Siege of Stone

CHAPTER 73

The mists on the wide river did not obscure the cold, miserable morning. Rain fell gently on the decks of the Norukai ships, and King Grieve stood in the open in his sharkskin vest, his massive bare arms slick from the rain. He stared ahead as if he could penetrate the fog with the power of his gaze, but he saw only the gray shadows of tangled trees on the nearer shore.

The treacherous swamps had gone on for miles as the Norukai fleet sailed upriver. The opposite shore was lost in the gloom and rain. In places, the Killraven River was so wide it seemed like the sea. Grieve didn’t like close banks and narrow shores, which made him feel confined.

Water lapped against the hull of his serpent ship, and the dark sails stretched, pushed along by the directed breeze. Grieve wanted to increase their pace, so Norukai crewmen extended their oars and drove the fleet onward, like a slow sword thrust against the current.

The fog muffled all sound. Drummers on each foredeck pounded out a steady rowing beat as the ominous vessels moved along. The rhythmic pounding would strike fear into any weak villagers huddled on the banks watching the ships pass.

A large trout leaped up, startled by the passage of such immense vessels. Chalk pranced over, gripping the rail and lurching himself up on spindly arms. He peered over the edge, squirming, watching the ripples in the brown current. Grieve grabbed his bony shoulder and pulled him back so he wouldn’t fall overboard.

“A fish, my Grieve, King Grieve! A king fish!” He grinned with lopsided lips on his pocked face. “Ildakar is a fish. We will catch it and gut it, and roast it over a fire.”

“Yes, we will catch it and gut it,” Grieve said, “but we can’t destroy it, because it is mine. It will be the capital of my new empire.”

“They’ll all grieve!” Chalk looked over the railing again, searching for more fish.

Another trout leaped, and the pale shaman grinned, but a different form cruised through the water, unseen. A swamp dragon lunged, and its jaws snatched the trout. Holding the fish in its teeth, the reptile submerged and swam away with barely a ripple.

The drumbeats continued, the long oars stroked, and the Norukai ships moved up the river.

Mounted on a spike at the prow was the hideous head of the selka. The slimy creature had sagged, the rubbery skin falling slack along its cheekbones and jaws. The yellow eyes had turned to jelly, and the crew had repeatedly chased away ravens that tried to peck at the delicacy. The sea creatures would not bother them now that the Norukai ships were far up the Killraven River.

Out in the ocean, the angry selka had followed the fleet, threatening, but unable to attack. The Norukai raiders had jeered and taunted them, throwing harpoons on ropes, trying to stab the outlying creatures, but missed. The selka followed them all the way to the estuary, raising their ugly heads above the water, hissing unintelligible curses. The Norukai responded by emptying the foul-smelling bilges into the water behind the ships.

The rain had started on their third day moving upriver. The Norukai ships sailed past villages on the banks, small fishing and trading towns. Previously, Norukai slavers might stop and raid the weaker villages just to replace any walking meat that died during the voyage.

This time, the fifty serpent ships were on a military conquest, not a mere raid, but Grieve’s fighters were restless. He allowed a few vessels to pull ashore and let the fighters slosh to the banks, where they could kill townspeople, set homes on fire, rape women, and leave a mark of terror. If King Grieve was going to wrap the entire continent in his iron fist, he needed the people to fear him. But he wanted to get to Ildakar.

Shivering, Chalk wrapped his scrawny arms around his bony chest. “Fire. I wish we had fire. So cold.”

“I gave you a blanket,” Grieve said. “Wrap yourself in it.”

“Fire. I want a fire. Like the big hearth in the Bastion.”

“We can’t have a big fire on a ship. Use the blanket.”

Chalk hunched down, and his teeth chattered loudly enough to be heard over the drumbeat the rowers used to keep time with their oars. “Cold. Ice. Snow.”

Grieve felt sorry for his eccentric and stubborn friend. Chalk always seemed to be chilled, even on the main island. The shaman spent half his days near the roaring fire, but he chose to wear no more than a loincloth. He didn’t want to hide the countless bite marks that covered his skin, but he looked so miserable now.

“You will have your fire in Ildakar,” Grieve said. “We can burn part of the city and that will keep you warm enough.” When Chalk didn’t answer, he nudged the shaman. “At least get out of the rain. Take shelter in the back cabin or belowdecks.”

“Snow and ice,” Chalk moaned. “Everything so cold. The river frozen!”

“It’s just rain. Soon the sun will come out.”

Forgetting his physical discomfort, Chalk sprang to his feet again. “The sun will come out, my Grieve! Yes, late in the morning, and we will see Ildakar! Our fish, King Grieve. They’ll all grieve.”

“They’ll all grieve.” He recognized the cockeyed intensity in Chalk’s expression. “Is that a dream?”

“Yes, Ildakar. We are almost there, but the cold and ice…” Chalk shook his head and huddled around himself again, shivering. “And snow!”

“You don’t even know snow,” Grieve said. “You have never seen it.”

“Cold!” Chalk insisted.

The drums pounded, and the oars sloshed in perfect coordination. The serpent ships glided past the swamps. Grieve had listened to Captain Kor’s report of the previous expedition to Ildakar, and he knew they were nearly at their destination.

An hour later, the rain slackened and the mists grew more diffuse as weak yellow light burned through the river fog. Grieve hunched over the prow, sick of waiting, and stared into the brightening light. Chalk relished the faint sunshine.

Finally, around midmorning, exactly as the shaman had predicted, the sun broke through, so the Norukai king could look ahead. He saw the sandstone cliffs, the uplift the ancient wizards had created. At last he saw with his own eyes the ancient city of Ildakar towering above the river, its white buildings and tall towers shining in the distance. The city alone was larger than the main Norukai island. Grieve’s fifty ships would be enough to conquer it, though. Of that he had no doubt.

Chalk jabbed a bony finger at the sight. “They’ll all grieve. Our fish! They’ll all grieve.”

The Norukai king touched the soft smelly head of the decomposing selka. He squeezed the oozing flesh of its cheeks and turned the creature so its runny eye sockets pointed toward the vulnerable city. “There,” he said, in a low voice, “I want you to see our next victory.”