Ocean Of Fear (Book 6) Page 3

“I have heard it said you are the greatest swordsman of this age of the world.”

  “I have known better.”

  “And yet you are still here.”

  “I did not say I fought them.”

  The priest laughed. “Then you are clever as well as good with a blade.”

  “It is a prerequisite for my work. Yours too, I suspect.”

  “Has the captain been telling you I am a spy?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s not wrong.”

  “I am surprised you admit it.”

  “You already know it to be true. There is little point in denying it.”

  “So why are you here?”

  The priest remained silent for a long time. He seemed to be considering his words very carefully or perhaps debating whether he should speak at all. “The Kraken is a most unusual man.”

  “How so?”

  “You were right earlier. Most sorcerers don’t become pirates—they prefer less active lives.”

  “Some have almost taken my head off with a blade.”

  Father Jonas shrugged. “He leads ships against our treasure fleets, against our merchants, against our colonies.”

  “Our?”

  “Siderea’s. King-Emperor Aemon’s.”

  “He has a dislike for Sidereans.”

  “Indeed. And for our king in particular.”

  There was a stillness in the priest’s manner now. He was watching Kormak very carefully. “A personal resentment?”

  Jonas glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot. “You could say that—he’s King Aemon’s brother.”

  “You’re telling me Prince Taran has a secret life as a bloodthirsty pirate?”

  “No. Prince Taran is, as he always has been, the king’s strong right arm. The Kraken is more in the nature of a half-brother.”

  “I see.”

  “In his youth the last king, Varlan, Aemon’s father, at that time Prince Varlan, had a brief, unfortunate affair with a woman from the Pirate Islands. Her name was Naomi. She was lovely, enchantingly lovely - too enchantingly lovely, it turned out. The prince was mad for her and some suspected it was because of more than her beauty. She was a sorceress and she was with child by the soon-to-be king. Varlan was already engaged to Lady Elanor who was and is a most jealous woman. Assassins were sent to slay Naomi and remove a potential embarrassment but they met a horrible death. The inquisition sought her out, but she vanished. No one thought any more of it and for a long time there was no need to, then the Kraken appeared in Port Blood. He claimed to be the rightful ruler of Siderea. It turned out his mother’s name was Naomi. By all accounts he could be the twin of our king.”

  “It takes more than the royal blood to become king. The nobles must be behind you. You need an army. You need wealth.”

  “You know that. I know that. A madman raised by a resentful, ambitious witch might not or might not care. Particularly not a madman with a considerable gift for sorcery. It runs in the royal blood-line you know.”

  “The blood of Emperors,” Kormak said. The kings of Siderea claimed descent from the ancient Solari mage-kings.

  “Indeed,” said Jonas.

  “A wizard who is fighting his own private war with the Siderean crown... that’s not something I have encountered before.”

  “Life is full of little surprises, isn’t it? That’s what keeps it interesting.”

  “You’ve tried to have him killed, of course.”

  The priest looked rueful. “Of course. Assassins have no more luck against him than against his mother.”

  “Why does he risk himself on these raids when he must know your king seeks his death?”

  “He is overconfident, or perhaps merely justifiably confident, who am I to say? And he is looking for something.”

  Kormak sensed the tension in the priest. They were coming to the crux of the matter. “How do you know?”

  “The ships he attacked, the places he raided, the mansions he burned, all had something in common. The ships were carrying artefacts from the Sunken Kingdoms. The mansions belonged to collectors of such artefacts, or held the libraries of scholars who specialised in such things.”

  “What kind of artefacts?”

  “All of them were connected with the Quan.” His voice was barely a whisper. Sailors still feared the Quan. They were mentioned in horrific legends in every port in the world.

  “The servants of Dhagoth? The sea demons? ”

  “The same.” Kormak considered this. The Old One Dhagoth had ruled large sections of the ocean when the world was young. He had been a rival of Saa-Aquor, the patron of merfolk. The Quan were deep sea dwellers. They had been mighty sorcerers, soul eaters. They were thought extinct, vanished along with their master during the wars of the Age of Darkness, leaving only legends that still terrified strong men. He doubted anyone collected their relics with a good purpose in mind.

  “The Merchant’s Guild did not hire me, did it?”

  Frater Jonas shook his head. “The donation to your Order was made in their name but ultimately the money comes from the royal purse.”

  “The merchants are loyal supporters of the crown.”

  “Precisely so.”

  “You waited a long time to tell me this.”

  “I’ve told you now. When you needed to know it.”

  “And when there’s not much chance of me being able to tell anybody else.”

  “Your understanding of the situation is very sound. And I trust I have no need to add that everything I have told you is considered a state secret and that you should keep it in strictest confidence.”

  “King Aemon really wants the Kraken dead, doesn’t he?”

  “It’s why you are here.”

  “I am not sure I like being used as an assassin.”

  “You’ve done it before. And if you do it this time, you won’t find the King-Emperor ungrateful. Like all kings Aemon is wary of rivals, particularly ones who are potent mages. The man who rids him of this one could expect a considerable display of gratitude.”

  “Which is why you are here. To make sure everything goes smoothly, to report back on what happens.”

  The priest opened his hands. “I am merely a servant of my Order.”

  “One who may end up with a palace of his own.” Kormak considered for a moment. “Or head of his Order with the king’s support.”

  “If the Holy Sun provides such a thing, I would be an ingrate to turn it down.” They stood together in silence while Kormak considered his words.

  “I had always heard that King Aemon was the next best thing to a saint,” Kormak said. “That he spends all his time building temples and cathedrals and collecting holy relics when he is not healing the sick. You make him sound less than saintly.”

  “There have been many types of saint, Sir Kormak, some more worldly than others. It is not for me to judge the king.”

  “Nor for me either you imply.”

  Jonas shrugged. “There’s one more thing, Sir Kormak.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “King Varlan was unwise enough to give Naomi a token of his affections, a very special one which ensured that the guards would allow her into the palace. It was a ruby seal ring, one that had belonged to Varlan’s grandmother. It seems the Kraken wears it now.”

  Kormak kept his expression neutral. It was an unwise gift. People would remember that ring and recognise it. It would bolster the Kraken’s claim to be of royal blood. “The king wants this token of his sire’s misplaced affections returned.

  “It would be considered a great favour and, since the Kraken would not give it up while still living, proof of success in your mission.”

  “You’ve given me plenty to think about, Frater.”

  “Then once more I bid you good night,” said Frater Jonas. “Let us hope nothing else disturbs our rest.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  NEXT MORNING THEY kept rowing upriver. The forest grew denser and the river nar
rower. Its waters were a muddy brown. The branches of the trees formed a great arch overhead, cutting out the sun.

  Shadowy figures kept pace with them, weaving amid the boles of the trees. The branches overhead moved as if animals were scampering through them. Sometimes Kormak saw faces looking down at them. He pointed this out to Zamara.

  “As long as they don’t attack us, they are not a problem,” the captain said. “They are probably just watching us to make sure we do no harm as we pass through their territory. If they were going to ambush us, they would have done so by now.”

  “Or they are waiting for something,” Kormak said, looking out from the sterncastle. Nothing was visible in the woods. The drummer kept up the beat, the oars rose and fell, the warship moved against the current like a water bug on the surface of a pond.

  “What would they be waiting for?”

  Kormak remembered the Great Trees and the elves that served them. In the past he had spoken with those alien beings but he did not like to guess as to their motives or plans. “I don’t know,” he said.

  The day passed. The wounded lay contemplating their bloodied limbs and making coarse jokes at the expense of the comrades who had shot them. The sailors went about the business of the ship. Frater Jonas sat on a bench and studied the text of The Book of the Sun as if he expected a visitation of Angels to come test him on his knowledge of scripture. Zamara dozed in his chair on the command deck, preserving his strength in case another crisis came upon them in the night. Terves stood at his shoulder watching him with the patience of an old family retainer.

  The river snaked through the forest, and they travelled on hour after hour, through an unbreaking monotony of green. Now and again a sentinel bellowed a warning but by the time all eyes had focused, the elves, if elves they were, had gone.

  In the early evening, another shout rang out. A canoe emerged from beyond an island in the river, moving down river towards the ship. On the prow stood a tall elf, arms wide and fingers outstretched so that they could see he had no weapon.

  The crossbowmen fitted quarrels into their arbalests. Zamara hunched down as he made his way to the prow. It was a poor risk to expose himself to the arrows of an enemy. He was the commander.

  “Greetings, men of the Sun,” said the elves in unison. They spoke Solari well but in an antique form.

  “Greetings,” said Zamara. “What would you have of us?”

  “I bring word for one aboard your ship. I would speak with him alone.”

  “Who among my crew has had dealings with the elves?”

  “The Treekiller.”

  Kormak showed himself and the elves’ heads all swivelled to look at him. They performed the act with an eerie precision, as if a single mind coordinated their actions.

  “What would you speak of?” Kormak said.

  “Matters not for the ears of your companions.”

  Zamara looked at him. “It might be a trap. How could they have known you were aboard? And why do they call you Treekiller? It does not sound like the name they would give a friend.”

  “It is a long story,” Kormak said.

  “Join me on the island, Treekiller, and we will have words, you and I.”

  “I’ll talk with them,” Kormak said. “We may as well know what they want.”

  “Very well, but I’ll have my men cover you. If there’s a problem dive into the water and swim for it.”

  Kormak looked at the half dozen elves. “If there’s a problem I will kill them myself.”

  Kormak stepped out of the small boat and walked down the beach to reach the elves. They were tall and slender with fine ash-blonde hair, swept back to reveal pointed ears. They looked as alike as identical twins. The similarity was much greater than anything he had seen among other elvish nations.

  “Gilean of Kayoga sends greetings,” said one elf.

  “And I greet her back. To whom do I speak?”

  “I am Ralan. I speak for Tumitha. We are her children.”

  Kormak bowed his head. “What does the Great Tree wish of me?”

  “She wishes to understand what you are doing here. Do you pursue someone?”

  “A man from the sea, a sorcerer. He came this way on a ship not unlike my own.”

  The elves nodded in unison. “We know this man. He passed through our lands. He had that with him which caused Tumitha unease.”

  “What would that be?”

  “A creature not even close to being a man. It was of a race unseen in these parts for five thousand winters.”

  “One of the Quan?”

  “That is how they are known among your people. To the Triturids, they were known only as the Enemy.”

  The Triturids were another Elder Race, servants of the Old One Tritureon, who had dwelled along the coasts of the World Ocean many millennia ago. Their ruins could be found from the island of Thuria in the far north to the coasts of Solarea at the Gates of the Dragon Sea. “How do you know what the Triturids thought?”

  “Tumitha gave them shelter. They lived under the shadow of her leaves for many summers. They fought against Dhagoth and his servants during the wars of the Eldrim. You are approaching Triturek, the greatest of their citadels. The sorcerer you seek is already within its walls. His presence has driven the Triturids into a frenzy.”

  “He has not passed beyond?”

  “We would know if he had.”

  “I must find him then.”

  “Be careful in that place. Our people shun the city. It is tainted by the Shadow. It has seeped into the very stones of the place and warped all who live near. The Triturids are degenerate shadows of what they once were. Whatever this sorcerer and his Quan ally seek, it cannot be a good thing. Tumitha wishes you to know this.”

  “Why does she help me?”

  “You freed her brother from the Shadow, even if you killed him. There is a debt there. And she bears no love for the Quan. Wicked they were in ancient times, and dark and fell and mighty. She doubts the passage of time has improved their nature.”

  “I had thought the Quan gone from this world along with their patron.”

  “So had she. She believed they died when their mother, the sea monster Leviathan was slain. This disturbs her. Perhaps one of the forgotten Powers of ancient days stirs.”

  Kormak wondered what else the Great Tree knew that it was not telling him. He felt enmeshed in a vast web. Father Jonas and his Order had own agenda. The Great Tree had its. Doubtless the Kraken and his inhuman ally had theirs.

  “I thank you and I thank Tumitha,” he said.

  “Best be wary within Triturek. It is a vile place.” Without saying anything more, the elves rose in unison and left. They did not look back.

  “What did they want?” Zamara asked as Kormak clambered up the rope netting on the side of the ship and over the railing.

  “They told me where the Kraken is.”

  “Where?”

  “Less than a day away, in the ruins left behind by one of the Elder Races.”

  Father Jonas looked at him. A sour expression twisted his mouth, as if he had just bitten into bad fruit. “Do these ruins belong to the Quan?”

  Kormak shook his head. “Their enemies, the Triturids.”

  The captain looked at them both, as if wondering what they were talking about.

  “That does not make any sense,” Jonas said. He frowned, black eyebrows joining together over his nose.

  “The elves said another thing—the Kraken has a Quan with him.”

  “The Black Priest?” Jonas said.

  “I believe so.”

  “That is not good news—the sage Petroneus claimed that the Quan were deadly sorcerers.”

  “They are also supposed to be extinct,” said Kormak.

  Jonas nodded. “In recent times there have been rumours out of Port Blood concerning their reappearance. One of our agents even connected them with the Kraken but my superiors dismissed the idea. They thought it was just someone who had heard of the Kraken’s interest
in elder world artefacts and jumped to a fanciful conclusion. It seems they were wrong.”

  “The Kraken is looking for something in the ruins, obviously, but what?”

  “We don’t need to know that,” said Zamara. “All we need to do is stop him getting it.”

  “It would help if we knew what it was,” said Jonas. “It might save us from any more unpleasant surprises.”

  “Join me in my cabin,” said Zamara. “It is obvious there are things we need to talk about.”

  On a war-galley like the Ocean’s Blade, even the captain’s cabin was tiny with room for little more than a bed. It was little more than a sheet of wood dangling from chains that lay atop a large sea chest. Zamara took a seat on it and indicated they should sit at his small table. Bolts fixed two chairs to the floor near it.

  “Tell me about these Quan,” he said. “Now!”

  Jonas looked at Kormak and then back at the captain. “They are an Elder Race long thought vanished from the world.”

  “Not any more if Sir Kormak’s pointy-eared friends are to be believed.”

  “The elves have no reason to lie,” said Kormak. “At least not about that.”

  Jonas looked at them as a teacher might consider two bickering students. He cleared his throat and said, “In the Age of Shadow, the Quan dwelled beneath the waves of the World Sea worshipping the Old One Dhagoth, the rider of Leviathan, Lord of the Darkest Depths. They were his greatest servants, mighty sorcerers. They consumed the souls of their victims. When Dhagoth warred with his greatest enemy Tritureon, they were his army. The two Old Ones fought a terrible war for control of the sea and destroyed each other. The sages believed their servants all perished with them.”

  “It seems some survived,” said Zamara.

  “We do not know much about the Servitor Races like the Quan and the Triturids,” Frater Jonas said. “Some of them are believed to be immortal. Some could lie seemingly dead for centuries, perhaps millennia, before returning to life.”

  Kormak thought of some of the creatures he had encountered in his own life and about what Tumitha’s mouthpiece had said about the Quan. He nodded.

  A knock sounded against the door. “We have found ruins, sir,” Terves reported. “You had better see them for yourself.”