Malspire

  ***

  The city of Norlan rose from the black water of the Emben Sea like a ragged black mountain covered in a million flickering lights. I stood at the bow of the Sea Huntress and admired the sight, but I was also watching for the Grand Oak, my brother's ship, and soon spotted it within the vast harbour. The great wooden fortress with its iron banding and towers and row upon row of gun ports was at anchor in the deeper waters and seemed quiet with few lights and little movement. I guessed that the crew were on land which meant that I would probably find Ajator at the Ardalrion city residence. I wondered if my father was in the city. The old man was spending more and more time at his castle in the duchy, leaving the running of the fleet to High Admiral Barron Villor, a vassal of Duke Ardalrion. I had never met the man but I had seen him on occasion. The duke had never liked to present me to his guests.

  "Ardalrion!" This was the distant voice of Crosp, who was standing by the helm.

  "Sir," I said and made my way back to the aftcastle.

  The ship was busy making ready to put in to port. I was looking forward to two weeks of rest in Norlan. I was not privy to the captain's plans but I had heard from the crew that the Sea Huntress was to make for Umuron after her stay in the capital. Umuron was the Empire's last foothold in the far west where the rebellion had so nearly forced the Empire out.

  "Follow me," said Crosp when I reached his side. With a sinking feeling, I was led down to his cabin.

  "Close the door." Crosp held his hands behind his back. Something in the captain's manner confirmed that I was in trouble. As soon as I had closed the door and turned round, Crosp was in my face.

  "Fraternising with the crew now are you?" shouted the man, spitting in my face. "Those lazy sea scavengers are there to do an officer's bidding, Mister Ardalrion, not be his friend or his shoulder to cry upon. What are you playing at? How am I supposed to keep the dregs of the Navy in their place if an officer drops to their level?"

  I said nothing. I had broken no regulations.

  "You're little better than they are, I'll give you that, and if it were up to me, you would be down in the bilges mucking out the shit and piss. Oh yes. But you're born high, Ardalrion. Born high, and although I don't give a rat's prick that you're my lord admiral's son, it's my duty to make an officer out of you and officers are above the scum. You will at least behave like an officer!" Crosp was ranting now. I had seen it before and just had to let it run its course.

  "Those idiots in the Naval Office will deign to make you a senior officer soon enough and then one day a captain. A captain! You! By the gods the world has gone mad when a pathetic boil cut from a lord admiral's arse is made a captain, but so it will be."

  It frustrated Crosp who had no say in my rank. As the son of a lord admiral, I was automatically set upon a fast track to captaincy and a ship of my own. However unpopular I might be in my father's eyes, it was unthinkable that a son of his would not be a captain and one day an admiral, should I survive long enough. Of course it did not make things better that Crosp was getting on in age and had been overlooked for promotion or title, but it rather pleased me to see the crusty toad wriggle and squirm, cursing in vain. I stopped listening.

  "Well?"

  "Well what, sir?" I asked, returning from my mindless observations of the stuffed animals. The ape was missing a finger I had noticed.

  "I order you to stop meeting with the crew, you understand? You are to stay away from the scum!"

  "With all due respect, sir. I have broken no regulations that I am aware of, and see no harm in engaging with the men."

  "I am the captain!" The man was livid now and had turned a bright crimson colour. I had to resist the temptation to wipe the spit from my face. "You will do as I command or so help me..."

  "You'll have me flogged, sir?"

  Captain Crosp went silent. "You're a petulant fool Ardalrion." he finally said. "You're making an enemy of me and I assure you that I am a ruthless man if needs be. I will have my way on this ship. I will have discipline!"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Get out!"

  I returned to my cabin. I took out my service cutlass, the basic weapon of a sailor and tested its edge. I imagined running the blade through Crosp's fat belly, but knew I did not have the courage to do it. I wanted to. It would be doing the world a justice by removing that bitter maggot from its shores, but even the son of a lord admiral would hang for such a crime.

  The blade was a clumsy butcher's weapon which I had taken to using during my time at the Academy. One of the classes was on swordsmanship and every officer was expected to thrust and cut like a gentleman with specific steps and moves practiced under the guidance of a master swordsman. His name was Peel and he nearly had a heart attack when I charged him one morning with a heavy sea cutlass.

  I knew I was no good with the finer blades - the sabres, rapiers, and ridiculous foils as I was never quick of wrist. I reasoned that an officer who found himself facing a grizzled seaman bearing a shield and three foot butcher's blade would last as long as it took the seaman to hammer his sword into the skull of the officer with little or no regard for any fancy parrying. I had charged Peel and on my first blow shattered the thin blade of my tutor, and barged him to the floor. I may not have been a graceful or skilled swordsman but I discovered that a heavy blade and mindless violence were a workable substitute. Of course the Academy frowned upon the use of such a base weapon but that did not stop me from honing my skill with the steel whenever I could and added to my fighting style by kicking, punching and head butting whenever the instructor looked away. It was ugly and made me no friends, but I learnt to fight, not to dance nor play sport, but to do what was needed to survive.

  I sheathed the blade and took some coins from my sea chest which I then locked. We were back in the city and I was going to see if Ajator was about. I needed to vent my anger. I wanted to drink and I wanted to fight and although people might never think it, Ajator liked a good gutter fight too, and so I wanted to find him and then head for the Waters where trouble could always be found.

  The ship had docked and I made my way by canal boat along the twisting waterways of the city taking Willan with me who sat at the fore while I sat at the rear of the thin wooden craft. Canal boats were the carriages of the water, and this one was owned by a balding old timer who had taken my coin, then asked for the address. Above us grew the dark towers of the city; floor upon floor of granite and black marble with a network of bridges that reached high into the night sky.

  It was the time of the Festival the Old Man, an odd tradition that dated back to darker times which celebrated and made light of death. People dressed up as old men with skull masks, including women and children. I found it haunting to see the laughing skull faces stare down at me from the shadows. What brought me back was the smell. I always forget how much the waterways can stink. All the sewage of the city made its way into the canals and at times it was quite overpowering, but one got used to it after a while.

  The boatman heaved and pushed. Willan watched the city glide by and seemed exited to be entering the noble regions at its heart where normally a boy like him would be beaten then kicked out by the Imperial City Guard before getting too far. We reached a sort of water square which was a dead end where the city streets rose from the canals. I set off up a grand, lantern lit cobble road with Willan in tow and shortly came to another square surrounding a small patch of fenced off grass with a single oak tree at its heart which seemed lost in this brick and granite forest. Another “Old Man” was under the tree, standing alone and playing a fiddle before a single candle stuck in the ground. He danced a little but seemed sad.

  "Ardalrion House," I said to Willan as I stopped in front of a short flight of steps leading up to a grand doorway painted black with the head of a mountain lion as a door knocker. The mountain lion was the shield of the Ardalrion's and I had often wondered about this as I had never seen one in the duchy, but it was said that they existed. I did not use the knocker though, steppi
ng up to the door, I pulled a chain instead. Shortly the door opened and a sullen looking man by the name of Kanrood Babony opened the door. He was the duke's man and his presence meant that my father was in residence. I had hoped my father was away, preferring to avoid the awkward encounters.

  "Lord Ardalrion. What a surprise," said the man blandly. "Please step inside. I will announce you to the duke."

  I did not greet the man, but simply went in. Babony had been in the service of the Ardalrion's for as long as I could remember and in all that time, the man had only ever shown a complete indifference to me. I thought him a stiff of no imagination.

  "Is my brother about?"

  "I believe the Young Lord is in the city, sir, but not in the house."

  Babony left us two standing, making his way up a grand flight of steps at the far end of the vestibule. "You sit there, Mister Willan." I indicated a chair next to the entrance. "Don't move and don't touch anything. Are you hungry?"

  Willan nodded. The boy was in awe of the house. The hall was high, the walls covered in paintings and tapestries. He looked completely out of place. I had wanted Willan along simply as a servant, to carry things if need be and run errands. He was a good lad and I trusted him.

  Soon Babony returned. "The duke will see you now. He is in the study."

  "I know the way," I said irritably when Babony started to lead the way. "This is my house too. Get the boy some food. I'll not be long."

  Babony gave Willan a disdainful look, but nodded his head in acknowledgment.

  I climbed the steps to the first floor where a wing led off to a distant door that was slightly ajar with lamp light seeping into the corridor. My frugal father did not like the unnecessary use of candles and lanterns and so the house was a dark place with little pools of light here and there. Neither had the lord taken an interest in using the gas powered lighting so popular now with those that could afford it. Opening the door, I found my father at his grand desk with a large book in front of him, holding a brass rimmed magnifying glass to the pages. The room had a small fire burning on one side. There was a dry and dusty feel. The walls were lined with books and scrolls. I could just about hear the lone fiddler outside the window.

  "Malspire," said Duke Ajorion Ardalrion, forcing a quick smile.

  "Father. I hope you are well?" My father looked tired, even haggard and thinner than the last time I had seen him. He was still strongly built but age was catching up with him.

  "I am, kind of you to ask. How is the Navy treating you?" Ajorian asked, pinching the bridge of his strong nose. I thought of the lashing. "Have you found your sea legs?" Standing in the shadows of the room, the lord had not noticed or chose to ignore the bruises on my face.

  "The Navy is good for me. It would seem that I was born with sea legs."

  "Good." said the lord followed by a silence filled only by the sound of the “Old Man”. I always felt my father's discomfort in my presence. The duke was trying to be civil but I knew that I was not wanted. My mother had given her last breath giving birth to me, and my father had always resented me for this, although he had never said so directly.

  The Lady Ardalrion had been young and beautiful when Ajorion Ardalrion had married her. I had only ever seen my mother in portraits. The staff said she was full of life, kind and generous. When she became pregnant there were celebrations and news sent far and wide to rejoice in the fact that Lord Ardalrion would soon have an heir. Then came the trouble. I did not know the full details and father never spoke of it, but from what we two brothers could surmise, a servant woman had tried to poison our mother. Why? We did not know, although there was talk of cults and blood magic. It had weakened my mother so much that she did not have the strength to give birth to us twins and survive. I had heard that I came into the world screaming like a banshee, clawing for the warmth of my dying mother's womb.

  Ajorion was quiet. Was he thinking of his lost wife too?

  "I hear the beastmen are pressing hard on the eastern shores," I said, trying to find a subject we could perhaps discuss. It was a rare thing for the two of us to have a conversation, but I always felt that I should try. I had no particular love for my father, but felt duty bound to at least be polite. All I really wanted was to find Ajator.

  "They are. They seem to be endless, coming from the Outer Oceans, attacking our shores. A damned strain on our resources. You know what they do when they make landfall?"

  "No. Or at least I presumed they were looking for lands to settle? Food, resource?"

  "Ha! I wish that were the case. No, they move inland and kill anyone and everything they find. They keep going until they are hunted down or starve themselves to death. They eat their own just to keep going!"

  I considered this. In all of nature, there was one law that all men, beast, bird and fish obeyed and that was the law of survival. The Church of Creation often talked of how the gods create so there can be survival. Create, survive, die - the natural cycle of the universe. Even the dark powers seem to follow this law, but killing until killed is insane. There is no reason for it. Only the mad would break the law of survival.

  "Why? Are they mad? What is the reason? They must have some purpose."

  Lord Ardalrion raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "Mad? Probably. Something is driving them though, but they're not human. They look part human, part beast, but even an animal would not eat its own. The Emperor suspects a greater power at work."

  "Or an illness perhaps?"

  "Perhaps, but if that is the case the disease is spreading. The northern tribes have been pushing south into Imperial lands. One report spoke of trolls joining them. Trolls!"

  "Trolls fighting alongside men? There was nothing in the paper about this."

  "Of course not. Organised too. Tribes are joining one another to stage larger and larger raids. The Emperor has decided to keep this news from the masses for now." Ajorion leant back. His chair creaked. "The Empire is threatened on three fronts, Malspire. The rebellion is spreading. Thank the gods we managed to hold onto the port of Umuron or it would simply be impossible to gain back the western colonies."

  "Surely a focussed effort by the Navy would finish them off," I said, having often wondered at the lack of strength shown by the Navy in regards to the rebellion.

  "How naive," said my father. "Do you have any idea how much it costs to run the Navy? We are borrowing heavily as it is just to keep the wolves at bay. The Guild of Sea Merchants are always happy to lend us more but every penny they lend the Empire is another link added to the chain they have round our necks. Soon we shall all be the slaves of the blasted guild. No, the Emperor will not allow that. We must make do."

  "I thought the Emperor had a large stake in the guild?"

  "As do I, but an empire is not run by a group of shareholders. It is run by an emperor and his lords. The Guild of Sea Merchants has its uses to us all, but it grows too powerful and influential."

  "I see."

  "And to top it all off, that damned cult is spreading like wildfire, preaching the end of days, infecting the Empire like a rotting plague."

  "The Black Cult?"

  "Yes. Now they are insane!"

  The Black Cult or Cult of Sciorl was an ancient order of secretive villains, as far as I could tell, intent on the destruction of everything. Chaos was their goal and the end of the world, the prize, although I was not so avers to the idea. The world was a cruel and bitter place and perhaps it was time for a new start, I had to admit. The group was different to the dark gods and their evil followers in that the dark powers simply wanted control whereas the Black Cult wanted death. Again - madness. "They worship the black god, Sciorl don't they?"

  "The Destroyer, yes. Religion, Malspire!" said Lord Ardalrion, shaking his head but said no more. The Navy was my father's life, made of solid wood, hard men, rules and regulations, discipline and order. Religion was a mystery to both myself and Ajorion, there to be respected and honoured but of little use when it comes to the tides and navigation a
nd tactics and logistics. In general the Ardalrions acknowledged the gods and dutifully prayed and donated when required, but otherwise lived by more practical philosophies.

  After another short silence, I then said, "I was hoping to find Ajator here."

  "He is in the city. Not staying here though. You'll probably find him at the barracks... You're a Ardalrion, Malspire," the Duke added now wanting to discuss another subject. "You do realise that the name means something don't you?"

  "Of course. I'm second in line to the duchy."

  "Exactly," said Ajorion who did not look too pleased about it. "I have had reports."

  "Reports?" I knew that Crosp had been sending reports back to the Naval Office. The captain had no qualms about telling me so.

  "Crosp doesn't think much of you. I can't say I blame him. Look at you! The Undertaker! Clean yourself up boy, trim that hair. To be an officer, you have to look the part and act the part. Stand tall."

  I did not answer.

  "Well?"

  "Well what, father? I will never measure up to Ajator's standards even if I tried. I am sorry if my appearance displeases you."

  "Damn your black soul boy! As an Ardalrion, you will make an effort. You are the son of a lord admiral."

  "I am that. I shall clean myself up," I said reluctantly. I was in no mood for a fight with the duke.

  "See that you do. That damned Crosp is starting to annoy me, but he is right!"