The First Chronicles Of Druss The Legend

Drenai 6 - The First Chronicles of Druss The Legend

BOOK TWO: The Demon in the Axe Prologue

The ship glided from the harbour, the early evening swell rippling against the hull. Rowena stood on the aft deck, the tiny figure of Pudri beside her. Above them, unnoticed on the raised tiller deck, stood the Ventrian merchant Kabuchek. Tall and cadaverously thin, he stared at the dock. He had seen Collan cut down by an unknown swordsman, and had watched the giant Drenai warrior battle his way through Collan’s men. Interesting, he thought, what men will do for love.

His thoughts flew back to his youth in Varsipis and his desire for the young maiden Harenini. Did I love her then, he wondered? Or has time added colours to the otherwise grey days of youth?

The ship lifted on the swell as the vessel approached the harbour mouth and the surging tides beyond. Kabuchek glanced down at the girl; Collan had sold her cheaply. Five thousand pieces of silver for a talent such as hers? Ludicrous. He had been prepared for a charlatan, or a clever trickster. But she had taken his hand, looked into his eyes and said a single word: “Harenini.” Kabuchek had kept the shock from his face. He had not heard her name in twenty-five years, and certainly there was no way that the pirate Collan could have known of his juvenile infatuation. Though already convinced of her talents, Kabuchek asked many questions until finally he turned to Collan. “It appears she has a modicum of talent,” he said. “What price are you asking?”

“Five thousand.”

Kabuchek swung to his servant, the eunuch Pudri. “Pay him,” he said, concealing the smile of triumph and contenting himself with the tormented look which appeared on Collan’s face. “I will take her to the ship myself.”

Now, judging by how close the axeman had come, he congratulated himself upon his shrewdness. He heard Pudri’s gentle voice speaking to the girl.

“I pray your husband is not dead,” said Pudri. Kabuchek glanced back at the dock and saw two Drenai warriors were kneeling beside the still figure of the axeman.

“He will live,” said Rowena, tears filling her eyes. “And he will follow me.”

If he does, thought Kabuchek, I will have him slain.

“He has a great love for you, Pahtai,” said Pudri soothingly. “So it should be between husband and wife. It rarely happens that way, however. I myself have had three wives - and none of them loved me. But then a eunuch is not the ideal mate.”

The girl watched the tiny figures on the dock until the ship had slipped out of the harbour and the lights of Mashrapur became distant twinkling candles. She sighed and sank down on the rail seat, her head bowed, tears spilling from her eyes.

Pudri sat beside her, his slender arm on her shoulders. “Yes,” he whispered, “tears are good. Very good.” Patting her back as if she were a small child, he sat beside her and whispered meaningless platitudes.

Kabuchek climbed down the deck steps and approached them. “Bring her to my cabin,” he ordered Pudri.

Rowena glanced up at the harsh face of her new master. His nose was long and hooked, like the beak of an eagle, and his skin was darker than any she had seen, almost black. His eyes, however, were a bright blue beneath thick brows. Beside her Pudri stood, helping her to her feet, and together they followed the Ventrian merchant down the steps to the aft cabin. Lanterns were lit here, hanging on bronze hooks from low oak beams.

Kabuchek sat down behind a desk of polished mahogany. “Cast the runes for the voyage,” he ordered Rowena.

“I do not cast runes,” she said. “I would not know how.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Do whatever it is you do, woman. The sea is a treacherous mistress and I need to know how the voyage will be.”

Rowena sat opposite him. “Give me your hand,” she said. Leaning forward, he struck her face with his open palm. It was not a heavy blow, but it stung the skin.

“You will address me always as master,” he said, without any display of anger. His bright blue eyes scrutinised her face for any sign of anger or defiance, but found himself gazing into calm hazel eyes which appeared to be appraising him. Curiously he felt like apologising for the blow, which was a ridiculous thought. It was not intended to hurt, being merely a swift method of establishing authority-ownership. He cleared his throat. “I expect you to learn swiftly the ways of Ventrian households. You will be well cared for and well fed; your quarters will be comfortable and warm in winter, cool in summer. But you are a slave: understand that. I own you. You are property. Do you understand this?”

“I understand… master,” said the girl. The title was said with just a touch of emphasis, but without insolence.

“Very well. Then let us move on to more important matters.” He extended his hand.

Rowena reached out and touched his open palm. At first she could see only the details of his recent past, his agreement with the traitors who had slain the Ventrian Emperor, one of them a hawk-faced man. Kabuchek was kneeling before him and there was blood on the man’s sleeve. A name whispered into her mind - Shabag.

“What’s that you say?” hissed Kabuchek.

Rowena blinked, then realised she must have spoken the name. “I see a tall man with blood on his sleeve. You are kneeling before him…”

“The future, girl! Not the past.” From the decks above came a great flapping as if some giant flying beast was descending from the sky. Rowena was startled. “It is just the mainsail,” said Kabuchek. “Concentrate, girl!”

Closing her eyes, Rowena allowed her mind to drift. She could see the ship now from above, floating on a clear sea beneath a sky of brilliant blue. Then another ship hove into sight, a trireme, its three banks of oars sending up a white spray as it sheared through the waves towards them. Rowena floated closer… closer. Armed men filled the trireme’s deck.

Silver-grey forms swam around the trireme - great fish, twenty feet long, with fins like spear points cutting through the water. Rowena watched as the two ships crashed together, saw men falling into the water and the sleek grey fish rising up towards them. Blood billowed into the sea, and she saw the jagged teeth in the mouths of the fish, saw them rend and tear and dismember the helpless sailors thrashing in the water.

The battle on the ship’s deck was short and brutal. She saw herself and.Pudri, and the tall form of Kabuchek clambering over the aft rail and leaping out into the waves.

The killer fish circled them - then moved in.

Rowena could watch no more and, jerking her mind to the present, she opened her eyes.

“Well, what did you see?” asked Kabuchek.

“A black-sailed trireme, master.”

“Earin Shad,” whispered Pudri, his face pale, his eyes fearful.

“Do we escape him?” asked Kabuchek.

“Yes,” said Rowena, her voice dull, her thoughts full of despair, “we escape Earin Shad.”

“Good. I am well satisfied,” announced Kabuchek. He glanced at Pudri. “Take her to her cabin and give her some food. She is looking pale.”

Pudri led Rowena back along the narrow corridor to a small door. Pushing it open, he stepped inside. “The bed is very small, but you are not large. I think it will suffice, Pahtai.” Rowena nodded dumbly and sat.

“You saw more than you told the master,” he said.

“Yes. There were fish, huge fish, dark with terrible teeth.”

“Sharks,” said Pudri, sitting beside her.

“This ship will be sunk,” she told him. “And you and I, and Kabuchek, will leap into the sea, where the sharks will be waiting.”