CHAPTER THREE
If Ran thought Malkyr would panic, he was sorely mistaken. Instead, as the huge tidal surge lifted the boat beneath its keel and carried it like a piece of driftwood, Malkyr let out a long and deep laugh that seemed to echo off the storm clouds above. Ran, who had finally warded off the effects of seasickness thanks to the combat, now felt himself becoming queasy again as the boat surged through the water on the back of the wave. This can’t be real, he thought. The boat would probably capsize, but still Malkyr would laugh at the gods for this.
He’s mad, thought Ran. As he watched, the captain’s hand never left the tiller, and Ran could see how hard his grip was on the piece of wood that enabled him to keep on course. They were headed west, no doubt, but in what condition would they reach land?
Ran steeled himself on the bulwark, one hand never far from his sword. He gritted his teeth and willed that their journey be a swift one. While he had studied many techniques used for fighting on ships, Ran had never felt at ease on the bucking beasts and preferred having his feet on solid ground.
“The man might well be the death of us.”
Ran glanced behind him and saw the old drunk who had helped him fight off the monster a few moments earlier. He was squatting and wiping his blade clean, his eyes never leaving the prized two-handed curved sword. “And if that happens, then all of this will be for naught.”
Ran sank on his haunches close by and watched the old man work for another moment before responding. “You’re quite adept with that blade.”
The man’s eyes lifted and held Ran’s gaze. “Are you asking me a question or simply stating the obvious?”
“I thought I was paying you a compliment.”
“Compliments are for women. You fought by my side when we faced that creature instead of running or acting like a damned fool. That’s enough.”
“I’m Ran.”
“Kancho.”
“You’ve used that sword a lot,” said Ran. His eyes had spotted several nicks along the edge of the blade. “You haven’t had time to put a whetstone to that edge.”
Kancho shrugged. “I left my home rather unexpectedly. I didn’t have time to get it fixed. But there’s nothing too serious about them. The blade still cuts like a sharp tongue.”
“A tongue eager for blood,” said Ran. “Why did you leave your home so suddenly?”
Kancho regarded him for a moment and then went back to wiping his blade. “You ask a lot of question for someone so young.”
“I apologize if I offended you.” Ran started to stand.
Kancho held up one hand. “Don’t worry about it. I keep to myself mostly. It’s a bit out of the ordinary for me to have long conversations.”
Ran glanced away, but kept Kancho in his peripheral vision. There was a lot more to this old man than met the eye. Not only had he handled himself like a seasoned warrior during the melee, but he knew how to care for his sword. That skill alone marked him as something more than what he appeared. No, Ran decided, this was no regular man. He was most likely a member of the professional warrior class in Gakur, the Murai. Judging by the reverence he showed for his blade, there was little doubt.
But why was he disguised? Murai were a proud class of expert warriors who would never conceal themselves the way Kancho was.
Unless . . .
If Kancho had dishonored himself, then that might be cause for a false identity. But just as quickly as the thought had occurred to him, Ran dismissed it. If Kancho had dishonored himself or the lord he served, then Murai tradition mandated that he commit suicide through ritual disembowelment. That was the only way to remove the shame that he would have brought upon himself and the lord he served.
Ran took a breath and looked out over the horizon. The storm clouds, dark and streaked with charcoal gray seemed never-ending. And Ran wasn’t sure where the clouds stopped and the land they traveled to began. Even if they were close to the coast, they might never know it.
But Malkyr looked every bit as confident as he had when the sea monster had attacked them. His hand was still firm on the tiller, and his eyes never wavered. Ran found his presence almost unnerving in its nonchalance. To Malkyr, this sort of thing might happen on a daily basis. Ran hoped it was a once in a lifetime event.
“You’re fair with a sword as well,” came Kancho’s voice again.
Ran smiled. Clearly the old man was making an attempt at communicating. “Thank you.”
“But you’re not one of the Murai.”
“How would you know if I was?” asked Ran.
Kancho chuckled. “I would know.”
“I could be, though.”
“You’re young,” said Kancho. “And judging by how you wielded that sword, you’ve been trained in other lineages than what the Murai study.”
Ran frowned. “I was taught by my uncle, whose father had once served a lord in the far north.”
“So why didn’t your family continue to serve?”
Ran looked away, trying his best to affect deep concern. “My uncle’s father . . . left service, and became a wandering warrior for hire. He gradually found his way south and married. He taught his sons everything he knew about fighting.”
“But you didn’t learn from your father?”
“My father was killed when I was very young,” said Ran. “I have no memory of him. I was raised by my uncle and infused with the knowledge that had been shared by their father.”
Kancho looked up from his work and stared at Ran for another moment. Then he grunted and looked back at the sword in his lap. “Well, you’re a credit to them, at least. Good balance. You seem to understand distance. Overall, I’d say with a little seasoning, you could become a true warrior. But why are you out here on this accursed vessel? Why not stay in Gakur?”
“I’m not of the Murai,” said Ran.
“It’s in your blood,” said Kancho. “You could ask to have your family name reinstated at the capital.”
Ran smiled. “I would never be able to serve as well as the Murai. I’ve been brought up to make my own decisions, to steer my own fate.”
Kancho grinned. “If that’s so, then why take a chance on this damned boat?”
“I want to sell my blade on the mainland.”
Kancho frowned. “There’s little honor in being a sword-for-hire, Ran.”
“True, but there are lots of riches to be had.”
“Is that why you fight? For money?”
“If I say yes, will you condemn me for it?”
Kancho finished with his sword and slid it carefully back into the scabbard. Then he got to his feet and placed one hand on the bulwark. “Men fight for many reasons. Some for honor. Some for the love of a woman. Some for money. As long as you can deliver on the promise that your sword carries with it, what difference does it make?”
Ran wasn’t sure he trusted that statement as a true account of how Kancho actually felt, especially if he was Murai. “So, why do you fight?”
“I fight for my daughter,” said Kancho. And then he disappeared belowdecks, leaving Ran alone amid the heaving swells that carried the ship farther westward.
Ran thought about going after him, but decided it was best to leave him be. When Kancho felt like talking again, Ran felt certain he could get him to open up and give some more indication of why he had taken to disguising himself.
The giant wave that had picked the Aqaria up and carried her seemed to be subsiding now. Thank the gods, thought Ran. If they could make dry land before nightfall, his feet would never leave the ground again.
Ahead of him, he watched as Malkyr ordered two deckhands to fit a smaller spare mast where the main one had been torn apart. They did so and then ran up a fresh sail. Instantly, the wind took hold and the Aqaria resumed making good speed. The deckhands tied the sheet off and then busied themselves with other tasks up on the deck.
Ran’s queasiness subsided as he made his way along the starboard side of the ship and looked again at Malkyr. This time, the captain of the Aqaria took his eyes off the horizon to nod at Ran. “You’ll have to watch yourself around that one.”
“Kancho?”
Malkyr smirked. “There’s not a person on this ship that believes he’s just some harmless old drunk. No matter how much rice wine he spilled on his clothes to affect the stench he carries. It’s not enough. If you’re going to disguise yourself, you have to be convincing about it.”
“Do tell,” said Ran as he climbed toward Malkyr.
“Kancho’s disguise is superficial. It’ll fool some of the people some of the time. But it won’t hold up to real scrutiny. His bearing, his skill with weapons, even his weapon itself tell a tale all the rice wine in the world cannot wash away. As you’ve clearly noticed.”
Ran smiled. “Was I that obvious?”
Malkyr shrugged. “Maybe I’ve been around the rat-infested docks too long. Everyone at the edge of the sea carries a tale. And everyone’s always one step away from jumping a ship bound for anywhere but where they are right then. You can’t trust appearances.”
Ran nodded and then pointed to the horizon. “Are we closer to land?”
“Unfortunately, we’re much closer than I’d like.”
“How can you tell? All I see is a huge bank of clouds. I can’t fathom if it’s mist, fog, or the clouds themselves. We could sail right for the very edge of the world, and I wouldn’t know it until we fell off.”
“Aye,” said Malkyr. “Which is exactly why you should always trust your captain. He knows best.” Malkyr pointed. “There. You see that break in the mist? The area where it’s darker?”
Ran looked at where he pointed and saw how the darker mist seemed to be increasing. “Yes, what about it?”
“That should be Naran,” said Malkyr quietly.
But as the fog shifted, Ran suddenly saw that it wasn’t a port at all. Sheer imposing cliffs jutted out of the water.
“Blast it,” said Malkyr. “This cursed storm blew us even farther south than I expected.”
“Where are we?”
“They call those the Cliffs of Doom because if you’re not careful the reefs around here will gouge a keel and you’ll sink in twenty fathoms of water before you know what even hit you.”
As he said this, Malkyr leaned on the tiller, pushing it to the starboard side. The boat responded by veering to port, away from the dark rock cliffs. “This is where it gets tricky.” He whistled, and one of his crew appeared on deck. Malkyr spoke quickly in the sailing tongue, and the man nodded, moving up to the bow of the Aqaria. There, he planted his feet and held his arms out in front of him.
Malkyr nodded at him. “We’ll seek shelter calmer waters, drop anchor, and ride out this storm. Chung will guide us into the mangrove swamps that line the coast. It’s a tricky process since the entrance that we need to find is a mere spit of clear water. On either side are the reefs that will grind up my keel if we’re not careful.” He shouted to more deckhands and they came up and took down the sail. The Aqaria slowed and then eased forward, carried on the current.
“Have you ever lost a boat before?”
Malkyr stared at Ran. “Never ask a captain that.”
Ran smiled. “Seafarer superstition?”
“That,” said Malkyr. “And he might just throw you off his ship.”
“My apologies,” said Ran. “I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t capable.”
Malkyr shrugged. “When you sail these waters for as long as I have, you realize that stuff is mostly routine.”
“Being attacked by sea creatures is routine?”
Malkyr pointed at Chung. “It is when you’re headed into the Dark Sea and toward Iyarul. The sea is lousy with the stuff of nightmares. And some say the lands of Igul are even worse.”
“We’ll see,” said Ran.
“You’d better get down below and tell the others that we’re going to be moving slowly from here on out as we try to thread our way through this mess. I don’t want anybody up on deck. But stand by in case I need you all to abandon ship.”
“Will do,” said Ran. He started down and then turned back toward Malkyr. “But you’ve done this before, haven’t you? Brought a ship through here?”
Malkyr smiled. “I’ve plied this sea for thirty years. This isn’t my first time seeking shelter in these waters. But the sea never stays the same. She changes as she pleases. And sometimes, she likes to spring surprises on even the wisest sea captains there are.”