Cursed Knight Read online

  ‘Who would have killed me?’ Kairos asked in surprise.

  ‘Shhhh!’ Thylar glanced askance at the other fifty-eight men aboard the Grenda to see if anyone overhead. No one had. Most were too busy rowing, for Karthok had ordered the sails down due to the buffeting winds. ‘Not so loud!’

  ‘Who would have killed me?’ Kairos asked again, leaning towards his brother.

  ‘Uncle Vinh.’

  ‘Uncle Vinh?’

  ‘You’re an obstacle because you’re the chieftain’s son,’ Thylar said, his muscles bulging as he pulled on the tiller. ‘Uncle Vinh wants to be chieftain if something happens to me or father, so I had to make sure that you came along with us.’

  ‘But you didn’t have to…’ Kairos began. ‘Keng…’

  ‘It was either him or you,’ Thylar finished, ‘and I made sure it was him. Don’t look at me like that. It’s the Einar way. The weak die and the strong survive.’ He gave a good-natured slap on Kairos’s shoulder to ease the tension.

  It didn’t work.

  Kairos stared at his brother in horror. He did not like the ‘Einar way’. The Einar always slaughtered each other, and for what? More power, more authority. His father did not earn the title of Karthok the Cruel through peaceful rule. Even as malicious as Keng had been, the thought of him being murdered sickened Kairos. He couldn’t believe his brother would do such a thing. He was about to press for more details, but a shout interrupted him.

  ‘Ship ahead!’

  The rowing ceased. The men on the rowing benches craned their necks for a better view. After over a month of monotony at sea, the men finally had some excitement. They had travelled across the deep sea where the serpents dwelled, past the furthest any Einar in history had ever sailed. This was unknown territory. An unknown ship.

  Kairos also wondered who or what was aboard that lone ship. Living on Logres for countless generations, the Einar had never encountered another intelligent race. Kairos heard that dwarves had once lived on Logres, but since the Einar had supposedly slaughtered them all long ago, the only trace of them remained in songs, and in their fortresses that the Einar now inhabited. Kairos didn’t suppose they were fellow Einar. No, the ship looked too strange. Whoever was on it was probably doomed, he thought sadly, looking at his father.

  Karthok the Cruel eyed the ship hungrily and grinned in anticipation. He planted his feet in the bow of the Grenda – named after his late wife. He wrapped his muscular arm around the wooden neck that swept up in a graceful arc and ended fifteen feet above his head with the fang-bearing head of a serpent. The serpent head was a frightening sight, its frozen visage roaring its defiance to the storm, only complemented by Karthok the Cruel’s leering expression.

  ‘Row faster!’ he bellowed, his voice carrying above the lashing rain and tempest. ‘Rudras has dropped us a gift from the heavens, ripe for the taking, and you lazy whoresons are going to let it float away!’

  The Einar resumed rowing with renewed vigour, and the bow of the Grenda soared over a wave, followed with a plunge into the trough. Seal-hide ropes creaked as the port side dipped into the sea, scooping up the seawater like a ladle. The water rushed in, crashing against the mast, against dozens of sea chests lashed to the deck, and against the well-muscled warriors. The Sea Serpent and the Wolf Fang followed closely behind. Everyone was eager to raid.

  Except for one man.

  Mad Mavos stood up from his bench and shouted, ‘Turn back! Turn back!’

  All heads aboard the Grenda turned toward the older Einar, who despite his age still looked like a formidable warrior. However, he was ‘touched by Rudras’, the elders claimed, and his outburst began to unsettle the crew. Many of the Einar, Kairos included, believed that those who were touched by Rudras had gifts of foresight.

  ‘Turn back!’ Mad Mavos continued.

  While still clinging to the serpent’s neck of the ship, Karthok the Cruel faced Mad Mavos with a look of barely contained fury. He pointed and yelled, ‘Sit down and shut your mouth, you old fool!’

  Mad Mavos ignored the command and pointed ahead. ‘That ship… Bad omen.’

  ‘Throw him overboard.’ Karthok commanded.

  The men around Mad Mavos readily complied, picking up the older man. Mad Mavos shrieked and thrashed about in protest, but the other warriors overpowered him and tossed him over the starboard side of the ship. He bobbed up to the surface for a moment and then disappeared into the storm-tossed waves. Everyone aboard the ship began rowing again, eager to leave the old man and his ill-fated auguries behind. No one wanted bad luck.

  Karthok burst into a loud guffaw, joined by rest of the Grenda’s crew.

  Only Kairos cast a rueful glance back at the spot where Mad Mavos was last seen. He muttered a quick prayer to Rudras when he thought no one was watching. He didn’t know Mad Mavos too well, but the old man was one of the few of the Azel clan who never treated Kairos poorly. He looked at his father, who was still laughing, and felt nothing but loathing for the man. A man who used violence to solve everything. He vowed to be nothing like his father.

  ‘How are you feeling, brother?’ Thylar asked, his voice full of concern.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Kairos said tersely.

  ‘You look like you’re about to shit your breeches.’ Thylar used his forearm to wipe the water from his eyes. ‘Don’t worry about that daft old man. He can preach his madness to the serpents from the ocean bottom.’

  Kairos grimaced. He was angry. Angry at his brother and father. But he was also terrified. Mad Mavos’s warnings unnerved him. He didn’t like the look of the ship and wished his father would turn the fleet around.

  ‘Do you know what’s coming next?’ Thylar asked.

  ‘We fight.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Thylar grinned. ‘Though I was hoping for women!’

  Kairos smiled, momentarily forgetting his ire. Thylar was quite popular with the women of Logres and talked of women as much as battle, but he knew that his brother was trying to cheer him up and loosen the tension. He would have to mourn the loss of Mad Mavos later. He needed to focus on the battle.

  ‘But if they’re like us, then they’ve probably left most of the women behind,’ Thylar said sadly, to which Kairos nodded, because many Einar considered it bad fortune to bring a woman on a ship to sea. Kairos did not agree, but he supposed that the women were key to the Einar’s survival. Thylar’s face suddenly brightened in the gloom. ‘Or maybe it’s a ship full of women wanting a good ol’ rutting!’

  Kairos now laughed despite himself. ‘What if they’re Einar?’ he asked, looking at the ship in the distance.

  ‘Then we’ll know what to expect,’ Thylar cried cheerfully as if this were just another fun-filled outing rather than a dangerous struggle in a storm. ‘Either way, let’s hope they have some good treasure.’

  Kairos sighed. The Einar way: raid first and ask questions later. Sometimes he felt as though he didn’t fit in.

  The Grenda and the two other ships had the wind and seas behind them now, and were propelling down the waves stern-first. Kairos became more nervous as they approached. Unlike most of the other men aboard preparing for battle, he had no armour and very little experience. The idea of an actual battle against men with sharpened blades frightened him. His legs felt like buckling under his weight, and his belly seemed to climb into his chest. He expected to die.

  As the small Einar fleet neared, the lone ship turned out to be larger than any ship that Kairos had ever seen. He counted three masts in contrast to the one mast on an Einar longship, and there was another deck stacked upon the rear of the main deck, which looked as if it could hold more men. The sails were furled and Kairos did not see any oars, and he suddenly felt a sinking feeling in his gut. This ship did not seem so eager to escape, and it sat there in place, riding the waves as if waiting.

  ‘Thylar,’ he began. ‘Something doesn’t seem quite right about this. They would’ve seen us by now, but they’re just sitting there.’

  ‘
This is no time to be craven, Kairos.’ His brother stared up at the looming ship. ‘We have almost two-hundred of the best Einar warriors with us, and I don’t see that ship holding more than a hundred at most. This battle is ours.’

  Kairos was not convinced. ‘What if this is some sort of trap? What if Mad Mavos–’

  Thylar laughed. ‘You think too much! You always have. This is a chance for you to slaughter something besides kobolds! Let’s just hope they’re carrying something more worthwhile than prayer beads and stinking animal hides.’

  On the towering deck of the large ship, a large group of stout armed figures came into view and waited, prepared to fight. The Einar were ready for battle, too. Amidships men donned their mail and began freeing swords from sheaths and lifting shields from the gunnels. Others brandished spears. Kairos gripped the hilt of his seax, his treasured weapon and the only gift his father had ever given him. It felt clumsy in his hand, but he was proud to carry it.

  Thylar grinned. ‘Good. They’re ready for a fight. Let’s show them one. Now remember, Kai, hold back until our front lines cleave a way through.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ Kairos shrugged aside his brother’s overprotectiveness.

  Karthok the Cruel began howling like a madman, and the rest of the Einar on the other longships joined in, the noise carrying over the sound of the waves and the storm. It was meant to frighten the men on the other ship, though they stoically stood on their deck and waited in silence.

  The Grenda was the first to reach that ship. Thylar heaved the tiller to swing the longship broadside to the larger ship. That was when Kairos got a good look at its occupants. They were not the maidens Thylar had wanted. They were dwarves, or what he assumed were dwarves since he had never seen a dwarf before. They were just as heavily muscled—if not more than the Einar—but seemed shorter and broader in stature. Even as their ship swayed violently on the waves, they stood on their deck in a solid line and held their shields in front like a wall, brandishing spears, swords and axes. Their faces appeared impassive as they braced for battle.

  The Einar folksong told of dwarves and how they and the Einar fought for dominion over Logres long ago. The Songs portrayed the dwarves as cowardly weaklings who fell to the Einar blades. But as Kairos gazed upon those dour-faced warriors on the other ship, their fierce expressions showing no fear, he realised that the songs lied.

  Those dwarves looked ready to kill.

  * * *

  It was a slaughter that day.

  The port side of the Grenda slammed against the larger ship’s starboard. They struck hard, jolting everyone on both ships and causing the dwarven shield wall to momentarily waver. The dwarves had the initial advantage due to their ship’s side being higher, which also served as a wall, so the Einar had to overcome that obstacle before thrusting themselves at the deadly shield wall on board.

  Kairos had never been in a shield wall before, but he did not like the situation one bit. He knew of the battles involving the clash of shield walls with other Einar clans, and they always resulted in high casualties. A shield wall was a place where men died, where a press of bodies hacked away at each other leaving the ground littered with blood, faeces, and corpses. His father had always said that no man became a warrior until he fought in his first shield wall, never mind how many kobolds he had slaughtered. It took tremendous courage to face down that deadly, well-organised wall of men compared to the disorganised band of kobolds.

  Kairos soon saw why.

  The first few Einar who jumped the gap between the ships were quickly cut down. The archers aboard the Grenda tried to shoot arrows at the dwarves, but they thumped harmlessly into the shields. Karthok bellowed in impotent rage as the dwarves continued to hack away at the first unfortunate few, leaving behind a bloody mess. The rest of the Einar crew could not join because the waves lifted and dropped the boats with each passing, and the footing, unstable in calm conditions, was treacherous on this day.

  ‘Grappling hooks!’ Karthok roared.

  The second Einar ship, Sea Serpent, came, slamming into the other side of the dwarven ship, causing the dwarves on board to stumble again, and Karthok’s men to seize their opportunity. The archers aboard the Grenda loosened shafts into the dwarven line, allowing their allies time to bridge the gap. Two men from the Grenda managed to tie the ships together, and the rest of the crew began jumping aboard. Karthok was one of them, yelling a battle cry as he launched himself at the dwarven shield wall. The third Einar ship, Wolf Fang, closed in, but the man steering the longship appeared to have difficulty in navigating the choppy waves.

  The Einar from the Grenda and Sea Serpent began to pack onto the dwarven ship and form their own formidable shield wall against each side of the dwarves. Kairos breathed a sigh of relief as he watched from the aft of his ship. A battle at sea was like a battle on a narrow strip of land. Two sides usually made their shield walls, and the most precarious part was crossing into the enemy’s ship, which the Einar had just accomplished, except they now had almost two full crews of Einar crushing the dwarves from both sides in a deadly pincer attack.

  It was brutal chaos. There were shields clashing on the wide enemy midship, swords and axes swinging. Men screamed and men died, more dwarves than Einar, for the Einar fought with a fierce bloodlust and had the advantage in numbers. It seemed that the Einar would emerge victorious at this rate.

  ‘Looks like quite the battle,’ Thylar said with a grin, maintaining his position next to the tiller.

  ‘Look,’ Kairos said in awe, ‘their shield wall is breaking. We have won.’

  ‘Not quite.’ Thylar watched the outflanked dwarven warriors fighting with the ferocity to match an enraged cyclops. ‘As a warrior, you must be prepared for anything and everything in battle. Always expect the enemy to have a hidden tactic.’

  Kairos nodded, though he doubted the dwarves could turn this battle around. Their shield wall had collapsed, and now they had a serious disadvantage. Something else caught his attention, too. The other Einar ship, the Wolf Fang, lingered a distance away, making no move to join the fight. His cousin, Viklo, the eldest son of Vinh, and Keng’s older brother, commanded the ship. Even at the age of fifteen, Kairos suspected treachery. As far as Kairos knew, Viklo was an angry, jealous man known for losing his temper, and he held little love for Thylar or Karthok, and even less for Kairos. ‘Why hasn’t the Wolf Fang joined the fight?’ he asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear confirmation from his older brother.

  Thylar’s expression darkened. ‘Bloody traitors,’ he snarled. ‘They’re watching and waiting for the outcome of the fight… Maybe they’re wanting us to soak up the casualties and pounce on us when we’re weakened. This all must be because of Keng’s death!’

  Kairos stared at Vinh’s longship, but a flicker of movement in front of him caught his eye. He looked up at the deck above the dwarves and saw that the dwarves were not alone. ‘Thylar!’ he said, pointing.

  Thylar looked and nodded, looking grim and uncertain. Kairos knew something was wrong, because his brother always looked cheerful and confident. Thylar relinquished the steering oar to Kairos. ‘Wait here with the archers. Be ready to cut loose and steer if we need to retreat!’

  ‘But I want to go–’ Kairos yelled, knowing full well that he couldn’t steer the boat even on a clear and calm day.

  His brother shook his head. ‘The Einar at home are depending on our success. No matter what happens, you must survive.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Kairos asked, but his brother barked an order for the archers to stay with Kairos and leapt aboard the other ship with his sword drawn and joined the fight. Kairos looked up again and realised what was on the ship’s upper deck: beasts. They had the body of an enormous feline, and the head and feathered wings of a majestic bird. On their backs, they carried men who weren’t dwarves, but somehow, they did not resemble Einar, either. Kairos could not tell who or what they were.

  The beasts – more than a dozen – took
flight, though some struggled in the battering wind of the storm. They soared over the ships and the sea, and their riders did something that Kairos had never seen before. The first rider raised one hand, as his mount flapped furiously in the windy rain, and orange-coloured light flashed brilliantly against the backdrop of clouds. It was followed by a volley of glowing projectiles raining down onto the Sea Serpent, which was still on the other side of the enemy ship.

  Kairos could not believe his eyes. The bards’ songs discussed magic, but he’d thought it was a myth, a song to awe little children. Yet, here before him he witnessed the dreadful myth come to life as it shattered the Sea Serpent, sending wooden fragments hurling outwards in all directions. Those that remained on the boat did not have a chance. Kairos instinctively took cover behind a sea chest, and when he looked up, only splintered pieces of the ship remained, floating on the waves. A few Einar survived the blast by jumping into the water beforehand, but they soon sank, weighed down by their mail. Kairos could not help but feel sympathy for them. Drowning was a horrible way to die. He did not dwell on their fate for long, however. He had his own concerns.

  The winged beasts and their riders were still out for blood. Some flew after the Wolf Fang, which was now sailing away back in the direction of Logres. Kairos muttered a curse at his cousin, Viklo, who was leaving his Einar brethren to save his own hide. He did not watch his cousin’s ship for long, however, because the strange flying creatures were now veering towards the Grenda, his ship.

  ‘Archers!’ someone yelled, ‘Kill the flying beasts!’

  The Einar archers on the Grenda loosened shafts at the flying beasts and their riders. Their aim struck true, and three of the winged-creatures floundered in the sky as they fell helplessly into the dark waters.