CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Phaelenx
“We’re leaving now?” Phaelenx turned to Brutus with concern etched on his face. “Are you sure?”
Brutus nodded. “Aye,” he said. He narrowed his eyes. “What were you doing in the woods?”
“Nothing,” Phaelenx lied. He glanced around, looking at the long line of Zhekan men stretching from the harbor to the castle. It seemed to him that he’d never seen so many people assembled in one place. There was an undercurrent of tension running through the crowd, a kind of masculine energy that Phaelenx had only felt a few times in his life – and usually, those times were right before a large match in the arena.
“Phaelenx,” Brutus said in a warning tone. “You are missing your armor.”
“I’ll be fine,” Phaelenx said. A shiver ran down his spine. These men don’t know how to wage war, he thought as he looked around. The men all wore similar expressions – focused and intense – but that did little to calm Phaelenx’s nerves. He knew the war would be a disaster. These men had never taken orders as a group – they’d never done anything, aside from skirmish in the arena. At best, a few of them had killed other men. Phaelenx was a skilled warrior, but he knew there was a big difference between fighting for sport and fighting for spoils.
“Men!”
Phaelenx looked up to see a small man – likely the overseer from the docks – standing straight and tall at the prow of the largest ship. The men hooted and cheered, hollering loudly and punching the air with their fists. The cold rays of the sun gleamed off their armor, and Phaelenx felt both naked and exposed in his usual leather leggings and muslin tunic.
“We are to bring glory to Zheka!” The overseer yelled. He smiled wickedly down at the men. “I am your captain – you may call me Captain Labrax!”
The men fell silent. Phaelenx fought the urge to look behind him, to see if Selene and the others had followed the men down to the docks. But when he finally looked around, there was no sight of Selene. All he could see was an endless sea of men, all clad in shining, brand new armor.
“You may cheer for me,” Labrax said, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his puny chest. “For I will lead you all to victory!”
The men cheered again, and Phaelenx had the oddest sense that their cries of adulation were genuine.
“How exciting this is,” Brutus said, clapping his hands loudly. “Why, Phaelenx, aren’t you pleased?”
“Thrilled,” Phaelenx muttered under his breath. When he realized he was the only man not clapping, he put his hands together in a reluctant display of gratitude.
“Now, men, this is where your first challenge lies,” Labrax continued. Like the men, he was clad in shining armor, but a large hat with a feather was perched on his head. He looked as if he was about to take part in a staged play. “You must divide yourselves accordingly. This is the largest ship,” he said proudly, gesturing behind him to a large schooner. Phaelenx frowned – he remembered being on his hands and knees, scrubbing the deck until it shone like polished caramel.
The crowd fell silent.
“Men, I want the strongest of you to step forward,” Labrax continued. “Don’t be shy.” He put his hand over his eyes to shield his gaze from the sun and looked out over the large crowd assembled before him. “You, there!”
Phaelenx stepped forward and cleared his throat, puffing out his chest. “Aye?”
“You are to be my first mate,” Labrax said. He smiled coldly.
Phaelenx nodded.
“You may thank me, for my kindness,” Labrax added sternly. “Lest I have you thrown overboard.”
Phaelenx chuckled. “You wouldn’t dare do such a thing,” he said.
Labrax’s nostrils flared and he tossed his head arrogantly. “And why not?”
Phaelenx snorted. “Because, as you have said, I am the strongest of all Zhekan men,” he said. “And losing me certainly wouldn’t help you.”
Labrax looked angry, but he gave a brief shake of his head before smiling again. “Fine,” he said. “Then you may choose the rest of your crew. Pick thirty men for this ship, and have them get to work.”
Phaelenx frowned. It was clear to him that Labrax had no idea what he was doing. Still, he turned to Brutus and reached for his head.
“Brutus, you select the others,” Phaelenx said in a low voice. “I need to find some armor. Make sure Huen Covendane is among the men you select from the crowd.” He paused for a second, searching the crowd. “And Baelan Covendane, too,” he added. “Please.”
Brutus saluted Phaelenx. “Aye,” he said in a crisp voice. He turned smartly on his heel and strode towards the large crowd, scrutinizing them.
Phaelenx narrowed his eyes as he pushed his way onto the ship and found his way into the hold. Inside lay a great many treasures – chests of food, large barrels of water and wine, and finally a chest containing several shining pieces of brand new armor. Phaelenx had a hard time wriggling into the breast plate and gauntlets, and when he was fully dressed he felt stiff and awkward. Phaelenx wasn’t used to fighting in anything other than a leather breastplate. By the time he made it back on deck, Brutus had assembled a crowd of men.
“Sir, these are the worthy ones,” Brutus said in a formal tone. He smiled at Phaelenx. “Do you agree?”
Phaelenx shrugged. “I am sure they will be fine,” he said.
Brutus narrowed his eyes. “Phaelenx, this is quite serious,” he said.
Phaelenx noticed his friend’s eyes seemed to be oddly clouded. He frowned. “Are you feeling unwell?”
“No,” Brutus said bravely. He saluted. “Why, I feel better than ever before.”
The crowd of men assembled on deck followed suit, saluting Phaelenx and turned to Labrax. “We are ready!” They chanted in unison.
A cold chill ran down Phaelenx’s spine. He remembered Selene’s words about Taryn. Looking out for the men, he saw the same odd look in their eyes. Some of them even seemed to be glowing with a faint greenish cast.
Give in, an unfamiliar voice urged Phaelenx. It will feel so good. Give yourself over, Phaelenx. Relax, and give in.
Phaelenx shuddered. The voice was female and very sultry and seductive. It wrapped around Phaelenx like a cloak of cashmere and silk, as soft as Selene’s skin. Give in, the voice urged again. Relax, Phaelenx, this is what you must do now.
“No,” Phaelenx said out loud, shaking his head and stomping his foot on the wooden deck of the ship.
“Sir?” Brutus looked at Phaelenx with concern. “What is the matter?”
Phaelenx stared warily at his friend. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “I am fine. Get the men ready to set sail – we leave at once.”
Captain Labrax was standing on the docks, calling instructions to all of the men on board. Phaelenx watched in kind of a nervous wonder as the sails unfurled, shining brightly in the chilly rays of the sun. One by one, the ships began to leave the harbor.
Selene, Phaelenx thought, shielding his eyes from the sun and looking at the Zhekan shore. Please, be safe. I promise I will return to you soon.
Phaelenx had no idea how he was going to save his own life, much less the lives of others. As the ship sailed from the harbor onto the open water, Phaelenx felt a small thrill rush through his body. There was something intoxicating about the prospect of the open sea – the fresh salt air whipping against Phaelenx’s brow, waves crashing against the hull of the ship, and nothing but blue skies and cerulean water for miles and miles. Why there was even something exciting about the prospect of battle. Perhaps Nasenia had hidden, untold treasures – perhaps they would enrich Phaelenx’s life, and he would be even happier than he had ever dreamed.
Phaelenx blinked in horror, looking down at his feet. What is wrong with me, he thought nervously. This isn’t exciting at all! We’re going to our death! He held out his arms and looked down at the shining armor clinging to his muscles. That was when he noticed the faint greenish glow coming from the armor in waves.
The armor, Phaelenx realized nervously, plucking at his gauntlets. It is possessed! In horror, he began stripping himself of the heavy metal pieces and throwing them to the ground.
“Brother, what are you doing?” Brutus asked. He picked up a piece of Phaelenx’s gauntlet and handed it back over. “We will need this armor in order to win against the people of Nasenia!”
“I find myself much stronger without it,” Phaelenx said dryly. He pried at his breastplate until it clattered to the deck with a metallic clang. “I have never fought in armor, and I find it awkward.” He narrowed his eyes at Brutus. “I command you to remove yours as well.”
Brutus shook his head. “No,” he said defiantly. “Captain Labrax has said the punishment for any unarmored man is death, Phaelenx. It is very serious.”
Yes, of course, it is, Phaelenx thought sarcastically. Seeing as how we might turn the ship around and go home, unpossessed!
The skies darkened as the fleet sailed away from Zheka. Soon, the shoreline had disappeared, leaving Phaelenx with no view other than the wide sea. The waves began to churn and crest, white foam appearing on the surface of the dark water. Another horrifying chill ran through Phaelenx’s body as he realized he didn’t know how to swim. This is suicide, Phaelenx thought as he stood at the prow and queasily watched the flow of water below the ship. It’s going into the arena without a weapon, and facing seven hungry tigers!
The ships sailed on. Phaelenx ordered Brutus to distribute meager rations and water among the men.
“Look!” Brutus yelled. He pointed towards the horizon. “Do you see it?”
“See what?” Phaelenx got to his feet and poured the last of his water down his throat. It was lukewarm and tasted of hay. “What is it?”
“Nasenia!” Brutus said. He grinned. “We have made it!”
Phaelenx fought the wave of dread that was cresting over his head. “Aye,” he said. “And now what is the plan?”
Brutus turned to him in confusion. “You are the first mate,” he said. “You decide the plan!”
Phaelenx blinked. “In the name of the gods, Brutus,” he said sharply. “I have never fought before in my life. How is a man such as I ready to command an entire fleet?”
Brutus narrowed his eyes. “Captain Labrax is confident in you,” he said. “And so am I.”
The men clapped and cheered, calling Phaelenx’s name over and over. Finally, Phaelenx walked to the prow of the ship. “We rest,” he said. “And tonight, we attack.” He expected the men to fight him on his decision, but to his shock, they nodded and began to prepare to drop anchor. Small boats tethered to the side of the ship swung in the breeze, and it was with a heavy heart that Phaelenx ordered them to be dropped down to the waiting sea.
The day passed slowly. The Zhekan ships floated in the water, rising up and down with the crest of the waves. Phaelenx began to feel faintly ill, but to his relief, the rest of the men looked to be the picture of health. He had another round of rations distributed and the men began to chat and sing songs of war and victory.
Finally, at nightfall, Phaelenx gave the signal for the men to lower themselves down into the rowboats. He went into a boat with Brutus and Huen Covendane. Huen, too, seemed to be possessed – his eyes were manic and glittering, and he could talk of little other than slaughtering Nasenian natives.
“Men, be quiet,” Phaelenx snapped after the fifth round of a popular folk song. “Please, I need quiet.”
Brutus looked at him in disdain. “Captain Labrax wants our full attention on the task at hand,” he said. “Just think! A few men killed, and the whole country belongs to us!”
“Aye,” Phaelenx replied. And that is exactly what I am afraid of.
As the men were rowing towards shore, the skies began to darken. Thunder clapped overhead and soon, rain began to fall. Phaelenx could no longer see the shoreline – even though he knew the boat was close, it suddenly felt like trying to navigate through a maze. The storm felt otherworldly, almost as if the gods themselves were punishing Phaelenx and the others for their bloodthirsty plans.
“First mate!” Brutus yelled, rain streaming down his face. “What do we do? What is the plan?”
“Go back to the ship!” Phaelenx yelled. He took hold of the oars and began to row, powerfully pushing the boat through the troubled waters of the sea. Water sloshed into the boat and Phaelenx ordered Brutus and Huen to scoop the water in pails and dump it over the sides, but as quickly as they worked, they were no match for the raging sea. By the time the rowboat reached the large schooner, it was practically underwater.
Exhausted, the men scrambled aboard.
“We wait until the storm passes,” Phaelenx said, secretly glad to have a reason for stalling. “Then, we think of a new plan!”
The men cheered. They were clearly fatigued, but Phaelenx could still see the gleaming green light in their eyes. They’re going to work until they’re dead, Phaelenx realized. Again, he thought of Selene and the others back on the Zhekan shores. Now that all of the young men were gone, what would happen? He shuddered – he hadn’t even thought of what would become of Selene in his absence.
When the storm cleared, Phaelenx got to his feet and looked for the shore of Nasenia. The waters were still churning and angry, but he saw a small fleet of ships sailing towards the men.
“Look!” Phaelenx yelled. He pointed to the ships. The men got to their feet and cheered. The ships were sailing quickly through the still-raging waters, and Phaelenx knew there would be no time to board another of the rowboats.
“Sir, what are we to do?” Brutus asked anxiously.
Phaelenx glanced at the cannons tethered to the dock. “We attack,” he said solemnly. “And under no circumstances are we to let Nasenian men board this ship. If it seems like they will board us, we are to sail back.”
Brutus nodded. He saluted Phaelenx, then organized the men on board. They loaded the cannons, and at Phaelenx’s command, fired them into the sea.
The result was immediate. Powerful cannon balls shot through the air, damaging the approaching ships. One of them began to sink, and Phaelenx’s men cheered and cried.
It seemed that the war had truly begun.
More ships appeared – all smaller and older than the Zhekan ships – and Phaelenx directed his men to an easy victory. He had Brutus take a rowboat out to one of the ships, and watched through a spy glass as Brutus boarded and fought.
“Men, go with him,” Phaelenx ordered, pointing to another row boat. “Make sure the ship is not too damaged to sail, and then we will make it our own!”
The men complied immediately. Phaelenx stayed on the large schooner, watching as small boat after small boat sailed to the Nasenian fleet. Screams and gunshots filled the air, and Phaelenx watched in horror as man after man collapsed into the sea.
After what felt like hours, the fire stopped. Phaelenx held the glass to his cheek, peering out at the Nasenian fleet. Two of the ships had sunk, but three more had survived, and Brutus was ordering the men to steer the ships back to the Zhekans.
Just as Phaelenx was about to collapse with fatigue, a shadow slid over the sun. Phaelenx turned and gasped – there was another fleet of ships – huge and black and frightening – on the horizon.
“It’s Glasule,” Phaelenx said out loud. The words chilled him to the bone. As the ships approached, he paced back and forth on the decks. The Glasulian schooners were warships. Large flags fluttered in the breeze, and the stained black wood was frightening enough to scare even the bravest man to the bone.
When Brutus and the others returned, Phaelenx gathered them together. “Those ships,” Phaelenx said, pointing to the approaching fleet. “We must flee. They will kill us.”
The men blinked.
“We must flee, now!” Phaelenx ordered. “I command you, prepare the ship to sail!”
None of the men moved.
“Move!” Phaelenx yelled. “Now!”
“Phaelenx, those men don’t wish to harm us,” Brutus said in a dreamy kind of voice. “They are here to help.”
“No,” Phaelenx said quickly. “They are not coming to help us, Brutus – they are coming to kill us! Don’t you understand, this whole thing was a ruse! Glasule wants to take us over, and they’re going to do it unless we move!”
Brutus and the other men exchanged a nervous look.
“Phaelenx, sir, you are being quite paranoid,” Brutus said. He closed his eyes. “Why, I feel nothing but relief and happiness.”
Phaelenx stared in horror. The enchantment is too strong, he thought as he glanced around in a blind panic. I am not strong enough to manipulate them all!
The black fleet approached. Soon, the ships were right next to the Zhekan ships. Men with swords and guns, dressed in black rags, leaped aboard.
“Welcome, men!” Brutus called heartily. “We welcome you to share our spoils!”
What happened next was something Phaelenx would never forget. A Glasulian man, dressed all in black, with a large captain’s hat on his head, smirked.
“Aye,” he said. “So they say!” He spoke the common tongue, but his voice was harsh and deep. He took a large sword from a scabbard at his hip and sliced it through the air, almost too quickly for Phaelenx to see. The blade connected with Brutus’s neck and blood sprayed through the air. Brutus’s head dropped to the decks, rolling in a crimson splatter.
The other men stared. Their eyes were still glowing green, and Phaelenx wondered whether or not any of them had registered what had just happened. He knew he had to make a decision – and fast. Running forward, Phaelenx threw a powerful punch through the air. His fist landed on the Glasulian’s man jaw, and to his relief, the man crumpled to the decks. Phaelenx reached down and grabbed the bloody sword. Brandishing it in the air, he turned to face his men.
“Men!” Phaelenx roared. “This is what will happen if you do not join me! Join me and fight our true enemy – the men of Glasule!”
The men, including Huen and Baelan, blinked.
“Do you not realize we are all to die?” Phaelenx roared loudly. “This will be the end of us!”
The men didn’t reply. They were white in the face with horror, but none of them moved. More men in black began to board the ship, and Phaelenx knew he could no longer stand still. Leaping forward, he swung his sword through the air. The heavy blade was powerful, and he stabbed two men from Glasule in the chest, sweeping them overboard and wiping the blade on his trousers.
Phaelenx fought the men in black singlehandedly. He closed his eyes and invoked a brief prayer to the gods, channeling all of the strength he knew he had. Even though he was weakened by his time in the castle dungeons, he was still powerful and strong. Dancing with the sword seemed to come naturally to him, and soon Phaelenx was fighting as though he was back home, in the Zhekan arena. He sliced and stabbed, avoiding splashes of blood and angry cries from the Glasulian men.
The deck of the ship was littered with bodies. Phaelenx’s crew stood, blinking, not moving a muscle. Brutus’s body was thrown overboard, and Phaelenx barely had time to think of his friend before dodging a brutal swing of a mace. He screamed as he leaped to the side and slashed through the air with his sword.
When the last Glasulian man hit the deck, dead, Phaelenx turned to his men. He was panting and covered in blood and sweat. Adrenaline was flowing powerfully through his body and his muscles were sore and trembling.
“Men,” Phaelenx called in an unsteady voice. “Do you not believe me now?”
Huen Covendane stepped forward. His eyes were glittering green. “You have betrayed your orders,” he said in a harsh, unfamiliar voice. “When we return, victorious, to Zheka, I shall see that you are thrown in the dungeons until you wither away.”
Phaelenx took a deep breath. “Then I’m leaving,” he said. He threw the sword on the deck of the ship and blood spattered his face and chest. “And unless you all leave, you will die.”
The men said nothing as Phaelenx threw a rope to the Glasulian ship and hauled himself over. They stared with wide eyes and trembling mouths.
Phaelenx landed on the polished black deck of the Glasulian ship and looked around. He grabbed a dagger from the deck and clutched it his hand, ready to defend himself against anymore attackers.
But the ship was empty. All of the men had boarded the Zhekan ship, and now they lay, dead and stinking, like a pile of carrion.
Phaelenx went to the wheel of the ship and spun it, desperate to return home. As the ship began to sail away from the Zhekan fleet, his eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness.
The last thing Phaelenx thought about before passing out was Selene.