conqueror and a prideful man of war.
“How did you come to sail alone with Irad the Arkite?” Captain Maharbal hissed. His youngest brother, a priest, had died in Auroch’s raid.
Despite their hatred, Auroch had been gently revived, fortified with ale, bread and cheese. In his possession had been Lod’s signet ring, recognized by Zillith, Lord Uriah, Maharbal and Adah. Auroch had told them that his delirious passenger was named Irad the Arkite. He’d said that Lod had bidden him sail to Gandvik Rock, to take refuge with the people he found there.
“Answer my question!” Captain Maharbal shouted.
Auroch sneered at the smaller Tarshmen. “I should have known better than to trust Lod’s word.” He spat on the deck. “The cursed Lod has brought nothing but ruin to our city. Now, I’m ruined for having trusted him.”
A tight grin spread across Captain Maharbal’s face. “It’s like I thought. You’re not from Lod.”
Exhaustion showed in Auroch’s eyes. His sneer faded, as he wearily said, “You Tarshmen are all alike. You can think of nothing else, but of how to cheat one who has done you a service.”
Captain Maharbal laughed harshly. “You dare to throw that in my teeth? You, a pirate who preys upon the weak, a reaver who boasts of his sword arm and the hordes he’s sent to the Reaper of Slain Souls?”
Auroch threw back his massive shoulders. “The men of Shamgar do no less than the men of Further Tarsh.”
“Filth of the sea!” snarled Captain Maharbal. “You’ll regret those words.” He snatched his dagger.
“Wait,” said Lord Uriah.
Maharbal paused. The sailors around him shifted expectantly.
Auroch sneered, “O brave Tarshman, strike before you count your numbers and find that you lack enough men to feel safe before me.”
“Do not hide behind your weariness, and then spout lies,” Captain Maharbal said, although he lowered his arm. “And do not worry I’ll use my men against you. If you desire, I’ll give you your dagger. Then we can see who’s bold and who’s a coward.”
“What lies do I spout?” Auroch asked, hotly. “You Tarshmen have sewn up the markets. City after city refuses to trade with Shamgar. And why? Because the merchant-princes have formed the high-sounding League of Peace that keeps out their competitors. Your warships sink any ship not belonging to the league. Thus, you feel free to charge outrageous prices. Do not call us pirates, O Prince of Thieves.”
“Bah! You spout evil Shamgar cant, as is the wont of wrongdoers who are at last captured. You, who’ve gloried in your butcheries, now claim the absurdity of having really wished to pursue peaceful trade. In your boldness, you’ve forgotten your sense of shame.” Captain Maharbal nodded. “Indeed, it is as you say, rogue, our warships sink the ships of Shamgar. Thus we free the Suttung Sea from the plague of piracy.”
“We’re forced into our piracy,” Auroch shot back, “otherwise, we would starve.” He folded his muscular arms across his chest. “Our god was right. He told us we must work together to rid the Suttung Sea of your evil League of Peace.”
“Your god?” Lord Uriah said, for the second time interrupting. “What god is this?”
“The great Gog,” Auroch said. “The god I foolishly fought against. The one who even now readies himself to punish those unbelievers like I myself once was.”
“He’s no god,” Lord Uriah said.
“So Lod declared. And so we captains who wished to keep our independence dared believe.” For the first time, Auroch’s eyes took on a haunted cast. “Tell me this, Warrior, who but a god can foretell the future? Who but a god commands giants and fiends? And, who but a god dares to make a pact with the legendary Nidhogg?” Auroch nodded at their surprised stares. “It’s true, or so claimed Gog’s heralds. Nidhogg is real, not a myth. Gog has made a pact with him. In the coming battles Nidhogg will fight as Gog’s ally. Only a god
“How did you come to sail alone with Irad the Arkite?” Captain Maharbal hissed. His youngest brother, a priest, had died in Auroch’s raid.
Despite their hatred, Auroch had been gently revived, fortified with ale, bread and cheese. In his possession had been Lod’s signet ring, recognized by Zillith, Lord Uriah, Maharbal and Adah. Auroch had told them that his delirious passenger was named Irad the Arkite. He’d said that Lod had bidden him sail to Gandvik Rock, to take refuge with the people he found there.
“Answer my question!” Captain Maharbal shouted.
Auroch sneered at the smaller Tarshmen. “I should have known better than to trust Lod’s word.” He spat on the deck. “The cursed Lod has brought nothing but ruin to our city. Now, I’m ruined for having trusted him.”
A tight grin spread across Captain Maharbal’s face. “It’s like I thought. You’re not from Lod.”
Exhaustion showed in Auroch’s eyes. His sneer faded, as he wearily said, “You Tarshmen are all alike. You can think of nothing else, but of how to cheat one who has done you a service.”
Captain Maharbal laughed harshly. “You dare to throw that in my teeth? You, a pirate who preys upon the weak, a reaver who boasts of his sword arm and the hordes he’s sent to the Reaper of Slain Souls?”
Auroch threw back his massive shoulders. “The men of Shamgar do no less than the men of Further Tarsh.”
“Filth of the sea!” snarled Captain Maharbal. “You’ll regret those words.” He snatched his dagger.
“Wait,” said Lord Uriah.
Maharbal paused. The sailors around him shifted expectantly.
Auroch sneered, “O brave Tarshman, strike before you count your numbers and find that you lack enough men to feel safe before me.”
“Do not hide behind your weariness, and then spout lies,” Captain Maharbal said, although he lowered his arm. “And do not worry I’ll use my men against you. If you desire, I’ll give you your dagger. Then we can see who’s bold and who’s a coward.”
“What lies do I spout?” Auroch asked, hotly. “You Tarshmen have sewn up the markets. City after city refuses to trade with Shamgar. And why? Because the merchant-princes have formed the high-sounding League of Peace that keeps out their competitors. Your warships sink any ship not belonging to the league. Thus, you feel free to charge outrageous prices. Do not call us pirates, O Prince of Thieves.”
“Bah! You spout evil Shamgar cant, as is the wont of wrongdoers who are at last captured. You, who’ve gloried in your butcheries, now claim the absurdity of having really wished to pursue peaceful trade. In your boldness, you’ve forgotten your sense of shame.” Captain Maharbal nodded. “Indeed, it is as you say, rogue, our warships sink the ships of Shamgar. Thus we free the Suttung Sea from the plague of piracy.”
“We’re forced into our piracy,” Auroch shot back, “otherwise, we would starve.” He folded his muscular arms across his chest. “Our god was right. He told us we must work together to rid the Suttung Sea of your evil League of Peace.”
“Your god?” Lord Uriah said, for the second time interrupting. “What god is this?”
“The great Gog,” Auroch said. “The god I foolishly fought against. The one who even now readies himself to punish those unbelievers like I myself once was.”
“He’s no god,” Lord Uriah said.
“So Lod declared. And so we captains who wished to keep our independence dared believe.” For the first time, Auroch’s eyes took on a haunted cast. “Tell me this, Warrior, who but a god can foretell the future? Who but a god commands giants and fiends? And, who but a god dares to make a pact with the legendary Nidhogg?” Auroch nodded at their surprised stares. “It’s true, or so claimed Gog’s heralds. Nidhogg is real, not a myth. Gog has made a pact with him. In the coming battles Nidhogg will fight as Gog’s ally. Only a god
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