lead him to illness.
         “I shalt watch o’er him this night,” 
Nemgas said after tossing the stick into the 
smouldering flames. “Who wilt take the watch?”
         Pelgan let go of Kaspel’s mouth as the 
archer stared blearily at him, muttering more 
protests.  He turned and nodded to Kaspel. “I 
wilt take the watch.” He smiled to Amile. 
“Wouldst thee care to stay up with me this night?”
         Amile raised one eyebrow and stared at 
him amused. “I wilt, after taking a short rest.  I hath worked this day.”
         Gamran and Gelel laughed behind their 
hands.  While Chamag carried Kaspel into the 
wagon with Gelel’s help, Nemgas looked up at the 
little thief. “Hast thee seen anything on the horizon?”
         “Nae,” Gamran replied with a quick shake 
of his head.  He spread his arms wide and spun on 
his heel. “‘Tis the Steppe!  It hath been empty 
ere our parents wert born and it shalt be empty 
long after our children hath followed us into the 
grave.” He stared to the east for a moment, 
noting the impressive peaks of the 
Vysehrad.  Ever since they’d left Cheskych Nemgas 
had led them a few miles from its hilly base, but 
still it dominated their right flank.
         With dusk so soon at hand, the mountains 
brooded like a dog guarding a choice treat with 
its paw.  Gamran frowned and then jumped down. 
“Well, enough of that.  My dear, allow me to help 
thee with that pot.” Nemgas left them to tend to 
the cook pot, and climbed into the wagon.
         Chamag and Gelel had lain Kaspel in the 
comfortable bed.  The archer scratched idly with 
one hand at his neck.  Gelel had already climbed 
into his bed, but Chamag was still up. “Wouldst 
thee rather I stay with him?  Shouldst he try to 
rise, I couldst stop him more easily.”
         “Nae, I wilt do it.  I shouldst hath 
made him come off the watch sooner.” Nemgas 
grabbed the three-legged stool and set it near 
Kaspel’s head.  He sat down facing the archer, so 
his one arm could easily pin him if he needed to.
         “Wake me if thee dost need me,” Chamag 
said before sliding into his bottom bunk.
         A moment later Gamran and Amile carried 
the pot into the back of the wagon.  Nemgas 
scooted the seat a little closer so they could 
slip past to their beds.  Amile prepared a damp 
cloth for Kaspel’s fever, and Nemgas laid it 
across his forehead.  Still Kaspel scratched at 
his neck, but when Nemgas came closer, he laid 
his palm flat against his neck.  Odd, but Kaspel 
had just imbibed a great quantity of wine.
         A few minutes more and only a single 
lantern brought any light to the wagon.  He heard 
Pelgan climb atop, and a moment later even 
Kaspel’s twitching ceased.  All grew quiet as the Steppe fell into night.

         The first couple hours passed by 
eventually.  Magyars were used to long waits with 
nothing to do but live in their own thoughts and 
stare at the never-ending grasses of the 
Steppe.  Over time, they each developed a sort of 
zone in which they let their mind freely wander 
while still paying close attention to everything 
around them.  Pelgan found his zone after perhaps 
ten minutes, but the night still seemed to crawl past.
         He thought the night unusually quiet, 
but otherwise nothing seemed to stand out as 
worrisome.  The grasses bent with the wind, the 
air felt cool on his face, and the stars shone 
above.  The moon rose and brightened the night 
even more, giving everything a pearly cast.  He 
even found himself whistling a faint tune to 
himself as he watched all the word slumber.
         Pelgan turned and felt a smile creasing 
his lips.  Towards the eastern hills he heard his 
whistling echo back to him.  So curious, it even 
seem to harmonize his music.  His heart lifted, 
and he seemed to feel a cool hand glide down his 
back.  Slowly, he stretched out his legs and 
climbed down from the wagon’s roof.  With careful 
steps, he walked past the glowing remnants of the fire and into the hills.
         Something lay in the slight depression 
beyond.  The figure was man-shaped, laying down, 
and it played some instrument.  Pelgan whistled 
to the tune, his body growing ever colder the 
closer he stepped.  His hands rested at his hips, 
fingers touching the daggers reflexively, but he 
could not summon the strength to draw 
them.  Instinct assured him he should, but the 
song persuaded him that this was a friend.
         And then the figure shifted, and the 
light of the moon fell upon him.  Apart from the 
beastly shape of his left leg, covered in putrid 
red fur and proportioned wrong, it was his dear 
friend Berkon.  Pelgan blinked, tongue moving 
between his teeth, but it felt so bloated that he 
could make no words sound.  Berkon nodded and smiled to him.
         “Welcome, Pelgan.  Thou art my friend, 
and thou wishest to be with me?”
         Pelgan felt his head begin to 
nod.  Something was wrong.  Wasn’t Berkon 
dead?  But despite himself, he found his legs 
beginning to give out.  Very slowly, he started 
to lay down on the grasses.  Berkon shifted and 
with his arms, dragged himself over to Pelgan’s 
side.  His hands pressed into Pelgan’s chest, 
gently easing him down.  His touch was colder than iron, and Pelgan shivered.
         Berkon’s voice continued to sing in his 
mind. “Nae, ‘twill be well.  Give thyself to me and ‘twill be well.”
         Pelgan nodded and leaned his head to one 
side, hands palsied as they lay incapable against his daggers.
         And then somebody screamed.
         The song cut in twain, Pelgan felt his 
muscles come back to him.  He dew his dagger and 
pushed to one side, while the figure of Berkon 
hissed with a rage that made him yearn to cry 
like a wounded animal.  Standing atop the hill 
was Amile, the moon reflecting in the whites of 
her eyes so that she seemed half a spirit come back from the dead.
         The wagon door banged open a moment 
later and Nemgas rushed out, followed quickly by 
Chamag and Gamran.  Pelgan held up his knives and 
rushed to Amile’s side.  The thing that had 
looked like Berkon slunk back into the 
shadows.  Just before it disappeared over the 
next hill, it turned back to glare at 
him.  Pelgan felt his heart tugged once more by 
that gaze.  And then it was gone and he felt 
himself collapse against the still screaming Amile.
         “What be it?” Nemgas shouted as he 
rushed to their side, his jewelled Sathmoran blade in hand.
         Pelgan wrapped his arms around Amile and 
kissed her face several times. “Thou hast saved 
me,” he said to her. “Thou hast saved me.  Hush 
now.” Amile did subside, but her chest heaved 
from the fright.  Pelgan glanced at Nemgas and 
tried his hardest to hide the tears. “‘Twas 
Berkon, or some foul thing in his body.”
         “Berkon?” Nemgas trembled. “What didst he want?”
         “For me to give myself to him.  If not 
for Amile screaming, I wouldst have done so.”
         From the wagon, Gelel shouted something 
unintelligible.  The back door opened, and Kaspel 
leapt out, falling down in a tangle of 
sheets.  He got to his feet and began limping 
away from the wagon shouting, “Take me!  Take me!”
         They raced to his side and grabbed him 
by his arms, dragging the struggling archer to 
the ground.  Even as Kaspel continued to cry out, 
Nemgas yanked his collar aside.  From two small 
holes, blood began to drain.  It smelled foul in 
a way that seemed all too familiar. “Gelel, bring 
the lantern!” Nemgas shouted.  The youth did so, 
and they could see that the blood was marred by a malodorous black pus.
         “‘Tis the poison that felled Berkon!” Chamag exclaimed.
         “Aye,” Nemgas replied. “Get him back to 
the wagon.  From now on, two must keep 
watch.  Berkon hast been poisoning Kaspel for some time now.”
         Gamran shuddered and stared at the horizon. “Canst we save him?”
         “Maybe.  Only if we reach Dazheen and the others in time.”
         “But wilt we?”
         Nemgas had no answer.  After putting 
Kaspel back in the wagon, Pelgan and Amile took 
up the watch together.  Neither of them went into 
their zone all the rest of that night.

----------

May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias