Chapter Eight
The Way of the Shining Ones
Your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions.
-- Joel 2:28
“Tell me again, pirate!” Captain Maharbal spat, his thick hand tight upon the dagger thrust through his sash.
With his strange yellow eyes, the pirate glowered down at the Captain. The pirate was taller than Herrek, and more thickly built with olive-colored skin, herculean shoulders and dark, shoulder-length hair. Instead of the long robes worn by Captain Maharbal and his officers, or the simple loincloths and linen shirts worn by the sailors, the pirate wore a knee-length brown tunic. He had a broad belt with a big black buckle, and he had sturdy, oak-like legs. Still, the oddest and most peculiar thing about him was his strange yellow eyes. They suggested Nephilim blood.
When Captain Maharbal and his sailors had lifted the two unconscious men aboard the
Tiras,
they’d recognized one as a pirate. His short sword and dagger had been stripped from him. Only on Lord Uriah’s insistence, had he not been bound with ropes or shackled with chains.
The pirate was Auroch, an infamous reaver. He was self-named after the long-horned cattle that roamed the steppes. Auroch’s galleys were feared throughout the Suttung Sea. He flew a black flag with the red silhouette of an auroch head in the center. Auroch, it was whispered, was a noble from one of the Nine Cities. He’d broken certain warrior vows there, and had fled the headsman’s axe. His journeys had brought him to the swamps surrounding Shamgar. Auroch was renowned for saying that there, in those deadly swamps, he’d found the true meaning of life: that only drawn steel and a strong arm were worthy of respect, and with them should be taken gold, women and wine.
Auroch of Shamgar, pirate, killer and feared swordsman, was primarily famed for a daring feat done two years before. He’d boldly sailed into Further Tarsh harbor, landed at the grain docks and fought his way to the Blue Temple. There, he’d butchered Elohim’s priests upon the altars. After ransacking the temple, Auroch’s reavers made good their escape.
Now Auroch stood before a ship filled with Tarshmen. Nor did he stand humbly, but like a lord, a 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 could do that.”
“He’s no god,” Lord Uriah said. “He’s a First Born, corrupted by the blood of the
bene elohim
. True, he wields supernatural powers, but that doesn’t make him a god.”
“You speak as Lod did,” Auroch said. “Lod is bold and fearless, and even I would hate to cross blades with him. But now I, and the captains who thought like me, have been driven out of our fortresses and into the swamps. Now, we make a last stand with our ships.” Auroch made a sharp gesture. “Gog uses spells to awaken the swamp against us. He wields dire powers.” Auroch shook his leonine head, and stared to the east. “Perhaps Gog has already smashed those he calls traitors, the ones I called comrades. Perhaps Gog even now sails after us, after me!” Auroch put his face in his hands. “I’m doomed,” he moaned. “Doomed to face the scourge of Gog’s Defenders. Doomed to end my days in the terrible dungeons beneath the Oracle.”
“Bah!” Captain Maharbal growled, stepping closer. “You’re a fine actor.”
Auroch lifted his handsome head. “I’ve done as Lod bid me to do. Now Gog has marked me, and I’m doomed.”
“If you feel that way,” Lord Uriah said, “why did you sail here? Why didn’t you take Irad back to Shamgar and beg for mercy?”
Auroch shook his head. “I couldn’t return Irad to Shamgar, although I debated it with myself. Irad the Arkite is lucky, I told myself. His luck will see us through. And by his luck, I will yet survive and escape the wicked kingdom of Gog. Who else but Irad has survived four weeks in Shamgar’s canals as bait for the giant rats?”
Joash had watched, and listened to the pirate. This one had slain his brother many years ago. This one had sold him in Shamgar. Because of Auroch, Joash had become Balak’s slave. Now, Joash gave an inarticulate cry of rage.
Herrek dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I know who he is,” he said quietly. “I know what he did to you. For now, however, you must hold your anger and let Lord Uriah play his game.”
Joash ground his teeth in hatred. He wanted to use his sword and run it through the pirate. At last, however, he nodded.
Auroch had given him a cursory glance because of the shout, and then he went back to talking. “Who else but Irad has slain a brutal Oracle Defender with a mere dagger and escaped the city? Who else slew a Nebo tracker when delirious, and then backtracked without weapons through the swamps and past the horrible beasts there? I, who barely survived the same swamps when well armed and supplied, know the near impossibility of such a feat. Irad the Arkite is lucky, as well as bold. I, therefore, could not bring such a one back to Gog and to his baleful necromancers. But, now I fear that I have done this deed in vain. Irad is dying.”
“My sister will save him,” Lord Uriah said.
Auroch nodded wearily, but he looked doubtful.
Lord Uriah turned to Captain Maharbal. “I believe this man.”
Captain Maharbal scowled. “He’s a pirate, a killer from Shamgar, a brutal murderer who has slain Elohim’s priests. You cannot trust such a man.”
“Lod did,” Lord Uriah said quietly.
“So this one says,” said Captain Maharbal. “How do we know he speaks the truth?”
“By the fact that he brought us Irad,” Lord Uriah said. “By the fact that he carried Lod’s signet ring.”
Zillith had carefully inspected the one who Auroch claimed was Irad. By his accouterments, and looks, she had declared that the man was an Arkite. By praying to Elohim, she had soon declared to receive His peace on the manner. The Arkite was who Auroch claimed him to be.
“Maybe Auroch simply lost his way,” Captain Maharbal said. “Or, maybe he brought Irad here for Nidhogg to feast on. Frankly, I find his tale of Gog’s pact with Nidhogg suspect. No one living today has seen Nidhogg. I believe Nidhogg died of battle-wounds many centuries ago.”
Lord Uriah gave Maharbal a weary smile. “I understand why the merchants of Further Tarsh hate the pirates of Shamgar, and why they hate Auroch above others. In this instance, however, I think you must put aside your hatred and view the facts as they are. This man has done us a great service. We must not hound him, nor must you take out your reasonable revenge on him. Instead, you must reward him for bringing us the one who will help us save the Earth.”
“Reward Auroch?” Captain Maharbal asked, in amazement. His sailors murmured angrily.
“No,” Lord Uriah said. “We must reward a man who risked his life to aid both Irad and Lod. You must not let your hatred of Shamgar, or of Auroch, blind you to the truth of the deed just done. Gog unleashes his powers. Despite the terror of Gog’s powers, many of the pirates have dared to stand against him. That took courage.”
Captain Maharbal glared at Auroch. Slowly, however, he slipped the dagger back under his sash. After a long pause, he nodded. “Take Auroch below to a hammock. Let him sleep. After he has slept, we will feast him and treat him as a friend.” Captain Maharbal clenched his teeth, and half-turned away, and then he forced himself to look at Auroch. “I cannot give you the hug of friendship,” he said. “However, you are my guest as long as you remain here. If, though, you misuse your status among us, then you’ll be slain like a wild dog. We will then throw your corpse into the sea for the fish to feast on.”
“Thank you,” the exhausted Auroch said, half-mockingly, and half with relief. He followed several of Lord Uriah’s warriors below.
Captain Maharbal whispered to the first mate and to the boatswain. The officers nodded in agreement. Then they selected a few beefy sailors and left.
Captain Maharbal said to Lord Uriah’s questioning glance, “They will be his guards, not his slayers. I’ll admit, however, that it’s an order I’d dearly love to give.”
Lord Uriah said, “I suspect that only such a man as Auroch could have made the journey past Gog’s fleet, and then here to Gandvik Rock.”
Maharbal made a vague gesture of dismissal.
“Do you belittle his feat?”
Captain Maharbal adjusted his red robe before saying, “Auroch is bold. He’s rash to the point of madness. That gives him certain strengths, and an ability to do the impossible. I do not belittle his feat. Instead, I begrudgingly give him praise. His actions are always self-centered. He has attempted to escape Gog, but who wouldn’t wish to flee a First Born? I’ve listened to Adah’s tales. A kingdom ruled by First Born has little room for men. In such a kingdom, men are cattle to be used by those with accursed blood. Of course, Auroch would dare any feat to escape such a fate. Who wouldn’t?”
“Are we then also to be despised?” Lord Uriah asked, with mock severity.
Captain Maharbal frowned.
“We attempt many dangerous feats, all in the hope of escaping a world ruled by First Born.”
“But...” Captain Maharbal tugged at his beard. He scowled. “Many are those who bend their head to the First Born, who lose their spirit to fight...” His scowl deepened. “Bah! You’ve confused the issue.”
Lord Uriah clapped Maharbal’s arm. “My only point is this. As the First Born rise again and move openly, let us not spurn any allies we can gain. We must bury painful memories, and accept even rogues and pirates, if they will fight with us against the First Born.”
“What you suggest is difficult to accept.”
The sailors who listened nodded in agreement, as did Joash.