mood.”
Karn nodded, sipping his mead. “Still no hint as to his lady fair?”
Gruum shot the man a glance. Did everyone aboard know of his master’s search for a lost woman? He hesitated, but then decided that secrets weren’t meant to be kept upon a ship at sea. “No, no sign.”
“Ah, lost love has a way of warping a man’s soul.”
Gruum nodded, taking a heavy gulp of mead. It ran hotly down his throat and exploded with warmth in his belly. “Yes, it does indeed.”
None of them spoke for a time. The sea furled at the prow and splashed up the sides of the ship. The sails overhead ruffled and snapped in the chill winds.
“And how is your master this evening?” Gruum asked finally.
Karn gave him a glance, and smiled. “Sullen, and in as foul a mood as yours. I imagine he is abusing the cabin boy again.”
Gruum grunted. Karn’s master, the Captain of the Innsmouth , was indeed a brute.
The deck creaked behind them. It was their only warning.
Gruum ducked as something swished over his head. Karn was not so lucky. A heavy pinion of stout hardwood caught him in the ear and dashed him to the deck.
Gruum rolled and came up with his saber in his hand.
There, drunken and swaying, stood the hulking shape of the Innsmouth’s captain. A very large man, he loomed over them. His huge arms seemed to hang down to his knees. “So, drinking on watch again, Karn?”
Gruum lowered his saber and stepped back uncertainly. This was a matter between the ship’s master and his mate.
The Captain eyed Gruum. “Aye, you’d best be putting that toy away, little man.”
Gruum glowered, but did not raise his saber. He stood beside the helmsman, who quietly watched the scene with inscrutable eyes.
Karn took this moment of distraction to spring up and attack his master. A sliver of steel flashed in his hand. The Captain whirled back to face him, faster than his bulk and his drunken state should have allowed. Karn slashed open the Captain’s arm, but the pinion rose and came down again, dashing Karn to the deck a second time.
Karn sprang back up and circled the bigger man, a dagger plainly in his hand. He favored his left side, which no doubt now carried a set of broken ribs.
“You’ll take your thrashing and like it,” breathed the Captain. “Put away that tiny blade or it will go the worse for you.”
“I’ve taken my last beating on his ship,” Karn snarled. “You are my master no longer.”
Gruum looked around and realized that many of the crewmen had slipped up from below decks and were watching the fight. He was surprised that none moved to stop it. But then, perhaps they would cheer if Karn slit the huge bastard’s throat.
The Captain lashed out with the pinion again, but this time Karn darted to one side and thrust his dagger into a meaty shoulder. The Captain howled and slammed his fist into the smaller man, sending him reeling back. Again, Karn circled.
Therian appeared at Gruum’s side. “An opportunity,” he said quietly.
Gruum turned to him. Therian looked weak and drawn. Seeker was out, but its twin Succor was still sheathed.
“Milord?” asked Gruum.
“I’m tired of fish and seabirds. Their tiny lives do nothing to warm my bones on this freezing ocean.”
So saying, Therian approached the two sparring men.
They paid him no attention, until he stepped close and without ceremony thrust Seeker’s tip into Karn’s side. The man howled and twisted upon the sword.
Everyone staggered back, stunned. Therian eyed them, his teeth tightly clenched. “He took up a weapon against his rightful Captain,” he cried aloud, addressing the surprised crew. “On any ship, the Captain is as a lord over the crewmen. Karn’s life was thus forfeit by the law of the sea.”
Then Therian began to speak the words of the Dragons, and all there cried and clutched at their ears, save the Captain and Gruum, who merely winced. Upon the starlit deck, eldritch lights of yellow and green chased one another
Karn nodded, sipping his mead. “Still no hint as to his lady fair?”
Gruum shot the man a glance. Did everyone aboard know of his master’s search for a lost woman? He hesitated, but then decided that secrets weren’t meant to be kept upon a ship at sea. “No, no sign.”
“Ah, lost love has a way of warping a man’s soul.”
Gruum nodded, taking a heavy gulp of mead. It ran hotly down his throat and exploded with warmth in his belly. “Yes, it does indeed.”
None of them spoke for a time. The sea furled at the prow and splashed up the sides of the ship. The sails overhead ruffled and snapped in the chill winds.
“And how is your master this evening?” Gruum asked finally.
Karn gave him a glance, and smiled. “Sullen, and in as foul a mood as yours. I imagine he is abusing the cabin boy again.”
Gruum grunted. Karn’s master, the Captain of the Innsmouth , was indeed a brute.
The deck creaked behind them. It was their only warning.
Gruum ducked as something swished over his head. Karn was not so lucky. A heavy pinion of stout hardwood caught him in the ear and dashed him to the deck.
Gruum rolled and came up with his saber in his hand.
There, drunken and swaying, stood the hulking shape of the Innsmouth’s captain. A very large man, he loomed over them. His huge arms seemed to hang down to his knees. “So, drinking on watch again, Karn?”
Gruum lowered his saber and stepped back uncertainly. This was a matter between the ship’s master and his mate.
The Captain eyed Gruum. “Aye, you’d best be putting that toy away, little man.”
Gruum glowered, but did not raise his saber. He stood beside the helmsman, who quietly watched the scene with inscrutable eyes.
Karn took this moment of distraction to spring up and attack his master. A sliver of steel flashed in his hand. The Captain whirled back to face him, faster than his bulk and his drunken state should have allowed. Karn slashed open the Captain’s arm, but the pinion rose and came down again, dashing Karn to the deck a second time.
Karn sprang back up and circled the bigger man, a dagger plainly in his hand. He favored his left side, which no doubt now carried a set of broken ribs.
“You’ll take your thrashing and like it,” breathed the Captain. “Put away that tiny blade or it will go the worse for you.”
“I’ve taken my last beating on his ship,” Karn snarled. “You are my master no longer.”
Gruum looked around and realized that many of the crewmen had slipped up from below decks and were watching the fight. He was surprised that none moved to stop it. But then, perhaps they would cheer if Karn slit the huge bastard’s throat.
The Captain lashed out with the pinion again, but this time Karn darted to one side and thrust his dagger into a meaty shoulder. The Captain howled and slammed his fist into the smaller man, sending him reeling back. Again, Karn circled.
Therian appeared at Gruum’s side. “An opportunity,” he said quietly.
Gruum turned to him. Therian looked weak and drawn. Seeker was out, but its twin Succor was still sheathed.
“Milord?” asked Gruum.
“I’m tired of fish and seabirds. Their tiny lives do nothing to warm my bones on this freezing ocean.”
So saying, Therian approached the two sparring men.
They paid him no attention, until he stepped close and without ceremony thrust Seeker’s tip into Karn’s side. The man howled and twisted upon the sword.
Everyone staggered back, stunned. Therian eyed them, his teeth tightly clenched. “He took up a weapon against his rightful Captain,” he cried aloud, addressing the surprised crew. “On any ship, the Captain is as a lord over the crewmen. Karn’s life was thus forfeit by the law of the sea.”
Then Therian began to speak the words of the Dragons, and all there cried and clutched at their ears, save the Captain and Gruum, who merely winced. Upon the starlit deck, eldritch lights of yellow and green chased one another
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