TWO

 

THE DEMON IN THE SWORD

 

Krystos sat upon the embankment, staring dejectedly at his ship moored in the sunlit bay. Somehow the small dark man had brought her here, this wreck of a once great warship. She looked damaged beyond repair. Two of the three masts had been ripped away. A great hole gaped open like a wound at her side above the waterline. Debris littered the decks.

Already the survivors were preparing to head inland to try their luck in this steamy hot land. Fewer then ten men had survived. Neither the first mate nor the ship’s boy were amongst them. Krystos mourned neither. Instead he ached for the loss of his body. He couldn’t get used to being someone nobody looked up to, a simple sailor only known as Dirk.

Krystos turned his gaze away from the labouring men and surveyed the countryside around him. Short trees with long trunks and huge green leaves crowded close to the beach. The undergrowth looked dense and impenetrable. Krystos couldn’t see a path or any sign of habitation.

To the right he saw a steep but climbable embankment, and to the left a tall cliff cast its dark shadow over that half of the beach. On top of it stood the short dark youth whose name he still didn’t know. Too busy salvaging what he could from the ship he hadn’t paid him any further attention. Now Krystos wondered if he could perhaps use him somehow. He had rescued his ship, what was left of her, somehow steering her to this safe cove. There had to be a reason for it. And how had he managed to climb to the top of that cliff so fast? Krystos wondered. Did he have a sturdy rope affixed somewhere?

Krystos scrambled to his feet, and left the group of men sorting through the debris on the beach. He scuffed through the sand, approaching the cliff face. It was too sheer to climb, not a foothold in sight. He couldn’t see a rope either. He stepped away from it, peering upwards. What in the name of the Goddess was the little man doing up there, standing so silent and still? Conversing with his inner companion again?

“For heavens sake Dirk! Are you deaf, or something?” Krystos turned to see one of his crewmembers hurrying towards him. “I called you at least half a dozen times.”

“Well, what do you want?” he retorted.

“No need to take that tone with me. You’re not the captain, you know.”

Krystos grimaced, wondering how to take command back. Too dazed until now to even think about it, he wondered whether changing bodies had something to do with his disorientation. “He should be buried though. We ought to go back and cast his body out to sea, give him a sailor’s burial.”

“Whatever for? The tyrant should just rot with his cursed ship.”

Krystos lunged at him, grasping him by both shoulders.

“Hey!” the sailor flailed at him.

“How could you talk about your captain like that?”

“Easy now that the blagguard’s gone. Let go of me, dammit.” He managed to wrench himself free. Once he was out of range he spat on the ground. “I was going to ask you if you were ready to go, but I’ll be dammed if you’re coming with us now. Stay here and rot with your blasted captain.”

He turned and returned to the group on the beach. Krystos saw them cast furtive glances back at him as they hefted their makeshift packs and set off towards the embankment. He continued to watch them as they scrambled up it. When they disappeared into the dense foliage he turned away.

They’ll be fodder for the jungle beasts before the day is through.

Krystos swung round to see the short dark man standing behind him.

“How did you get down so quick? And more to the point how did you get up there in the first place?”

He merely grinned, his teeth white against his dark face. We have some business to discuss. I think we should start with introducing one another. My name is Leonado. And you are?

“Captain Rose. Captain Krystos Rose.” He motioned over his shoulder. “They couldn’t see you, could they?”

I made certain of that.

“Who are you?”

I already told you. My name is Leonado.

“Don’t get smart with me, you little ink blot,” Krystos warned.

I’d rather you didn’t talk. I understand your thoughts, but I don’t understand your strange, harsh tongue.

Krystos jammed his fists into his hips. “What in the name of the Goddess are you talking about?”

Leonado sighed loudly. Have you seen me open my mouth lately? I talk directly into your mind. So why don’t you do the same. Your brash language only interferes with our conversation.

“I’ll try.” I’ll try, he thought the words to himself.

This man wasn’t nearly so stupid when I first met him, Leonado said to Dragonfire.

Krystos scowled at him. I heard that, you little pock mark.

Better. Much better, Leonado said. He lifted his slender, brown skinned arms. Now that you know who I am, I shall show you what I am; a wizard of the highest callibre. A genius to the core. Watch Dragonfire, while I wield the magic you taught me upon this tall pale man from across the sea.

Krystos involuntarily stepped back, feeling a strange, heady warmth rush over him as the dark man flung his arms forward. It continued to pulse through his veins even after Leonado had dropped his arms back to his sides. He shook his head in bewilderment. What have you done?

Look at you skin and see for yourself, Leonado replied.

Krystos glanced down at his hands and gasped in horror. “You’ve burnt me!”

Hardly. Leonado snorted. Does it hurt? Is smoke spiraling from your fingertips? I’ve merely turned you into one of us. Look at your hair.

Gingerly Krystos reached a brown-skinned hand round to bring forward his sailor’s queue. Not as long as his own, he had to strain to see Dirk’s hair. It was as black as pitch. Not only did he no longer inhabit his own body, he looked like an alien. How could he possible return home looking like this?

“This had better be reversible you meddling son of a swine herder,” he snapped.

Leonado flipped a dismissive hand. Of course, but why you would want to is beyond me. I think you look much better that way.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Krystos growled, but he had to admit, he was somewhat in awe of the little man’s powers. Now how can I use that to my advantage? He asked himself.

Leonado was asking himself the same question, but for entirely different reasons. Dragonfire’s insistence that the sea captain should lay his hand upon Darkfire was really starting to wear him down.

If he can wield the sword for us think of all the advantages, think of the wealth we could gain, the power, his teacher said, once again exerting pressure onto Leonado with the will of his mind.

Power I would have to share with him, Leonado retorted, grimacing against the pain.

Would that be so bad? You’re like an only child. You need a companion. Thump. Thump. Thump went the hammer inside Leonado’s head.

I was an only child, Leonado scoffed. I don’t trust the captain.

You’re just sore that you can’t be the one to wield Darkfire.

What if I am? Leonado admitted. I am an only child after all.

Are you arguing about that ugly old sword again? Krystos asked irritably.

“All right!” Leonado snapped in his own tongue, the pressure finally getting the better of him. “Here! Take the dammed thing.” He yanked the sword free of its scabbard. The blade was as tarnished as the hilt, and barely looked long enough to fill its sheath. He threw it at the sailor, who had to duck and fling his hand up to avoid the arc of the blade.

Krystos caught it, feeling the jagged metal scrape his hand as he grasped hold of it. With a yelp he quickly transferred the hilt to his other hand, staring in anger at the red trail of blood smeared across his palm.

Something happened to the sword as Krystos held it awkwardly away from him. The blood shimmered against the blade like jewels. Then it sunk into the metal as though the sword was drinking it.

The blade lengthened and broadened, becoming so dark it almost seemed to swallow the light around it. Krystos thought he could feel it begin to pulse in his grasp as though it had a life of his own. The sensation vibrated through him, and he tried to fling the weapon from him, but it suddenly seemed welded to his hand, an extension of himself.

“What’s happening?” he demanded in fear.

She’s bonding with you, Leonado said sadly.

She? Who are you talking about?

She is Darkfire, the demon in the sword. She will fight for you, and only you.

The black pulsing blade suddenly seemed beautiful to Krystos. He felt as though nothing could harm him. A white gull swept down low over their heads, and the sword guided his arm towards it, slicing through its puny body in an instant. The two bloody halves of the bird dropped onto the sand, and Krystos felt the demon’s thrill of the kill sizzle through him. It verged on ecstasy, the feeling he experienced on release of sexual tension.

He dropped to his knees, and the sword slipped from his fingers, her duty done. She had made her first kill in decades. She was spent, as was Krystos.

Leonado watched on, a mixture of hate and awe churning his gut. It isn’t fair, he raged. It should have been me.

Oh do stop whining, Leo. He might be able to control Darkfire, but you still have the magic.

What’s to stop you from leaving me to train him? Leonado retorted.

Because I chose you to take me back out into the world? But he can help us have some real fun. Let’s play my little playmates.

 

“My name is Alecsis,” the youth repeated to himself, as he trudged along the hot, sandy shore. “My name is Alecsis, and I am a sailor.”

The second affirmation he wasn’t entirely certain of, but it made sense. He’d regained consciousness in the water. Where else could he have been but abroad a ship?

“I night have been a passenger, or a merchant’s son.” Clasping hands to his aching head, he muttered. “Why can I remember my name but not who I am?”

“Oh I give up,” he grumbled, deciding to return his attention to his surroundings. This was his second day on land. He’d been making his way south along the coastline, the dull throb at the base of his skull gradually easing. It only resurfaced when he tried to remember his past. Best to let sleeping dogs lie, he thought, wondering how he could recall such a saying but not how he came to learn it.

He reached the end of yet another beach, and began the laborious climb up the embankment, which he suspected would only lead to another beach. He still had not seen any sign of human habitation, and wondered if he should head inland instead. He glanced dubiously into the dense foliage to his right. It looked dark and uninviting, but perhaps that was the way to go. It might even yield food.

In response his stomach gave a long growl of hunger. Alecsis only had to look down at himself to realize how famished he was. Merchant’s son indeed! Whoever he was, he hadn’t held a position of importance. His ribs jutted out under his sun-burned skin, and healing whip welts crises-crossed his skinny shoulders. Perhaps he’d been a prisoner, captured for a crime so heinous it would be best if he didn’t remember it.

Alecsis reached the top of the embankment, and looked around. He had been right. Another beach stretched out ahead of him, and dense jungle crowded the top of the shore. He cast his eyes further afield, and noticed cliffs in the distance. Perhaps they might yield habitation, he thought. But first he had to find something to eat and drink. Rain water from a drying rock pool had been his last source of sustenance.

With some trepidation Alecsis headed into the undergrowth. He had only taken a few steps before discovering the reason for his reluctance. He could no longer see the sun, and had no idea which way to go. One could walk in endless circles and never even know. Even the beach seemed to have disappeared.

Alecsis immediately retraced his steps, but a bright orange orb hanging from a nearby branch made him stop. Could this be food? he asked himself. He plucked it from the branch, noticing several more dangling from several other trees. He took those too, and darted back into the sunlight with a loud sigh of relief. The jungle had felt so claustrophobic, he was certain he would find no human habitation therein.

Back on the small headland, he examined the fruit, digging his fingernail into its soft bright surface. Juice gushed out, and he immediately brought it to his parched lips. If it’s poisonous, this will surely be my final meal, he thought wryly, gulping it down. It tasted sweet, unlike anything he’d ever eaten before. How do I know this? he asked himself, when he can’t even remember what he did the day before last. It seemed some things were just there; what he liked and disliked; his language flowing so freely from his lips. He split the fruit open and devoured the soft flesh within.

Alecsis continued to trudge along until it grew dark. Again he sought a safe niche amongst the rocks at the top of a beach, placing several large palm leaves over him to ward against the night chill. Luckily the temperature only dropped several degrees, and Alecsis hadn’t stirred the previous night.

This time however, he had trouble falling asleep. He lay there on the cool sand listening to the strange animal noises emanating from the jungle above him. They hissed and moaned eerily, conjuring up all kinds of vicious images within his young mind.

Eventually he crept from his sleeping place and sat on the sand, watching the ocean’s ebb and flow under the moonlit sky. He realized it was probably light enough to keep traveling. Not a cloud obscured the star studded sky. If he wasn’t so frightened and alone, he might have thought it a beautiful night.

Scrambling to his feet, he began walking. Again he cast his gaze up at the cliffs ahead of him. The moon lit up the white stone crags, but their grassy tops vanished into the night. Them why could he see a light winking in the distance? Alecsis strained to see its source, but it was nothing more than a pin prick in the darkness. If he hadn’t known the cliffs were there, he would have dismissed it for another star. Could it be someone’s house? Keeping it firmly in his sights, Alecsis continued along the beach, but there were so many twists and turns in the headland that he eventually lost sight of it. He did, however, recall its general direction, and kept walking into the dawn.

Another morning downpour soaked him through, and he drank heartily from the water drenching him. Before long the clouds moved out to sea, and the sun broke free, scorching the sand and Alecsis’s skin. He plucked a large palm leaf and draped it over his head, shading his eyes and part of his body from the sun’s glare.

It seemed to take half the day to reach the base of the cliff face. When he got there, Alecsis wondered how on earth he was ever going to make it to the top. It looked too sheer to climb, with far too few footholds for his liking. He continued along its base, disappointment bringing tears to his eyes. He dashed them back in irritation. He had made it to shore with the aid of the dolphins, so surely he wasn’t meant to perish on this forsaken beach.

Something long and thin dangling down the cliff caught his eye up ahead, and he hurried towards it.

“I don’t believe it!” he gasped, scrambling up to grab hold of the end of the rope ladder. “This has to lead to the light I saw.” The footholds looked sturdy enough, and Alecsis didn’t hesitate. He began to climb. Before long his skinny arms began to ache, but the top of the cliff looked no closer.

He chanced a glance down, noticing with terror just how far he’d come. For a few moments he dangled there, trying to calm his pounding heart and rest his weary arms. Then he set off again, taking it more slowly. The rope creaked and moaned under his weight, and the wind buffeted him, lodging terror in his throat.

“All I need is for this thing to fray and tear the moment I reach the last rung,” he muttered under his breath. “How much further, dammit?”

When he thought his aching limbs could take it no more, he saw the top. With one final burst of energy he scrambled over the edge of the cliff. Alecsis lay there on the grass, gasping for breath.

Eventually he hauled himself to his knees and sat up. He looked about, but the promised homestead was nowhere in sight. All he saw was a wide expanse of grass, and more thick forest in the distance. This looked different to the jungle where he’d found the fruit. The trees were taller and more widely spaced, with branches and leaves rather than palms.

The sun hovered low on the horizon when Alecsis headed into the forest. To his surprise and joy he saw a clearly marked trail leading through the trees. He started walking along it, darkness settling in around him long before it would have on the beach. This place too rustled and hissed with strange animal noises, but no creatures crossed Alecsis’s path.

Before long day gave way to night, but enough moonlight filtered through the tall trees to light the path winding its way along ahead of him. Weariness dogged his every step. If he didn’t find the homestead soon, he would have to curl up right here on the road. His blistered bare feet ached and his skin continued to burn even though the sun had long since gone down.

A light winked on through the trees, and had he the energy, Alecsis would have whooped for joy. Instead he stumbled towards it, stepping into a clearing that housed a barn, a small cottage and several lean-tos.

The gentle glow of a lamp dimmed by a billowing curtain lured him on, but when he stood in front of the little house, shyness consumed him. What if he was turned away? Alecsis feared having to return to the forest to sleep, and he certainly didn’t have the energy to go all the way back to the cliff.

He glanced around and made a decision. He would spend the night in the barn and approach the home’s occupants in the morning, fresh and rested. As he pulled open the barn-door, a cacophony of noises burst forth, as every animal greeted him in its own language.

“It’s all right,” Alecsis whispered. “I won’t cause you any harm. I merely want to share your barn.”

They stilled almost immediately, and Alecsis grinned to himself. “If only I really could talk to the animals, I’d make it safely through the jungle.”

He saw a verity of beasts, recognizing two cows, a hatch of hens cackling in one corner, and a pen full of pigs snorting in another. Halfway along he came across a stall which housed a beautiful white stallion.

“Hello handsome,” Alecsis said softly, stopping in front of the magnificent beast.

The animal lifted his regal head to regard Alecsis with wise dark eyes. Ride me, his gaze seemed to imply. Ride me like the wind.

Alecsis looked him over, noting his muscular legs and powerful flanks. “I wish I could, but you don’t belong to me.”

We’ll ride together. Ride like the wind.

For a moment Alecsis wondered if the horse was actually talking to him, but then he reasoned that exhaustion had to be the cause of the strange urge he suddenly felt to jump upon the beast’s massive back. He reached out and started stroking the stallion’s sleek head. The horse stepped closer, nudging Alecsis’s shoulder. He giggled as soft horse hair tickled his bare flesh. The beast snorted, fanning Alecsis with warm breath.

“Is there anywhere for me to sleep in this barn?” he asked no one in particular. The horse lifted his head, whinnied and nudged his nose upward.

“Of course. The hayloft,” Alecsis said, noticing the ladder leading to a landing above the horse’s stall. “You’re a genius, Windrider.” He patted the noble head again, barely conscious of the name he had called the animal.

Alecsis forced his uncooperative limbs up the ladder, and crawled into a corner, making a make-shift bed amongst the hay. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling safe and warm. Below him the stallion whinnied once more. Around him the animals drifted back to sleep, and so did Alecsis.

 

Krystos turned in a full circle, surveying Leonado’s handiwork. “It’s perfect,” he breathed, turning to face the red-clad sorcerer. His state room had been returned to its former glory. The wood panels shone. Gold fixtures gleamed, and the crystal chandelier glittered as late afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows.

Leonado grunted in reply. When he’d offered to help repair the ship, he hadn’t known it would be such a long arduous chore. The captain had to oversee every item, making sure it met his satisfaction. At this rate we’ll be working on this dammed ship for weeks, he grumbled to Dragonfire.

Patience young Leonado. Why do you suppose wizards live so long? To fit all the learning they need into a lifetime. You wanted this ship, remember.

I’m not so sure I do now. He glanced back at the captain, who was now surveying his appearance in the full length, gilt-edged mirror.

I swear that man is more vein than you are, Leo, Dragonfire sniggered.

Leonado didn’t bother dignifying that with a reply. I think I’ll see to the evening meal, he announced heading for the door.

Krystos lifted a hand, returning his attention to his reflection. Trying to get used to this new body was proving quite a feat. Every time he looked into the glass he saw this dark stranger. Even his eyes were brown. Yet the new look fascinated him.

Dirk had been a common sailor, used to hard physical work. His body was leaner and more muscular than Krystos’s had been. Every sailor ended up with scars and blemishes from the hard life at sea, but the rich brown skin seemed to hide any marks Dirk might have once had. As for the black hair, it shimmered about his broad shoulders like a soft dark curtain.

Perhaps he could get used to this new look after all. He’d donned his best black trousers and white shirt, teaming it with a soft velvet vest. His knee high boots shone and a dainty gold earring glimmered in his lobe.

Satisfied that he once again looked commanding, Krystos left his cabin, locking the door behind him with the silver key he’d taken from his own body. Returning to find the cold lifeless corpse had burned a great hole in his heart. Leonado had helped place him in a wooden crate. Then they had taken the only undamaged rowboat out to sea to drop the casket into the ocean. The sailor’s words on the beach returned to haunt him as his body disappeared beneath the waves. Had they really thought so little of him?

It made him question his motives for returning home. At first all he’d wanted to do was flee the city of his youth, but the further he traveled, the more homesick he became. Krystos knew he’d never regain what had been stolen from him. His brother had seen to that. He thought his command of The Crystal Rose would console him, but what good was a ship without men?

Krystos walked down the ruined corridor to his private dining room. So much still remained to be done. Leonado could only concentrate on reconstructing one item or part of the ship at a time. He didn’t know what it previously looked like, and Krystos had to explain everything to him. More often than not he got it wrong. He’d even made two damaged cannons fire backwards. The little wizard had never seen such weaponry before. Hardly surprising considering he valued the great black sword so highly.

It surprised Krystos at how quickly he had accepted Leonado’s strange powers. It made him wonder if there were others with such abilities. Perhaps this was the only way to survive in this backward world, by wielding magic to get what one wanted.

He entered the restored dining room. The table had been set and steaming plates of food stood upon it. Several bottles of his best wine were chilling in the crystal ice packs.

This stuff is amazing, Leonado remarked, lifting out one of the chilled bottles. How does it stay cold so long?

Krystos shrugged. I really don’t know, but they’ve been like that for years.

Leonado’s brows shot up. Truly! I’d like to see your world one day.

Is that what this is about? You want to go a traveling?

Leonado motioned to the table. Why don’t we discuss this over our meal. I may be able to start a fire with a mere snap of my fingers but I can’t keep food hot forever.

Krystos took his place at the head of the table and draped his napkin into his lap.

There’s not much food left aboard, and most of its spoiling. I suppose you can only keep it chilled for so long, Leonado remarked.

Actually, it can stay fresh forever, were there only a few people to eat it. But with a crew of sixty odd, we needed to restock every few months, Krystos answered, slicing into the slab of meat on his plate. It tasted tough, but was edible.

Leonado lifted his glass. Shall we toast to our new working relationship?

Krystos made no move to pick up his own goblet. And exactly what kind of relationship do you have in mind, little man?

Dragonfire has set his heart on pirating. It’s normally a hard life, but with a ship like this, I believe we’ll make a fortune.

Krystos shook his head in disbelief. Use The Crystal Rose for pirating! She’s a respectable vessel. Every man that sailed with me earned his keep, and we traded for our goods honestly.

And where are they now, those that survived? You have no one to sail this ship.

I have you.

I can’t do it on my own. You rub it in ever time I make a mistake with the reconstruction.

Out of curiosity where do you propose to find these pirates? Krystos asked.

Prison Isle.

Krystos’s eyebrows shot up. Recruit cut-throats and thieves! You have got to be joking. I’m not taking criminals abroad my ship.

They’re not all criminals, not in the true sense of the word. Most are poor misunderstood souls who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, Leonado said airily.

Weak minded individuals who didn’t have the sense to run when the going was good, you mean, Krystos snorted. And what is there in this land to pirate anyhow?

We can steal from trade ships and seaside ports. We’ll divest them of pearl hauls, money, jewels, pretty damsels if that kind of thing takes your fancy. We can create such a climate of terror my countrymen won’t know what’s hit them.

Krystos stared at the animated face, stunned at the malevolence within the young man. Is this you speaking, or the one you call Dragonfire?

Leonado sighed. Mainly Dragonfire. He’s bored with trying to make me move mountains, so he’s giving me a holiday, as long as he can have a bit of fun along the way.

Who exactly is this Dragonfire? Krystos asked. He finally took a sip of his wine, but it seemed to have lost his flavour.

My teacher. He taught me virtually all I know about magic.

But who is he really?

Leonado shook his head. Only what he’s told me, that he was banished and can only see the world through the eyes of his pupils.

I don’t trust him, Krystos asserted. And I don’t trust his sword either. It isn’t natural.

But she bonded with you. She’ll never let any harm come to you. As long as you wield Darkfire, you’ll never die.

I can’t die anyway. Krystos looked pointedly down at his new form.

That’s why we would make such a great team. Let’s recruit our pirates, reap what we can and then we can be anything we want.

Krystos shook his head sadly. For you perhaps, but wealth can’t buy what I want.

And what’s that?

Krystos wagged a finger at him. I had an entire crew try to discover that for two years. I never told them, and I’ll be dammed if I’ll tell you. He bowed his head, feeling the loss as though it had happened yesterday, instead of two long years ago. He heard Leonado get up, and when he looked up, the slender sorcerer stood directly in front of him.

I can’t give you what you really want, not without knowing what it is, but there is a lot I can do for you.

And why would you want to do anything for me, when nobody else ever has?

Because you’re too beautiful to resist, Leonado murmured.

Krystos wasn’t sure whether to believe him. Perhaps now that he looked more like him, he probably did appear attractive to the dark sorcerer.

Leonado reached out placed his hands on either side of Krystos’s head, pressing his palms against his temples. Krystos tried to break free of his grip, but he suddenly felt as though his head was caught in a vice. I give you the gift of speech, Krystos Rose. From now on you’ll understand and speak Avionan like a native.

Krystos gasped as a wail of sound shrieked through his skull. He scrambled back, trying to get away from it, but only succeeded in tipping over his chair. He tumbled to the floor as the screams faded into a cacophony of voices babbling away inside his head. Finally they turned into whispers, before falling silent.

“What hast thou done?” he gasped.

Leonado grinned. “I gave ye my language, and ye speak it like a native.”

Krystos frowned, realizing that he understood every word the little wizard had just uttered. “How in the name of the Goddess did ye do that?”

“Dragonfire taught me. He be fluent in at least a hundred tongues. He also taught me how to take yours, but I suppose there be no need to learn a language spoken so far away.” He shrugged. “I’ll try it anyhow. See if it works. Hold still.”

He clamped his hands to Krystos’s temples again. This time he felt as though something was being wrenched from him. It didn’t hurt exactly, but was an unpleasant experience nevertheless.

“So now I can speak the native tongue of Crystonia, the land of liquid crystal,” Leonado said.

Krystos gasped at hearing his own language again, spoken so fluently by Leonado.

“Why bother if you can mind-read?” he asked in his own tongue.

“I canst do that with everyone, only those endowed with the arts,” he answered in his own tongue.

“You can teach me your magic?” Krystos asked.

Leonado shook his head vehemently. That was one thing he would never do, even if Dragonfire commanded it. “I could, but there be no need. Ye be in possession of the demon sword and the fastest, most powerful ship ever seen in these parts. I wouldst think that’s magic enough, my dear Krystano.” He extended his hand to help Krystos to his feet.

“What didst thou call me?” he asked, getting up to tower over the short wizard.

“I called you by yer Avionan name. Krystos translates into Krystano. Beware, the Pirate Krystano sails the Noiva.”

“I never agreed to pirating, Leonado,” Krystos said, dusting himself down.

“I think ye’ll find ye have no choice in the matter, for what has been done can also be undone.” Leonado waved an arm, and the recently restored wall crumbled to reveal the setting sun.

“Nay!” Krystos shrieked. “Damn you! That be blackmail, ye fiend.”

“I couldst give ye so much, my pretty pirate. What’ll it be? Abandonment in a strange land without yer ship, or riches for the asking. The choice sems easy enough to me.”

Krystos gritted his teeth in sheer frustration. He couldn’t believe that his control over his life was slipping so easily from his grasp. He might have survived the tempest, thwarting death in the process, but now he was at the mercy of this meddling youth. “All right,” he said eventually. “You win – for now.”

“I always plan to win.”

“Don’t be so sure, ye arrogant little upstart. Now put back my wall,” he ordered.

“Aye Aye Captain Krystano. Whatever yer cold stone heart desires.”