The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock (19 page)

***

G
arnal was made to walk the plank. Literally.
A few of the sailors found an old board lying around and nailed it
down to the scuppers. Garnal walked onto the plank with the crew
yelling obscenities at her, jeering at her, and in general treating
her with the level of disdain that only a pirate of her caliber
deserved.

Not that Garnal seemed to care. When she got to the
end of the plank, she didn't look back or even acknowledge that
she'd heard them. She simply jumped off and fell into the water
with a splash and disappeared instantly. Some of the rowdier
sailors got their guns out and fired into the water after her, but
she was gone before they could shoot her.

After that, Malock assigned two other sailors to the
fishing crew: one was a human woman named Kocas Iknor, who seemed
incapable of shutting up about her great hunting skills; The other
was an aquarian named Byki, who resembled a squid in the face.
Neither of them were trained fishermen or even just hobbyists, so
Kinker spent the next few days teaching them how to haul in the
trawl, how to clean and cook fish, and anything else about fishing
that they needed to know.

That was one thing Kinker noticed more and more as
the days progressed. Since joining the fishing crew, Kinker had
been doing much of the things that Deddio, the head fisherman, was
supposed to do. In practice, Kinker felt like he was in charge of
the group, spending much of his time telling the others, even
Deddio, the proper ways to haul in the trawl and clean the
fish.

That wasn't very surprising. Kinker was the only
professional fisherman on the entire ship. None of them understood
fishing quite the same way he did. The others were definitely
learning and improving, but they still deferred to his wisdom and
experience whenever they had to make a difficult decision.

But Kinker was not interested in leading. He wasn't
a leader. He had never held a leadership position back on Destan or
on any of the dozens of fishing ships he'd worked on over the
years. He had nothing against leadership or leaders in general, but
he did not feel that he was suited for the job. He was especially
worried about gaining prominence because it might force him to
reveal his secret, a secret he had done his very best to hide so
far.

Kinker tried not to worry about his secret most of
the time. None of the sailors aboard the
Iron Wind
had any
connection to Destan or to its priests, as far as he knew. Yet he
was still determined to take the secret with him to the grave. Even
though he knew he didn't do it on purpose, he doubted the others
would believe him. They would probably despise him more than he
despised himself if they found out what he did.

The only question was how long Kinker could keep
this a secret. That was a long-term question and he didn't like to
think long-term. That meant thinking about what he would do if they
returned to the Northern Isles. He couldn't go back to Destan, not
after his escape. He thought about staying with Jenur, but every
time he asked her about her past or where she came from, she
changed the subject so naturally that it wasn't until hours later
that Kinker realized what she had done.

What secrets does she have to hide?
Kinker
thought.
She doesn't want to talk about her past, just like me.
I wonder why.

Then again, it seemed like everyone on the
Iron
Wind
had secrets. Malock still hadn't talked about his
experiences on Ikadori Island or what Garnal had told him in the
hold. Jenur had a strange knowledge of magic and ways to kill
people but refused to explain where she got that knowledge from.
And it wouldn't surprise Kinker one bit if it turned out that
Vashnas had some secrets of her own. With so much secrecy, he was
surprised that anyone trusted anyone on this ship.

Then again,
he thought on the second day
after Garnal's departure, glancing into the sea as he and the
others hauled in the trawl for the day's lunch,
when the only
other option is try to survive in a sea that cares for you even
less than your mother sea, I suppose learning to live with secrets
is how one gets by.

It was a week after Garnal departed from the ship,
shortly after breakfast, that a large storm blew in from the east.
The rain fell hard, the waves rose and fell, and the sky rumbled,
but compared to murder season up north, it was bearable. Its sudden
appearance was surprising, true (the sky had been clear), but
Kinker didn't see any reason to freak out.

Malock, on the other hand, seemed to be in full-on
panic mode now. He was running around the ship, ordering sailors to
tie down whatever they couldn't take below deck and to stay away
from the bulwarks so they wouldn't get swept overboard by the
waves. That Malock was personally ordering them himself and not
Banika, made Kinker so worried that he actually decided to talk to
Malock himself.

He got his chance when Malock came to check on the
trawl. The Captain's hair was being blown around by the wind as he
demanded the fishing crew to haul in the trawl and take it below
deck until the storm passed.

“What?” said Kinker, raising his voice over the
howling wind. “But we just tossed it back in.”

“I don't care!” said Malock, raising his voice as he
pulled the hood of his boat cloak over his head. “I don't like the
look of this storm, not one bit, and I don't want us losing
anything we might need just because we didn't take this storm
seriously!”

“Yes, sir, Captain,” said Deddio, saluting Malock.
He turned to the others and said, “Men! Let's haul in the trawl!
And then take it down to the hold!”

While they did that, Kinker turned to Malock and
asked, “What are you so worried about? It's just a storm.”

Malock shook his head. “I didn't ask for your
opinion, Kinker. Just help your fellow fishermen haul the trawl in
and take it to the hold. That is an order.”

Before Kinker could ask any more questions, Malock
was gone, already making his way to the bow, shouting orders to the
nearest sailors to furl the sails. Kinker looked up at the sky,
seeing the dark, rumbling clouds and bright lightning, and decided
that, whatever Malock's real reason for being so worried about the
storm, it did make sense to haul in the trawl, just so the ocean
wouldn't rip it off the stern.

By the time the fishing crew managed to get the
trawl onto the deck, the storm was in full swing. The wind whipped
their clothes and hair about, the raindrops fell like bullets, the
Iron Wind
rocked back and forth like a cradle, and the ocean
waves splashed against the ship's side, dousing anyone who happened
to be near the bulwarks. By the time the fishing crew—dragging the
trawl behind them—reached the hatch that led to the lower decks,
their clothes were soaked through and through and the only ones who
seemed to enjoy it were Byki and Gino, although even they looked a
bit disgruntled at the iciness of the water.

In some ways, though, Kinker would have preferred to
be outside in the rain than inside the lower decks. Despite the
Iron Wind
's large size, there simply wasn't enough space to
give each sailor—all 140 of them—their own room or space to stand
in. The fishing crew spent several minutes dragging the trawl
through the crowded decks and it took them even longer to find a
spot in the hold to put it because quite a few sailors, having
nowhere else to go, had decided to ride out the storm there.

Once they did, they took up a space near the back of
the hold. The hold was an unpleasant place to be, mostly due to the
smell and lack of clean air, but at least they weren't being
pounded with rain. The walls of the hold creaked and groaned,
however, which made Kinker feel skittish.

“This is a pretty violent storm, isn't it?” said
Jenur to Kinker, her hands gripping the crate she sat on. “Worst
one we've been through so far, not counting the one we found you
in.”

“Yeah,” said Kinker with a shudder. “Where's
Malock?”

“No idea,” said Jenur.

“He's top deck, in his stateroom,” said a familiar
voice not too far away.

Kinker looked to his right and saw Bifor striding
toward them, his wand attached with a rope to his wrist. Ever since
getting his wand back from Garnal, Bifor had kept his wand tied to
him at all times. It seemed like an unnecessary precaution to
Kinker, because he didn't think anyone on the crew would try to
steal it, but he supposed it was none of his business.

“Top deck? In this storm?” Jenur repeated. “Look, I
know Malock can be a bit thickheaded sometimes, but come on. He
made such a big deal about getting the rest of us below deck and
now he's risking his own life for no reason?”

Bifor sat down on the floor near Kinker and Jenur,
but even sitting down he was at least a head taller than either of
them. “I've learned that you don't usually question the Captain's
decisions in times of crisis. I'm sure he has a good reason for
doing what he's doing.”

Jenur looked up at the ceiling, from which water
dripped occasionally. “If you say so.”

Malock sat in his stateroom, on his favorite chair,
gripping the sides of his desk hard. The rocking of the ship had
tossed about nearly everything in his room. The books on his shelf
were scattered across the floor. The maps and papers and quills on
his desk were everywhere, and even the sofa had been knocked over.
Through the window, Malock occasionally caught a glimpse of a huge
ocean wave or of a lightning bolt striking somewhere, often
nearby.

He was not alone. Banika sat on the floor nearby,
her legs folded underneath her, her hands placed in front of her
like prayer. It seemed an odd thing to do in a storm like this, but
she had explained to Malock that this form of meditation—which she
called 'calming meditation'—was useful for keeping one's balance in
this kind of situation. He supposed it was true because, despite
the constant rocking of the ship, Banika had not budged an inch
from her spot on the floor.

If only Vashnas had been as lucky. She had tried to
sit on a chair, but that had resulted in her falling to the floor.
Now she just lay on her belly on the floor, her hands on her head,
wincing every time a particularly loud clap of thunder burst
overhead. Malock wished there was something he could do to comfort
her, but right now he wasn't particularly comforted himself, so he
didn't think there was anything he could do to help her.

Besides, if this storm was indeed the herald of the
Verch ... well, then Malock figured being comforted was the least
of their worries.

Now Malock was hardly a superstitious man. Yes, he
respected the gods and yes he understood that they were mysterious
and worked in ways that mortals rarely understood, but that didn't
mean he believed every myth, legend, or plain old story about them.
In particular, Malock had always disbelieved the story about the
god Grinf becoming a sheep and mating with a willing human woman,
their union producing a monstrous half-sheep/half-human hybrid
known as the Sheep Child that, according to legend, was killed by
its own mother who was horrified by its appearance.

But Malock remembered the fear he had seen in
Garnal's eyes. Even though all pirates were liars and deceivers who
always looked out for number one, Malock could tell that Garnal's
tale about the Verch had not been a lie. Something had indeed
attacked and destroyed Garnal's crew, something preceded by a storm
on the ocean, and considering that this storm had come out of
nowhere just like in Garnal's story, Malock felt justified in
taking the precautions that he did.

Of course, it could just be a normal storm,
Malock thought.
Just like how Ikadori Island
could
have
been just a normal uninhabited island that wasn't home to a
mortal-eating god. Best not to take chances on these seas.

A particularly violent lurch almost tossed Malock
off his chair, but he held on tightly to the desk and managed to
remain upright. Banika was as calm and still as usual, while
Vashnas had now placed one of the discarded books over her head. He
had told them both about his suspicions of the Verch; in fact, that
was why he had brought them both here. If the Verch was indeed
coming, then he wanted to have two of his most trusted friends by
his side to face it.

The ship stopped rocking and swaying. The sudden
stop made Malock's stomach lurch, but he held down his lunch as he
looked around tentatively.

Vashnas took the book off her head and also looked
around. “Why ... why did the ship stop?”

Banika's eyes opened. “Captain, do you hear
that?”

Malock shook his head. “Hear what?”

“Listen,” said Banika, holding up a finger for
silence. “It's outside.”

Malock and Vashnas both became as quiet as they
could be. Then Malock heard it. Above the roar of thunder and the
swaying waves, he heard something walking through the water. That
was the best way he could put it. The swish-swish of the water was
the same sound it made whenever someone walked through it, but that
made no sense. Who could be out in this weather? Unless ...

Malock stood up and gestured for Banika and Vashnas
to do the same. “We're going outside. Be prepared for anything, and
I mean anything.”

-

Stepping out onto the top deck was much more
terrifying than it should have been. Malock fully expected to be
instantly killed by whatever was waiting for them, but when he,
Banika, and Vashnas passed through the doorway of his stateroom and
onto the main deck of the ship, they were greeted by a very bizarre
sight.

All around them on every side, rain poured heavily
from the clouds, but the
Iron Wind
was completely dry. Not a
drop of rain fell onto their ship and even the waves around the
ship were avoiding it. When Malock peered over the side of the
ship, he saw that the water in which the
Iron Wind
rested
was as still as could be. It hadn't frozen over or anything. It
just stopped. It looked especially weird because the rest of the
sea was still flowing around them normally.