The Melaki Chronicle (6 page)

“You can stop now, wizard,” the captain said.

He released the pattern and the ship began to slow. The
whale went swimming off back the way it had come.

The captain called out in that quiet voice. “One and two
down. Anchor out. Nightwatch.”

The ship floated on serene waters, moving gently.

Belowdecks he was handed a bowl of stew. It looked edible.
He sat next to Talin and spooned some. Finding it quite spicy, he spooned until
it was gone.

And that is when the vision hit him.

He groaned, dreading the onset.

“Something wrong with your stew?” a sailor said.

Melaki placed the bowl down carefully and leaned over it,
hunching his shoulders.

“There's a bucket for that, wizard.”

He was not listening. He did not feel sick, despite the
impressions he gave to those around him. Talin was speaking to him with an
admonishing tone. He gripped his bowl tighter.

Maybe I could throw up on him.

The room spun. He did not know if he fell or stayed upright.
Was the boat tipping or was he? The roar of waters surged into his hearing.
Then he was looking at the sky, at the waters above. There had not always been
water in the sky. Sometime in the distant past something devastating had
happened to the ocean, throwing water into the sky with the fury of the gods.
The ancient text called it a punishment, a curse. The anger of the gods against
man. But whatever it had been, it had changed things. Insects grew larger over
time – some heretics claiming more air pressure allowed more growth. Other
changes had been written he could scarcely believe.

He saw the sky in his vision. An enormous light appeared up
in the waters above, wavering, growing brighter. It was almost blinding. Then
it split into dozens of smaller lights and the water reflected broad flashes
where those smaller lights grew. The lights winked out, then but the waters
above churned as if boiling. Several somethings fell from the water. Dark
objects trailing smoke.

Water began to fall with them. More water than the usual
mist that hung in the air and kept things moist. He felt the water hitting his
face in small drops, more and more, and harder.

What manner of thing is this?

He was being lifted.

The vision fled as rapidly as darkness from light. He was
being carried. His ears were ringing but returning to normal. Sounds came to
him. He was deposited on a bunk. His bunk, he realized. His face was wet, not
with water from above, but with tears.

Melaki put his quill down. He blew on the parchment to help
the ink dry. They would be docking soon, he had heard the captain above him on
the upperdecks say “Northlands.” He had barely heard it.

He began putting away his writing tools. He had been making notes
on his ideas about the differences between what he had been taught by the Rukha
and their spirit usage and Nihtu with his musings on giant magic. Over the past
few days he had come to realize that spirit magic was certainly stronger. Using
the spirits used their power rather than one's own. Spirit magic was a caster
harnessing the spirit as a farmer would harness a plow to a horse. Using the
magic of the giants was like the farmer pulling the plow without a horse.

Spirit magic was not just stronger, but could be maintained
longer. Melaki's magic drew heavily on himself, draining and exhausting him.
His magic could not last the length of time as a spirit-working. The two magics
were similar in the aspect that concentration was required to maintain the magic.
In the Rukha's teachings, the caster was required to maintain control over the
spirit, constantly holding, binding and manipulating it. In the magic of the
giants, the caster was required to maintain visualization of the pattern he
formed to call forth the magic from within.

He packed away his thoughts as he packed away his notes.
Securing the straps, he hefted all three bags and left the tiny room. Up the
stairs and into fresher air, he looked toward land. It sat low and squat and
heavily forested. A pall of haze hovered over it unlike smoke and more like the
vaporous mists of the graveyard. It wound through the trees laying still and
silent.

The captain had called for magic to cease on the approach.
He stood gazing intently ahead, wary, watching.

Does he expect a dragon to emerge from the mists?

But this was not the time of dragons. They slumbered still.
Another generation or two would pass before they awoke again.

The ship moved smoothly around a promontory of land. Coming
into view was the smoke of a settlement. Four ships were harbored and one of
them was leaving. They passed it on the way in. The captain raised his hand in
greeting and the other ship's captain did likewise.

The settlement was small and consisted of only a few
buildings. Many tents were in evidence. A strong wall of wood and rock
surrounded the collection.

“One and two down,” said the captain. “Raise three.”

The two larger sails were lowered and the very small third
ran up. The ship began to slow, drifting steadily into harbor. A man on the
docks was waving and pointing to a slip.

The captain spun the wheel gently and the ship began to
veer. The docking procedure was very smooth. Nearing the dock, a few of the
crew jumped out. The mooring coils were thrown to them and they secured the
ropes to the mooring spools. The ramp was unlatched and set in place.

“Good fortune to you, wizard,” the captain said to him as he
passed. He was first off the ship and spoke briefly to the man on the dock.

Melaki followed him off. He moved to the end of the docking
area while the captain conferred with the dockmaster. A uniformed imperial
officer waited at the end of the dock, hands clasped behind his back, as Melaki
approached.

“Wait here, please,” the officer said. “I will need to
address all of you.”

Talin was striding off of the ship next, nose in the air,
his packs held by spell up and behind him.

Melaki rolled his eyes.

When the entirety of the First Charter had gathered, the
officer spoke. “This is the Northlands. The area you see here is Balis Port, or
what is left of it until we rebuild. It is surrounded by walls. Do not go
outside the walls until you are ready to venture forth. Some dead still walk
the land. I do not recommend walks in the night to contemplate your fingernails
or whatever it is you do on your strolls.” He pointed. “Over there are the
imperial offices. There is our only tavern. There are no rooms. I hope you
brought tents. Over there in that ruin is a very large area for merchants. Our
companies are still in the process of shifting our storage and separating for
your charter and those that follow. Pitch your tents over there. Questions?”

“I will need more room,” Talin said.

“There is no more room. You will have to accommodate
yourself within the walls. We have plans to expand that wall out--” He pointed.
“But until we do--”

“When will you be doing this?”

“Next month,” the officer said.

“Unacceptable. My assistant here can aid you. He is a wizard
of the ninth ward and adept at moving and lifting.”

Shut up and my most heartfelt thanks to you for
volunteering me to do what you should be doing if you want more room.
Melaki sighed.

The officer's hands went to his hips in fists. His chin
jutted forth. “Next month and I do not need to explain--”

“You forget yourself, officer. I am a wizard--”

The officer leaned forward, stabbing his finger towards
Talin. “I know your rank and it means nothing here. You are chartered as a
guest of Imperial Marshal Stakar. This is a military operation and you will
obey our jurisdiction or the marshal will see you back on a ship, your charter
revoked. Do I make myself clear.” It was not a question.

Talin sighed in vexation. “Fine, then.” He wiggled his
fingers at the officer. “Be off with you so we can be about our business.”

The officer eyed him and frowned, but turned on his heel and
left.

Four of the First Charter were merchants and had brought
wares. They headed immediately to the large area for merchants to stake out
their areas.

Soldiers were on the walls, armed with crossbows. Some moved
in the streets, shifting crates towards the imperial offices. It looked like
half the town was being cleared for those in the charter.

“Come, Melaki, we will set up our tents over there.”

“Tents?”

Talin looked amused. “You do not have one?”

“I do not.”

The wizard laughed. “Well then I guess you are sleeping in
the mist.”

He grunted. “No one told me I was going to need a tent.”

“Look around you. How many cozy taverns do you see with
rooms available and waiting?”

Shut up. As if you knew what we would find here.
But
Talin had brought a tent. “Maybe one of the merchants will have one.”

Talin waved a hand as if swishing the air clear of a bad
odor. “Whatever. We will set up and then go view the maps in the offices.”

Talin selected the most comfortable looking set of ruins and
set down his packs. Melaki set his down in the smaller area next to the
arrogant wizard.

“In fact, let us go see the maps now and you can pitch my
tent later.” Talin strode off without waiting for a reply.

He is treating me like an initiate.
Melaki followed
behind, glaring at the wizard.

They passed a lone sentry outside the door to the imperial
offices who made no move to inquire about them or otherwise stop them. The
interior was brightly lit, warm from a large fire roaring in a well-tended and
large fireplace and dominated by a large table.

“I am senior officer Mata,” said an imperial officer. He was
bearded, and wore his hair in a braid down his back. “I am sure you are here to
see the maps and stake your interest.”

“Indeed,” Talin said.

Mata leaned over and plucked a pointer. “Allow me to detail
for you. Here is Balis Port. What remains of a road runs northeast here. These
areas here are abandoned towns--”

Talin looked at the man sharply. “Are there any real men and
women left on the island that are not dead? Or undead?”

“No.”

“So no inhabitants at all.”

The officer tapped his pointer, pursing his lips. “Anything
that moves out there is a product of necromancy.”

“I find it hard to believe there had been no surviving
humans. Someone had to feed the necromancers.”

“Yes, well. Our orders were to eliminate the island.”

“Oh? Including citizens of the Altan--”

“There were no citizens of the Altanlean Empire here, only
those who supported the necromancers. They all have paid the price for their
rebellion.”

“I see.”

“Do you, wizard?” The officer's brows drew down. “This was a
hard-fought victory. Many good men died to the necromancers.”

Melaki heaved a sigh of relief when, for once, Talin acceded
an argument and let the matter rest.

“Go on,” Talin said, indicating the map.

“There to the east is the capital, Dramlos. On the far north
shore there is the only other major city.”

“What is the scale of your map--”

“A five-day march from here to the capital. A seventeen day
march from here to Kellerran.”

“These points?”

“All that remain of villages. These symbols you see everywhere
are graveyards.”

“How much can we stake?”

“We want the area pacified--”

“Yes, I know.” Talin said. His arrogance was back.

“The marshal has declared the First Charter choices no
larger than villages. You will need to cooperate or demonstrate pacification to
lay claim to a town. The capital and Kellerran are reserved for the empire,
though you may venture into them.”

“A village?”

Mata straightened. “Did you think you were going to claim
Dramlos and set yourself up as king?”

Talin grimaced.

He had. What conceit.

“Do you wish to take your time thinking about this? I am
sure the others need to stake their claims.”

Greed crossed Talin's face in a flash of jealousy. “No, I
will select now.” He scanned the map, looking near the capital only briefly. He
began eyeing the area around Kellerran on the north shore. “That village,
there.”

Mata looked where he pointed and nodded. “You have a good
eye for access to the main road, mountains to your back and close to both
Kellerran and the town of Grenren.”

“I do not need you to flatter me--”

“I will note your selection. Return if you pacify the area
and you can stake more of a claim.”

Talin sniffed at the officer, but turned and left. He leaned
towards Melaki as they left the building. “We will leave today. But first I
will see if any of the others desire to cooperate with us. I noticed four of
the mercenary sort on the ship, though how they got the First Charter eludes
me.”

Melaki shrugged.

The wizard walked away with a purpose to find the others in
the charter.

With little to do, Melaki walked into the tavern. It was
small, cozy, and dim. The fireplace gave the room light. An older, skinny man
of military bearing who leaned forward in his posture eyed him from the bar.

“What will you have,” the bartender said. His voice reminded
Melaki of grit on cobblestones.

“Mead.”

“One silver imperial.” He was pouring from a cask.

“Is that for two? I only wanted one.” Melaki sat in a chair
by the fire.

“It is for one. You asked for one. The price is one silver
imperial. We have to ship it all in, you know.”

“Ah.” He raised his eyebrows. “Well, I guess that would be
so.”

“Yes it is.” The mead was set down with force, but not
anger. “One silver.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” He fingered a silver out of his pouch and
placed it in the man's hand. “My thanks to you.”

The bartender grunted.

He leaned back and sipped the mead. It was a very good
flavor – one of the best Altanlean brews. He raised his mug and nodded to the
man.

The bartender scowled.

Melaki did not think him unfriendly or rude, but suspicious.
Perhaps the man was a former imperial soldier and catered to those with whom he
was comfortable – other imperial soldiers. Often the soldiers of the imperium
had an aversion to the wizards of the imperium. They worked together – when
they had to.

Entering the tavern were two others from the First Charter.
He had seen them but had been too busy with moving the ship or making notes to
mingle. One was an arrogant-looking man, dressed in sturdy leathers, blades at
his sides. Trailing behind him was a timid-looking woman also dressed in
leathers. She bore a thin sword and had a small buckler on her back.

They sat at the table next to him.

“Can you believe the arrogance of that wizard, demanding
that we aid him with his claim?” the man said.

Arrogance meets arrogance.
He looked at the woman.
She was watching her partner and nodding but looked over at him a few times.
She had black, curly hair, pulled back, and flowing down to her shoulders. Her
skin was pale and smooth. Her eyes had a look of stress and sadness about them.

“And then the audacity to ask you separately as if we were
not married.” The man shook his head.

Oh, they are married. Hmmph.
He looked away. He
sipped his mead and relaxed. He noticed the woman glance quickly a few more times.

The man chattered on boldly about staking an area and
becoming a duke, or even leading a force to claim the capital and be king.

Does everyone want to be king? I do not.

He closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to drift. The
fire warmed him.

The crash of the door startled him and his chair tipped over
backwards as he bolted awake.

“Melaki, let us be off.” Talin stood in the doorway.

“Shut the door,” the bartender said.

Talin ignored him. The bartender was beneath him.

Melaki picked himself up and downed the rest of his mead.

“Shut the door.”

Talin's chin was in the air.

He carried the empty mug to the bartender. “My thanks to
you, again. I will shut your door for you.”

“Quickly.” Talin snapped his fingers.

The bartender grunted.

Rolling his eyes, he turned and took his time straightening
his robes, dusting imaginary particles from it.