Blackjack Wayward

Chapter Seven

Once the warlords finished their discussion, Drovani led me away. Aryani disappeared behind the chamber doors, and it took an act of will to deny myself her presence, but there were things to be done. Drovani and I took a launch across the gap between his ship and Kendralis’, and as I scanned the skies, the pirate ship was nowhere to be found. It bothered me that I couldn’t remember the name, and I had only been aboard her a day before. In its place was a battle fleet of Vershani warships, over two dozen like Drovani’s and at least another fifty ships ranging from battle destroyers to tugs and cargo ships. The entire fleet lay in formation behind Drovani’s flagship, and with the council of warlords placated, they all saw him as their nominal commander.

And me as his champion.

We arrived alongside Kendralis’s ship, disembarking along with a dozen hard-edged, deadly-looking warriors led by Elgar and Hronteth.

“This is irregular,” said one of Kendralis’ warriors, the only burly Vershani I had seen thus far. He also had a thick beard and wore a heavily decorated set of armor that denoted his high rank. “Where is Lord Daikhan,” he asked, and then his eyes settled on my chest, on the necklace that his master had once worn. It was still spattered with Kendralis’ blood, and it was only then that he noticed the horrible sight of my crimson-stained toga.

I reached forward to grab the man and hurl him overboard, but Drovani was like a blur, drawing both blades across the Vershani’s neck, leaving a twin pair of slices trailing a spray of blood. Kendralis’ commander tried screaming, but instead a bubbling of blood dribbled from his neck. Another pair of Vershani drew their weapons, but Drovani’s men leveled their spears, and all desire to fight left them. They dropped their weapons and fell to their knees.

“As little bloodshed as possible,” Drovani had said on our crossing between the gargantuan ships. “And we must do everything to sway Kendralis’ brother.”

It was this man that came from the Captain’s cabin, drying his hands on a rag of cloth. If Kendralis was big for his kind, and a Keshek, then this fellow was the biggest Vershani of them all. The king of the Keshek.

His musculature was exaggerated, unnatural, and mostly concentrated on his upper body, making him look ridiculously top-heavy. His facial features were a strange combination of Kendralis’ handsome lines mixed with something harsh and rough. Another thing that spoke of a mixed Vershani lineage was how hairy he was. His rippling chest was covered in a heavy shag, almost a fur, and his hair was darker and longer than most of his kind. His teeth were more pronounced, in particular the lower canines that jutted outside his mouth, and they looked to be about three inches long.

“That is Kerla,” Drovani said, as the man walked toward us, flanked by his closest associates.

“I got this,” I said, leaving my group to meet him.

“Where is my brother?” Kerla asked Drovani, ignoring me altogether. “And why does this Keshek wear his mark?”

“I killed your brother,” I said, getting his full attention.

The man’s wide eyes bored into me; his muscles flexed and teeth clenched.

“Your brother stood against the council, Kerla,” Drovani said. “He insulted the goddess’ wisdom, and he now walks the Everlong with Threfash the Charlatan.”

Kerla’s face shook, the sudden knowledge of his brother’s death overwhelming him. He looked past me at Drovani.

“This treachery will cost you, Drovani.”

I swung my head over, in front of the burly Vershani.

“Don’t forget about me,” I said.

“Kendralis was right to not trust you, to not follow you in this foolish Civil War you propose. And you, monkey-creature. Leave my sight, or I will gut you myself.”

“Your name is Kerla, right?”

He stared at me for a moment, taking in my grim face and realizing that a confrontation was inevitable. Kerla drew a magnificent silver two-handed sword and Drovani’s men freed swords from their scabbards, but I waved them back and motioned for Kerla to come. He saw what I proposed and did the same, telling his men to stand back and let us fight.

“For Kendralis!” he roared and charged me.

I knew his first blow would be at my head. Tall as I was, he was going to bring that big sword up and decapitate me, figuring to end the fight with one swing. Instead of ducking under the blow, or dodging aside, I strode into his swing, catching his arms and slamming my hips into his chest. I don’t know Judo so it was clumsy, but the effect was as intended: he flew over my shoulder and slammed on his back beside me, his sword now in my hands.

I looked over to Drovani, who could hardly contain the amazement in his expression, but as I stepped over to Kerla, he shook his head. Resting the tip of the blade on Kerla’s chest, I then moved closer and held it straight down, ready to impale the two-hander through his body and down into the planking beneath him. Kerla screamed, both in rage and surprise. Drovani sauntered over and knelt beside the fallen Vershani.

“It is simple, old friend. Either you accept your fate, or meet it. Join your ship and men to ours or you will join your brother in the Everlong.”

Kerla’s eyes flashed from Drovani and me to the blade pressing against his sternum.

“You and the Keshek can die,” he spat.

Drovani looked at me, smiling, and then back at our captive. “Are you sure, Kerla?”

“I spit on you,” he said.

“Very well,” Drovani said, coming to his feet. “The crew will be decimated for following in Lord Kendralis’ and Lord Kerla’s sedition. Every tenth man will be thrown overboard for the fall to nothingness. Begin with Kendralis’ and Kerla’s children. For your part, Lord Kerla, Blackjack Daikhan will cut off your testicles and legs. Just above the knee will do.”

Kerla’s eyes flashed with fear, “No!”

“Then put fire on the stumps,” Drovani said, ignoring the screaming man. “I want a pet to eat my scraps.”

“Coward! You coward! I was promised death!”

Drovani stopped and regarded Kerla.

“I will keep my promise,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Just not today. Perhaps in a few years.”

I saw a hint of playfulness in Drovani, so I decided to play my part.

“So balls first, huh?” I said, lifting the sword from Kerla’s chest and letting the tip drift toward his crotch.

“Wait! Wait!” Kerla begged.

Drovani raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t have to be a perfect blow, Blackjack Daikhan,” he said, noting that I was trying to gauge the blow as best as I could. “As long as his manhood is damaged, I will be satisfied.”

“I said wait!” Kerla screamed, slapping at the downturned sword.

“You wish to speak?”

He nodded, streams of sweat pouring down his temples.

“Go on,” Drovani said, though he immediately added to me, as if an aside, “After the legs, we must take his tongue too.”

“I wish to retract my previous comments,” Kerla said.

Drovani recoiled, as if surprised. “You wish to ask for my forgiveness?”

Kerla nodded.

“For all your comments? Dear me, I’m afraid I am so distraught by this whole matter that I have forgotten what you said.”

“He wanted to spit on us,” I said.

“I retract that,” Kerla said. “Fully.”

“So you wish to join us, then?”

“Wholeheartedly. And my other brothers will all agree.”

I looked around for more Keshek Vershani, but Kerla was the last of the big ones. It made me think that when he meant brothers, he didn’t just mean by blood and that everyone on the ship was somehow related. Drovani waved me aside and motioned for Kerla to stand. The man did, holding his head low to his new commander.

“Forgive my crew,” he said. “Forgive my brother. And finally, forgive me.”

Satisfied, Drovani nodded. “Accepted,” he said and motioned to his large contingent of heavily armed guards. “I will leave my men here to ensure this doesn’t happen again. Consider it a gift to mark our newfound understanding.”

The guards walked over to Kerla and flanked him.

“They will not leave your sight,” Drovani said as he walked back to the launch, followed by a few of his men and my two personal guards. I came last, still holding that magnificent two-handed sword.

“Nice, huh?” I said, showing off the weapon, but Drovani ignored me, his chin raised high in victory as our skiff parted from the larger vessel.

Drovani stood at the bow platform, feet spread wide, managing every tug on the small craft like the experienced seaman he was. Except there was no sea, and he wasn’t a man in any case. Nevermind. What was important was that he was content, having quelled all voices of dissent, and was now basking in the glow of a unanimous victory. In fact, from his vantage point, he could see all the major warships of his new fleet coming into formation, thousands of warriors all at his command.

I was happy to let him enjoy the moment, but he half turned and motioned for me to come forward. Not having his vast experience, I walked near the low sides of the skiff, ready to grab a handhold should the small ship hit a heavy gust.

“Allow me,” he said, gesturing toward the sword I had taken as loot. Handing it over, he held it in his callused hands, studying the pristine length of the blade, the rune markings near the hilt, and the gem encrusted cross-guard.

“Like it?” I said. “You can have it.”

He smiled. “This is a coward’s weapon, Blackjack.”

I looked at it, not knowing the difference between a good and a bad sword.

“See?” he pointed to the razor sharp blade. “It is unused. Untested. This weapon is beautiful, but useless in battle. It belongs on a wall, as an adornment.”

He held it up, regarding it for one last time, and threw it overboard.

“I will commission a weapon worthy of you, my friend.”

I watched the blade flutter into the nothingness until it was gone from sight.

“I guess it was too small for me anyway.”

Drovani turned to me.

“You will need the two swords I gave you,” he said. “One for the shield wall, and another for when you break their wall.”

“I see.”

He smiled, knowing I didn’t.

“When the battle starts, you will stand shoulder to shoulder with your men, shields interlocked into a wall. This line of steel will move forward until it meets theirs, and here, my friend, your strength and your power will ensure that our line will break theirs. For this part, you will need a long blade, thin and deadly, to reach between the shields, find your enemy’s vitals or their bellies, and rip them apart.”

I laughed. “Sounds like fun.”

“It is,” he said, joining in the laughter. “It is harrowing fun, horrible and wonderful at once. You are not alive until you stand amongst your brothers, break the enemy line, and watch the cowards flee. It is then that you will need a second weapon, a longer sword, usable with both hands, to chop at the enemy’s backs and legs, to drop them for your companions that follow to butcher and finish.”

He drew the sword he carried at his waist, a weapon with a blade some three feet long, as wide as a man’s hand. The edge was sharp, even sharper than Kerla’s sword, but it bore dozens of nicks and scratches and the metal was darker, older. This was a sword that had seen many battles and killed beings of all shapes and sizes.

“This weapon will do for the battle line,” he said, his loving gaze caressing the weapon, knowing every mark or marr, as one would the skin of a lover. “Take it,” he said, handing it to me.

Even in my hands it was impressive, light and deadly.

“It feels fragile,” I said.

“Which is why you carry two,” he responded, motioning to his second blade, which had the same worn handle and, from a cursory look in his scabbard, appeared to be an identical brother to the sword I wore.

“Here,” he said, facing me. “Your shields, gentlemen,” Drovani said to Elgar and Hroneth, who came forward and handed us their shields. Drovani took Elgar’s and stood apart from me. “About this far,” he said, drawing his second sword, which bore a blade just as marred as the one I held.

I took Hroneth’s shield and stood opposing Drovani. Though I towered over the Vershani commander, his stance and posture spoke of experience. I did my best to mimic his stance, but where he looked loose and prepared, I felt stiff.

“We will do it slowly,” he said, sensing my concern and inexperience. He eased forward until our shields met, then he showed me the basic moves to slip the weapon past the shield and into my torso and legs. I was about to try it myself, when Elgar shook his head.

“It’s no good,” he said.

Drovani looked at him and straightened up.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He’s right,” Drovani said and coming back at me, this time faster, but he checked his blade, making sure he didn’t cut my neck as he brought it over his shield. “It won’t work this way, Blackjack. Here, stand beside me, as if we are both fighting together.”

I came beside him and we interlocked shields and faced an imaginary enemy: in this case a sleepy Hroneth, who leaned against the gunwale watching us.

“See?” Drovani said, making sure I noticed how high my shield was in comparison to his.

“It’s no good,” Elgar said again, looking over at Hroneth, who just shrugged and fought off a yawn.

“I’ll need a bigger shield, then.”

“No, no, no. There is a gap there,” Elgar said coming forward and drawing his sword. He slammed it against the top of Drovani’s shield to the left of me and eased it around at my exposed right shoulder, scraping against my skin. The blade was sharp, but it couldn’t pierce my flesh.

Drovani stepped back, “A larger shield won’t cover that gap.”

I looked over at Hroneth, who shook his head definitively, then succumbed to the yawn.

“Then f*ck it,” I said, starting to get frustrated, throwing the shield back to Elgar. “I’ll fight in front of the line. I’ll break theirs for you just the same.”

Raising his eyebrows, Drovani seemed to like the idea.

“Better he fight with the skirmishers,” he said, almost postulating a question.

“Yeah,” I said eager to be useful. “I’ll be with the skirmishers.”

Elgar shook his head, “They fight too far forward of the line,” he said.

Hroneth nodded.

“This is true,” Drovani said. “They fight the enemy skirmishers, and if possible harass the enemy line, using bows and grenades to try to make gaps in their line.”

“When they work,” Hroneth said.

“Yes,” Elgar said, adding, “Most times, they are useless, then run off and watch us fight. That is why they are mostly the smaller and weaker warriors.”

“I’m good with a bow,” I said.

Drovani returned the shield to Hroneth and sat along the gunwale beside him, thinking.

“You will be wasted,” Elgar said. “Skirmishers are a bother; if they are good, they sometimes help. But the real battle we take forward, the men of the shield wall.”

I shrugged, looking at the marks on Drovani’s weapon.

“Drovani,” I said. “You know your weapons can’t hurt me.”

He turned back and nodded.

“Why not put me in the middle?”

Drovani smiled.

“I’m serious.”

“When the final battle comes, it will be against many thousands. They will swarm you.”

“And they will die,” I interrupted, feeling strange that I was looking forward to that moment.

Drovani thought about it and looked over at Hroneth, who just shrugged.

“Put me in the middle, and your army at the wings,” I said. “I’ll hold the middle.”

His eyes flashed wide. “No,” he said, stepping forward and looking at me from head to toe with the same gaze he’d favored upon his swords. “I have a better idea. You will assault their command barge.”

Elgar nodded in approval, “On a Raanzok?”

“Yes,” Drovani said, suddenly excited. “We will fly you in. Drop you atop their leaders. The way Vershani fight, Blackjack, our leaders, our gods and goddesses are paramount to the morale of men. If the soldiers see their leaders fall, or even flee, they will lose hope, will turn and run themselves. Then we will have victory. Naturally, enemy leaders ride aboard heavy armored barges, guarded by the best warriors.”

I looked at Hroneth, but his eyes were flickering, fading, as he was falling asleep listening to us.

“Sounds like fun,” I said, causing Drovani and Elgar to laugh. The commander slapped my shoulder and took his sword back.

“It will be,” he said.

“Sire,” Elgar, said. “Imagine him wearing gladiator armor.”

Drovani looked at him, then at me.

“By the goddess, you are promoted to Centurion,” Drovani said, clasping the beaming Elgar by his shoulders. “Gladiator armor,” he said, for my benefit, “is lightweight and replete with blades in every direction. It is made for close quarters fighting, for the worst bloodwork.”

“You will not need weapons at this point,” Elgar said. “Each glove has a short blade that sticks out.”

“It is short, but wide, Blackjack. As wide as your hand, and twice as long.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, having a vision of myself wearing a leather “gimp” costume beaming with blades in every direction. I liked the idea of wearing such a contraption, of becoming a rolling juggernaut of slashing death. “I can do that.”

“Fun indeed,” Drovani said. “And a Ranzook is a small animal, tiny, about....” he looked over at Elgar, who put his fingers about four inches apart. “Yes, tiny. An insignificant thing.”

“How do I fly that thing?” I asked. “You noticed I’m kind of a big Keshek.”

Elgar laughed, and even the half-asleep Hroneth joined him, but Drovani just looked at me, half-surprised, before chuckling slightly.

“You learn our ways fast,” he said.

I shrugged.

“But do not worry. We have methods. The goddess’ magic will make you small enough, and you will regain your natural size at will. They will not see you coming.”

With visions of flying whatever a Ranzook was across a dusty battlefield, landing in the enemy command barge, and causing bloody havoc, I couldn’t help but smile, looking forward to the carnage.

We arrived aboard Drovani’s ship, the name of which he finally told me: the Tyrant. It was a grim name for such a majestic thing, white and beautiful, with hundreds of sails that required a host of those little creatures to keep in order. Drovani excused himself and left me alone with Elgar and Hroneth, but I was in no mood for their company so I sent them off to get food and returned to my quarters, deep in the labyrinthine underbelly of the Tyrant. It was a tight ship that Drovani ran, and most of his people were either used to me or too busy to notice, but occasionally, I’d get a curious look from a warrior or a frightened one from a worker. Otherwise, most folk accepted me among them, and I supposed they knew of my worth, knew that I would soon make their master a victorious warlord; or they were terrified of me. I was fine with either.

In fact, I was beaming from the day’s events, still coated in Kendralis’ blood from head to toe. I felt feral, ravenous, and thirsty, and I had an appetite for one of the Vershani women, or all of them. There was a pounding at my temples, a throbbing of blood that I didn’t understand, a rolling anger that made my fists clench tight, my teeth grind; I felt a permanent scowl scored across my face.

Time passed differently, with no evident demarcation of day or night, but as I grew more and more tired and my “night” approached, the elation I felt kept me from succumbing to exhaustion. I reached my chambers and there was the pretty girl, waiting for me, along with all the others. More, now, I could tell, as well as a few more guards on the upper level, standing outside my bedroom.

“Daikhan,” the girl said, bowing maybe 20% lower this time, a gesture the others mimicked perfectly.

I picked her up and kissed her, despite her protestations, which soon ended, and carried her up the stairs and plopped her on my bed. She threw her black hair back, trying to regain her composure, noticing that the entire entourage entered the room. Before I could take my toga off, the remaining girls came over and helped me out of the blood-stained clothing.

“I’ll need new clothing,” I said, ignoring the small women around me, my eyes intent on the beautiful Vershani on my bed. The expression on her face was a mixture between eagerness and resignation. She looked at the other girls, realizing she now had a new place in their hierarchy, above and beyond them all. This was something all the women realized, and they all now looked to her guidance and command.

“Theela, Vienn, Merza,” she listed the names of the girls now tasked with making me new Keshek-sized clothing, and the three ran off, almost eager to be out of the room before I started humping the poor girl.

“Need food too,” I said.

“Krona, Diappa,” she said, and two more girls left, leaving only the three that were unstrapping my clothing and shoes, and the four guards at the entrance of the door.

“They can go, too.”

The girl looked at them, and I noticed the nonverbal conflict. Despite being grunts, the warriors had to hold a higher station than a mere cabin girl, and to be ordered by one of them was some sort of insult. But I didn’t give a damn about their customs or ridiculous rituals. I wanted to eat, to drink. I wanted to f*ck.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” I asked the girl

She smiled, aware of my intrusion, knowing how I was empowering her, “Rai.”

“Get the f*ck out,” I snapped at the guards, ultimately losing my patience with them. To their credit, they left with the same efficiency as the other cabin girls.

Finally, I was free of the overlapping toga and the strapped leather sandals that made me look more like a Roman Proconsul than a Vershani, and the only clothing I had the left was the loincloth.

“I got this,” I said, taking the thing off and moving toward Rai. She met me halfway and pressed her body and lips to mine. After a long, deep kiss, I looked back and noticed the three last girls were still standing there, watching us.

I smiled and asked Rai, “With or without?”

She kissed me and whispered breathlessly, “Whatever you wish, my lord.”

I looked back at the girls.

“With,” I said, motioning for them to come to the bed.