The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock (18 page)

“I doubt it,” said Gino, taking a bite out of his
cooked circle fish. “Lowlife like her feed off the thrill they get
from murdering innocent people. She probably got enough of that
from us to last her a lifetime.”

“That reminds me,” said Kinker. “We need to find
replacements for Daro and Magnisa.”

Gino almost dropped his fish. “What?”

“New members of the fishing crew,” said Kinker.
“Preparing food for the whole crew is a six person job. We're down
to four now.”

“Oh,” said Gino, looking down at his lap. “Right.
Well, who do you think we should choose?”

“Not sure,” Kinker admitted. “Malock is usually in
charge of assigning sailors to specific jobs. Deddio, have you
spoken with Malock about it?”

“No,” said Deddio. “Been so busy over the past
couple of days that it's slipped my mind. Besides, Malock's been so
busy. He spends almost all of his time in the hold, interrogating
Garnal. Sometimes I wonder if he sleeps down there all night, just
in case Garnal mutters something in her sleep.”

“He's interrogating her right now, isn't he?” said
Kinker. “I wonder how that's going.”

“Probably not very well,” said Gino. “I'm sure we
would have heard by now if he was making any progress.”

-

The air in the hold was dull, damp, and heavy. The
walls creaked and groaned, threatening to break apart and sink the
entire ship, yet they held as they always had, reinforced by a
basic repair spell Bifor had cast on it a few weeks back before the
Iron Wind
had entered the southern seas. Boxes and crates of
various sizes—many of them empty, though several were full of
things like ammunition, fishing equipment, and a couple of other
odd objects—were scattered everywhere.

Malock sat on a stool, his boat cloak traded in for
a much cooler white long-sleeved shirt that breathed better, eating
some lime fish soup that Banika had brought down for him. Banika
sat on a nearby crate, eating her own bowl of the foul-tasting
soup, though far more discreetly than he was.

Sitting opposite Malock, with her arms and legs
bound so tightly together that she probably couldn't even feel them
anymore, was Garnal. She watched with hungry eyes as Malock slurped
his soup, burped, and generally made noises that indicated he was
enjoying his meal immensely (even though it actually wasn't that
good). He saw saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth, but
pretended not to notice.

Putting his bowl down on his lap, Malock wiped the
remains from his lips and said, “Hungry, Garnal?”

The Pirate scowled and looked away. “Of course not.
Crustaceans like me can go weeks without eating. Your sloppy table
manners hardly tempt me.”

Malock smirked. “Are you sure? I'd be willing to
share if you'd just tell me about the thing that completely
decimated your entire crew and ship.”

Garnal made an angry chittering sound with her
teeth. “You don't want to know about it. If you are lucky, you will
never have to face it. I'd rather die than give you information you
could use to save yourself, knowledge that I could have used to
save my own crew if I'd had it.”

“And by withholding this information, you are surely
not dooming yourself to death if that happens to us,” said Malock.
“For such a big-time pirate, you sure are stupid.”

“You don't want to know it,” said Garnal. “If I tell
you about it, it will haunt your dreams and you will never be able
to sleep peacefully again.”

“I didn't know you cared about my wellbeing,” said
Malock. “Maybe you aren't such a bad person after all, Gar.”

“Shut up, gold blood,” Garnal said. She shuddered.
“That thing ... telling you about it would force me to relive it.
And trust me when I say that you only want to experience that kind
of thing once.”

Malock leaned forward, being careful not to drop his
bowl, and said, “Here's the deal. You tell me all about the thing,
as much as you can remember, and I'll let you go. You will be free
to terrorize the seas again. Doesn't that sound like the kind of
thing a pirate like you would want?”

Garnal inclined her head, as if thinking about the
offer.

Then she said slowly, “Fine. I am getting tired of
being tied up and forced to sleep in this hold like a cabin boy.
I'll tell you what you need to know. You promise to let me go when
I do?”

“Of course,” said Malock. “In case you forgot, I am
not a pirate. I actually keep to my word.”

Garnal snorted. “The last time I heard a royal say
that ... oh, never mind. I will just begin. The quicker I tell you
this story, the quicker I get my freedom.”

“Just don't skimp on any details,” Malock told her.
“Banika here is a telemancer who specializes in truth-detecting. If
you leave out even one detail, she'll know.”

Of course that was a lie. Banika didn't know any
magic (at least, as far as Malock knew, she didn't). She didn't
know anything about telemancy, a field of mind magic that covered
subjects like telepathy, telekinesis, and so on.

But Garnal didn't know that. She just glanced at
Banika uneasily, who was still eating her soup as if Malock had
said nothing, and then looked back at Malock.

“Fine,” said Garnal. “I'm sure you know that we, the
Gray Pirates, are the longest-lasting and most successful pirating
group in the history of Martir. We have stolen the Golden Scepter
of Nargode, a priceless historical artifact valued by all humans;
defeated the Shikan Navy; and successfully raided the treasury of
the aquarian city of Nemo, among our many other fine exploits.”

Malock nodded. He remembered hearing about all of
those tales growing up. His own island, Carnag, had once lost an
entire shipment of their finest boots to the Gray Pirates, which
was what caused his father to pledge ten thousand coins to anyone
who could bring Garnal's head to his throne.

“But haven't you ever wondered what we did with all
of that?” said Garnal. “None of the money or objects we stole ever
ended up on the black market. Countless bounty hunters, government
officials, treasure hunters, and others have tried to find our loot
and failed.”

That was also true. It was also why the Gray Pirates
were so feared. It seemed like every time they stole something, it
disappeared forever, never to be seen again. Malock had privately
assumed they simply destroyed everything they stole, though now
that he thought about that, it was a silly assumption to make.

“We hid it all on a tiny island in the southern
seas,” said Garnal. “We discovered the island when we fled from our
first successful theft. I won't tell you where the island is
located, but I will say that it is not far from our current
position.”

Good old pirate greed. Malock had no intention
whatsoever of taking Garnal's loot or visiting her island, but she
apparently believed he did.

“There is a large underground cave there,” said
Garnal. “Very thick walls with an entrance so well-hidden that even
a topomancer would have a difficult time finding it. Because no one
lived on the island and it was unknown to everyone else, we turned
the cave into our treasure vault. We'd dump our loot in the cave
after a successful theft and hide on the island itself if the
Northern Isles became too hot for us. It is how we managed to avoid
capture and disappear whenever we needed to.”

That was another thing about the Gray Pirates that
no one had ever understood. Every time a bunch of bounty hunters or
government navies got together to hunt them down, the Pirates would
always disappear as if they were ghosts. Malock remembered the
speculations, most of them centering on an aoramancer cloaking the
ship in an obscure part of the Northern Isles. Hiding in the
southern seas made so much sense that Malock felt stupid for not
thinking of it himself.

“We thought our little island base was the safest
place in the world,” said Garnal. “For years, we were the only ones
who ever set foot there. We never even saw any other ships come,
probably because it was located in the southern seas. We even began
to believe that the legends about the southern seas, all of those
tales about monsters and dangerous weather and mysterious beings,
were just scary tales made up by cowards who didn't understand
anything. We felt we ruled the southern seas and that that little
island of ours was our throne. How foolish were we.”

They must not have met the Loner God, then,
Malock thought.

“Then, about a week before we discovered you guys,
everything changed,” said Garnal. “We were celebrating another
successful raid, having recently stolen the crown of your mother,
Queen Markinia, and—”

“Hold on,” said Malock. “You stole my mother's
crown? When did this happen?”

“While you were out on this stupid quest of yours,
of course,” said Garnal. “Anyway, we just evaded the Carnagian navy
and decided to lay low on our island for a while. We decided to
throw a party because it had been a few days since the last one and
we'd managed to acquire some fine black beer from a dealer on
Carnag. It was a great party. You should have been there.”

“I don't party with pirates,” said Malock. “Are you
getting somewhere with this story?”

“Don't worry, gold blood, I am,” said Garnal. “I am
just trying to remember the good times me and my crew used to have
before all hell broke loose. Besides, I enjoy watching you get
impatient because it confirms what I've always believed about you
royals: you're nothing more than impatient spoiled brats who can't
wait for anything.”

Malock ignored the insult. “Continue, please.”

“Anyway,” Garnal said, sounding more than a bit
pleased that she had managed to anger Malock, “we were partying on
the deck of our ship, a fine schooner called the
Gray Ghost
,
when a storm suddenly came out of nowhere. This took us by
surprise, partly because we were drunk as hell, partly because the
night sky had been very clear and none of us had been expecting it
to rain. The more sober of us managed to horde the rest of us into
the cave to wait out the storm.”

“And then what happened?”

“As I said, I am getting to it,” said Garnal. “So we
continued the party in our treasure cave, dancing and drinking and
fornicating and all that good stuff. I don't remember even half the
stuff I did that night, I was so drunk, but I can assure you that
most of it would probably offend your royal sensibilities.

“Then ... it happened.”

“What happened?” said Malock.

Garnal looked away, as if the very thought of it
shook her to the core. “The roof of the cave was ripped straight
off. The rain fell on us and then I looked up and saw the
Verch.”

“Verch?” said Malock. “What is the Verch?”

“You mean you haven't heard?” said Garnal. “And here
I thought you were supposed to be a lover of all things aquarian.
Well, the Verch is a figure from the mythology of my people.
According to the old legends, it is a powerful being, weaker than
the gods but stronger than we mortals, who brings swift and
terrible punishment down on those who have angered the gods. The
word 'Verch' roughly translates to 'Punishment' in your human
tongue, I believe.”

“Interesting,” said Malock. “So you think this
'Punishment' attacked you?”

“Think? I know so,” said Garnal. “Saw it with my own
eyes. Standing there, hefting the roof of the cave above its head,
its big red eyes glaring at us, smoke and smog shooting out from
its ears, slime dripping everywhere ... it was the most horrible
thing I have ever seen in my entire life and let me tell you that I
have seen many horrible things in my life.”

Malock leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed
across his chest and a smirk on his lips. “How appropriate that
thieves and murderers were punished by a servant of the gods. It is
poetic justice at its finest.”

“You wouldn't be saying that if you actually saw the
Verch yourself,” said Garnal. “Anyway, to finish the story, the
Verch killed almost all of my men, save for those dozen who managed
to escape with me, destroyed all of our loot, and then smashed our
ship into tiny little pieces. I believe the only reason we managed
to escape, despite being drunk out of our minds, is because we got
caught in a current that pulled us away.”

“And you've been on the run since.”

“More or less,” said Garnal. “Daryh got snapped up
in your pathetic excuse for a trawl, which is how we found out
about you. We were desperate, which is why we attacked you, even
though we knew the chances of us succeeding were slim at best.”

Malock scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Well, if
your story is true, I don't see any reason to fear for my life.
I've done nothing to anger the gods. I understand why you were
punished, though. You had it coming.”

“Perhaps,” said Garnal. “But I and my men looted,
pillaged, raped, murdered, and plundered for years without any of
the gods lifting so much as one finger to stop us. Why did they
wait until just recently to punish us?”

“The gods' ways are mysterious,” Malock said. “We do
not always understand why they do what they do. I'm sure they had a
good reason for it.”

Garnal snorted. “If you say so. Now, if I remember
correctly, you promised to let me free if I told you my story. You
promised.”

Malock grinned and looked at Banika. “So? Did she
tell the truth?”

Banika looked up and, without changing her
expression even slightly, nodded. Garnal let out an audible sigh of
relief.

“All right,” said Malock. “As I said, I am a man of
my word. But if you ever try to come back, I will kill you. Got
it?”

Garnal nodded. “I would not expect anything less
from my new worst enemy.”

“Good,” said Malock as he stood up, holding his soup
bowl in his hands. “Banika, let's get this pirate out of here and
back into the sea, where she belongs. She's wasted enough of our
time as is.”