Chapter 42 - Butter Knife

  An afternoon sun glowered.

  The Scarlet Reaver neared the Katuri port village. Aaron saw no change in scenery from two years past. Same small huts with fishes drying on rooftops. Same fishermen whose faces he could vaguely remember. And he could have sworn he saw the same man squatting before a fire, selling deep fried pomfret.

  This small settlement was where he and Viper had found their current roads. It was where they'd met Eksa and Jackrin. And it was where Eksa had obtained her own vessel too. Aaron clutched the collar of his black coat, afraid the memories it carried would be blown away by the blessed winds that had favored him here two years ago. He felt hot beneath, and his shirt suffered for it —quickly becoming a sticky mess.

  The Reaver was not fated to stop at this port however. Its quarry was ahead of the schedule Eksa was given by a bare hour. The weapons trader vessel was cruising along coastal waters and still in sight. Aaron watched the captain as she brought a monocular to her eye. Her hair shone like a blend of amber and ruby gems. She'd done it in a single braid, pulling the bulk of it back to reveal a pair of ears gone red from the heat. The dark lines beneath her eyes were gone, giving her face a brighter glow, and her figure had grown significantly more attractive.

  Eksa was his. But what that meant entirely, he wasn't sure. He pulled his eyes away. She reminded him too much of Mely. Aaron just couldn't look past that whenever he tried viewing Eksa in a different light.

  “Full speed ahead!” the young captain called. “Their ship is not faster than ours.”

  The merchant vessel soon slowed and raised their sails upon seeing the flag of Eurale chasing after them. The name Brazen was nailed into the bow in dirty brass lettering. It was a few hands inferior in length to The Scarlet Reaver and had one less mast. Its crew, Aaron saw, consisted of mostly unarmed sailors working the ropes or scrubbing the deck, about a dozen well-armed guards in leathers typical for merchant ships, and one finely dressed plump fellow with dark blonde hair and olive skin. The guards carried themselves with the air of veterans. They had stout builds, hardened faces, and scars here and there.

  Jack joined Aaron's side, mask worn, flipping a knife in his hand. He was now of equal height and had a lean frame. “Doesn't seem like much of a challenge,” he said. “The sailors are nervous. I can hear them muttering.”

  “Is anything a challenge to you?”

  “My sister might be.”

  This was the first Aaron was hearing of Jack's sister. The mask hid any emotions. “Older, or younger?”

  “Older,” Jack said, an edge to his voice. “A full blood.”

  Aaron pried no further, seeing as how the jester had stopped tossing the knife and was now clutching it instead, veins in his arms bulging.

  The fine dressed fellow approached the edge of his ship with arms behind his back and chin pointed up. He showed no interest in conflict with inferior numbers —that much was evident in his flitting eyes. “I am Gabro, a member of the Golden Trifecta merchant guild.” He paused, as if expecting some recognition of either his name or the guild's. Aaron didn't recall anything familiar, nor did anyone else on board the Reaver. Gabro's gaze passed over Eksa's artillery weapons. Though he had a similar number on both sides of his ship, his were considerably smaller and more suited to firing upon a person than poking holes into a ship. “I would ask that the captain of this vessel name themselves and state the business of Eurale with myself.”

  Eksa adjusted her tricorne and stepped forward, as normal. Most of her battles started off as conversations and pirates trying to talk their way out or buy time for schemes. “I am Captain Eksa of Eurale,” she announced with arms folded and shoulders rolled back. “In the name of his majesty, King Agram, I demand you turn over the black iron weapons in your possession. You will not be asked twice!”

  Gabro began rubbing his hands together. “Ah, a trade I see. How you came by your information, I would not know but I'd be more than accommodating for the appropriate price…”

  Eksa snapped her fingers. A number of deckhands cranked the row of five ballistae and prepared to fire.

  “This is absurd!” Gabro began. “Piracy from the navy? Has Agram gone senile, attempting to earn the Empire's scorn in such a manner?”

  “Don't make me snap my fingers a second time, merchant Gabro,” Eksa warned. Aaron smiled. She'd grown bold in her manner of speech. A good trait for a captain. He found himself incapable of averting his eyes from her back, seeing her stand with one hand to her hip and another in the air with three fingers pressed together and ready to snap.

  “Don't threaten me girl!” Gabro began with a glare. His pitch had grown higher, not at all matching the frustration showing on his face. “It was you who or—”

  “Our captain is no mere girl!” Aki cut off, pointing her spear.

  Jack elbowed Aaron's side while letting out a whistle. “Fat man's shaking in his boots,” he giggled. “But… Strange of the barkeep to cut him off. Now what do you imagine it was he was trying to say?”

  Aaron grunted. “Something smells off about the way Aki had acted about this mission. And now she cut the merchant off. Wait here. I'll ask Eksa to deescalate things and have us board them to inspect whether they have weapons or not.”

  No sooner had Aaron said that, two deckhands stepped away from one of the artillery machines. The thing unwound and a bolt went flying into Brazen. It was aimed high and sent aboard, somehow missing everyone there. The bolt crashed into the ship's main mast. Splinters of wood sprayed out and caught a number of topless sailors in their arms and back. Minor wounds, but the battle cries had been rung.

  “Who fired that?” Eksa demanded. “I didn’t give the order!”

  The captain's words fell on deaf ears. One drawn sword was followed by many. Aaron cursed as he unsheathed a short sword he'd purchased. Beside him, Jackrin's cackles slowly grew louder. A bewildered Eksa drew her own cutlass as two more ballistae were fired bereft of her commands, one bolt whistling through air and piercing the ocean, the other plowing straight into Gabro, sending him flying to the far edge of his own ship where the force of impact was enough to tip him over the ledge.

  “Viper, make for Eksa and keep her from harm,” Aaron ordered, knowing the Shadow Walker was in his own shadow. Aaron passed by his captain and allowed their shadows to touch before charging toward the wooden crossing Eksa's crew had already attached to the enemy ship.

  Aki was the first across, screaming as she impaled a guardsman's thigh with her spear. Jack was next, leaping over two others and crashing into bewildered enemies with unfathomable speed. He was too much of a show off, Aaron thought. He landed aboard the Brazen, heart pounding, and rushed at the nearest guard who was already fending off the jester. Aaron plunged his short sword into the unarmored armpit of the man. He rent the blade out and spun to avoid the spray of red that followed.

  Jack howled as he crashed into an enemy and tackled him to the floor. His glee was evident in his voice as he mutilated his target's face with knives like the claws of a feral beast. The rest of Eksa's vanguard arrived and overwhelmed the twelve armed men of the Empire vessel. They were toppled and slain within seconds with the final two dropping their arms and leaping over the edge of the ship, leaving frightened Tarmian sailors to fend for themselves. Aaron bent down to wipe his weapon on the clothes of the fallen foe. He heard Eksa's fierce screams, but the battle was already over by the time she and the other half of the crew reached him.

  A small pocket of space was created around Jack who still laughed maniacally whilst sinking his knives in and out of a writhing body beneath him. He eventually bent low over his hunt and ended the kill with a stab to the throat. Again his clothes had been ruined by blood. Frowns bred from fear and disgust marred the faces of the Reaver's crew as they stepped away from the madman. Eksa stepped close to him —and to Aaron's surprise, slapped Jack hard enough to yelp herself as her finger bones clashed with the edge of his mask.

  “Don't you ever Flaming do something so heinous again!” she cried, while soothing her hurt finger. Jack cocked his head, likely smiling beneath the mask. “Am I understood?”

  Aaron saw the half-breed's eyes turn to him through the slits in the mask. He sheathed his blade and nodded slowly. “Yes, Captain,” Jack then said, in that same mischievous and insincere tone of his.

  Eksa spared the jester a long glare. “Clean this mess up,” she demanded, pointing at the corpses like a mother disciplining her child. “And begin scrubbing the deck. I don't want a single bloodstain remaining by the time we return to Eurale.” Jack removed his mask and pouted but the captain had already turned to address the crew. “I want half of us on this ship watching the Tarmian sailors as we return to Eurale. Aaron, go down and confirm that there are black iron weapons stored. Give me an average estimate of the amount and potential cost as well if there are.”

  Aaron nodded and set to his task. Eksa had grown into an admirable woman and captain from the timid girl she'd been a year ago. Someone capable that he would have had no qualms staying with if it weren't for his memories urging him to become the ruler his bloodline claimed him to be.

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  He went below deck, letting out an exhale of exhaustion as shadow engulfed him. “Smells like oiled metals,” he said as he felt the chill of the Umbra behind him. “Your own swords are black iron, aren't they?”

  Viper grunted.

  “Say, how much can you carry in the world of shadows?”

  “Not much. I travel faster, but the more weight I carry, the colder it becomes.” Viper snorted. “Father said that was why there'd never been any fat Shadow Walkers. Nor will there ever be.”

  Aaron ran his hand over barrels stacked with black tipped spears. He glanced back. “What of pregnant women?”

  The Shadow Walker shrugged. “Lives in the material world for nine months? I don't know. Didn't know my mother.”

  And I don't know my father. The place was stacked with weapons, including ivory bows bows and black tipped arrows with a weighty and thick fletching. Aaron tried pulling one back, barely making a bend in the string. He frowned. The draw weight seemed more suited for a man like Dhorjun. It required his full strength to pull the string back to his chin. “There's at least twenty to thirty gold pieces worth of weaponry here. I find it hard to believe bottom scraping pirates could afford these.”

  “They're durable, but not well made with a person's capabilities in mind,” Viper said. “The guards on the swords are light. The spear hafts have no counterweight.”

  Aaron nodded. Viper knew weapons better than him after all. “The bows feel impractical with their draw weights. You'd rather have your strongest men on the frontlines than in an archery unit. A good haggler might get these for fifteen gold crowns for their lack of quality then.”

  “Or a silver tongued seller might be rid of these for forty pieces,” Viper mused.

  Aaron laughed. “Or that,” he agreed. They both knew Dhorjun was no honey mouthed merchant. Aaron delved deeper into the ship's entrails, if only in search of greater quality weapons. At the end of the room sat a worn rectangular box with latches for locks. Dusty web lines were attached to the top. The sides seemed scratched by the teeth of rats. Aaron knelt and ran his fingers over it. “Old leather.”

  “Ancient wine?” Viper asked, standing over Aaron's shoulder.

  “Probably.” The latches were rusted. Aaron pushed hard with his thumb, causing a grating sound as the small latch lifted and finally clicked. He removed the lid to find a sheathed weapon lain in velvet cloth along with a small book. Strange letters were pressed into the hilt. Letters similar to the iron pendant he once had. They tickled at his memories, and though he could not read it yet, the black sheath with navy blue whorls was something well known to his ancestors.

  “Chronary,” Viper muttered, backing away.

  Aaron slowly pulled the blade free from its case, revealing a polished sabre untouched by age. Its back had sharp ends like a child's drawing of waves. He felt a searing flash of hate and anger as his grip around the hilt grew strong. And then it all bled away and was replaced by intense vigor. He was overcome with an insatiable lust to swing the weapon and waste this newfound strength. With a sharp inhale, Aaron sheathed the weapon and let go of the hilt, feeling the artificial power slowly drain away. “Butter Knife,” he breathed. “To think this weapon was hidden away in some crevice of Katur's armory. It is a weapon of Ylpha's making.”

  Viper inhaled sharply. “Blood Mage Ylpha?”

  “The same,” Aaron said. He picked up the small ledger that was inside the black case. The edges of the pages were discolored and crumbling, but the center was otherwise well preserved.

  “To you who comes across this weapon, I pray you take this warning to heart. This ledger bears the names of those who held this weapon in times past. Heroes unsung of. For heroes they were, but demons they became. This blade grants power —and an insatiable need to use it. All who once held it went mad and committed atrocities, being forever remembered for their horrible deeds rather than their preceding valorous ones.”

  The remaining pages made mention of historical murderers whose names Aaron had heard on the mouths of passing common folk, though more as legends nowadays used to scare children. He never imagined old wive's tales to contain such truths to them.

  “It would be wiser to just melt the blade.”

  “It would,” Aaron agreed, discarding his short sword and attaching Butter Knife to his belt. “It would also be a shame to lose something so powerful.”

  Viper crossed his arms.

  “Don't look at me like that,” Aaron said. “I know this weapon better than any. Someone of the Zz'tai wielded it in the past, and holding the hilt returned those memories to me. I can control it. I promise.”

  “If not…?”

  Aaron smiled. “Good thing I have capable friends like you and Jack, eh? Butter Knife. Sounds like Jackrin's sort of humor, naming a weapon of power such.” He ran his fingers over the hilt and felt tingles of power. An Artifact borne of Chronary —magic that he was affected, and could be afflicted, by. The making of the weapon had to have been an evil process filled with sacrificed lives, but the weapon itself couldn't be considered so. Power, like knowledge, was never inherently evil. That was solely decided upon how it was used. “So what's the average cost of the arms here do you think?”

  “Mm… about twenty gold crowns I'd say?” Viper tried.

  “Sure. That's about as much Admiral Dhorjun will probably get for it,” Aaron laughed. “Unless he decides to hand them out to the navy.”

  ***

  Another conquest to add to her list of achievements. Only, this one left a bad taste in Eksa's mouth. The very ballistae that she strived to seldom use during missions had been fired ahead of her orders. Each machine needed two men per to be used efficiently. That meant six from her crew had disobeyed. Two had been the Foura twins —theirs was the second shot that had touched nothing. The remaining four were newer additions, all young men not five years older than her. Tyles, Bren, Malk, and Rendja. Four men from a nameless group of mercenaries, average height with average builds. They'd only been on the ship for several cycles.

  “Who was it that fired the first shot?” Eksa asked, walking back and forth before the six sitting on their knees. Tyles and Bren put their hands up. She paused and crossed her arms, fixing them with a glare. A glare that did nothing to intimidate them. “Do you understand what you've done?”

  “You mean scaring the Ashes out of them?” Tyles asked with a smirk.

  Eksa kicked the man in the gut, to which he actually smiled. “You've undermined my authority by firing without permission!” she seethed. It didn't come out quite as harsh as she imagined. She didn't have her father's commanding voice. Is it me these men respect or the luxury I provide that they seek? Tyles had that look in his eyes that said 'I'll do it again', and it wasn't at all bearable like when Jackrin acted this way. Jack couldn't help it. This behaviour from Tyles was disrespectful. “And you, Foura Twins, what's your excuse? You've been on The Scarlet Reaver for over two years.”

  The taller of the twins spoke out. “We thought the order had come after the first firing.”

  Eksa put her hands on her hips and frowned. “Did you hear the order?” They shook their heads. “Did you see me wave my arm or snap my fingers to fire?” Another shaking of heads. “So you just decided to follow suite what error was committed first?” Eksa asked. The twins slowly nodded. Right. Simpletons. “And you two killed the merchant before we could capture and question him,” she told Malk and Rendja. “What's your excuse?”

  They both said something inaudible.

  “Speak up!” Eksa demanded.

  “Poor aim,” Rendja said.

  “Poor Flaming aim?” Eksa shrieked. “When our two ships were just shy of kissing? You two are to never man a ballistae ever again!” She turned to Aki who stood behind her holding a whip with five leather ends. “Pull up your shirts,” Eksa said, holding out her hand for the whip. The barkeep handed it to her. Eksa wondered what the appropriate number of lashes would be for disobedience to make sure it never happened again. Her eyes passed over all six again. She felt an ounce of sympathy that was stomped down when noticing the almost eager expressions on the four mercenary faces. Eager as if they wanted the whipping. Eksa swallowed, realizing that they did want it, especially from her. Only the Foura twins seemed nervous about the pain.

  She handed the whip back to Aki. “On second thought, no.”

  The barkeep raised a brow. “You won't discipline them, Captain?”

  “No,” Eksa said. “Not me. Call Jack from the other ship.”

  Oh, how those smirks were bled dry of any color!

  Jackrin came over, crinkling his nose at Eksa's perfume, but smiling otherwise. “Yes, Captain? How might I turn that frown to a grin?” he sang.

  The half-breed was scenery given life. Bright blue eyes with a clean face and sharp jaw. And a smile like a snare that made hearts pound in longing panic. Eksa half suspected she might have fallen for him if there hadn't been a lingering fear still inside. A fear not of who he was, but the madness that drove him. The way he gleefully slaughtered others when given the opportunity.

  “I want you to carve the number one into their backs,” Eksa said, pointing at the six guilty still on their knees. “They will walk without their shirts henceforth, and be reminded of their folly at the sting of saltwater's touch until the wound has crusted and fallen.” Eksa felt sick as the words left her mouth. But a precedent needed to be set. This was meant to be a naval force. They needed discipline. “And all who see the wound will know the price of disobedience. Any subsequent crimes will lead to a second number carved into your back. Remember it.”

  Jackrin giggled while tossing a knife into the air. He caught it between his teeth, grinning at the guilty who fortunately had their heads low and didn't see his fangs.

  Eksa descended below deck before the first of the pitiful screams could enter her ears. She sat down in her cabin to make record of the day's events in her logbook. Aki followed her down and stood in the doorway, holding a dark bottle in her hand.

  “Found this on Brazen,” she said, twirling the bottle by its neck. “Half empty but its good. Some rare fruit from the eastern parts of the Empire I think.”

  “Huh,” said Eksa. She unstoppered her ink jar.

  “Come now, little snake. It's just a celebratory drink. You won't even share a cup?”

  “No,” Eksa said. Her throat had dried from screaming and her gaze flickered to the bottle for only a brief second.

  “Your loss,” the barkeep shrugged, taking a swig. “You control the blond boy so well when everyone else fears him. It's amusing.”

  “Huh.”

  Aki crossed her arms. “Is there something he wants that you have?” Eksa frowned at the woman. “It seems that way with Aaron anyway,” Aki continued, speech slurring. “You have grown past him, right? He's claimed to have been with women, and yet he's never made a move on you. I think he lied to me.” She downed the remainder of the bottle.

  Aaron's lain with others…? Eksa could feel her jealousy slowly restrain her breathing. “Aki, for how long have you been drinking?” The barkeep could hold her liquor, but even she had her limits.

  “If I had to guess, he's probably some northern nobility raised with all that preppy talk about honor and morals like you. You do a good job leading him by the nose.”

  That isn't at all what I do…

  Aki rubbed her eyes furiously. Then she scratched at her throat. “Jack on the other hand… be careful of him little snake. He seems to be using us as a means to satisfy his bloodlust.” She turned to leave and paused just outside the captain's cabin, holding the side for balance. “You should really loosen up from those morals of yours, little snake. For your own good, you know. Not as bad as you think it to be.”

  Eksa sighed as the barkeep stumbled off. She put her thumbnail in her mouth. Did Aaron think the same way as her? Was it better just to bring up marriage then? “Gah!” Eksa screamed, slamming her fists on her desk. Ink drops sloshed out of the open jar and plopped on the wood. Then what about when he'd kissed that whore at the party and so easily put his hands on her? Had he really lain with other women too?

  Eksa shook her head and returned to writing. It was just Aki's drunken rambling. It had to be. But why was she so drunk?

  The answer to that question wouldn't be found until The Scarlet Reaver's return to Eurale a few days later.