Chapter 5
Theogoni stared into the moonlit sea, leaning against the banister of her ship Rysalektos and caressing the wood with human-like care. It had been quite some time since they left Leutria with a renewed crew, Ol’ One-Horn as the new first mate, and a fleet totaling six ships: the warships Rysalektos, Salamos, and Keras and three military transport ships – two of which had been purchased from dockmaster Menelos. After acquiring such a robust force, Theogoni had departed the City State of Leutria with the utmost haste and had made her way to the lands of the Sorcerer Kings; the responsibility of her deceased captain’s contract had now settled on her shoulders and was her burden to carry – she had no choice but to see it through, fearing Jahan’s reaction if she chose to forsake her duties.
The instructions passed on to Theogoni were clear: she was to travel to the Vizier’s sorcerous home, from which she would accompany Jahan’s forces to Helias, where they would retrieve his favorite lackey, and then to an undisclosed location that would serve as the basis for a settlement of some kind. The first portion of her mission had been completed successfully: Theogoni, with the help of detailed maps and a provided magical compass, had followed in Rysalektos’ footsteps and had reached the mystical lands that held Jahan. There, beneath the shadow of a distant, rumbling volcano, she had met the Vizier’s forces in a secluded cove – finding no signs of civilization besides Jahan’s throng. Supply crates marred with strange, magical symbols were loaded onto her three transport ships – along with numerous servants and armed soldiers. The souls crammed onto Theogoni’s ships could have been considered a small army in their own right, yet the captain suspected the bulk of the Vizier’s forces rested within his own vessels.
Akin to floating fortresses, Jahan’s ships dwarfed those of their hired companions. Theogoni found them to be gauche and lacking the sophistication of true seamanship: while their intimidating presence could not be denied, their oversized stature robbed them of the flexibility and speed Theogoni valued so highly in her vessels. “Wooden tombs” was the captain’s first thought when she first witnessed the two ships; that sentiment stood even truer for Jahan’s personal vessel, which was festooned with ornate carvings and ample precious metal detailing. From their meeting point, the combined fleet had made its way towards the city of Helias, never once stopping at another port or settlement. While traveling to and from the home of the Sorcerer Kings, Theogoni had seen the vague outline of some cities in the distance – their forms were more pronounced during nighttime, illuminated by both torchlight and other, less natural forms of effulgence. The captain never dared to approach any of them: Jahan had prohibited all interactions with his people outside of himself and his forces, having stated that the inhabitants of his homeland despised foreigners above all else. It was Jahan that had offered Rysalektos and his crew refuge after the captain’s disastrous loss to the Grey Scourge, sheltering them from a storm induced demise and offering the departed captain a chance at redemption through the Vizier’s contract.
Theogoni had no reason to distrust Jahan, but she was acutely suspicious of the Vizier’s intentions regardless. Since they had merged their forces, neither she nor her crew had laid eyes upon their patron; his presence was only alluded to by an immense palanquin, which was loaded onto his flagship when Theogoni first encountered Jahan’s forces. Rysalektos, when he was amongst the living, had spoken very little of his sorcerous benefactor, further fueling his successor’s suspicions. Who exactly was this Vizier? Could Theogoni trust an individual she had never laid eyes on? Up until reaching Helias, which they had done so just today, the captain had only interacted with lackeys that voiced their master’s will – Jahan, it seemed, had no intention of revealing himself to Theogoni at all.
This lack of clarity was further exacerbated when the Voice joined his master on his flagship – doing so as soon as they had reached the port of Helias – having brought with him a modest following and a library’s worth of documents and packaged scrolls. The arch-lackey, as Theogoni liked to call him, had conversed with the captain only briefly, assuring her that she had all the necessary information needed to complete her duties. “Do not burden your mind with complicated matters outside your station, captain…” the Voice had explained. “Tomorrow, we set sail for the Allerian Plains. You are to accompany us to the very apex of the Horn of Thrapsalon. Do so diligently, and you will be greatly rewarded for your services!”
“You are concerned,” grumbled Ol’ One-Horn, his peg-leg scraping the deck as he approached Theogoni.
“You’re still on the ship… Are you not eager to partake in Helias’ many pleasures this night? This might be the only civilized port we enter for a good while,” responded Theogoni – her thoughts now dragged back into the present.
“I will leave the delights of Helias to those with the youth, vigor, and bodily fortitude to endure them. What troubles you, captain? If these past weeks at sea have taught me anything, it is that your thinking process tends to stir up trouble…”
“Calling your captain a troublemaker; some first mate you are…” exclaimed Theogoni with a sly smile, assuming a veneer of seriousness when she turned to encounter the Minotaur’s stern visage. “I do not trust Jahan, One-Horn. That bloody specter has not emerged once to address us, and I’ve grown oh-so-tired of the bald-headed lackeys he sends out to direct us. An honest man is not afraid to show his face, and I’m beginning to doubt the Vizier is human at all!”
“And what do you intend to do to satiate your suspicions?”
“I was thinking of planting a spy onboard the bastard’s flagship. Irina, she’s young, but she’s been with the group since she was a child. She was raised to be a contortionist before we took her in; she can slither into their ship and cram herself somewhere where no one will notice her.”
“And what if they find her?”
“They won’t. Irina is as nimble as a field mouse. We’ll dress her up in the attire of the Vizier’s servants and send her in with tomorrow’s supplies before we leave port; they won’t suspect a thing!”
Ol’ One-Horn did not say anything; he simply stared at Theogoni, his gazed hued with near grandfatherly concern.
“I cannot stay blinded, One-Horn. Jahan might be brewing all sorts of devious plans right under our noses… I need to understand the true nature of what we are facing!”
Ol’ One-Horn exhaled, the hairs poking out of his nostrils swaying like summer-kissed wheat. “I cannot tell you what to do, captain,” conceded the first mate, “but heed this warning: nothing good comes from prodding a sleeping viper’s nest with one’s eager finger…”
WHICH COURSE OF ACTION WILL THEOGONI TAKE?
