Epic (23 page)

“And what do you think our chances would be?” he asked.

“Good, I would have thought,” answered Harald. “But we cannot be certain and should avoid a clash with them, if possible.”

“Ya,” Bjorn agreed.

“Yes, let us try to avoid them,” Sigrid’s healer chipped in with her opinion.

“I also think we should avoid them. But for another reason.” Anonemuss walked up and down the short space of the cabin floor as he spoke, swaying shadows from the oil lantern playing across his dark form. “I am of the opinion that this pursuing ship is in some way connected to Central Allocations. They tried to bring a stowaway aboard, and that having failed, they hired a ship to follow us so that they have other options than to confront us in the arena before millions of spectators.”

“Possibly,” Harald said.

“So, in the coming night, we are agreed, we will try to evade them. Can I just say something about a possible alternative?” In the back of his mind Erik was thinking of the Avatar and whether it would be a disappointment for the creature if he simply ignored the possibility of obtaining revenge for Captain Sharky over his old rival. “What about us attacking them? Epic is a strange game, and we rarely explore the simplest of plots, let alone the ones that involve various different parts of the world. If this is the ship of Duke Raymond, then it is related to my quest, and fighting him is clearly an important stage in its development. If the ship contains our enemies, then a fight on our own terms might eliminate the threat it contains.”

“Well spoken, Erik.” B.E. looked eager. “I’m up for it. I’m dying to see what these blades are like in combat.”

“You want to play games. Go do it on your own. Don’t imperil us all.” Anonemuss sounded angry. “Have you forgotten this is no game for us in exile? We need to get to Cassinopia without mishap and mount our challenge. Simple. No diversions.”

“I agree with Anonemuss,” Harald joined in. “Epic has long ceased to be a game. Now is not the time to be exploring quest paths.”

As everyone began to talk at once, the volume of sound in the room started to rise, until it was suddenly cut across by a rap on the door.

“Who’s there?” asked Anonemuss suspiciously.

“Svein Redbeard. May I join you?”

“No. Go away,” Anonemuss replied at once.

“Wait.” Erik glanced to his dad, who nodded and stepped into the sharp patches of black shadow that were rolling around the cabin. Once reassured that it was impossible to see Harald, Erik called on Svein to enter. The dark elf scowled, and even though it was impossible for characters to fight outside the arena, loosened the sword at his side.

“Thank you.” Svein bowed as soon as he was through the door. “Failing to find any of you on deck, I presumed you were talking and wondered if I could be of service.”

“We are discussing how to respond to the pirate who is following us,” explained Erik.

“Ahh, yes. Duke Raymond,” Svein said. “He is a very dangerous opponent, wanted in every city-state, with a huge reward for his death or capture. He is ruthless in killing his captives, except those who can raise a substantial ransom. I would presume that if he knows there are six rich dragonslayers aboard this vessel, that is his main aim.” This assessment came rapidly, as though the world’s chief librarian were anxious to impress them with his knowledge.

“I would presume no such thing,” replied Anonemuss angrily. “How do we know that the ship is that of Duke Raymond? In my view, Central Allocations are behind it. They want to monitor what is happening. I am extremely angry that you are aboard this ship at all.” He turned away from Svein to the others. “But for the fact we cannot harm him, I would advocate killing him now.”

Surprised by the dark elf’s unexpected outburst, Erik didn’t challenge the desirability of killing Svein. A moment later, he blushed, although Cindella would not show it. He felt he had failed to lead the conversation in the most productive direction.

“More to the point,” Svein continued, untroubled by these hostile references to him. “I can assure you that Central Allocations has nothing to do with this ship following us. Epic is a game with complexities far beyond the small areas in which we players move. We have found ourselves in one of the tales of the game and we must respond accordingly.”

Erik remained silent, no longer feeling he had the authority to try to direct matters.

“I don’t believe him. They had plenty of notice to hire a ship of their own.” Anonemuss managed to express a surprising amount of hostility in the relatively featureless face of his dark elf character.

“It may be Central Allocations,” said Injeborg. “But in that case, they are simply following and cannot harm us. For the moment, let us assume the worst—that it is, in fact, Duke Raymond, and that darkness will not shake him.”

“In other words, that we might have to fight a battle?” asked B.E. eagerly.

“Yes. Perhaps we should discuss our tactics,” Injeborg replied. “In which case Svein’s advice would be wel come.”

A polite cough from the door.

Everyone froze, the room motionless but for the swinging lamp that cast alarming shadows as it rocked to the motion of the ship. Count Illystivostich was standing in the doorway, pale as bone, dressed in elegant black velvet and leather. His eyes burned with lust and terror—even at home, through the medium of Cindella, Erik felt paralyzed by fear and desire. It was impossible to move his own head and break the view that Cindella had of those hypnotic eyes.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said that same insidiously beautiful voice, tainted with an invitation to share knowledge of insatiable wickedness. “I could not help overhearing you and I believe I can offer you the most sensible course of action. Allow me to fly across to the ship following and ascertain the natures of those aboard.” The lips of the vampyre as they articulated these words were succulent, livid, and corrupt.

Of course. A perfectly sensible course of action indeed. Not one person demurred as the count bowed.

“I shall return shortly. Please wait for me.”

It was some time before any of them could speak, so powerful was the thrall surrounding the presence of the vampyre.

“We should restrict our dealings with that creature to the minimum.” It was Bjorn who had managed to find his voice first. His comment was met with a murmur of agreement.

“And yet, and yet.” Svein was shaking his head. “We will never have a chance to talk to such a powerful being again. Once our destinies are parted, he will be far too dangerous to approach. And think about the knowledge he must have! Why, he has lived for centuries. He must know the answers to all our questions!”

“Questions?” Anonemuss promptly asked. “What questions?”

“Oh, you know, the issues librarians have to deal with—just the gathering of information about the world of Epic.” The tone of awe in Svein’s voice had been replaced by evasion. He took the empty window seat that had been vacated by Harald. When he spoke again, his voice was more relaxed. “So, who is this dark elf that expresses such hostility to Central Allocations? We have not been introduced.”

“My name is Anonemuss.”

“And are you from Hope District as well? I do not recall meeting you during my visit there.”

“That’s none of your business.”

Svein shrugged.

“Do you know anything about sea warfare?” Erik asked Svein in a conciliatory manner. Anonemuss might be right to treat Svein as their enemy, but for better or worse they were on the same ship and might have to fight alongside one another.

“Nothing, I’m sorry to say. If we could get aboard, however, it would be no different from being in the arena surely?”

“Yes. I think we should try to board that ship as quickly as possible.” B.E. gripped the two sword hilts protruding from his waist. “That is, if we can’t lose it in the night,” he added with an apologetic glance at Bjorn, understanding that he was the most insistent advocate of the wisdom of avoiding battle.

For a while, they sat in silence, listening to the creaking sounds of the ship as she rode over the waves.

A brooding soporific atmosphere heralded the return of Count Illystivostich. By a great effort of will, Erik managed to remove his blue glove before the vampyre appeared in the door. For him, the ring-wearer, the cabin was now suffused with a blue light. The room was unchanged, other than that he could now see Harald, squatting patiently in a dark corner.

A leisurely glance towards the door stopped his heart. Eyes were fastened upon his—two blazing spear points of shocking power. The vampyre was back. Transfixed by the power that flowed between them, Erik saw thousands of years of bloody existence. Exquisite beauty twisted to serve foul hunger. Ennui without comprehension, lifted only by the prospect of chasing prey whose corruption and befoul ment was sufficiently challenging to offer diversion. It was like being in the presence of the Avatar; he could understand only a fraction of the images flowing through him. Only this time the light was contaminated, each photon stained like bloodshot marble.

“Welcome news, my comrades!” The count took them all under his spell. Erik could see the sibilant words flow around the room, caressing everyone who heard them. “Although the ship that pursues is indeed that of the pirate Duke Raymond, it is no match for us. Already half the crew are my servants. We have but to turn around and meet them and the ship will be ours.”

“Good work, Count Illystivostich.” A dark fire in the eyes of B.E. was stoked by the encouraging smile of the vampyre. He was dreaming of striding gloriously across the decks of his enemy, striking blows of Thunder and Lightning to left and right, his deeds to be sung of throughout the world.

“That might net us much valuable information.” Svein, too, was greedy. Erik could see how the vampyre lavishly laid before him the prospect of cabin rooms full of rare maps and documents—their famous captives telling Svein all he wished to know of the deep secrets they had sailed with for all these years.

Even Anonemuss nodded, as the count’s knowing expression let him share the understanding that his conjectures were right. They were indeed being pursued by his enemies, who by this approaching battle would be left deep beneath the waves, ruing the day they encountered the dark elf.

Only Bjorn seemed able to resist the corruptive seduction of the vampyre. His face was troubled. It warmed Erik, to see the strength of his friend as he struggled to shake away the tainted dreams that flowed around him.

“Should we not simply try to lose them in the night?”

“Your suggestion is most sensible.” The vampyre met Bjorn’s desire for the most practical solution. “However, they have magical means of following our every move; we cannot avoid them and so we must confront them in a manner of our own choosing.” These words, solid and clear, slotted into Bjorn’s understanding like foundation blocks for a mighty edifice. There was no further resistance. Bjorn nodded approvingly.

As for Erik, he was appalled by how unconscious he had previously been of the vampyre’s powers of suggestion. Yet the new clarity that the ring had brought him was like watching a scene in a mirror; he was one step removed from it. Or indeed a mirror facing another mirror, so that the scene echoed upon itself until it disappeared into a dark, glassy realm where light moved as slowly as the tides.

Sunk in his own perceptions, he was just as trapped as everyone else, despite his new understanding. So that when the count turned to him, he found himself agreeing.

“I will give the order.”

But it was wrong.

It was all lies.

Chapter 21

THE GLOATING PIRATE

The ship was
rolling heavily, having turned from the wind, the sails hanging slack; she lacked the momentum to breast the waves efficiently, and lurched sideways with each swell. Across the dark water, their opponents were closing in rapidly, their sails faintly orange tinted from the aftermath of the sunset.

“This can’t be the way to fight a sea battle.” Bjorn was concerned. “They have more maneuverability than us.”

“This will be no ordinary sea battle,” the count explained reassuringly.

Despite the calming confidence of the vampyre, Erik was uneasy at the rapid and direct approach of the pirate. The players were all gathered together in the aft castle of the ship, weapons at the ready, yet their opponents showed no sign of hesitation. Perhaps it was the spell that Count Illystivostich had cast over the enemy crew that led Duke Raymond so directly to the
White Falcon
?

A dart flew across the waves, then another, a shower of arrows rushing through the air. The other ship was already attempting to engage. Everyone around Erik ducked behind the wooden crenelations, feeling the vibrations of the arrows that thumped into the castle walls. Timing their responses to the lull between volleys, B.E. and several of the other warriors began to return fire with their bows.

“When do we make our move?” Erik turned to the count. But the vampyre was gone, rising into the air, chanting, his long black hair swirling sensuously around him in the breeze.

“Something is wrong,” Erik shouted. And as the others turned to look at the vampyre, who was now reaching a peak of incantation, a long powerful vermilion reptile materialized in the center of their small castle, hissing with fury. Slowly it opened the scaly lids of its bulging eyes—an intense purple glow emanating from the reptile’s vivid pupils seized all who were looking towards the lizard. Erik felt as though he were choking.

“Basilisk!” Svein managed a hoarse cry, pulling his sword free. The creature narrowed its focus and pulsing waves of violet color flowed over the great warrior, who grew stiff and gray.

“Kill it quick!” shouted Injeborg.

The snarling monster slithered around the deck, tail lashing out, claws scrambling for purchase on the smooth wooden surface. B.E. was before it now, and again violet light escaping beneath the heavy eyelids began to build up to an angry intensity. There was a moment when Erik could have used his “mock” ability to try to turn the creature, but he refrained. Cindella had no better chance of withstanding the effects of the basilisk’s gaze than B.E. Yet immediately Erik regretted not having done so, for his friend froze, swords raised, toppling to the ground with the heavy hollow reverberation of stone upon wood, all color drained from him.