21 Seagulls

THE PORT OF THUNDER

Beyond the island’s high mountains, soundless lightning bolts furiously struck the rocks. The flashes of the gods’ pummeling streaked ceaselessly against the black sky, and the sailors watched in awe, gathered on the deck. Mascardi smiled ecstatically. His blood boiled as he heard the calling of adventure. Forty years he’d waited for this.

The ship glided past a gigantic cliff on the northern part of the island, sailing slowly and quietly towards the western bay, where it would be able to drop anchor. Dozens of feet separated the coast from the island’s remote settlement, where any resident who’d chosen to dwell on the Island of Thunder would be.

When the ship’s bottom grazed the sand, a fair distance from the rest of the vessels, Mascardi gathered his men around him on the beach, in a tight circle of trust. He held a trident, and a curved blade hung from his belt. Heavy chains were wrapped around Vario’s neck, with a heavy, spiked, metal ball at their end. Mascardi had argued with him a lot the previous days, stating his concern about the combination of chains and lightning, but Vario wasn’t receptive to orders as to how to do his job.

On the beach, all of them knew the part they had to play. Ginom with another two men set off to torch the anchored ships. Mascardi didn’t want anyone to escape. He only spared one ship as a prize.

As black smoke started smothering the horizon, the men started climbing the steep steps to the citadel. New fires bloomed brilliantly in the dark, and they knew people would certainly rush to see what was happening. Mascardi was the lord of chaos, and he knew how to exploit such a situation better than anyone.

When they arrived at Loriax’s settlement, on the northern part of the island, they saw the endless sea stretching its black waters like a veil around them. Behind their backs, lightning bolts struck the vast expanse of the island. Its size was difficult to grasp. An entire country lay between forests, sharp rocks and high mountains that hid the mysteries of the gods and the Sentinel.

“By the Luvar and the Amar,” Karil growled, irked by the laborious ascent. He often used that invocation to foreign and local gods.

The settlement’s houses were few but built very close to each other. Narrow alleys meandered between colored walls, ropes with drying clothes and beautiful pots with sweet-smelling flowers.

“Those fuckers have built a home here,” Stario called, a crew member that wielded an axe with his left hand.

It wasn’t long before they heard footfall. In a panic, the residents ran towards the steps that led down to the port, carrying buckets, to try and save their ships. By the time they’d arrive though, those ships would be reduced to blackened wood peppered with ash, littering the sea.

The crew poured into the streets and screaming ensued. Stario struck a young boy with his axe; the metal buried itself deep in his belly and dropped him on the ground. Then he grabbed a screaming girl by her hair and tossed her against a wall with such force, that a horrible crack sounded from her skull. The girl collapsed on the ground like a doll and didn’t move again.

Odet shot two arrows in different directions. Before one could strike, the other had been released. They pierced the chests of two men who had raised their swords and had been running towards the crew.

Vario walked coolly, his two arms dangling over his chains, laughing. His form was terrifying, like a demon in the chaos. A young man defied him and rushed at him, wielding a long spear. Vario ducked and dodged the blow. He let the chain unfold as he kicked the young man and he fell on his butt a few feet ahead. He tried to grab the spear, but Vario’s metal ball collided with his head, resulting to a terrible explosion that painted the ledge next to them red. Someone screamed at the gruesome sight. Mascardi unleashed his trident towards the chest of another young man, who’d been struggling to load an arrow to his crossbow – Mascardi hated crossbows. The weapon easily penetrated the soft flesh and the young man dropped dead in an instant. After that throw, people stopped screaming and running.

Mascardi, having unquestionably earned their attention, walked to his latest target and pulled the trident free from the young man’s body with a wet sound. The crowd gasped.

“People of Loriax!” his voice echoed around the large square where the battle had moved. “There is no reason of resistance or panic. This battle is over. No one else has to get hurt, in the name of the king!”

His words caused a commotion. A girl was screaming a little further away; Stario was holding her prisoner by her braided hair. Despite threatening her with the axe against her throat, he wasn’t killing her – her beauty had piqued his interest.

“Stario!” Mascardi shouted, and the young man looked at him. Before the captain could warn him, a spear pierced through Stario’s torso, eliciting a jet of blood, before he fell dead at the feet of the dazed girl.

Mascardi saw the odd silhouette of an elf emerging behind Stario. He had seen elves from the East before, but this one was different. Its skin was pale blue, and its features drawn back. Gills existed in the place of its ears, and its fingers were linked by strange membranes.

“Odet!” the captain yelled, and the archer quickly armed his bow and aimed the arrow at the creature. Swiftly, the strange elf ran and jumped over the cliff, and was lost from sight. When they reached the cliff’s edge, they saw its small body carving a quick, vertical path dozens of feet down, until it disappeared in the black waters.

Mascardi and Odet exchanged a look.

“Aquats,” Ginom said behind them, and Mascardi whirled curiously to look at the dark-skinned warrior with the whip. “Water Elves,” he added. “We’ll never catch him at sea, we have to be careful.”

So, Mascardi left Stario’s body to the seagulls and the vultures and gathered his crew and the people to the nearest inn. The disorderly groups of people –mainly women, children, and elderly men now– followed him into the stone building. Mascardi put down his weapons and welcomed everyone inside with a friendly gesture. He was in the mood to talk, and as he stated, he had a lot to explain to them.

***

Inside the tavern, the atmosphere was tense. The people of Loriax seemed to have suffered a lot. More and more of them arrived as the news traveled with the wind. Outside, the gods struck the island with thunder. Torrential rain beat down on the settlement, and the newly arrived trailed water and mud on the inn’s wooden floor.

The crew had smugly settled in its new headquarters. The men served themselves or forced young girls to bring them food and drink, while they harassed them in any way possible and teased them, laughing. A sullen dark-haired woman about Mascardi’s age stared at them with calm, cold hatred from a dark corner, and Mascardi kept one eye on her.

As the hours passed and more people came, it became clear that any resistance against the crew would be futile. The armed and trained islanders had been slaughtered, many were away at sea and others hesitated when they realized the crew had come in the name of the king. Mascardi knew what he would find there. Many of the locals had been members of the army, pirates and men who had a bounty on their head and had thus been forced to abandon Lothen in a haste. Mascardi felt himself being one of them, but he always spoke as if he were a representative of the king.

He implied that in the near future, more royal ships would arrive at the island, and that Adam Whiteshield had decided to conquer the islands of the south. They had no reason to doubt his words. Even if he were lying, the captain knew that this way he would squash any hope of rebellion, and he was right.

When the danger of internal dispute would die down, Mascardi would finally be able to dedicate himself to the true purpose of this journey: the island’s jungle and its secrets.

Within the next few days, the crew established its presence on the island and made sure to enforce the firmness required. Mascardi ordered his men to kill whoever resisted the new status quo, but afterwards to make sure to show their good side to the residents, helping them at chores and convincing them that they had come for their own good, in the name of the king, and that the initial battle was an unfortunate event that couldn’t have been avoided.

He then urged Dizan to do the job he’d been training for. Mascardi and a large part of the crew would depart for the jungle, while Dizan with a few others would stay behind. At evenings, in the taverns, Dizan would play the songs he’d written. He would praise the 21 Seagulls who’d decided to heroically and valiantly fight the monsters at the ends of the world. He would sing the beautiful melodies and dramatic lyrics until they became the truth the captain wanted. Until people woke up with them, slept with them, and thought about them all the time. Mascardi knew a catchy song traveled faster than gossip, and that if he wanted to achieve his goal, everyone had to consider them brave seafarers and scoundrels that went up against gods and demons.

Dizan did his job and he did it well. With his lute, he gathered the suspicious people around him; with his kind voice and appearance, he drew them to him like a warm flame in a snowstorm. Through music, he deceived them into forgetting their animosity. His voice made them feel they were on safe and familiar ground, and the way he narrated events implied that Mascardi was a hard man indeed, but also a misunderstood leader, who was often forced to perform atrocious acts he hated.

Karil, being one of those who stayed behind, confirmed Dizan’s stories and helped them along with his god-fearing views and his knowledge on traditions.

Before Mascardi left, old Karil had revealed another one of his cards to him.

“The Two-Faced Man,” he grunted suspiciously. For Karil, there was no worse omen.

“What does it mean?” the captain asked.

“Damn me if I know. A thousand times better to see Death or the Storm,” he admitted.

“I think we don’t need to see Death and certainly not the Storm where we are, do we?” Mascardi jested, but Karil couldn’t process the lightness at that moment.

“The Two-Faced Man is a treacherous card, lad. It means something is not as it appears, or something will betray you.”

Mascardi darkened immediately. There was nothing worse than worrying of being double-crossed. His thoughts raced to Vario, but his instincts didn’t follow.

He looked at Karil and nodded. “Thank you, old man. I’ll keep an eye out, obviously.”

He bumped his shoulder as a farewell and left him behind at the camp with the others.

The Seagulls of the jungle gathered at the town’s exit, leaving the Seagulls of the camp behind. The latter’s job had begun, but the former’s job was about to begin as well, and Mascardi had to succeed, else they’d all become prey to the beasts…