The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock

Published by Annulus Publishing

Copyright © 2014 Timothy L. Cerepaka. All rights
reserved.

Author: Timothy L. Cerepaka

Formatting by Timothy L. Cerepaka

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***

E
very winter, for about two or three months,
the island of Destan—a small island located south of the much
larger Northern Isles, home to a few hundred people, mostly human,
with a tiny minority of amphibious aquarians who lived just off the
island's shore—was beset by the wrath of Kano. The waves of the
Crystal Sea would rise to a height of at least 200 feet (in some
cases even larger) and the incessant rain would be enough to drown
even an aquarian.

During this time, travel by sea was nigh impossible.
Fishermen from the Northern Isles didn't come down to fish and even
pirates refused to come down this way during 'murder season,' as it
was called, mostly because it seemed like the ocean was trying to
murder everyone who dared sail upon its waves.

Most Destanians knew what to do during this time of
year. They lashed their boats to their docks or brought them
further inland so they wouldn't be swept off into the depths of the
ocean, never to be seen again; brought in or tied down any other
physical possessions they usually kept outside, and stayed inside
their homes almost all day every day. Worship services at the
Temple of Kano were often put on hold during this time, which
Kinker Dolan, an old fisherman who had spent his entire life on
Destan, found rather amusing.

No sane person would ever go out onto the Crystal
Sea at this point, especially in a tiny little fishing boat that
could be capsized easily. Even large ships rarely strayed into the
area at this point. Once, five or six years ago, Kinker remembered
seeing an entire fleet of massive battleships from the island of
Nikos sink, their entire crews drowning in the terrible ocean. It
was a chilling sight, especially the next day, when some of their
corpses washed up on shore half-naked and covered in seaweed.

It was an image that stood out in his mind as he
rowed his tiny fishing boat, creaking and groaning, out into the
darkness of the night. His old bones ached and moaned every time he
was splashed with the cold water of the ocean, which was to say
they ached and moaned all the time.

Kinker ignored his bones. This was the only chance
he had of getting off Destan without the Priestly Guard noticing.
It was not ideal weather, to be sure (his beard was soaked through
and the rowboat's bottom was already filling with water, which he
couldn't scoop out right now), but that was exactly why he had
chosen this night to make his great escape. Not even the Priestly
Guard, with their magic, would dare set sail on these deadly waters
at this time of night, not even to capture someone who knew all
their darkest secrets.

The only problem was that Kinker had no idea where
he was going. He had forgotten his compass back home and the
endless rain, the gigantic waves, and the blackness of the night
made it impossible to tell where he was or where he was going. He
could not even be certain how far he was from Destan, because the
sound of the ocean waves crashing against the island's shores was
obscured by the rain and lightning that shook the sky.

In addition, Kinker's stomach kept doing back flips
every time the ocean waves raised his tiny boat and tossed it. His
boat was tossed around so much that Kinker felt like he was a tiny
ball being thrown around by a bunch of young, easily-distracted
children who were not careful with their toys. He had faith he
would survive, however; because before he left Destan he had made a
sacrifice to Kano, the Goddess of the Sea, asking her to protect
him and get him to where he needed to go.

Not that he had much time to think or remember what
he'd done before he left. He was thrown about once more, this time
so violently that both of the oars on his rowboat snapped off and
disappeared into the rain and waves. That meant Kinker was totally
at the mercy of the sea now.

He gripped the bulwarks of his boat as it rocked
back and forth, somehow managing to stay upright despite the
weather. His fingers grasped the sides of the boat with a steel
grip, but he was all too aware that his capsizing was a when, not
an if, and that it would not be long before he found himself
sleeping on the bottom of the ocean.

A flash of light disturbed these thoughts, causing
Kinker to look up in surprise. He at first thought that his old
eyes—which were getting worse every day—were playing tricks on him,
but through the wind, rain, and darkness, he spotted what looked
like a line of lights not too far from where he was. His first
thought was that the lights belonged to the spirits of those who
had died at sea, said to travel the Crystal Sea's surface, only
appearing to sailors, fishermen, and others when death was at
hand.

Then a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the
entire area, revealing that the row of lights were not spirits at
all but rather lights shining from the side of a large ship.

That wasn't the only thing the lightning revealed,
however. It also revealed a gigantic wave—much larger than any that
Kinker had ever seen in his entire life—on his port.

Kinker had only a few seconds to register that fact
before the wave crashed down on him with the force of thousands of
pounds of water, smashing his rowboat into splinters and knocking
him out instantly.

-

Dying at sea was not as painful a death as one might
think. Kinker had spent his whole life on or near the Crystal Sea.
He had become a fisherman, following in the footsteps of his father
and grandfather before him, and had always been aware that the sea
was not your friend. Even though he had devoutly worshiped Kano his
whole life, Kinker knew better than to let his guard down around
the sea. It was an entity, unforgiving and impartial, that would
kill you as soon as it would help you.

But now that he thought about it, he wondered if he
was really dead at all. Every bone in his body felt like it had
been smashed into pieces and he was shivering and cold, which was
strange because he had always been taught that death would be
feeling-less. As a child, he remembered asking his mother what
death would be like and she told him that when he died, he would
simply stop feeling because the dead could feel nothing.

In the midst of the pain and coldness, Kinker
concluded that he was not yet dead. Somehow, he had survived, but
how, he had no idea.

That was when he felt a sharp jolt of pain near his
midriff. His eyes flew open as he gasped for air. While he coughed
out what felt like the entire Crystal Sea, a chair nearby skitted
across the wood floor. Someone with a thick Northern accent said,
“He's awake. Quick, get the captain.”

Through his waterlogged ears, Kinker heard the sound
of another set of feet running, then a door opening and slamming
shut. He felt someone put a wet rag on his forehead (that smelled
of mold for some reason) and heard the earlier voice say, “How are
you, my man? You all right? Feel okay? Can you breathe?”

Kinker blinked several times before his vision
became clear enough for him to tell what he was seeing. A man was
standing above him, his eyes twinkling. The man had something
hanging off his neck, a necklace, which had a set of multicolored
beads on it. The man was probably from the North, because his skin
was a darker shade of brown than Kinker's.

“Did you hear me?” said the man. “I asked, can you
breathe?”

Kinker nodded slowly. His neck felt like it had been
ripped off his shoulders and reattached by someone who didn't know
what they were doing. He realized he was lying on a bed;
furthermore, he was utterly nude, with only a coarse blanket to
cover him.

“Good,” said the man. “When Vashnas pulled you up
from the sea, we were certain you were dead. But thank the gods,
you're alive.”

Then the man frowned. “Or perhaps not. Our resources
are already stretched thin, and I can't imagine the Captain would
be very happy if he found out you are still alive.”

Kinker moved his lips, trying to speak, but he only
managed a few words because his throat felt like someone had cut it
with a long, sharp knife. “Why ... call him ...”

“Hmm?” said the man, leaning down closer. “What'd
you say, my friend?”

Kinker didn't think of himself as this man's
'friend,' but he did say, “The Captain ... why call him ... if he
doesn't ...”

“Oh, I understand,” said the man, nodding as he
stood back up. “Well, the Captain gave us orders to summon him if
you woke up. Don't worry, though. I doubt he'll toss you overboard,
unless you happen to be a murderer or something.”

Kinker gulped, which was like swallowing a prickly
thorn bush. “Who ... are you?”

“Name's Telka Agos,” said the man. “I'm the doctor
of this ship. Been keeping you alive, which admittedly has been
rather difficult because the medical supplies on this ship are, how
should I put it, very bare bones.”

“Clothes,” said Kinker with a cough, “where ... are
... my clothes?”

“Your clothes?” said Telka with a chuckle. “The sea
ripped them off your body. You were brought on board the ship
completely naked, my friend. Once you're better, though, I have an
extra set of clothes you can borrow.”

Despite the pain, Kinker felt extremely embarrassed
by the thought that some people had seen him naked. He changed the
subject. “Big ship?”

Before Telka could answer, the door slammed open,
causing Kinker to look up from the bed he was lying upon.

Another man entered the room, a tall, strapping
young man with dirty hair that looked like it was normally
well-kept. His skin was as dark as Telka's. Besides that, the two
looked radically different. The man who entered wore a long boat
cloak that covered his whole body, except for his head, which made
it impossible to tell what else he was wearing underneath.

The man strode into the room with an air of
authority and command. At his side was an aquarian, perhaps female
based on her figure (although Kinker had never been good at
guessing aquarian genders). She had to be an aquarian. Her skin
looked like fish skin and her head resembled that of a black fish,
narrow and with a row of spines running lengthwise. She had webbed
hands and wore a jacket that was completely buttoned up. She looked
tired, like she had run a mile.

“Captain Malock,” said Telka, saluting the younger
man when he saw him, “I see Vashnas told you about the old man
awaking.”

“Indeed she did, Telka,” said Captain Malock,
stopping at the foot of Kinker's bed as he adjusted his boat cloak.
“I was in the middle of lunch, but I wasted no time in getting here
when I heard the news.”

“He's breathing,” Telka said. “And even starting to
talk a little, but it's pretty obvious that he's still in pain. He
may not be able to say much.”

Malock looked at Kinker and said, “Old man, how does
your throat feel?”

Kinker put one hand against his throat and said,
“Like it was ripped off and nailed back on.”

“But can you still speak?” Malock said.

Kinker swallowed and winced. “A little.”

“A little will do,” said Malock as he walked over to
the left side of Kinker's bed.

The Captain pulled up a nearby chair and sat on it.
As Malock did so, Telka took a step back, perhaps to give Malock
room. The young female aquarian stood by Malock's side, still not
saying anything. Kinker wondered if that was because she was silent
or simply couldn't speak Northern Common. Either way, he found
himself staring at her a bit too long, mostly because he'd never
seen an aquarian up close like this before.

Then Malock snapped his fingers. Kinker looked at
the Captain. He leaned forward in his chair, his intense eyes
borrowing into Kinker's, like he was trying to read Kinker's
mind.

“All right, old man,” said Malock. “Let's start with
your name. What is it?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because if you don't, I won't hesitate to throw you
off this ship and into the ocean,” Malock said. “I'm a humane
captain, but I also do whatever is necessary to keep this ship
afloat. And if you don't tell me anything about yourself, then I'm
afraid we won't have any room for you here.”

Based on the looks that Telka and the female
aquarian were giving him, Kinker knew that Malock wasn't joking.
Despite his youth, it was clear that the Captain already held the
kind of authority over his crew that only the most experienced of
captains did. Why, Kinker didn't know, but because he was in no
mood for a swim, he decided to talk.