The Undead Hordes of Kan-Gul (2 page)

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Authors: Jon F. Merz

Tags: #Fantasy, #Epic, #Historical, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Literature & Fiction

BOOK: The Undead Hordes of Kan-Gul
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CHAPTER TWO

The spray of salt water lashed across the bow of the
Aqaria
as it cut its way through the trough of another wave. The unending up and down as waves rose and fell under the keel made Ran’s stomach heave. As the bottom of another wave dropped out, Ran bit his tongue to stem to rising gorge in his throat. His knuckles were white as he gripped the bulwark with his right hand and the hilt of his curved sword with his left.

“We couldn’t have waited until the storm subsided?”

His question produced a loud bellowing laugh from the stern of the boat, where Malkyr handled the wheel with nonchalance as he faced the storm. “Too rough for you, then?” He ran a hand through his thick, coarse beard, where briny droplets glistened. “The Dark Sea is always like this. It doesn’t matter when we set sail. So best to get on with it, eh?”

Best to get us back on to dry ground,
thought Ran. Ahead of the boat, he saw only dark clouds and darker waves. The ship on which he sailed seemed terribly small in comparison to the brewing tempest. He’d started the journey belowdecks, but when the waves had started tossing the
Aqaria
about, he’d decided it was better to at least have fresh air while he convulsively emptied fish and rice into the surging sea.

He forced himself to grin; the fact that he was seasick humbled him. A recent graduate from the many arduous years of shadow-warrior training, Ran had seen a fair share of combat. Yet despite his fighting prowess, the sea had beaten his formerly iron stomach. If his teachers could see him now, they would undoubtedly dispense a lesson about Ran’s need to keep his ego in check. They would lecture him that his ego would grant his enemies a way to control and manipulate him.

But the teachers and the school of the Nine Daggers itself were many leagues to the east, hidden away behind a veil of perpetual fog in the mountains and valleys of Gakur. There, the Shinobujin had trained for generations, perfecting their abilities far from the prying eyes of those who would wish them harm. Famed for their ability to steal secrets, infiltrate impregnable castles, and hide in plain sight, the shadow warriors bore a fearsome reputation for their cunning and guile as well as their use of both traditional and unorthodox weapons. And if those failed, their skills in unarmed combat were also legendary.

Ran didn’t feel particularly legendary at the moment.

He bit back another tidal surge of vomit and steadied himself with a deep breath. He allowed his legs to spread and then sank his hips a bit more, giving him a better base of support.

So far, his wandering quest—what his clan called a
shugyo
—wasn’t as thrilling as he’d hoped. Certainly not as much as his final test before graduation. But the end result of that test had been that Ran had passed and simultaneously violated one of the school’s rules. His punishment was to embark on a
shugyo
where he would test himself and his skills while journeying abroad. This wasn’t so unusual in itself: the school normally dispatched its agents all across the lands near and far. It was how they kept tabs on what everyone else outside their secluded world was up to. The masters at the school could then decide if certain events required their intervention or not. Sometimes interventions took the form of subtly applied misinformation. Other times the actions were much more direct.

Ran’s best defense while he was outside the protection of the school was to never let anyone know that he was a shadow warrior. Certain rulers offered a huge bounty for the death of anyone found to be from the school. Others sought to employ them to their own ends, despite their distaste. So Ran simply adopted the manner of a wandering warrior looking for opportunities to sell his blade to whoever could afford him. To help his disguise, Ran had stopped shaving and now sported a stubbly growth all over his face. His hair had grown longer, but he didn’t pull it back off of his face the way the warriors of his homeland did. Despite his obvious youth, the overall effect of the ruddy, unkempt appearance gave him an edge that made people slightly wary when he approached.

Which was exactly what he wanted.

“Where are you headed?” asked Malkyr.

“West. To find work.”

“What—there aren’t enough lords in Nehon who could use your blade alongside theirs?”

Ran shrugged. “Perhaps I’d like to see the world.”

“Indeed,” said Malkyr. “You’re young enough, and adventure awaits. Is that it?”

“Perhaps.” Ran eyed the clouds. “This storm doesn’t seem to be helping matters, though.”

“We’ll get through it,” said Malkyr. “The current is being a bit troublesome, but the
Aqaria
is strong enough to handle it.”

Ran nodded. “You keep water below?”

“Yes. Try not to drink too much, though. We’re only a few hours into this journey, and we won’t see landfall for another day.”

Ran ducked belowdecks and found the barrels of water. He sipped at the ladle. As the cool water touched his throat, it removed the sting of bile. He found a berth near the other travelers and settled himself as best he could. In seconds, he was asleep.

Hours passed before he heard heavy footfalls clomping down the ladder. He cracked an eye and saw Malkyr looking around at his passengers. “This damnable storm is worse than any I’ve seen. We’re not going to make the port of Chulal.”

“Where are we headed?” asked Ran.

“Hopefully to Naran.” Malkyr spat on the deck. “But I wish we weren’t.”

The old drunk sat up at the mention of Naran, but quickly tried to hide his attentiveness.

Ran was fully awake now. “Why?”

“Because it’s a lawless place. Smugglers, thieves . . . they dominate the area. There’s no real ruling warlord. And the reefs nearby are deadly to ships like the
Aqaria
.”

Nearby, the female warrior grunted. “Kan-Gul.”

Malkyr whipped his head around and frowned. “I’d prefer you not speak that name, Neviah.”

Ran sat up. “What is Kan-Gul?”

“Not a what,” said Malkyr. “A who.” He frowned. “I need to get back up on deck.”

Ran watched him leave and then turned to Neviah. “He doesn’t seem too eager to talk about things.”

Neviah cursed and then yanked one of her throwing knives out of its sheath, running her eyes along its honed edge. “I’d hoped to give that area a wide berth.”

“What’s the problem?”

She eyed him. “You’ve never heard of Kan-Gul?”

“No.”

She shrugged. “Some say he’s a sorcerer. That he employs the undead to do his bidding. He controls that area, and the land is said to be rife with evil magic.”

“You believe it?”

Neviah frowned as she slid the knife back into its sheath. “I believe it enough to want to avoid the land and anything to do with Kan-Gul.”

The ship lolled to one side, and Ran’s stomach rolled with it. He swallowed quickly and tried to concentrate on dispelling his nausea. “I need some air.”

He climbed topside and was immediately drenched as a wave crashed over the bow of the ship. Ran sputtered and stumbled toward the rail and spat the salt water out of his mouth. Still, the cold water refreshed him.

A full day had passed, and dawn was close. The dark clouds overhead were lighter toward the heaving horizon. Malkyr stood by the tiller, and Ran wondered if the captain had even slept. Another wave crashed over him, and Ran steadied himself, watching the roiling seas, and he forgot his queasiness for a moment.

Mostly because he’d noticed something moving out of flow with the surging waves.

“Malkyr?”

“What is it?”

“I’ve heard stories of creatures that live in the seas. Have you ever seen them?”

Malkyr laughed. “There are things that swim in these waters that will eat you in one gulp, my boy. Huge, dangerous beasts that don’t care if you have a sword on your hip or not.” He paused. “Why do you ask?”

Ran pointed just as the ship rose on another swell. “There appears to be something following us. Just under the surface.”

“Probably a pod of dolphin,” said Malkyr.

But Ran heard the uncertainty in his voice and saw a ripple of concern crease his forehead. Malkyr turned and barked an order to his first mate in the strange tongue that the seafarers used. Ran didn’t understand the language—if you could even call the short, guttural utterance that—but he understood that Malkyr was concerned enough to order the first mate to stand ready with a large harpoon. Even as the storm clouds drew closer to the ship, the polished, folded-steel tip of the harpoon gleamed like an eye, searching for prey.

The first mate hefted the harpoon with scarred, tanned arms. A broken nose jutted out from under his brow, but his eyes were keen as they searched the waters around the ship. He said nothing to the captain but stood ready to hurl the giant spear.

The fingers of Ran’s left hand rested just below the guard of his sword. Normal warriors in his country often used their thumbs to ease the blade forward in its scabbard. But Shinobujin preferred using their index fingers underneath to accomplish the same motion. It often gave them the barest moment of advantage. In battle, you took whatever advantage you could get. Ran wasn’t sure how effective the edge of his folded steel sword would be against a leviathan from the deep, but he felt a measure of confidence anyway.

“Are you certain you saw something?” asked Malkyr.

Ran kept his eyes on the churning swells. “I did. It moved out of time with the flow of the water around us. We are definitely being stalked.”

Malkyr grunted and aimed the bow of the ship into another wave, keeping a firm hand as he fought to keep the
Aqaria
from turning and taking a potentially mortal wave broadside. Ran was grateful for his experience. He wouldn’t have wanted to go overboard in seas like this, regardless of the beast stalking the depths below them.

A sudden boom overhead tore open the skies, and rain dropped down in sheets. Ran heard Malkyr laughing and found the man’s behavior strange. “How can you find this funny?”

Malkyr pointed at the heavens. “The gods love to make the lives of mortals miserable. This weather, these waves, and even now the presence of some watery behemoth . . . But I’ll show them. Never let them see the fear that threatens to squeeze your heart. I’ll face whatever they throw at me. And more.” He shook a fist at the sky as more thunder roared. “You can’t kill me!”

Ran’s frown deepened. He wasn’t certain what the gods might or might not have to do with his present situation, but he saw no use in angering them further. Why ask for more trouble when there was no guarantee they’d outlive their immediate circumstances? It just didn’t seem wise.

He stared out over the waves and then saw a flash of movement again out of time with the rest of the flow of the sea. A shadow streaked horizontally across the waves in front of the bow. Ran was about to say something when he felt the breeze of the harpoon shooting past him, its silver barbed tip almost buzzing as it cut through the rain and streaked out beyond the ship. Ran watched it arc and then fall into the waves and the dark bulk just beneath.

Malkyr laughed again. “How’s that for a shot, eh?” He nodded at the first mate. “Excellent job.”

But the answer from the first mate was drowned out by a sudden screech as something rose up out of the waves ahead of them, spraying red foam across the bow and the deck. Ran caught the stench of brine and blood mixed together. The harpoon may have struck the creature, but just as Malkyr might have done with the gods, it had merely angered the beast.

And now the creature seemed intent on attacking the ship.

Ran glanced back at Malkyr. “Do you have other weapons on board this ship?”

“Another harpoon, and then we have our swords.”

“Any spears?”

Malkyr frowned. “No.”

Ran unsheathed his sword. “I suggest you call your men to arms.” As he said this, he felt the ship shudder. Ran turned and saw a massive tentacle come over the side of the ship. It crashed on the foredeck and shattered a wooden crate, spilling grain all over. Ran immediately rushed forward, swinging from high to low and severing the tentacle as far up as he could reach. The finely honed edge of his sword sliced through the muscled limb. Blood spouted from the stump, and the beast screeched again.

Ran didn’t stop. He spotted another tentacle rising out of the surf. Even as more rain slashed at him, he leaped high and cut horizontally, shearing another piece from the leviathan. He heard shouts behind him and risked a quick glance. Another tentacle had entangled one of the crew, its suckers already attached to his body. The man howled over the roar of the storm as his friends desperately tried to free him.

But in another blink, the tentacle vanished back into the sea, dragging the crewman to his death.

Malkyr shouted orders at his crew, but it was obvious that panic was setting in. The first mate tried to keep some measure of control, but then a rogue wave tossed the ship, and the first mate went over the side and vanished. Another tentacle appeared and smashed into the mast in the center of the boat. Ran heard the splintering of wood and looked up to see the mast breaking.

“Look out!”

Even as he shouted a warning, the timber crashed down onto the deck, crushing another crew member. Ran dodged the ruffled and drenched sail and the lines that threatened to spool around his feet. He’d spotted another tentacle lashing at the midships and struck out with his sword, cutting deep into the flesh and muscle of the suckered tendril. Dark blood poured from the gaping wound, spilling onto the already slippery deck. Ran jerked his blade free, and almost instantly the tentacle slid back into the deep.

His breath came in spurts now, and the adrenaline flowing through him made his pulse drum in his ears. He took several deep breaths and managed to calm his heart rate. He turned and saw the crew still trying to clear the wreckage of the mast from the deck. Men worked feverishly to cut the lines and toss the timber overboard.

Movement in his peripheral vision made him turn in time to see a massive tentacle streaming straight at him. Ran ducked and then heard the song of steel as another sword cleaved through the tentacle. He looked up to see the old drunk launching a series of lightning-fast cuts that severed the tentacle in several places. The wounded stump shrank back over the side of the ship.

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