Blackjack wayward the bl.., p.4
Blackjack Wayward (The Blackjack Series), page 4
“Yeah, them. They didn’t look too prosperous. Place was more like a gulag, you know what I mean?” I let that linger a moment before continuing. “Was that the Mist Army you were talking about?”
“There are those who always suffer,” he said.
“Besides, that’s not the point,” I went on, not caring that he was growing more and more severe. “They tried to kill me and my friends.”
“You were trespassing on their lands.”
I looked at the captain, who seemed to be enjoying our tit-for-tat. She smiled and shrugged, implying that I was on my own against my bronze adversary.
“They could have asked us nice,” I smiled.
The Captain laughed, clapping me on the back with far more strength than I gave her credit for.
“Little did they know it was Big Bad Blackjack they had come across!”
“Yes, well, now there’s war. And my people suffer. And I am left wishing that you had not come,” Drovani said softly. Then he turned and walked down the stairs and across the main deck.
“He’s full of piss and wind,” Zann spat, coming closer, apparently having heard much of the conversation.
“He is a Yellow Sun prince and our client, Zann,” the Captain retorted. “We must therefore treat him with the respect that should be accorded one of his station. Besides, he is paying for our latest foray.”
“I don’t know what all that meant,” he said, adjusting his crotch.
“Yellow Sun is what we call them because of the color of their skin, but they self-identify as the Vershani. In any case, they are the power among the drift, now that the Mist Army is gone. It means we play nice,” she said, giving me a wink. “I am Contessa Nicatrix, by the way, and my ship is called the Lady’s Nightmare. I introduced myself prior to Drovani incanting his magic, so I doubt you understood.”
“How long will it last?”
She shrugged, taking a few steps toward the tiller and giving the pilot a minor course correction.
“Let’s hope it lasts,” I said. “I don’t want to ask that guy for anything.”
“It is he that is asking us for something, Blackjack. We are presently in his employ.”
I leaned back against the railing that overlooked the main deck, gazing aft, watching the billowing wake left as the ship’s bow disturbed the swirling skies.
“It places you in a strange predicament,” she continued.
“I bet it does.”
“We saved you from being marooned and a not-so-pleasant end.”
Zann chuckled.
“And I guess now I’m in your debt.”
“You could say that, but more than that, I have a proposition for you. Help my crew with our upcoming mission and I will make you a rich man. If you wish to part ways at that time, then we shall drop you off in Mangalore, Stardock, or wherever you wish, safe and sound with your pouches full of coin.”
I didn’t know what these places were, though I could imagine them being Earth’s equivalent of 17th Century Nassau colony and Port Royal in Shard World. A pair of raucous places full of drinking and whoring.
“The other option...,” Zann began, making a falling motion with his hands, ending over the railing.
I didn’t want to go into the logistical difficulties the crew would experience trying to throw me overboard, but I understood the basic idea: join the crew, or it will get ugly. Then again, I had to push it; I wanted to see how easily they would turn against me.
“I beat you once, Zann,” I said, softening the menace with a smile.
He smiled too.
“It wouldn’t make me happy to do it,” he started, “and I don’t think it would be easy to lug your ugly arse over. But I’d get me and a couple of the boys, and yeah, we’d throw you over.”
“I guess that settles it, then. Count me in.”
Zann took me below deck and I joined the crew, and I can’t say I remembered a single one of their names as they welcomed me to their ranks. There was a guy with pinkish skin, like a naked bear with seething pustules around his ears, and a massive fellow that was mostly thick blue fur, a wide mouth, and eyes where a normal man’s chest would be, but he had no arms or head.
I also met an overly friendly anthropomorphic fox who had an additional second pair of limbs protruding from his face, and a creature with bold, black eyes that was tall and thin-skinned enough for me to see his muscles and inner organs. There was a stern orc, as if straight from Tolkien, except female, and just as tough as any of the others; and a wormy creature that appeared like viscous crimson fluid flowing in a watery solution, able to jet and move around with impressive agility. Another one was some sort of cheetah man, and I say that because of his pattern, because he was definitely a lion among lambs, tall and powerful. As impressive as Zann was, I was surprised they didn’t throw the cheetah guy at me. He was draped in sinewy muscle beneath the short fur, and at his sides hung a pair of cutlasses, which probably made him a dual-wielding skirmisher. His name, I caught: Skeetrix the Bold.
They led me to an open pit where a small stove heated the room poorly, and someone thrust a mug of a foul-smelling liquid into my hand. It tasted like refined dog piss and probably was. The others drank it too, and lots of it, for the stove upon closer inspection was a distillery, cobbled together from scrounged parts; but the alcohol was strong and plentiful.
“Blackjack here’s going to lead us in the fight, boys,” Zann beamed once everyone was gathered, and a loud cheer went up. “We can’t lose now!” he added.
Someone brought me a stool and a strong arm sat me down. Skeetrix sat across from me, watching me with a feral grin. Beside him, the orc-lady took a spot, close enough to him to denote a more than passing friendship.
“Is it true you destroyed the Mists by yourself?” she asked, and the raucous crew died down, all eager to hear my story. After a few seconds you could have heard a pin drop.
I laughed. “Big deal, is it?”
There was disbelief at first, then Zann exploded into laughter, joined by a few others, and moments later the whole deck was awash in it.
“We can’t lose, boys!” Zann repeated, and I saw a few nodding in agreement.
“What’s this mission you’re talking about?”
“Oh, no,” spoke the fox fellow, with a soft voice that I was almost too low to be heard over the crowd. “First you must tell us about the Mist Army. We came to scavenge the battlefield two weeks after you had gone, but there was little left then.”
“Just a wide scar on the land,” said Skeetrix, his speech difficult due to a mouthful of overgrown fangs. “As if a great god had wrought his vengeance upon the land.”
I couldn’t help but smile at how the story was told, how my foolish ride atop a mechanical behemoth was now a legend for these people. Part of me didn’t want to burst their bubble, tell them the truth: that I had just been a passenger for the ride, barely able to control the huge monstrosity that did most of the damage.
“Is it true you bested all of their lords in single combat?” asked the orc woman, whose intense demeanor would not break even as the others were awash in laughter.
“If you mean Dethregas, Varshantas, and the other guy, yeah.”
The crew laughed at my nonchalance, and I couldn’t help but find my spirits lifted in their company. We drank and ate and smoked until the machine could spit out the clear, noxious alcohol no longer. Few were still awake, and I told them the entire story, from the skirmishes approaching the village, to the grand battle against the entire army, to my capture and ultimate escape from the Lightbringers’ fortress. I told them the whole story, without leaving out any details, except one: I didn’t mention Apogee or the others.
Once everyone was drunk or sleeping, I came aloft and roamed the quarterdeck. I regretted not giving Cool and Apogee and Haha their fair due for their part in the battles, to Haha for playing an integral role in building the machine to return us home, to Cool for always being there when things were most dire, to Apogee, whose warmth and kindness opened my eyes, helped me understand myself. I didn’t want them to know about my friends. The loss of Cool Hand still felt fresh, and Haha for all of his alien detachment had grown on me. Apogee, who was most likely alive and well, was just as lost to me. I felt those pains as acutely as any wound I’d taken. Strange enough, it was Zundergrub I’d wanted to talk about least. His betrayal had cost me everything, but that I understood. He was insane and a villain. It was something so fundamental: I didn’t want to remind myself that I could have associated with such a monster, called myself a member of his company. But in another way, I knew that Zundergrub represented the darkness that could have overcome me, the shadowy path that I was barreling down until I met Apogee, until she had saved me.
But I didn’t want to be reminded of her, either.
I loved her, that much was true, and I was sure she had feelings for me, feelings tainted by the fact that I had killed her former lover and friend. Accidental or not, it didn’t matter. How could she see beyond that to the man I was becoming, rather the man I was? I had no way of knowing what she felt now, after all we had gone through, after we stood by each other when the world was coming to an end, after I had saved her, and she had saved me.
I had to find out, to talk to her, to hold her hand and see my reflection in her endless green eyes, see her smile at one of my clumsy jokes, feel her warmth once again.
I had to.
It all seemed so far away, and not just literally, since I was many lightyears from Earth. That part of my life seemed like a lifetime ago, and this was a new chapter, a new start for me. The clean start I could never get back home. On earth I was the villain, the cover boy for the ills of the world. I turned it around at the right moment and saved the world, almost in spite of myself, but that didn’t earn me anything except the blame. Who would give me another chance?
The fact was, I probably didn’t even deserve it.
Chapter Three
I searched the ship for the little imp I had spent the night with but found her missing, and in fact, no one even knew who I was talking about. And that wasn’t the strangest thing that happened to me after drinking over a gallon of the crew’s awful concoction. My head was spinning, not just from the vertigo of three-dimensional sailed flight but also from the powerful grog, so I’m not sure if I managed to convey my meaning to the crewmembers I met. Besides, most of them were also under the fiery liquid’s spell. But it didn’t matter; the imp was gone, as if deleted by a magical eraser, and I was renounced to a night lacking company. I went amidships and leaned against the gunwale, looking off into the swirling mists.
We were sailing near a large shard, populated by a dense jungle whiting pulsing with thousands of tiny lights, denoting some sort of settlement deep within the tree cover. It was a deluged swampland, like a dense mangrove forest, and above flew one of the largest creatures I have ever seen. It was thin and translucent, with only a hint of azure along its long tail. It reminded me of the famed and rare oarfish from Earth, except reptilian, and with a five-mile-long head that was more Komodo dragon than fish. The thing moved by streaming its pelvic and dorsal fins and curving against itself. The Lady’s Nightmare was too small to even be a morsel to the beast, who seemed content to strain against the same head current we were tacking into. It was fighting the headwind just enough to stay almost motionless above the shard, as if waiting for prey to pop up from the underbrush.
A figure approached, interrupting my thoughts. I turned, hoping to find my impish companion once again but seeing instead Drovani. He approached bearing a glass decanter of reddish-clear fluid, like diluted wine, and a pair of crystal goblets that were trimmed with gold. He nodded, taking his place beside me and handing me a glass.
“This is Artenanka, Blackjack,” he said, all tone of hostility gone from his voice. “It is a delicacy in my home world, one of the few we were able to replicate in this place despite our present condition.”
He filled my glass first, then his own, and placed the decanter on the bulwark, raising his glass up for a toast. It was a fluid much like spent motor oil, but it had the sweet smell of jasmine.
“We’re playing nice now?” I asked.
Drovani smiled, displaying his sharp canines.
“Yes,” he began. “A measure of apology for my earlier behavior.”
Our glasses met and let out a high-pitched harmony that lingered in the air, then was lost in the breeze. He drained his flute and raised an eyebrow when he noticed I hadn’t, so I downed mine as well. It was like wine, but much stronger, and the fluid had a strange effervescence much like champagne. The tickle persisted once I had swallowed.
“Interesting,” I said.
“I hoped you might enjoy it.”
“You have to understand,” I started, in an apologetic tone, not even knowing why I did it. “The Mists just attacked us, and the folk from that village. We were just defending ourselves.”
He nodded. “Indeed, it was their mistake.”
“I just think it’s important you know that we didn’t incite them.”
“They were led by the most foolish and bombastic,” he said, pouring us another round. “And it cost them dearly.”
“Are they even around anymore?”
Drovani shook his head, “Just a few of their former warlords, tucked away in shards with a few solders. Mostly fighting each other these days.”
“Well, that’s good. Those guys were assholes,” I said, sipping the wine.
“The passing of the Mist Army provided opportunities as well. For example, to my people.”
I studied him for a moment, wondering what he was getting at. He was unarmed and, while a formidable creature, far smaller than I. If it came to a tussle, he’d bear the brunt, but he didn’t present a threat at the moment. Drovani was interested in something, more than just the mission he had hired the ship for. He wanted something from me.
“I wasn’t here long enough the last time to get to know the local politics.”
He laughed.
“I suppose not,” he shrugged and poured more of the wine to top off our glasses. “A dozen years ago, my people fought the Mists, and won. We were victorious, but they had great numbers, and their armies were easily replenished, whereas ours ... well, my people are long-lived, longer perhaps than any other of the aliens gathered in this world, but we could not expect to survive a long war of attrition against the Mists. A treaty was proposed and accepted by both parties, wherein the Mists would rule all places save the remnants of our world. There we would be autonomous, and the treaty held for eleven years. Until you came and made it void, by destroying not only the Lords of the Mists, but also their ruling council.”
“You’re welcome,” I joked, and he raised his glass to me.
“Yes,” he continued. “There is an opportunity now, a chance to change this place, for the better. No more Mist gulags, like the one you encountered. No rendition of able bodied males to serve in their ranks, nor of attractive females to serve their needs. No more stealing of harvests to feed the armies.”
“Peace,” I said.
“In a word, yes. My people could bring this.”
“In return for what?”
Drovani’s eyes snapped at me, “Nothing. My people are peace-loving. We do not wish to rule this world, but to free it from the yoke of those who founded it.”
“The Lightbringers?”
He nodded.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, not wanting to let him know that any effort against the Lightbringers would be destined to fail. They were god-like beings, with mastery of matter and energy, and perhaps even time itself. I should know: I stood before one and was utterly at its mercy, in both body and mind. In fact, when it communicated with me, I recall it utilizing my own thoughts and memories, organizing them in a way for me to best understand its meaning and intentions. I had never felt so helpless. So powerless. Drovani and his people might be formidable warriors, but nothing could stand in the face of the Lightbringers, and to claim to want to fight them wasn’t just folly – it was ridiculous.
“So tell me about your people,” I asked, not wanting to get into an argument with him.
“We know ourselves as Vershani,” he began, “and our people come from a lush forest world, a planet called Calaqmul. I don’t know where your world is, in order to give you a reference.”
“Earth,” I said. “Our planet is called Earth, it’s in the Sagittarian arm of the Milky Way galaxy.”
He thought for a moment. “Those names mean little to me. But it is no matter. My people had reached the pinnacle of civilization, after many wars of unification, and were united as one. A single powerful force that ruled our star system, and several others.”
Which was interesting, and contrary to what he had just said about a “peace-loving people,” but I said nothing, content to enjoy the fragrant wine and let him continue.
“It was at this highest point in our culture’s history when the Lightbringers came and ripped our world apart. We fought, of course, but we were unprepared, and what is left of our people now exists here.”
He paused, watching me, and I suppose, wondering what was going through my mind.
“For a time, we were scavengers, much like the people you first encountered in that gulag. But in the time since, we have endured, and then thrived, despite much toil and hardship. We have been preparing for this moment since our arrival here, and soon we shall achieve what no other race in Shard World could ever hope to: freedom for all the peoples of this place.”
“Sounds nice, but what do you need me for?”
He smiled, “We, in fact, do not need you, but you will make things much easier.”
