Mardan's Mark, by Kathrese McKee

MARDAN'S MARK

by

Kathrese McKee

CHAPTER ONE

The Cathartid, off the coast of the Kingdom of Southern Marst

Aldan crept past the sleeping crew members drooping in their hammocks, his bare feet soundless on the well-worn boards. The daggers hidden in the belt beneath his ragged tunic pressed into the small of his back. One of the men mumbled. Aldan froze. The pirate turned his head, but his eyes stayed closed. Keep moving. The skin between his shoulders itched.

Nobody’s there. Stop imagining things.

Dawn’s dull gray fingers poked through the latticework of the hatch in the deck above—barely enough light to maneuver around the sea chests and discarded clothing littering the deck. Aldan ducked into the dark passageway and down to the pitch-black hold. The hot, musty air closed in around him.

Aldan stopped and held his breath. The skitter and scrape of a ship’s rat in the beams reassured him. The gulf slipped past the ship’s hull, a constant rush of water. Satisfied, he hurried to the forsaken space reserved for Captain Rozar’s slaves in the hold near the stern, picking his way by memory through the maze of barrels, crates, bolts of sailcloth, and coils of rope.

“Sam. Linus. Wake up.” He shook Sam’s shoulder and received a grunt in reply. Aldan pushed harder. “Get up.”

“Go away.”

“You’ve got to see this.” He reached out to wake Linus and found an empty hammock. “Where’s Linus?”

A quiet voice answered near his ear. “I’m behind you.”

Aldan whirled around with a hiss. “Don’t do that.” He sagged down onto the foot of Sam’s hammock. “I think my heart stopped beating.”

Sam’s bass voice rumbled in the darkness. “How’s a man supposed to get any sleep around here?”

“Never mind sleep. Linus, light the lamp so you can see what I found.”

A tiny spark jumped from the flint to the char cloth, sizzling bright in the depths of the hold. A single point of red light glowed, followed by the birth of flame in the lamp as Linus held the cloth to the wick.

Aldan looked into the obsidian glitter of Linus’s eyes. “Where have you been?”

“Behind you.”

“How long?”

“The whole time.”

Aldan blew out a breath and pushed his hair away from his forehead. “I woke you?”

“Indeed.”

Aldan shook his head and dropped the subject—Linus would do whatever Linus would do. “Look.” He drew three daggers from the back of his belt and handed one to each of his fellow slaves. He unsheathed the remaining blade and ran his thumb along the edge.

“I could do some damage with this,” Sam whispered. He struggled to swing his legs over the side of his hammock and straightened to his full height. Sam was the most heavily muscled of the group and the oldest at twenty-three summers, but he wasn’t as tall as Aldan, four years his junior.

Linus, younger and taller than the others, re-sheathed his dagger and made no comment. He reached into his tunic’s neckline and drew out a small leather pouch. He loosened the cord and five gold pieces clinked into his palm. They gleamed against his brown-black skin.

Aldan jumped to his feet. “Where did you get that?”

“Fratz’s sea chest.”

“What?” Aldan and Sam asked the question in unison.

Linus shrugged. “I saw Fratz steal it from Biscuits.”

A grin split Sam’s face and his red beard bristled. “So Fratz can’t cry about losing the gold pieces he wasn’t supposed to have in the first place.” Sam punched Linus’s arm. “Well done.”

Aldan frowned. “Are you out of your mind? What if you’d been caught?”

Linus leveled a meaningful stare. “What if you’d been caught?”

“It’s not the same,” Aldan said. “Nobody’s counted the weapons we captured yesterday. Not Captain Rozar. Not Scar. So nobody will know they’re missing. But even if he can’t say anything, Fratz will know the gold is missing. And he’s going to look for it.”

Linus shrugged again. “I’m good at hiding things.”

“He’s got you there,” Sam said, and he grinned. “That means we’ve got weapons and gold. Now all we have to do is figure out how to get ashore.”

Aldan rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Aye, that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“You think? We’re stranded in the Great Gulf, leagues from any shore.” Sam’s mouth pulled down at the corners. “Our chances of getting off this cursed ship are almost nil.”

“We’ll think of a way. We must.” Aldan took the dagger from Sam’s hand and gave both weapons to Linus. “Hide these and the gold. I’ve got to get things ready for Rozar before Scar figures out I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

“That sea serpent.” Sam’s fists clenched at his sides. “Scar’s getting bolder every day and the men listen to him. Rozar had better watch his back, and we’d better be gone by the time Scar makes his move. Once he’s the captain, we’re dead.”

Linus nodded. “Indeed.”

Aldan swallowed and looked away. And I’m at the top of Scar’s list.

“Aldan, bring wine!”

Aldan stopped polishing the brass lantern in his hands and hung it back on its hook. Wine? In the middle of the day?

A watchful silence fell over the pirates on deck. Captain Rozar rarely drank and never before nightfall. Aldan turned to see what they were looking at and noticed a tiny sailboat approaching from the west.

Rozar glared around at his men. “Get back to work, you lot.” The captain’s attention swung back to the sailboat, and Scar, the first mate, was out of sight. Aldan took the chance to linger near the hatch.

The craft drew up along Cathartid’s port side, and a stranger in riding boots and a green tunic climbed the ship’s ladder, greeted the captain like an old friend, and spoke near Rozar’s ear. A wicked smile bloomed across the captain’s face.

Aldan slid down the ladder without touching the rungs and hurried to fetch wine and two goblets on a tray from the galley. Biscuits, the cook, delayed him with questions, but Aldan broke away, promising to talk later. He reached the captain’s stout door and listened hard. The door masked most of the words, but they were speaking in Marstan instead of Norlan. He knocked on the door, waited for Rozar’s answer, and swung it open.

“Ah, Aldan. Come in, come in.” Rozar laughed and rubbed his palms together.

He set the tray on the captain’s table and backed into the corner to watch, as stealthy as a ship’s rat, taking care not to rap his head against the angled beams.

Rozar poured a liberal amount of wine into each vessel. “Join me in a toast, my friend.”

“With pleasure,” Green Tunic said. He took the proffered drink and waited.

“You’ve brought me the best possible news at exactly the right time.” Rozar set aside the flagon and lifted his goblet. “To Fortune. May she shine as brightly on you and me as Sol shines today.”

“Hear, hear,” Green Tunic said, lifting his glass to touch Rozar’s. “To your success.”

Rozar took a long sip. “Mmm,” he murmured.

Wait until Sam and Linus heard about this. Aldan dug his bare toes into the captain’s prized silk rug and relished the cool sea breeze flowing through the open porthole. He studied the stranger, memorizing every detail. A golden wolf’s head adorned his uniform’s left breast. What was the man’s name? If the stranger was Rozar’s friend, why hadn’t they seen him before?

Rozar took another swig of wine and thumped his goblet down. “Please, sit with me a few moments before you cast off again.” His dark gaze darted over to Aldan, and he snapped his fingers. “You. Out. Wait outside the cabin door until I call.”

Aldan bowed himself out of the cabin and pulled the door closed. He didn’t dare listen through the keyhole. No news was worth a thrashing. He put his back to the beam across from Rozar’s cabin and listened to the sounds of the pirate ship and her crew.

Cathartid creaked and groaned around him, complaining about being too close to land when she could be hunting in the Great Gulf. A shadow fell over him, and he ducked in time to avoid Scar’s beefy fist.

“You got time to stand around, do you? I know you have work to be doing, you layabout.” The first mate grabbed Aldan’s wrist and gave it a vicious twist. “Well? Why are you still standing here?”

“Captain Rozar’s orders,” Aldan said through gritted teeth. He met Scar’s bloodshot eyes glare for glare. Every detail of the mate’s disfigured face sprang into sharp focus, including Azor, the alligator god, tattooed on his cheekbone.

“Oh, that’s likely.” Scar gave his arm a wrenching yank and let go. “You know Marstan. What did they say?”

Aldan shook his head. “They drank a toast to Fortune, and Rozar told me to get out and wait here. That’s all I know.”

“Don’t know much, do you?” Scar spit at his feet.

He didn’t answer or move a muscle.

“Stupid slave.” Scar turned on his heel and ascended the nearby ladder to the deck above.

Aldan checked both ways before he grimaced and rubbed his throbbing wrist. A whisper of sound captured his attention.

Linus emerged from the space beneath the ladder. He wore unrelieved black. Combined with his ebony skin, his clothing acted like camouflage in the ship’s gloomy interior.

Linus paused, tilting his head to listen. “That one is the son of a devil,” he said.

Aldan nodded. “His mother was a squid.”

“Indeed.” Linus gestured to Rozar’s closed door. “No news?”

“Not yet. Rozar’s half-crazed, he’s so excited.”

His friend heaved a solemn sigh. “Someone will suffer.”

“Better clear out before anyone sees you, Brother.” But Linus was already out of sight, gone without a sound.

An hour passed while the captain entertained his guest. Rozar called Aldan to clear away the drink tray and the empty flagon. Green Tunic departed, and as soon as the visitor’s sailboat pulled away, the captain shouted orders to set the ship in motion.

“Bring her about, north by northeast. Look alive, you worthless curs! Scar! Get those sails trimmed.” Rozar didn’t quit giving orders until he’d set every hand to work. “Aldan, come here.” He lowered his voice. “Get me down the ladder. Don’t know why I ever touch wine.”

Aldan half-supported, half-carried the captain to his cabin. Rozar hummed a tune under his breath and settled onto his berth with a muzzy smile. “Ish good you’ve grown up a bit or I’d be . . . Hummm . . . Hmm.”

Aldan stared at the captain who’d fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. “It’s a good thing I’m the same size as you or you’d have broken your neck coming down that ladder.”

He stole a moment to watch the waves through the port hole. Cathartid’s hull vibrated with life under his hand. This ship possessed a soul of her own, an evil soul set on destruction. Cathartid made the most of the wind in her swept-back sails, slipping through the waters of the Great Gulf like the deadly predator she was, barracuda swift and shark hungry, the fastest ship in King Dzor’s pirate fleet with a captain and crew to match her ruthless nature.

A short nap later, Captain Rozar took the helm. Aldan took his normal place—out of reach but near enough to take orders. Rozar summoned him with a snap of his fingers.

“Find Sam and clear out the cabin across from mine. Tell the cook to make a fresh batch of the sleeping potion. Don’t make me wait.”

Aldan found Sam in the galley. No surprise there. His best friend had long ago discovered he could earn extra food scraps if he acted as cook’s drudge. Sam needed all the help he could get maintaining his extra large form.

Mirza, the ship’s resident witch, was in the galley, too, preparing some unspeakable sacrifice of fish entrails, strong spices, and spoiled eggs for Azor. The stench was unbearable. Aldan’s stomach rolled over and he tried not to breathe through his nose. He relayed the captain’s orders to Biscuits in one breath.

“Sam. Come with me.” Swallowing a gulp of air, Aldan raced through the narrow space to reach the fresh breeze flowing through the hatch overhead.

Sam emerged a few moments later, munching on a stale piece of bread. He held more pieces in his other hand.

Aldan stared as Sam popped another crust into his mouth with relish. “How can you eat when she’s making Azor’s stew? That’s disgusting.”

“Mirza’s disgusting, but the bread’s pretty good. I’m hungry. Besides, it’s not even moldy.”

Aldan snorted. “I’m so glad the bread isn’t moldy. It’s your ability to eat around Mirza that’s disgusting. Hurry up.”

Sam walked at his side, bumping Aldan’s shoulder with every other step in the narrow passageway.

“I have two more pieces. Want one?”

Aldan looked at the bread. His stomach rumbled. “Oh, all right.” He snatched a crust from Sam’s hand and stuffed it into his mouth. “Thanks.”

“Do you have to walk so fast?”

“Just hurry,” Aldan said. “If Rozar decides to check on us, we’d better be done.”

Ten bells rang after Sol went to bed beneath the western horizon. Aldan leaned over the stern railing to savor the end of the day. The surface of the Great Gulf rolled back from the hull, murky and mysterious with traces of luminescence from the Cathartid’s wake. Rozar’s shrill whistle echoed through the ship. Aldan turned from the railing, ran to the captain’s cabin, and knocked once on the frame of the open door.

“Help me out of this coat,” Rozar said with a snap. “Where were you?”

He didn’t answer. Long experience told him the question was probably rhetorical. As soon as the door was closed, the captain launched into his nightly soliloquy in Marstan. Rozar enjoyed talking to him as if they were friends. As if they were more than jailor and captive, master and slave.

“What a day. Can you believe it? We’re to take the richest prize imaginable in two weeks. Our provisions will be stretched, to be sure, but this will be the most profitable voyage of my life.”

Aldan strove to keep the interest from showing on his face. Perhaps Rozar would say what was going on. He reached out and grasped the collar and one sleeve of Rozar’s finest coat as the captain tried to shrug out of it.

“Have a care, boy, that’s my hair you’re pulling.”

“Sorry.”

Rozar extract his other arm from the fitted garment. “I’ll make you sorry.” The threat sounded half-hearted at best.

Aldan placed the garment on the bed, bundled his master into a dressing gown of scarlet silk, and waited as the captain sank into his favorite chair.

Rozar chuckled. “Yes. King Dzor, Azor bless his soul, will likely give me the deed to my family’s old estate as a reward.”

Aldan knelt and grasped Rozar’s boot in his hands, and the captain allowed him to pull it off. He put it aside and took the other boot Rozar pushed off. With the boots in one hand, Aldan retrieved the boot blacking from a shelf on the wall, sat on a low stool, and set to work.

 The captain chuckled. “You just don’t have a clue, do you, Aldan?”

He glanced up.

Rozar’s dark eyes twinkled with malice. “You remember nothing before you came to me. Isn’t that right?”

Aldan looked down at the leather of the boot he’d been buffing. It’s true. Hadn’t he tried hundreds of times to remember his life before becoming Rozar’s slave? Marstan was his native language. He’d learned Norlan from the crew in the school of hard fists and swift kicks. Rozar used Marstan with Aldan “to stay in practice.”

“Well, boy? You’ve been aboard my ship a dozen years. Don’t you remember yet?”

The captain usually didn’t want or expect answers. Apparently, he did now.

“I only remember the language.”

“Ha! What a jest.” Rozar laughed again. “If only you knew— But no, I don’t believe I’ll tell you. Suffice it to say, there’s nothing like being paid twice for the same work. In your case, I might be paid more than twice if the stars align the right way.”

Aldan’s eyes widened. Had someone paid to make him a slave?

“You should see your face. I’ve really confused you now.” The captain enjoyed his private joke to the hilt.

A knock at the door cut off the captain’s laughter. “Enter.” The alligator tattoo on Rozar’s cheek seemed to bristle with outrage.

Linus came in bearing a tray laden with food, and Rozar’s dark expression lightened.

“About time.”

Linus placed the tray on the table at the captain’s elbow. The smell of wonderful, spicy soup filled the air, and Aldan’s mouth watered. Linus poured out the captain’s favorite kind of tea into a heavy mug from a small pot.

“Out.” One word, in Norlan.

Aldan hid a smile as Linus closed one eye in a sly wink. Their master still hadn’t figured out that Linus and Sam had learned Marstan. Linus let himself out of the cabin, and the door latch clicked quietly into place. Aldan finished with the first boot and moved on to the second one.

“Bet you didn’t know I was raised to be a farmer,” Rozar said. “That’s how I plan to spend my old age, just watching the crops grow on my father’s old property. I can afford to pull down the manor and build a new one. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even get a wife or two and father some brats.” Similar nonsense followed. About different crops. About horses and cattle.

Such a strange state of mind—the captain had become more unpredictable each passing year. What would happen to them when Rozar went completely mad?

How did I become the one he talks to? He’s already mad.

Rozar mopped up his soup with a crust of bread. “It all depends on Dzor and what he thinks of my prize, of course.” The captain switched topics to the weather, sails, and supplies.

After completing his duties, Aldan closed the door and let out a deep breath. What prize would Rozar be so eager to take? A rival pirate’s treasure? A shipment of slaves? A rich merchant ship? Now, he had more questions than ever.

Aldan saved the scraps from Rozar’s meal and wheedled more food from Biscuits in exchange for pleasant speculation about the meaning of the new orders. The cook lived for gossip of all kinds. Tonight, Biscuits doled out food for the brothers with a generous hand, and Aldan paid close attention to everything the cook had to say. Especially anything about Scar. At last, he left the galley and descended to the hold where Sam and Linus waited.

“You should have heard Rozar going on and on about cows and sheep and such,” Aldan said. “I think he means to give up the ship if King Dzor grants his wish to get his land back.”

Sam frowned. “Makes you wonder what he plans to do with us.”

“Yes, it does.”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Sam said, lowering his voice and switching to Marstan. “I’ll drown myself before I stay aboard with Scar. We have got to get away from this ship.”

Aldan nodded. “Scar will feed us to the sharks, one piece at a time.”

Linus, who sat right up against Aldan’s side on the hammock, shuddered. “Indeed.”

“I know we’ve talked about getting away before,” Aldan said. “We have to do it soon. I feel it. If King Dzor is pleased with this prize Rozar means to take, there’s no telling what will happen to us.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Maybe Rozar plans to take us with him to his estate, but more than likely, he means to take me. Only me.”

Linus pressed closer to his side in silent protest. “Of course, he could sell us in Port Azor, but it sounds like he has plans for me.”

“I sure wish I understood what he meant about being paid twice,” Sam said. “But I don’t think Rozar has that much time left. Scar has to hold off until we capture this great prize Rozar’s raving about. But after that . . .”

“You’re probably right. We can’t wait until we get close to Port Azor. We have to figure out a way to get one of the longboats over the side without getting killed or captured.”

“We can’t row across the Great Gulf.”

“You just said you’d rather drown than be under Scar’s command.” Aldan glared at Sam and then at Linus. “So we’ll take the boat and take our chances. Unless you have a better idea.”