The Scholar's Tale (Original Fantasy)

Book II, Chapter 5

"Oh, yeah, 'recruitment'. Just you wait: we'll be volunteering in no time, though we'll only learn we did when they shove the guns into our hands."- Jhimsa Hlak, before graciously volunteering to die for the Kingdom of Fharnse(vapourised by flametide);

'Lads!' I didn't jump when Mharra's voice boomed behind me, but it was a close thing. 'I'm happy to present to you our new crewmate!'

I turned in my seat, eyebrows raised. The man next to Mharra looked more like he'd been sentenced to execution by Gutsbane Grubs than recruited to our crew.

In the sense that he looked resigned, rather than bloody terrified. I hoped he'd learn, in time.

'Jalil Sivane,' the man said. His skin was darker than mine, though lighter than Mharra's, and his eyes narrower than either of ours. Hmm...did I know his people? I felt like...

'Former Lieutenant-Elect of Free Ship  Wayblazer. Happy to make your...acquaintance...?' he continued, looking almost relieved when none of us gave any sign of recognising his former ship. That was before he saw Ib, though.

One of the grey giant's odd traits was that, despite its (usually) great size, it could go unnoticed unless it was not talking. Like a piece of art you do not notice until someone points it out. And Ib was a beautiful, powerful monster.

Jalil did not share my opinion, though. 'You-' his eyes moved from Mharra to Ib to us, then back to the captain, so fast they were almost spinning. 'Are you all mad!? The Fleet may kill me if I take you to them, or if they merely learn I talked, but that...that thing!? If they ever learn you even know about it, they'll-'

When Ib cut him off, it didn't seem to have heard his little rant. Or, if it had, it gave no sign of it. Nothing unusual, since it was coming out of a trance. 'How'd he scare you?' Ib asked suddenly, startling Jalil. The man closed his mouth so fast, I wouldn't have been surprised to learn he'd bitten his tongue. His lips were still trembling, though.

Ib's head was rippling-its version of a frown. It was trying to remember something. 'What did the captain threaten you with to make you jump in?' The grey being seemed unable to notice the effect it was having on the exiled Lieutenant. Or, perhaps, it just didn't see itself as frightening.

Mharra laughed. 'So cynical, Ib! You know very well I never make threats-only promises.' The captain slung an arm around the thinner, taller man's shoulders, grinning like a shark. 'Jalil here is a...man. However, when I promised to tattle on him if the Fleet asked how we found them, well...'

'I had a stroke of lucidity,' Jalil, who seemed to have calmed down, deadpanned, glancing down at Mharra's arm. 'Though I'd ask you not to allude to that old blunder so soon. We've just met, and-'

'Anyway,' Mharra continued, utterly ignoring my new fellow victim. 'He knew that, if we left him here, the Fleet would find him, and who knew what they'd do to him for spilling? At least this way, he's sure he'll die!'

Jalil shot me a despairing look as Mharra slapped him on the back, but I could only stare back. Sorry, I thought. I only seem sane.

'This is press-ganging,' Jalil hissed, eyes darting around the inn, as if expecting a kind stranger. Sadly, we were in Midworld.

Even sadder-for him-he was wasting our time. As far as we knew, Ib's mind could fall apart at any time-what the Pit were we supposed to do if it entered a trance and couldn't come out of it by itself?

So, before he was halfway through blinking, my hand was on his throat, pressing him against the log wall around the entrance of the inn, a dozen metres away.

Jalil only finished blinking-slowly, so slowly- when the back of his head smacked against the window. Eyes wide, he scrabbled at my arm with one hand while reaching for the pistol on his belt with the other one.

I recognised its reputation, if not the weapon itself. The Fleet's smartguns never ran out of ammo, and always struck the weakest point of the intended target. It was a wonderful weapon.

I was almost sad when I crushed the steel tube in my grip. I was less sad when his fingers broke, though. And annoyed, when he screamed.

'What are you doing, you fool?' I asked, shaking him like a ragdoll. 'You've already agreed to the captain's proposal, so you know why we are hurrying. We're saving your damn life, too, yet you dare try to pull a gun on me-and fail?'

'Ryzhan.' There was a note of warning in Mharra's voice. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, but kept focused on Jalil. The inn's other patrons were snickering and elbowing each other, or watching us with wary eyes. 'You can put him down.'

'I can throw him down too, captain.' I said, before demonstrating. Jalil landed on his broken hand, the poor sod. That bad luck from getting banished by the Fleet must have still been dogging him. My boot was on the small of his back before he could scream again. His old, tattered dark blue uniform-why let him keep it?- was sticking to his skin, covered in spots of sweat. Hearing Ib talk, along with being manhandled by me, had shaken him.

I hadn't remembered this much strength and speed in years. Toughness, too, to avoid hurting myself with my own strength. Now, all I needed to remember was restraint.

The power of mages is born and grows in the cauldron of great emotion. Even so, when I raised my hands, 'grasping' the air around me, I did not expect my idea to work.

But, when I remembered silence-the old, cold nights of sailing alone beneath a cloudy sky, my only company the monsters beneath the waves and the unblinking eye that was the moon-the inn became as quiet as any library I had ever visited.

Jalil had made it to his knees at this point, but was now glaring in confusion at the silent inn. No sound from outside my bubble of silence could get in, nor would anyone else hear what we were speaking. The patrons had mostly returned their attention to their meals by now, though my crewmates were still watching me curiously. Mharra looked like he was expecting me to do something rash, and Three...I wondered if its ghostly senses could bypass my magic.

'What the...is this your doing?' Jalil asked, slowly standing up. 'Mage? Or...?'

'If you guess right, I won't make you disappear.' I smiled. 'Now...why don't you tell me what your problem is with my friend? It is slowly going mad, you see. I don't think you would want to make it angry, too.'

And I would be damned if I didn't get to the bottom of this. Let Fhaalqi eat my bones if my friend ends up spending its days hunted and hated, like I did for so long.